#they’re a jerk and have responsibility too
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I saw Challengers earlier today and I decided to start a running doc of some of my feral thoughts in an effort to not forget what's currently marinating in my brain after my first watch
I want this movie to get a long theatrical release/run because it deserves it, but that's unfortunate because I also NEED to have it accessible to me in my home ASAP so I can pull on all its threads and take screencaps. Alas.
EXTENSIVE SPOILERS BELOW
might add to this later as I remember things, idk
-The parallel of Art spitting his gum in Tashi’s hand and in Patrick’s hand… My jaw dropped soooo early on. Anyway they obviously both act as Art’s “coach” at different times in his life in different ways. (The jerking off teaching?? Scream???) Art craves their guidance and approval as a form of love (which is also directly responsible for his confidence issues) and initially likes to follow their leads in every situation
-The parallel of Tashi making out with both Art and Patrick up against cars… delicious
-Patrick’s car is his “bed” and it’s where he and Tashi fuck. Nice
-Wait now I’m sad because… lowkey Patrick is homeless because Art and Tashi are his home…………….
-The storm = Patrick and Tashi having sex = the reason why Art’s half of the giant poster/ad on the side of the building falls down so only Tashi’s side is left up. Iconic, loooove a good visual metaphor, especially shown nonlinearly
-The parallel of the forehead kisses??? Art and Patrick on the court at the start when they won the doubles, and Art and Tashi in the sad almost-sex scene towards the end??? I will throw up
-Disclaimer and reminder I’ve only seen this movie once and might reform any of these thoughts later BUT…
One of Art’s main things is, as he tells Patrick towards the start, not wanting to be “left out.” He loves and he wants both Patrick and Tashi (but he doesn’t fully want to acknowledge the extent of his want for Patrick for years, and that repression is part of his problems…). He gets “lit up” about the thought of them together not because he’s jealous of one of them but because he’s jealous of BOTH of them; he wants to know it all, he wants to be in the room, he wants to be with them both, he despairs at the thought of losing either of them (but, at the start, especially at the thought of losing or being of lesser importance to Patrick. Obviously he’s a fucking idiot as evidenced by how Patrick goes to see him FIRST at Stanford. Ugh). We see all of this at the start when Art wants to know if Tashi and Patrick fucked. We see this in Atlanta when he witnesses Tashi cheating on him with Patrick but doesn’t directly confront either of them about it; he only skates the edge of confronting it with Patrick in the sauna while also lashing out at him. Patrick tells Art at Stanford “it’s nice to see you so lit up about something, even if it’s my girlfriend” during the homoerotic churros scene because Patrick’s clocked all of this about Art, too. He clocks it further in Atlanta when he shows up to Art’s practice with Tashi and his mere presence makes Art hit the ball harder. It obviously all comes full circle; the cocktail of emotions that Patrick and Tashi being together gives Art coalesces again for him on the court in the Challengers match: Tashi’s threatened to leave him if he loses… and she’s maybe got one foot out the door with Patrick of all people, who Art already “lost” in the past as the love he’s been mourning for 13 years. But what’s important is that THIS time, unlike Atlanta, Art learns about Tashi cheating on him with Patrick not by accident but rather because Patrick actually tells him. Patrick understands the significance of how this will get Art lit up again and make him play the way he needs to for all of their sakes, and it’s fucked up, but… what this means is Patrick doesn’t leave Art out. He TELLS Art – and he tells him in a way only they understand while they’re on the court together again. Of course Art goes through several stages of emotions in response to that fucked up information… but ultimately that moment of honesty and realization between the boys is what Art needed and puts where all 3 of them stand into sharp relief, shedding a light on who they’ve all always been and what their individual needs are.
Art’s always wanted to play tennis, but that desire is framed around his relationships. Tennis is only something he truly enjoys or that fully makes him happy when he’s experiencing it through his connections to other people: he wants to impress, earn the approval of, or celebrate with those he loves who are watching (like his grandmother or Tashi) – which is partially why he wants Tashi to be his coach in the first place. And of course, tennis all began as something Art found joy in because he was always doing it with Patrick. It’s clear Patrick feels the same. At the start, neither of them cared much about winning for the sake of winning unless it was doubles because they competed as a team and that was “really fun” for them. With the singles competition, they kind of cared less about the wins at the start; Art assumed Patrick would win and didn’t care back then, and then Patrick was willing to let Art win so he could impress his family, and they were both fine with all of those sentiments. Tennis was first and foremost something they did with and for each other. As Patrick later tells Art in the sauna, “I miss playing with you” – and, of course, at that point he’s definitely not only talking about tennis. But in that final match, after so many years, Patrick and Art finally understand each other completely again. It’s like they’re in love (because they are and always have been), they go somewhere really beautiful together… etc. They finally reconnect on the court and feel that thrill as they become synchronized again, which is what tennis was always about for them.
And Tashi, who’s irrevocably connected to them both and whose primary love is and always has been the sport itself, gets what SHE’S always wanted: to “watch some good fucking tennis.” It’s why she pitted the boys against each other vying for her number at the start. Though she needs/wants both boys in different ways on an individual level, she doesn’t particularly need or want anyone to ~be in love with her~; she wants the men who are in love with her to entertain her and challenge her and give her a show. So that’s what she tries to accomplish again in the end by telling Art she’d leave him if he lost the Challengers match… but the missing piece in her making that threat – the element that would get Art truly fired up – was that she’d potentially leave Art for Patrick. That final piece of info, when Art finds out about the cheating, is what reconnects them in all of the above ways. Because it’s about all 3 of them and their triangular codependency. They’ve all been broken for 13 years because they all need each other and tennis to be fully functional. Split any of it apart and they just don’t work.
-Literally this is a film where from the moment of the injury they’re all constantly mourning. They all lose their greatest loves that day… Tashi essentially loses tennis, Art loses Patrick, and Patrick loses the two of them. Everything after that is just them being affected by how they’re all mired in various grief and feeling incomplete… until that synchronization at the match when they finally become whole again. Going from that bed scene that was breaking my heart to the final match was HEALING. Things are still fucked up and in progress, but they’re fucked up in a way they all understand, which gives them a path forward. This movie has a fiercely happy ending in that regard… and what I’m saying is that… after the match, once they communicate further, and much later down the line… Art and Patrick should go back to playing doubles and Tashi should coach them as as doubles team. God they’d eventually all be so happy I wanna CRY just thinking about them doing that. It would take them awhile to get there — because yeah, Tashi is living vicariously through Art’s career as an individual player and maybe if Art retired she’d then want to live through PATRICK’S career for awhile — but I think if they worked out their relationship then their tennis could come to reflect the needs of that relationship too, and doubles can still be “good fucking tennis” in its own satisfying right, y’know? I think they could get there and it would be a beautiful collective restart.
-I gotta say, I can't imagine Tashi pregnant. Wild to me. Sorry to their daughter. Oooo also... I think Patrick would be great with kids... when he gets to meet Lily and become "Uncle Patrick" they're gonna hit it off so fast. Help me
-*holds up Tashi watching them kiss after she orchestrated it*
*holds up the Challengers match*
It’s the same picture. Except the kisses were kisses whereas the match was actual sex.
The moaning and grunting… I’m insane.
Also Tashi’s “COME ON!!!!” is arguably the sole orgasm/climax we witness in the whole movie perhaps? Though you could argue the hug is too. In this essay I will, etc.
-Art begging for Tashi’s love/validation saying “Tell me it doesn’t matter if I win tomorrow” vs Art telling Patrick in the sauna “this is a game about winning the points that matter” / Patrick saying “I don’t matter?” AAAA oh my fucking Goddddddd I’m gonna die
-Thank you Luca Guadignino for your dedication to having Art and Patrick hold phallic drinks and food in each others’ presence. Specific shout out to Patrick at the beach party holding the beer bottle on his crotch
-Patrick = comfortable with who he is and secure in his bisexuality; honest and open
Art = repressing his queerness and his overall desires
Tashi = hiding who she is aka her dissatisfactions with life and the lengths she’ll go to because tennis is her true greatest love and always has been
COMPRESS, REPRESS... REPRESS, COMPRESS... AND THEN JUST SURRENDER, ONE TWO THREEEEE
-I need to rewatch to catch the dialogue because it was difficult for me to hear it over the music, but I think in the 3am Atlanta scene Tashi tells Patrick that Art’s grandmother had a stroke. IF that’s what she said (and if there’s no reason to believe it’s a lie Art told; like I said, I need to rewatch)… my immediate impression was that it’s a nod to Patrick being the voice of accuracy and prediction in this movie. Towards the beginning he tells Art (jokingly) that he hopes Art’s grandmother dies of a stroke, and that’s seemingly what literally comes to pass. He repeatedly clocks both Tashi and Art’s behaviors, describing them brashly to their faces (and to us as the audience), and he was right about his predictions. He’s the one who’s not repressed or unaware of who he is out of the 3 of them: when Tashi first asks if there’s something between him and Art, he looks away because he knows the answer is yes; he’s openly bi on dating apps; he tells Tashi he won’t be her lapdog unlike Art which we see later ends up becoming literal; he clocks how Tashi is hiding some of her true motivations when she seeks him out in the storm; and even from afar he predicts Art’s mindset about wanting to retire. For the most part, what Patrick does / says either seems to be or becomes truth. Hmmm, wait, as I’m typing this… something to look out for: the “I TOLD YA” shirt. Working theory: Tashi briefly wears it, she’s the voice of accuracy; then it blatantly switches over to Patrick and he wears it throughout the film and [waves to all of the above]
-Head in my hands thinking of how the word “love” is used in these tennis matches. Also something I need to make detailed note of when I rewatch
-Patrick grabbing Art’s thigh when they first watched Tashi play… oh my GOD
-Patrick pulling Art’s stool close and Art just smoothly sitting on it with no reaction… the way they kept looking at each others' lips... oh my G O D
-I just remembered Tashi referred to the boys being known as as “fire and ice.” What the fuck even.
-Tashi going to Patrick asking him to lose the match for Art… she’s literally like, "do this because I love tennis and if I lose Art then I lose the way I live tennis through him. Do this because if he loses this match he'll lose himself." And she's really like, "Do this because I know you’re in love with both of us." And Patrick is like, "A) fuck you because you know I’ll say yes precisely because I'm in love with both of you so how dare you ask this of me, and B) you’re kidding yourself if you think you don’t miss the challenge I give YOU simply by being myself because I don’t take your shit." Something something they're peers, you know
-Tbh for 13 years when Patrick gets his rare opportunities he’s @ both Art and Tashi like “you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” And the thing is that he’s RIGHT. He’s right! Art in particular doesn't want to admit it because he's trying to convince himself he outgrew being bisexual / outgrew Patrick but it's obviously bullshit
-Realizing some of the sounds in the soundtrack intentionally emulate the sounds of tennis balls and rackets???? MADNESS
#challengers#challengers movie#challengers 2024#tashi duncan#art donaldson#patrick zweig#char writes things
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Idk man I might get torn to shreds for saying this, but I simply cannot understand the new trend, particularly among younger internet users, where people write a laundry list of their triggers in their bio and then expect everyone to read and cater to said list on a PUBLIC PLATFORM.
This is the same mentality that drives people to attack appropriately tagged fics on AO3 for having x y or z content because “How dare you post this when I have trauma about this???” Obviously if someone is going to write a super heavy and highly sensitive fic and NOT tag it properly, they ought to be called out on it. But this isn’t about that, it’s about the people who don’t curate their own content, it’s about the people who enter public spaces and demand that the general public cater to THEM specifically.
Additionally: Listing out your triggers for everyone to see is just ASKING for trolls to come into your inbox and flood you with triggering content. (Unfortunately, as much as we would like to believe otherwise, the internet is full of selfish jerks who don’t give a crap about anybody’s trauma.) Not only this, but the algorithm does not read your bio. The algorithm does not care about your triggers unless YOU make sure to block specific tags and content.
YOU are responsible for curating your own content, and nobody else.
Obviously this is not to say people shouldn’t try to tag their posts for common triggers, because that’s the common courtesy thing to do. But if Becky has a phobia of bees, it is on her to block that tag and curate her feed around it, and she does not get the exclusive right to suddenly demand that nobody talk about bees within a ten mile radius of her. If Alec has a phobia of dogs, then it is well within his right to avoid contact with them, but he doesn’t get to go to a public park and yell at anybody who brings their dog there. It is his responsibility to know his own limits and seek out parks that are dog-free. (If someone brings a dog to a dog-free area, that’s a whole different issue that I won’t be getting into rn but yes, the person who does that is in the wrong there.)
The internet is widely a public space. If you want to create a safe space completely and utterly free of your specific triggers, you have to put the work in to make that space for yourself. You don’t get to ask other internet strangers to do it for you.
I’m saying this out of genuine concern (and admittedly, frustration) because there are so many young teens in fandom nowadays who don’t understand this, and they end up putting themselves in extremely vulnerable and even downright dangerous situations because they don’t understand that putting your well-being in the hands of a stranger is a terrible idea.
Please be safe, and for the love of all that is holy, be reasonable. Curating your content yourself is just as much a protection for you as it is a vital key that allows public communities to function.
#hyramblings#fandom culture#internet discourse#trauma triggers#anxiety triggers#safe space#if I get one person saying “BUT WHAT IF SOMEONE IGNORES X AND DOES IT ANYWAY#we literally went over this#they’re a jerk and have responsibility too#but this ain’t about them rn#ya feel?#internet communities#fandom community
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JJK Men And Reader With A Sensitive Clit
part 2 with Geto here
♥ Warnings: Mentions of trauma, sexual themes, clit and vaginal fingering, oral sex
♥ Summary: Reader with a sensitive clit. What will our men do to work around this?
♥ Featuring: Gojo and Nanami
♥ Word Count: 1957
JJK Masterlist
Gojo
“So fucking wet… can't believe this is all for me…”
Your new lover is eager to please and you lay back as his tongue pampers your clit, licking at it like candy. Whimpers escape your mouth, your hips rocking to meet his rhythm, but the thoughts at the back of your mind are distracting you.
That's it? You couldn't last longer than that?
That's no fun… You cum too soon
You and your over sensitive clit… You don't deserve to be eaten out if you're going to cum so soon…
You are suddenly filled with anxiety and you stop being responsive. You were already close. Super close but your body jerked at those thoughts and moved your pussy away from Gojo, making him lose his rhythm.
Piercing blue eyes look at you, his mouth setting into a frown. “Did you not like it?”
You take a few deep breaths, trying to gather your thoughts but the memory is still stuck, taunting you. “No I liked it…Was about to cum actually.”
Gojo's eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Then why…?”
You bring yourself up to a sitting position, feeling embarrassed and slightly humiliated. Gojo scoots over to you and starts stroking your hair. “Are you uncomfortable? Because if you are -”
“It's not you.” You cut him off, unsure if you wanted to tell him. You're worried he would think the same way your past boyfriend did. That you were boring, that it's not fun when a girl cums too soon, that you should not expect oral if it gets you off that fast…
Gojo has been watching you patiently this whole time, trying to process your reactions. He strokes your arm, concerned. “What are you not telling me y/n?”
You sigh, your face burning. “I cum too fast.”
Gojo blinks, unsure if he heard you correctly. “You… What?”
“It doesn’t take long for me to orgasm, Like if it’s really good, I can have one in under a minute.”
Gojo still looks confused. “And this is a problem because…?”
“You don’t think it’s boring to have a partner who cums too fast?” Your chest tightens at the thought, wondering what he thinks about you. Gojo continues to stroke your arm, before giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Ah…I’d say that’s kind of hot. Under a minute? Really?”
You look at him in surprise. “Really? You don’t think it’s weird? You don’t think…” you pause before saying the rest. “You don’t think you’ll get tired of giving me oral if I keep cumming so fast, and it’s over before you really got into it?”
He chuckles softly and pulls you against his chest. “Pretty girl…where’d you get it in your head that giving oral gets boring if you cum quickly?”
You blush against his toned chest. “Just…an ex…”
“Then they’re not worthy of you. Aw baby, no. Don’t you ever think that way.”
Reassured, you nestle against his chest. A few moments pass in silence before he speaks again. “Have you ever had multiple orgasms before?”
You look at him in confusion. “No but, what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, I read somewhere that if you cum really quickly, that’s not your real orgasm. It’s a pre-orgasm which then leads to the big one.” He looks at you thoughtfully. “Wanna try it out?”
The expression on your face says it all. “You’d want to do this with me?”
“Hell yeah. You think I’m not up for it? A chance to make you cum over and over?”
Internally, you couldn’t believe it. He really wanted to do this. Were you even capable of multiple orgasms? You were so sensitive after it happens. Gojo seems to read into your uncertainty and he reassures you. “At any point if you’re uncomfortable just tell me. I swear I’ll stop.”
He kisses his way down your body, parting your legs, licking your inner thighs, before going back to licking the sensitive bud. His arms lock around your upper thighs to prevent them from closing.
You feel the buildup happen quickly, moaning as your folds grow wet from your slick and his saliva. The orgasm grips you within a few seconds and you moan lewdly, feeling Gojo’s tongue press up flat against your clit as your sex spasms from pleasure.
“You weren’t kidding…” He laps up at your juices, the sounds of wetness adding to your arousal.
“No I wasn’t I - ohhhh.” Your words cut off as Gojo gets back into it, his lips pulling on your clit, abusing the very tip of it with his tongue. You feel your mind go hazy, pussy sensitive from the recent climax and whine. “Gojo…It’s…sensitive…ngh…”
His eyes lock onto yours and you can’t help but stare back, seeing nothing but enthusiasm. Sweat breaks out on your skin as he keeps eating you out, his long fingers slipping into your leaking core, finding that spot inside you and curling his fingers into it. It’s like a hook behind your navel is pulled, and you mewl your pleasure as a second orgasm hits you almost instantly.
The second one felt so much different than the first. The first one felt almost delicate in comparison to this one which had a stronger intensity, your pussy spasming around his fingers for what felt like minutes before finally receding. You try to catch your breath as Gojo grins at you from between your legs.
“How about a third one?”
You chuckle weakly and bite your lip.
“As many as you’ll give me.”
Nanami
It’s finally happening. After patiently dating for nearly 2 months, you and Nanami decide you’re both ready to get physically intimate. His kisses were so tender and sweet, taking his time until you started sighing against his lips, slipping your tongue for more. Both your clothes came off slowly, as he laid you back on the bed, drinking in your blushy face and how sensitive you were to his touch, his every whisper and tickle.
You were enjoying yourself at first, moaning as he kissed and nibbled your neck, your collarbone, as he came down to your breasts, swirling your hardened nipples with his tongue. Your body was soft and compliant under his, admiring how beautiful and toned he was, his sharp brown eyes looking at you with affection as he ran his tongue between your breasts, down to your belly, nibbling your belly button as he continued down to the sweet spot between your thighs.
You try to remind yourself this is a different person, that Nanami wouldn’t ever shame you or hurt you but memories keep intruding your thoughts as he starts to part your legs.
It hurts…don’t do it like that…
It hurts? What’s wrong with you? You’re a chick right? Don’t like having your clit touched? What’s the fun if you can’t handle some pressure?
I don’t like it that hard…
The pain will pass…just wait it’ll feel good….
No…stop…
Let me touch it…
You’re hurting me…stop…STOP…!
“Y/n?”
You hadn’t even realized you’d squeezed your eyes shut and that there’s a tear rolling down your cheek. Mortified, you look to see Nanami crouching between your legs, his expression full of concern. He stops immediately and moves up towards you as you clutch the blanket and try to cover yourself, shame filling you. You had hoped the trauma would go away if you had tried to have sex again, with someone you felt like you could trust. To get Nanami’s hopes up like this, then to have this response…Would you be able to enjoy sex like a normal person ever again?
Strong, warm arms envelope you from behind, pulling you to his chest, comforting you. Nanami rests his cheek on your hair.
“I’m fine.”
”You were crying y/n. That’s not fine.” His hands gently cover yours, which are tightly clasping the blanket. “Talk to me.”
Those words, spoken with so much sincerity, almost make you break down completely.
”It’s nothing, I just…I don’t like…” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling mortified that you have to say this. “I don’t like having my clit touched. Every time anyone tries to touch it, it’s too…hard? Painful? I don’t know. I just don’t like it.” The words roll out.
”And…were you crying because I was about to…?”
You take a deep breath, realizing you’ll have to tell him the truth because otherwise, he’ll probably assume it was something he did, because that’s just who he was. “It wasn’t you. In the past I wasn’t treated very nicely about this. A lot of people told me it’s supposed to feel good, that the pain was part of the pleasure. And I know it can feel good, because it does when I do it by myself. But others…”
Your voice trails off. You wait for it. For him to realize you’re a freak. There’s a moment of silence. Then…
”Why not tell me if you didn’t want me to go there?” His voice is soft, full of understanding.
”I don’t know. I just didn’t want you to think I was weird. I want to have someone touch me there and feel good but it just hasn’t worked well in the past.”
The delicate strength he holds you with comforts you and you manage to calm down. He was silent for a moment then he asks you, “How do you do it?”
”What?” You’re surprised by the question.
”You said it feels good when you do it. So how do you do it?”
Your face flushes red. No one had asked before. “I um…kind of…just…grab both sides of my pussy…and roll it in between.”
“Would you be open to me doing that?”
You take a minute to process his words, unsure.
”I’ll stop if it starts to hurt,” he adds immediately. He’d never hurt you, never on purpose.
With a nod of your head, you turn to lay on your back and the both of you start up again, the kisses, the little tickling caresses. When you start sighing, he slips his hand down and gently places his thumb and index finger on the fatty folds of your pussy, giving a soft squeeze which has you gasping.
You take deep breaths, and then he brings the folds together over your clit and its heaven. Your eyes close, savoring the gentle pleasure that you thought you would never experience. He keeps his eyes on your face, looking for signs of discomfort, but none show up. He keeps a steady rhythm, rolling the little bud between your steadily moistening folds, building up your arousal until you feel yourself dripping with need.
A delicious shiver passes through your body and before you can stop yourself, you say, “faster”. There had never been a time you’d asked for it to be faster.
His fingers, so dexterous and clever, pick up the speed that’s rolling the folds of your sex and you whimper at the sensation, not painful at all. You half open your eyes, your mind somewhere between pleasure and reality, see his brown eyes fixated on yours, making you blush at the intensity of his gaze.
His free hand tugs your hardened nipple, his mouth coming down over the other one. The sensation builds slowly, the room filling with your delighted mewling, hips bucking, desperate for a release. Heat gathers in your belly, your abdominal muscles tightening, his fingers patient and tender.
Your fingers grip the bedsheets as you sob out your pleasure, climax gripping you so softly yet intensely, wave after wave racking your system. His fingers keep up their movements guiding you through it. When you start to quiet down he tenderly kisses your lips.
“Was that all right?”
You sigh and rest against the pillow.
“More than all right.”
dividers by @/cafekitsune
#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#jjk nanami#kento nanami x you#nanami kento smut#nanamin#jujutsu nanami#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami#satoru gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru jjk#gojo saturo#gojo x you#nanami x reader smut#kento nanami x reader#nanami x reader#satoru gojō x reader#jjk satoru
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Halloween Special
Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.
Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas
A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️❤️ btw it is my birthday🎂🎉🥳i'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3
“Why do all of these women’s costumes look like they’re from Victoria’s Secret?”, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. You’ve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now you’re sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy.
Halloween doesn’t make much sense post-apocalypse. If there’s any candy left, it’s all rotten. It’s not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The party’s tonight.
“Who knows,” Joel mumbles, “Just how it was.”
“Did you dress all slutty too?”
“‘Course I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.”
“Then here–”, you toss Joel a nurse costume, “Be a slutty nurse for the party.”
“Yeah, no thanks.”
You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. You’ve got girls’ and boys’ costumes sorted by size, and along with mens’ and women’s. “What are you gonna dress up as, then?”
“I dunno. Do I have to?”, Joel asks, “I don’t even wanna go.”
“Too bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. It’s mandatory.”
Joel rolls his eyes. “What are you going as, then?” you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. “Knucklehead’, it reads. So fucking stupid. “Get it?”
“Ha-ha,” you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. “Do you want any help with those bags?” you ask.
“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“Depends. How slutty you dressin’?” Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.
“You know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.”
“Mmm. Definitely stayin’ home, then. Get the door for me?” Joel asks as he’s standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands.
“Sure,” you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea.
–
You get to Maria and Tommy’s around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. There’s red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. “Hey you,” he says. “What do we have here?”
You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, “Shut up and quit smilin’,” before breaking into a fit of giggles.
Tommy laughs too. “Joel?”
“Bingo,” you reply. You’re wearing Joel’s flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl.
“Costume is spot on, ‘cept for one thing,” you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, “You’re much easier on the eyes than he is.”
“Oh, stop it,” you blush and smack his arm. “Speaking of, Joel here yet?”
“Oh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. He’s gonna hate your costume, darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ hate it.”
“Good, that was the plan,” you smile mischievously.
“I like how you roll, sister,” Tommy drawls. “An’ in fact…” Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his baby’s nursery.
“What are we doing, Tommy?”
“Shh, be cool, be cool,” Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but he’s got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. “Now we’re cookin’,” he says. “Gotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.”
“Ahh,” you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. That’s good.
“And–” Tommy continues, “You gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?”
“Sure,” you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you–”
“Oh, very close,” Tommy laughs, “Nah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what I’m sayin’?” you shake your head no. “That’s okay. M’gonna teach ya.”
Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, you’re both in a fit of giggles. “God, sweetheart, I love ya. Joel’s gonna shit a brick.”
You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joel’s sitting. He’s at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. You’re still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Howdy, pardner.”
“Uh, hi,” Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way you’re both smiling, definitely causing trouble. “The hell are you two so happy about?”
“Nothin’.” you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Don’t pronounce the ‘ing’ at the end of those words. It’s ‘In’. Nothing, nothin’. Fucking, fuckin’. Something, somethin’. “Uh, Joel, what’s your costume?”
“What’s it look like? I’m a pirate,” he grumbles. He’s got an…interesting take on a pirate costume. He’s wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. You’re pretty sure there was a men’s pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier.
Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. “Well, don’t you look cuter than a dimple on a bug’s ass.”
“Did you just have a stroke?” Joel squints at you, “Wait a fuckin’ second–that’s my shirt.”
You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, “Well slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!”
Joel’s blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. You’ve got one less button closed than what he wears, and he’s fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. “Where did you even–never mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ain’t–”
“This ain’t funny,” you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly.
Tommy’s giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. “Don’t encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?” Goddamn little brothers.
“What, don’t y’all like my costume? I’m you.”
“‘Course you are,” Joel grumbles. “Though a witch would be more fitting,” He looks at you closer, “What the hell is wrong with your hair?”
“I’m a silver fox just like you, Joel.”
Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not call me that. I can’t even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.” He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy.
“You,” a voice interrupts. It’s Maria, dressed as a black cat. She’s so cute. “You two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joel’s gonna wring her neck.”
Tommy shrugs. “It was her idea.”
Maria doesn’t care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel.
You make your way through the living room, check the porch. It’s only when you’re in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. “What in tarnation?” you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. “This bedroom ain’t big enough for the two of us.”
Joel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take off your pants. Do it now,” he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joel’s - shirt. “Pants,” he scolds you, annoyed. “You keep my shirt on for this.”
You quit unbuttoning the shirt, “Thought you don’t like my costume?”
“I don’t,” Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. He’s all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because you’re wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are what’s really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine.
In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, “You’re hard as a match–wait,” you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, “Shit fire and save matches, you’re hard as a r–”
“Don’t have time for this,” Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. “You have no–” he kisses your other thigh, “Fuckin’ idea,” then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, “What you’re doin’ to me, wearin’ my shirt like that. M’gonna devour you, sweetheart.”
Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, “Fuck,” you moan, fingers carding through Joel’s hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you can’t stop. You struck gold. “Heaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!”
Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. “You done yet?”
“Darn tootin’,” You get no reaction from Joel. “Yes...I’m done.”
“So fuckin’ sick of you. S’not funny. I don’t talk like that.”
And he’s right back where he was. First he’s inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste. He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.
You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.
“Good lord,” Joel whispers against you. He eats you like he’s starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. “Fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” Your skin, your musk, your arousal. He’s addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs.
“Joel,” you cry, rocking your hips against his face. You’re moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.
He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.
“Yeah Joel, right there,” you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joel’s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone for him. “M’so close.”
“This ain’t about you,” he growls. “Y’got yer kicks already, didn’t you? Teasin’ me in your little getup. Pokin’ fun and bein’ mean t’me.”
“No, Joel, I wasn’t–”
“I don’t care, sweetheart,” Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. “I don’t care. This ain’t about you. M’doin’ this f’me. Don’t you dare come.”
But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just can’t help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and you’re limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.
When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he breathes.
“It was an accident,” you reply.
“Accident, my ass.” You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that you’re not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what you’re planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, you’re exhausting.
You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didn’t use his fingers on you. But you’re committed to what you have planned.
“Joel,” you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. “I have something to tell you.”
“What could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?” That devious smirk on your face…he knows what you’re about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, “For the love of god…Go on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.”
“YEEEE HAWWW!” you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The party’s loud, but not that loud. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “The fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like that…Christ almighty.”
He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. “My fuckin’ turn, now. Drivin’ me to drink,” He stuffs it into in your mouth, “Can you breathe?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.
He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he pants. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible.”
You can’t smile, can’t speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joel’s shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like you’re a painting, just for him.
“God,” Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.
Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.
He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. “Joel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.”
“Oh, yeah,” He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it,
“You weren’t s’posed to take this out of your mouth,” he says, “Least you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?” he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. “You do that for me?”
You smile. If only you weren’t all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you don’t have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. “Joel?”
“Yeah, hon.”
“You really didn’t like my costume?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. “Bless your heart.”
You tilt your head, confused, “What’s that one?”
“What, Tommy didn’t teach you that one?” You mumble a no and Joel hums. “S’a classic.”
“What’s it mean?”
“Well, I’d tell you to ask Tommy but you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore,” Joel says. “Fuckin’ corrupted you. An’ it’s a shame, ‘cause I was startin’ to like you. God, he’s an asshole,” he complains, “And you are too, for that matter.”
You smile to yourself, then kiss Joel’s cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, “Your costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he replies. “Now get lost, you.”
When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. It’s Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, “What’d you teach her now?”
Tommy smirks. “Nothin’,” then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. “Yee-haw, cowboy.”
Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.
#strang3lov3#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#the last of us#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us hbo#mall rats#mall rats!joel#mall rats joel#halloween special#joel miller fic#pedro pascal joel miller#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader
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BAD HABIT ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU
— minors dni, perverted!+bully! satosugu, uh light fluff? (mostly in the bonus?), mostly satoru x reader, fantasizing about smut (gojo), prob inaccurate college rep idc <3, pet names (princess, darling), explicit language, suggestive comments, some recording/photography, one mention of blackmail
summary; suffering exhaustion beneath a pile of college projects and exams wasn’t enough, now you’re stuck tutoring the most annoying men in the world. couldn’t hurt to take a little nap during it
wc 3.1k ??
The last few weeks have been long, nerve-wracking. It seems all your professors have co-conspired together to drop some kind of test or project, all worth a large portion of the grade and all due in the next month. Your nightly 8 hours of sleep have dwindled to a measly four, and of course, to top it all off, now your Bio Chem teacher has donned you the responsibility of tutoring Gojo and Geto indefinitely.
They had to have something to do with this, you just know it. Call it a wild hunch but there’s no way, of all the people in that class, a lot of which have higher grades than yours, that the professor would ask you to tutor Gojo and Geto. Maybe they slipped a few hundreds in the teacher’s hand or appealed to his emotions. Knowing the theatrics of Gojo, he probably gave the man big, puppy-dog eyes and crocodile tears during his fake pleas of ‘please, sir, we really want to pass this class!’.
A light knock on your door drags you out of your thoughts, followed by the familiar voice of a white-haired pest. “Knock, knock!”
You’ve been dreading 5PM since yesterday, the time they, and reluctantly you, had agreed on. Demanding they come to your dorm was akin to putting acid on your tongue, but going over to theirs like Geto’d offered would be like walking into the lion’s den.
They await you within the hall, and Gojo perks up immediately at the sight of you. He unwraps himself from Geto’s shoulders, and your suspicions that they don’t really need your knowledge only grow when you notice they’re both empty-handed, not a book or worksheet or even a flash card in sight. Though you can’t dwell on it for too long as Gojo’s immediately barging into the room.
“Princess, good to see ya!,” comes his boisterous greeting. “Nice place ya got here.” Entwined in his teasing compliment is a conniving tone; Gojo examines the various pink decor of your bedroom. “Should come by more often.”
“Negative.,” you snap with furrowed brows, terse and patience already wearing thin at Geto’s languid pace through the door.
He nears Gojo to study the photo album adorning your tack board, leaving you to prepare by getting out the needed textbooks. You ignore their childish whispers, giggles, points at the various pictures that contain you and your friends, though it causes a bout of unease to settle in your stomach. Hopping onto the tall bed, you scoot until your back’s to the wall, placing down a recently-made stack of notes and the class’s assigned textbooks. It’s a short hunt for the page you desire, somewhere lost in the middle because this professor jumped from subject to subject so often.
You clear your throat to signal it’s time to begin. “Okay. So–“
Already you’re off to a bad start as the textbook disappears from your grasp, now suspended above Gojo’s head, far out of your reach. “This looks super bo-oring!”
You spring away from the sheets, landing with a soft ‘thud’ and instantly move to crush his feet, or kick his knees in, or have him hunched over with a punch to the stomach, but your movements are halted by Geto’s sudden grasp on your waist. Head jerking to the side, you shoot him your deadliest stare, nails steadily sinking into his unfortunately clothed forearms.
“Let go.,” you bark and he doesn’t move a muscle.
“Pft. Aren’t you adorable?,” he murmurs into your neck, tone bathed in condescension. “Just relax, he’s joking.” Against your wriggling and squirming, Geto backsteps to the shiny wooden desk in your room, still clinging to your waist. “Have a seat, it’d do you some good to calm down a little.”
And before you know it, he’s descending into the cool comfort of your chair, dragging you with him to rest in his lap. Gojo slams the book shut and approaches your restrained, restless form, grinning wildly the whole time. He pushes you back to recline atop his friend, thoroughly amused at your continuous flailing. A round of delighted laughter leaves Gojo’s lips, especially at the childish kick of your legs that don’t reach the floor from your position.
“Would you let fucking go of me?,” you huff between grunts, only to be met with Geto’s thoughtful hum.
“I might when you relax.,” he finally speaks.
You twist around in Geto’s lap to jab an enraged finger at his broad chest, a disdainful scowl painted across your features. “Did you two come here to play, or did you come here to learn?”
Gojo reaches out to ruffle your hair, smirking when you slap his hand away. The book precariously wobbling on his fingertips begins to fall, caught by him at the last minute before it hits the floor. “Can’t we do a little bit of both?”
Your toes brush the rug as you scramble forward in Geto’s lap, promptly ignoring the growing hardness you feel on your behind. “If you two aren’t gonna take this seriously then get out of my room.”
Geto chuckles as Gojo heaves out a loud sigh, and holds the textbook out to you. “Fine, jeez, you’re such a little buzzkill.”
You leap up from Geto’s lap and snatch it back. “Shut the hell up and sit down.”
Tension seeps away as they obey without question. Geto claims your swiveling desk chair as Gojo flops down on the huge, pink carpet covering majority of the floor, and you settle back onto the bed, flip again to the designated page and begin going over your plans for today’s tutoring session. You can feel two pairs of eyes burning into you, but opt to just concentrate on dumbing down the material for them.
Gojo zones out immediately as you dive into the information. Ocean blue eyes catch onto the curves and dips of your body and admire the cute loungewear you have on. Snug, white shorts that hug your skin and ride up the crease of your plush thighs. He studies the curve of your ass long enough to realize he can spot pink panties barely showing through the translucent fabric. With the way you’re sitting, knees midway pulled to your chest, Gojo can see the outline of your pussy, and blood rushes to his dick as his mind goes haywire. Gojo visualizes a different scenario, one where he spikes that stupid textbook into the floor and fucks you senseless. He can imagine perfectly the look on your face as he pins you to a mattress, voice wavering through false bravado as you whine through plump lips at him to move. Complaining even though your rounded thighs are rubbing together to ease the ache of your cunt, a damp spot forming in the crotch of your shorts as Gojo peppers kisses along your neck. The view of your beautiful tits with perked nipples rubbing against his chest and driving Gojo insane until he rips the thin layers off, both the panties and shorts together to leave your glistening pussy bare for him, ready to be ravaged and abused by his cock–
“Gojo.” He hears his name, but it’s like someone calling him underwater. “Gojo.”
A sharp kick in the ribs and he’s at full attention. Geto snickers at him, still swiveling back and forward in the leather chair, and Gojo looks over to meet your sharp dagger of a glare over the textbook.
“It’d be nice if you could focus on me and not waste my time.,” you sigh in utter annoyance.
Gojo grins that boyish smile, one that makes you want slap it off his face but maybe also makes your heart stutter a tad. “Oh-ho, babe, I‘m always focused on you.”
His statement brings a warmth to your cheeks, but you’re an expert at pretending around Satoru Gojo. Rolling your eyes, you huff and backtrack on a couple paragraphs in an effort to catch him up. Less distractions for him to latch on to.
“I think I’d focus more if I wasn’t so lonely down here.,” he interrupts to sulk in your direction.
The look you give is like one a mother gives a disobeying child. “Okay? No one told you to sit down there.”
You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, especially since Gojo perks up at the sentence. “Oh, inviting me to sit on the throne with you, princess?”
Eyes widening in disbelief, you try to sputter out a ‘no!’, but Gojo’s already sprung up and leaping into bed next to you. “No takebacks!”
You frown, brows knitted as he gets a little too comfy, squishing your favorite stuffed animal in his arms and blinking a wide-eyed look at you. Geto eyes you two and continues slow swirls in the chair, getting slightly dizzier with each rotation, but at least he’s actually been taking in the information you’ve explained. Not that he needs your tutoring, he’s up there with you as one of the top students in this particular class. But it’s hard not to read your lips when he’s been shamelessly ogling them the past ten minutes.
Sighing in defeat, you allow Gojo to curl up next to you. It’s easy to feign his attention and he pretends to read over your shoulder, though his mind is anywhere but in this textbook. If anything, this was far worse. Being in such close proximity, your alluring scent threatens to drag him deeper into your space. Instead of focusing on your body or, you know, the material, now all Gojo can concentrate on is pinpointing the ingredients of your shampoo. It’s so familiar, right on the tip of his tongue…vanilla? Maybe, but he can also catch hints of strawberry in there somewhere. Perhaps if he was a little closer…
“Can you back off a little?,” you snap at him. “Damn, you’re almost on top of me.”
Gojo smirks. “I can be actually on top of y-“
“Anyways you two can look over this.,” you ignore his flirtatiousness and stand up to get away from him. “Since you apparently know this more than me. I don’t even get why y’all asked for tutoring if you weren’t gonna listen.”
And before Gojo can object, you teeter towards the edge of the bed, land on the soft rug, and head towards the mini fridge for a much-needed drink of water. It’s bad enough you were asked to tutor them when they clearly don’t care for it, but for them to actually come and then waste your time, too? Egregious. You have half a mind to kick both of them out and tell the professor they don’t need anyone’s damn help, much less yours.
You bend over for a cold water bottle, and in the few seconds it takes you to grab it, you swear you hear the faint sound of a camera click behind you. Quiet noises follow after, almost like they’re trying to have a conversation without you noticing, but it’s silent as you turn around to continue the lesson. They’re so fucking weird. Whatever.
Drawing near the bed, you steady a hand and make ready to hop back into place, only for a strong pair of hands to hoist you up and set you on the edge. You let out a soft ‘oh!’, sincerely taken aback, and turn to look at Gojo, who’s readjusting back into his original spot like nothing has happened.
“What?,” he asks. Something about the nonchalant upturn of his lips is different than his usual smirk. Something more genuine and less smug.
Doubt clouds your vision, tugs the corners of your lips down as you glance between him and Geto, who’s halted his endless chair twirling to give a curious tilt of his head. They eye eachother, and then you again; Geto has the smallest smile, seemingly unassuming but you’re skeptical of it nonetheless.
“Nothing.,” you decide to dismiss it because you’d only be setting yourself up for failure trying to explain why it was a problem. Besides, addressing it would only serve to fuel Gojo’s numerous efforts to throw everything off track. Maybe he was seriously just trying to help. Fine, no big deal.
You awkwardly flounder backwards, making sure to put a few more inches of space between you and Gojo. All to no avail since the second you settle your laptop upon your bare thighs, he instantly closes the gap. The radiating heat of his body sends warmth throughout your skin, exhaustion catching up to pierce through your bones, and you find yourself wanting to swaddle up within blankets and go to sleep.
“The professor has a few study guides on the website.,” you yawn, keys clicking beneath your fingers until the aforementioned pdf file is loading down the screen. “Hundreds of questions but a lot of this stuff will be on the final, so it’d be helpful to study it all.”
Your eyelids flutter, and next is Gojo’s low voice in your ear. “Tired, princess? I thought you were supposed to be teaching us.”
His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin, and you suddenly notice how cold this room is. “Fuck off.,” you mutter, shortly followed up by both their chuckling.
“Told you to relax.,” Geto voices in the most ‘told ya so’ tone ever. “Get some rest, we can take it from here, and we’ll wake you if we need something.”
It’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, but…you can’t help succumbing to a little nap. The past several days have worn you thin, and despite not trusting these two to find a drunk in a bar, let alone have unsupervised access to your room, the promise of a little sleep is tempting. You are exhausted so, against your better judgement, you bank on the fact that they have the potential of grown, mature men who won’t get up to something nefarious while you rest your eyes for a little. Surely it couldn’t hurt to put the slightest amount of trust in them, and you allow your vision to fade.
During your catnap, you have the poor luck to dream of school. Studying, finals, projects, classes, anything related to college, you conjured up an even more miserable version of it in your dream state. Though in one dream you cuddle that stuffed animal Satoru grabbed from your bed, so that’s a plus. In the dream it’s warm, snuggly, fuzzy. You smother it in your arms, bury your face into it to inhale the smell of it, a scent you’re infatuated with. You vaguely recognize it in your sleep, it smells so much like…
You awake to the jostling of your shoulders. Someone, two people actually, are talking, maybe to you? What are your whereabouts, actually?
“Ah, there she is!” The familiar voice sounds vague and foggy, loud but far away. “Have a good nap, princess?”
Harsh light beams into your eyes, tampering with the return of your sight. You hover a hand over your forehead to shield your face, peering around in a hope to get your bearings.
“I think she’s still half-asleep.,” another voice whispers, and then says louder, “Take your time, darling.”
Everything is bleary, but you can just make out the details of your room. There’s your fridge over on the opposite wall, the lamp on your desk, speaking of which, who’s in your chair? You start to sit up, wondering in the back of your mind when you laid down to begin with, utterly bewildered when you feel something, a hand, firm and warm on the bare skin of your hip. Pink bedsheets, white dorm walls, your legs, someone else’s legs stretched out beside yours…A chuckle rings somewhere to your right as you gape at these seemingly disembodied legs. Your gaze trails up to see they’re attached to a waist, a chest, a pair of arms, and then your eyes fall on the face.
“G–!”, you hesitate, stumbling backwards away from Gojo who laughs maniacally. “Get off me, Gojo!”
He scoffs, Geto huffs a laugh somewhere in the room. “You were the one laying all up under me, actually.”
“I was not!”
“You so were,” he argues, giddiness in his voice. “You were allll over me, baby. Hugging my arm, rubbing my chest, all of it. Wanna see the video?”
You gasp out, “Vi–? Video?”
Gojo fiddles around on his phone. “Yeah, check it out, sweet cheeks!”
He holds the phone out to you, and a large, empty feeling plummets to the bottom of your stomach. You, spooning him, a betraying smile spread on your lips as you nuzzle Gojo’s chest, completely oblivious to your surroundings. His hand snaked around your waist, fingers occasionally playing with the hem of your shirt or ducking beneath to pinch your hips. You whine when he does so, and in the video you see the stutter of his body, hear traces of his quiet laughter. The phone currently shakes in Gojo’s grasp from his endless giggling.
“Delete it!,” you stammer in complete disbelief. “Pervert!”
“Pervert?,” Gojo repeats your accusation. “You’re the one feeling me up in the video!”
“Get y’all’s asses out of my room!,” you shout at them, leaping to the floor to immediately escort them out. “Both of you, now!”
Gojo glares, huffs, and does his signature pout, all the while Geto chuckles hysterically behind his palm. “How rude of my tutor to kick me out after falling asleep during the session on top of trying to seduce me!”
Geto chimes in before you can tell his friend to shut the fuck up. “Surely you can spare a few minutes to make up for that time?”
“No.,” you say bluntly. “Out.”
You watch in disapproval as they grab their things, foot tapping impatiently the whole time as you hold the door wide open for them to leave through. They take their time, eventually prompting you to just start shoving them out into the hall.
“So, same time tomorrow?,” Geto teases, stumbling through the doorway.
You grimace, giving them both a last push out of your room. “Absolutely not-“
“And get some rest too, while you’re at it.,” Gojo bids you farewell with one last aggravating comment.
“Whatever.,” and you slam the door in their faces, Satoru poking his tongue out at you with a wink.
bonus!
— It’s the early hours of the morning. Geto has long since passed out, but Satoru can’t seem to get a wink of sleep. The video replays in his mind, and he tries desperately to imagine the sensation of your body laying against him. No teasing, no sex, no filthy, perverted thoughts. Just the feeling of your head on his chest again, limbs haphazardly wrapped around him. The even sounds of your breathing, warm breath brushing over his collar. Such an adorable, peaceful look on your face when you’re not glaring at him and spouting insults in a rage. Yeah, he told Geto he was taking pictures and a video as some kind of future blackmail, but, truth be told, Satoru really just wanted them all for himself.
#bully!satosugu#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#satoru x reader#satosugu x reader
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Masked in Amity
CW: Sam doesn't come off great in this, but not Sam bashing. She just has a lot of growing up to do still and knee jerk reacts badly. (I also don't want to listen to any Sam bashing please and ty.)
Sam’s room still looked the same as always. Danny supposed that’s what happened when someone moved out for college but still came home again— especially to a home like Sam’s. There were only a few posters, a few photos, and a knickknack or two that had changed between high school and now. Danny sat on the edge of the bed like always.
“So how’s school doing?” Danny asked into the awkward silence. Silences never used to be awkward between them, or was that just looking back with rose colored glasses?
“Ugh,” Sam gripped and flopped back onto her bed next to Danny. “Why would you even ask me that? You know I hate it.”
“Because it’s what you’re doing right now? It’s a huge part of your life, you can’t just… avoid it.”
“Watch me,” Sam said, bitterly. Her snarled lips looked weird without the dark purple lipstick. “I’m going to get my stupid law degree my parents are paying for and work at some stupid corporate firm Dad has connections at and when my trust fund has made enough in interest I’m going to quite and go open a non-profit and sue all those fuckers I was forced to work for over how they’ve fucked up the environment.”
“Okay,” Danny said. He didn’t want to argue about this. He just hoped this plan worked better than the last three Sam had had before her privilege knocked her down a peg.
“Can I ask about, I don’t know, your time in Chicago at least?”
“Chicago is amazing,” Sam said, wistfully. “Being in Chicago, I mean, I’m sure you know how it is, it really makes it clear how backwater Amity Park is. The things people worry about here are so small compared to what’s out there!”
Danny just hummed in response. He didn’t exactly know what to say to that. It didn’t feel completely wrong, but it wasn’t right either. Worries weren’t a competition like that.
“And the bands!” Sam continued, thankfully changing the topic. “I have got to see so many amazing bands. The local scene alone is amazing and no one knows about them so you can be right up close and a lot of times even talk to the band after. You should come for a show sometime.”
“I can try to,” Danny said. Sam’s music wasn’t usually his thing, but something like that might be fun. It would be different at least. Danny gave her a little smile. “Maybe Tucker could make it out too.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “You know he won’t. When was the last time you talked to him not on the computer or the phone? He’s only here at Christmas when you aren’t.”
“You know how I feel about Christmas, Sam,” Danny said, holding back a sigh. Sure Tucker had been busy lately and that had made him more distant, but he was still one of their trio. “And if we plan something then Tucker can schedule for it. Don’t count him out just because he’s busy.”
“Alright, fine, we can plan something for a bigger show with Tucker,” Sam agreed, “but you still need to come out to something local. They’re really better anyways. We’ll go out to eat first and hit up a bar or three after. I know some really great places— places like you’ve never seen.”
Sam reached up and wrapped her hands around Danny’s neck, pulling him down a little. “It can be a date.”
Something in Danny balked at that. It was an innocent enough comment. Sam and him had dated and then not and then dated again or just had fun together. They’d known each other so long that it was easy to just ebb and flow out of the different levels of a relationship like that.
This time, though, Danny found himself resisting the tide. “Or we can just hang out.”
The almost dreamy smile Sam had crumpled into a frown. “What? I mean, sure, it can, but why? Are you seeing someone?”
“Yes? No? I mean, I’ve been… sleeping with someone, but we’re not dating or anything.”
“That’s okay,” Sam said easily. “I’m not going to make you be exclusive. I don’t want to be either right now; we’re not around each other enough for that and You know that I’ve been sleeping with my roommate sometimes and I’ve met a cute person in study group now too with amazing fingers.”
“No, I know, just…” Danny gave a frustrated noise. Nightwing and him weren’t even close to being exclusive. Someone like Nightwing could have anyone they wanted and with how much he liked sex, Danny was pretty sure Nightwing did have whoever he wanted. Danny was just… convenient for the hero side and Danny didn’t begrudge the other that. It was convenient for Danny too. It was just…
Danny didn’t want to keep living the same cycle with Sam where he was her world for a few weeks or months and then just back to an occasional phone call. He didn’t want to keep being pulled back to Amity Park. Maybe meeting her in Chicago would be different enough, but Sam was still so tied to Amity and always would be by her parent’s money.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” Danny said slowly, feeling the words out as he said them. “Maybe it’s time just to leave us dating in the past?”
Sam dropped her hands and sat up. “Excuse me?”
Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just, we’ve tried being together in a lot of different ways and we always end up in the same place.”
“So you want to leave me in the past?”
“No!” Danny said quickly, trying to get ahead of this before Sam spiraled too badly from making assumptions. “I’d love to come to Chicago and see a band with you! Just… not as a date.”
“Because you want to leave that in the past,” Sam snapped and got up off the bed.
Danny scrambled off also.
“That’s not a bad thing. I enjoyed it and I know you did too. Just more, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best phrase? I mean maybe we shouldn’t go down that road again when we know where it’s going to end.”
Sam crossed her arms. That was never a good sign. “Right, because I’m always going to be a dead end, is that it? Not like you who’s off playing hero with the big names?”
“What? What does me being a Titan have to do with this?”
“Don’t play dumb, Danny, we both know you’re not. You left to go be a famous hero and hardly looked back at Amity Park or me or Tucker or your parents. What if the town needed you?”
Danny threw his hands up in the air. “Why would they need me? I destroyed the portal, came to an agreement with Vlad, made sure my parents couldn’t build another working one— it fixed everything!”
“And then left.”
“So I could help other people!”
“Sure it wasn’t so that you could be famous?”
Danny closed his mouth with a clack.
Sam winced at her own words. “Danny…”
“No.” Danny backed up a few steps from her. “No. You don’t get to— you of all people don’t get to come at me like that! I never wanted to be a hero, Sam! You’re the one who said I needed to protect Amity and you were right, sure, but it’s never what I wanted! You wanted it!”
“Danny, no—” Sam reached out for him and Danny stepped back again, hitting the wall.
“Yes you did, Sam! You did or I never would have had to die a second time after your wish! I lost everything again! I don’t have a future like you and Tucker, I just have being a hero. I just have being dead.”
“Come on Danny,” Sam tried. She moved close again, slowly, like Danny was some sort of feral animal.
Maybe he really was just a caged beast.
“I’m just— I better go. I’m just going to go,” Danny said. In a flash of light he was back to being Phantom. He let himself tip back and phase through the wall.
As he left Amity Park behind, he couldn’t help but think it really said something that he was far more comfortable being Phantom these day than Danny.
--
AN: Here's yous all voted on treat for the day! This comes before Danny showing up at Dick's door, quite upset.
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the nice guy. spencer reid x reader
content — fluff. humour. fem!bau!reader. casual mention of sex. loosely based on season four episode nine. case talk. nondescript injury to reader.
you explain to spence the difference between a nice guy and a ‘nice guy’.
“i don’t understand this.”
morgan spun on his chair, “what’s that, wonder boy?”
the files he was flicking through were baffling him. each of the interview transcripts read the same sort of thing. ‘oh, he was a textbook ‘nice guy’ you know’, or something to that effect.
you were the one conducting that set of witness interviews, and the text before him showed no confusion on your part as you continued your original line of questioning. concluding this meant you understood, spencer ignored derek’s response and instead got up to find you. predictably, in garcia’s office, watching unreleased films, seeing as your paperwork was long completed.
“can i ask you something?” he interjected, causing penelope to throw popcorn at him as a consequence of her surprise.
“can you knock?” she quipped back, but he wasn’t really listening to her. spencer could become pretty single minded when he set his focus on something, especially if it was something he didn’t understand.
you excused yourself and followed him into the hall. the simple window on your right showed nothing but the clouded night sky, meaning only a few people lingered in the office now. spencer turned the light on by reaching past your head to the switch, while you tried to ignore the way your stomach felt upon having him lean over you.
clearing your throat, you addressed him, “what did ya need, spence?”
he showed you what he’d been preoccupied with, “what does this mean? we profiled our unsub as desperate, creepy, and we were right. why did they all describe him as a nice guy?”
you pondered for a moment on how best to explain it to him before you answered.
“they’re kind of being sarcastic. a textbook ‘nice guy’ is a guy who really pities himself, quotes ‘nice guys finish last’, that sort of thing. he thinks he’s so kind, and for that women owe him sex, so when they don’t meet that standard, he just believes women only like jerks. he sees himself as good, but he doesn’t comprehend why women would take offence to his sexual reward system for human decency.”
spencer frowned, “there are enough of them that women have a collective name for this?”
you nodded, “trademarked and everything.”
“really?”
“no, kidding.”
he smiled at you and you returned it, his curiosity fulfilled and his faith in humanity slightly lessened, as it was case by case.
a few days later, you were all jetting off to another police department, examining files and bouncing theories. spencer sat on your left, the only one close enough to hear the low rumble of your stomach. chuckling to himself, he produced a breakfast bar from his satchel and slid it over to you. the overjoyed expression on your face at food, and food in your favourite flavour, prompted him to remember your ‘nice guy’ conversation.
you offered him your thanks and he answered, “you’re welcome. no sex required.”
even though he was half kidding, half sincere, you gave him a whole laugh, easy and unabashed. the smile he donned was satisfied at initiating such glee from you.
as the investigation progressed, the danger became more and more apparent. the team knew someone was going to end up hurt, but it didn’t stop them from flinching as they saw you swinging your legs in the back of an ambulance, taking emergency blood supply. you rolled your eyes at their concern, “really, i’m fine guys. just a scratch.”
they weren’t so quick to dismiss your injury, but they didn’t hover. they had protocol to follow, local cops to brief, and press to alert. the only one who lingered was spencer, awkwardly sitting next to you at your invitation. he thought about wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder as a chill set in the air, but was too afraid to dislodge the tube. you bit the bullet of his worrying and leaned until he was prompted to support you.
“are you alright?” he knew it wasn’t the right thing to ask you, but he wasn’t sure what else to say in that moment, not when you were pressed against him so the warmth from your body bled through his vest to his own skin.
you gave a light shrug, but didn’t comment further, instead saying, “you’re nice, spencer. the real way.”
he hummed, “how’d you know?”
“nice guy trademark would’ve tried to kiss me by now. you’re just holding me.”
he knew what he was about to admit was a risk, but the question burned in his throat, “what if i wanted to? kiss you?”
you looked up at him and his heart skipped a beat. if he tried, he could count every one of your eyelashes, even though a few were clumped together by smudges of mascara that had congealed in your initial reaction to the wound. there was a brightness in your irises that sparked something in his chest. the hand you could move freely came up to his face, which had become flushed. you could feel the heat beneath your palm, but couldn’t make it out visually with his back to the ambulance light.
“i’d think you’re even nicer.”
he didn’t seem all that surprised, “can i?”
“please.”
#🤍ebullientheart#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#fluff#humour#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid humour#spencer reid x fem!reader#fem!reader#bau!reader#spencer reid x bau!reader#spencer reid x fem!bau!reader#fem!bau!reader#bau!fem!reader#spencer reid x bau!fem!reader#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x bau!reader fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader fluff#spencer reid x injured!reader
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Happy trails, John.
A/N: I've been meaning to write the captain my captain but he's my holy grail—look but not touch even though I'd beg him to let me make him lonches at 4 am. Also, I watch Die Hard every Christmas because it IS a Christmas movie, argue with your demons. In response to @glitterypirateduck's prompt thing which inspired to me to write something cute and civilized.
“Just once, I’d like a regular, normal Christmas. Eggnog, a fucking Christmas tree, a little turkey. But no. It’s always ‘Die Hard’.”
“John, love. You’re being overdramatic. It’s just the holidays with my parents.”
You rolled your eyes as you stuffed your clothes into the luggage bag, preparing for the trip.
“I know, love, but I wanted to spend a quiet Christmas with my wife— but no, the in-laws have to call with their ‘Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…’ ", he said with a mocking lilt in his voice.
You snicker and say, “I promise we’ll leave as soon as it’s polite.”
“Sure, sure, I go out and keep the world safe just so when I can get a little reprieve, it’s to not spend it alone with my wife. I’m feeling a little fuckin’ underappreciated.”
You closed the zipper on your bag and went over to the bathroom where John was grumbling his displeasure. Looping your arms around his waist, cheek to his shoulder blade you say, “It’s just Christmas, hun. We’ll have New Year's all to ourselves and we can even have the boys over to celebrate. I’ll even tell you what I got you for Christmas.”
That seems to distract him a bit, as he turns his head a tad with a curious tilt.
“I bought you a Lagavulin 16-year aged single malt scotch.”
His eyes warm with appreciation and he lets out a resigned sigh.
“Right, then. Let’s get this over with.”
Stepping out of the bathroom, you turn to look at the time.
“Jesus Christ, John! We’re gonna need a miracle to get to the airport on time!”
You’re hastily grabbing your bags, yanking them off the bed and you see John on the phone.
“John! Get your bag—”
Suddenly, there are tires screeching outside on the driveway. John walks past you with his bag and picks up yours as well, before jerking his head at you towards the front door.
“You wanted a miracle. I give you— The TaskForce 141”, John says, tossing the bags in the trunk of a truck that has Ghost, Johnny, and Gaz in it.
You don’t even care to question why they’re here— you just hop in the back seat immediately and buckle up.
John’s foot is barely inside the truck when it’s speeding off, tires screeching on the pavement. The entire drive has you almost nauseous with the jerky turns and harsh brakes. At a particularly abrasive step of the gas that has your neck jerking back towards the headrest of the seat, you turn towards John with a white-knuckle grip on the driver and passenger seat— you ask “Who’s driving this car? Stevie Wonder?!”
Johnny, sweet Johnny turns with a confused furrow on his brow and says, “Whad’ya mean, lass? It’s just L.T.”
You’re at the airport in no time with the no-question illegal speed Ghost drove at, and you’re stumbling out of the vehicle with shaky legs. At least you made it.
Gaz grabs the bags from the trunk and places them on the floor but you’ve already run off to check in before it’s too late. John thanks Ghost for the help and after Johnny is rolling his window down— “I heard you’re going to America. To California, specifically.”
John grunts in annoyance at remembering the trip, and he sees Johnny grin cheekily at him before he says, “Yippy-ki-yay, motherfucker!”
#CODHOLIDAY2023#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#john price x reader#captain john price#john price#captain price#captain price x reader#captain price fanfic#price x reader#price x you#john price x you#cod mwii#cod mw2
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hi mj!!
okay hear me out soobin and kai.. tag team.
like i know they would most likely never share anything like this but maybe the reader is the only exception in this case. ofc they share they’re favorite games and dramas but sharing kais gf is there new favorite activity?
hope you are doing well :))
-🖇️
nonnie this has me VIBRATING rn you have no idea i’m 👁️👄👁️ ughhhh sookai sandwich EFFF
edit: sorry for the accidental soob focus in the beginning, i got carried away i’m too mf obsessed w him 🤧
──────────────────────
soobin really didn’t mean to walk into kai’s bedroom without knocking, he just didn’t know that you were over… didn’t know that he’d find you getting split in half on his best friend’s cock, your body full nude and beautiful and all on display as he stands clenching the doorknob until his knuckles are white, frozen, eyes so wide that it’s comical. as if his cock wasn’t already getting hard enough in his sweatpants, the fact that the fucked out look on your face doesn’t change when you see him standing there — pools of need filling your gaze, in fact — well, hell; he sure as fuck is hard now.
soobin.exe has stopped working COMPLETELY, however, when he hears his own name fall from your lips in a soft whimper, and his eyes finally shoot to kai’s when the younger pants out, “hyung.. it’s okay, you can come in.” soobin doesn’t even process himself closing the door as he steps forward, doesn’t process how he approaches the bed, doesn’t process how he’s already gripping the hem of his shirt — “a-are you sure?” he whispers to kai, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as he watches his friend drill into it. he even has to stop the drool from trickling past his lips.
“please,” you moan out lewdly, breaking soobin’s momentary trance as his eyes flash back up to your face, your head thrown back as you watch him through pleading, lidded eyes. kai only chuckles and responds, “i’m sure. she’s been wanting this. you should see the way she looks at you, hyung.. isn’t that right, baby? want us both to share your pretty little pussy? hmm?”
soobin’s mouth hangs open at kai’s filthy words; what the fuck happened to his sweet innocent maknae???? but the guttural moan that erupts from your lips in response travels straight down to his twitching cock, and that’s all the confirmation that he needs as his clothes quickly find a home on the floor of his best friend’s bedroom and, in a daze, he’s quickly knelt on the bed beside you.
so thus starts the arrangement; kai kept true to his words, and now here you are being regularly shared between both men.
and you fucking love it.
soobin and kai aren’t new to the concept of sharing; they share video games, snacks, their passwords to anime sites, even some secret hentai links, all their usual favorite things; and now, their newest favorite thing to share is you, apparently.
it’s not uncommon anymore to be spending a night in with your boyfriend and have soobin come join; leaning back against kai’s chest while he tweaks your nipples as soobin languidly eats your pussy. or to be sandwiched between them in the shower, kai’s cock thrusting into you from behind as you hold onto soobin’s shoulder for support with one hand, the other jerking him off as your tongues tangle together. or when they’re busy playing video games and have you take turns cockwarming them — warm mouth wrapped around whoever isn’t buried inside you. later they reward you for being such a good girl when they’ve got you spitroasted on their cocks, your big strong men giving it to you so good, filling both your pretty holes on each end until your eyes are rolling back and your body is shaking. and who knows….
maybe they’ll reward you even better next time by filling all three.
#ask mj ♡#mj’s hard thoughts#txt#txt x reader#txt hard thoughts#txt thoughts#txt smut#soobin#soobin x reader#soobin hard thoughts#soobin thoughts#soobin smut#huening kai#huening kai x reader#huening kai hard thoughts#huening kai thoughts#huening kai smut#taegimood#nonnie 🖇️!
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hiii for the nsfw prompts, can i request 274 + 72 with geto pleaseee? or gojo… whichever you like more bc i can’t decide 😫 it just sounds kinda funny and they’re both silly geese to me HELSODSK
eek, geto??? ok, i will try 🥺 i hope i do my baby justice. (also sorry but technically nobody says the second prompt, but geto thinks it 🙈)
my responses to these prompts keep getting longer and longer lmao sorry to everyone to requested early on and got little baby drabbles in response!!
list of prompts
╰┈➤ smut prompts - 72 & 274.
“That is kinky even by my standards…”
“I had no idea you were into this kind of thing”
ft. geto/fem!reader
cw. unedited, explicit sexual content (restraints, oral, facesitting, ass eating, multiple orgasms), explicit language. 1,645 words.
being with geto is intimidating -- he's older than you, more experienced than you, and more confident than you.
and it doesn't help that gojo is always reminding you of these facts every time the two of you are alone together.
"suguru's last girlfriend was a gymnast," gojo had told you in a quiet, conspiratorial whisper. "you know what that means, don't you?"
no, you don't.
so you spent the night learning different ways to please him. you searched threads on reddit, found sex-positive blogs on google, and you even watched a few videos online. by the next day, you knew what you wanted to try with geto -- how to impress him.
"handcuffs?" geto asks, looking over at you from his seat on the couch. his lip twitches in amusement. "wow, that's kinky even by my standards," he says sarcastically.
you frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you childishly pout. "don't make fun of me."
"i'm not, princess," he purrs, leaning toward you to wrap his arms around your waist. he pulls you into his lap and smiles up at you as he relaxes back in his seat. "you know you don't have to do anything special to make me want you -- just being you is enough."
"but your last girlfriend was a gymnast."
"what? were you talking with satoru?"
geto sighs, cupping your face with one hand while he rubs at the crease between your brows with the thumb of his other, smoothing it down until your face relaxes from your frown. "we can try handcuffs," he says softly, "whatever you want."
"good, because i already bought them," you admit, feeling your face burn in embarrassment.
"my, you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he purrs, running his tongue along his lower lip as his eyes narrow.
you wrap your thighs around his waist and geto lifts you up from the couch, cradling your ass in his hands as he walks the two of you into your bedroom.
"in here?" he asks, standing in the doorway, and you nod excitedly.
"i put them in the nightstand."
he walks you toward your bed, crawling along it on his knees, before lowering you down onto your back with your head amongst the pillows. he presses a soft kiss to your lips before moving aside, pulling open your beside drawer and pulling out a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs.
geto send you a look.
"they were the only ones they had in stock," you admit, scrunching your nose in embarrassment as geto chuckles.
he returns to his place between your thighs, grabbing both of your wrists and dragging them up above your head. he pins them down to the pillows in one of his large hands, while the other fits them around the bars of your headboard.
"wait, no!" you say quickly and he freezes immediately.
he looks down at you, concerned, and loosens his grip on your wrists so you can squirm out of his grasp. "are we moving too fast?" he asks, worry evident in his tone.
"i want to use them on you, suguru."
his eyebrows jerk up in surprise and he blinks down at you, processing what you've just said to him until a sly smile grows across his face. "full of surprises," he purrs, biting back a grin as he lets you roll him over onto his back with your palm pressed on his chest.
you straddle his hips, grabbing both of his wrists with your hands, and lifting them up above his head -- just like he did with you. he watches you intently as you fiddle with the handcuffs, locking first his right hand, then his left, before sitting back to admire your handiwork.
geto looks up at his hands, tugging gently against the restraints to test their strength before looking back down at you. "i could break out of these pretty easily."
"yeah, but don't, ok?" you pout.
you climb off from geto's lap and onto the floor, standing off the side of the bed while he looks over at you curiously. he watches you hook your fingers into your pants, sliding them down off of your thighs along with your underwear, and geto's cock throbs against his leg at the sight.
he can't help himself from squirming on the bed as he watches you settle next to him, kneeling next to his chest as you look down at him curiously. before he can ask, you swing your leg over his head until your knee is pressed into the mattress next to his opposite arm.
pressing your palms against his chest, you shift your hips back until your pussy is hovering over his mouth and geto's eyes widen in delight.
"oh," he says, voice deep and husky. "this is what you want."
he tugs against the handcuffs, wanting to grab and a handful of your ass and pull you down against his face, but he's met with resistance. he makes a small grunt of displeasure, but he licks his lips and lifts his head slightly off the pillow, instead.
"come here -- take a seat," he demands.
"let me know if i'm hurting you," you say, and there's a small quiver to your voice that reveals your hesitance -- but it just makes geto's cock throb painfully against the confines of his pants.
"you won't hurt me, princess," he assures, breathing harder now that he can see the slick building on the lips of your cunt. "come down here, let me taste you."
with a shuddering breath, you lower your hips down onto geto's face, instantly feeling the warmth of his mouth engulfing you as his tongue flattens along your slit. you experimentally rock your hips against his face -- just like you saw in the video from last night-- and let out a stuttered cry when you feel his tongue against your clit.
pressing your palms against his chest, you let your eyes fall shut, grinding down on his mouth until each rock of your hips sends jolts of electricity shooting up your spine. this feels good -- better than you thought it would -- and you let your head hang back over your shoulders as you lose yourself from the feeling.
your slick is sweet and slippery against his tongue. he wants to wrap his arms around your thighs and pull you tighter against his face -- until he can't even fucking breathe -- he wants to be suffocated by you. his hips buck needily into the open air -- he can't help himself.
he groans into your pussy when you press down a little harder and his eyes roll back into his head. all he can taste is you, all he can see is you, all he's ever wanted is you -- and here you are, grinding your pretty little cunt against his face and gripping tight fists around the fabric of his shirt.
your legs start to tremble slightly on either side of his head and he knows you're close. you rock harder -- more desperately -- against his tongue until your moans fade into stuttered gasps of pleasure and geto feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue.
his mouth is flooded with the taste of you as you cum, and he fights against the restraints to reach down and just grab you, but the handcuffs are proving to be stronger than he had expected.
you lift your hands from his chest, reaching back behind you to grab your ass as you gently spread yourself open. geto's eyes widen in surprise as your hips shift just slightly forward until his tongue flicks against your small, puckered hole.
his cock leaks precum from the tip, leaving a sticky mess on his thigh as he gently kisses your asshole -- he had no idea you were into this!
from above him, he hears you whimpering from the feeling of his lips against you. he kisses you again and again, each time pressing his tongue a little harder against your hole until it finally slips past the tight ring.
"fuck -- suguru," you whimper, pressing harder against his face as geto licks into your ass.
god, he wants to grab you so hard right now. he tugs harder against the handcuffs, the metal digging into the skin on his wrists as he fights against him.
either you don't care or you don't realize geto's frustration as he groans into your skin, as you keep rocking against his face feverishly as he buries his tongue in your ass.
you slide a hand across your hips to rub quick, small circles into your clit and geto is fully fucking the air, now. he can't help himself -- he needs you to touch him -- why won't you touch him? his cock is thick and desperate against his thigh and he just needs something.
"sugu --" you whine, and he can feel your cunt twitching against his chin, coating him in slick. "i'm gonna cum -- please."
geto groans into your skin, fucking you with his tongue and burying his face between the globes of your ass as you touch yourself.
with a whimpering cry, you cum for the second time against his face. your thighs shake and you fall forward onto his body, hands bracing yourself on his chest as you keep rocking against his mouth. geto groans, feeling you squeeze around his tongue and he pulls so hard against the handcuffs that he can feel them pinching his skin.
his cock -- desperate and needy and untouched -- twitches in the confines of his pants. geto's body tenses, bucking one last time up into the air until he feels the white-hot pleasure of his orgasm shoot through his body.
he groans, fighting against his restraints as he spills his cum into his pants, making a wet, sticky mess on his thigh to match the one you're making on his face.
god, he is obsessed with you.
#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto smut#geto suguru smut#jjk smut#fem!reader#geto#jjk#geto x y/n#geto x you#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x y/n#geto suguru#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#tiff.ask#tiff.fic#geto.os
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Filled up!
Paring: ot8 x fem Reader
Rating: explicit
Genre: smut, g4ngbang
Warnings: use of sl^t etc, face-fcking, anal, vag
Day 24 of k-tober
Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28
!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!
“You positive about doing this with the guys? If you don’t want to it can just be us if you’d like.” Chan asks me as I begin stepping out of the short black dress I was wearing.
“Yeah yeah I’m sure. I want this, wanna get fucked dumb..” I giggle, smirking as I watch the others walk into the room and strip; getting ready to use me to their advantage.
I lie down on the bed, fully nude with my body on display for all eight of the men to see. Changbin makes the first move which is sliding into my cunt, he thrusts slowly at first but builds up his speed every once in a while.
“You’re doing so well..” Chan smiles, proud of the whore that he’s created out of me. Felix does the next thing, sliding his cock into my hand, getting me to jerk him off while still being dicked down by Changbin. The rest of the boys stand over my body and begin to touch themselves too, jerking themselves hard enough making every single one of them spill spurts of cum all over my naked skin.
“Ahh fuck!” I moan out, squirming under their bodies. “What are we gonna do with her? Make her our slave?” Minho smirks.
“whatever you guys please.” Chan replies to him, forcing my mouth open before shoving his cock dowm my throat and Fucking my face like I’m nothing but a dumb little slut for the group of boys to use. A fucking whore who doesn’t understand a single fucking word of English. “Binnie move over a bit, wanna fuck her sweet little ass.” Hyunjin chuckles, a smirk pulling at his lips as he forcefully shoves himself in my ass.
“mmmgh..” I moan, my eyes rolling back into my head as they keep using my body. They’re using me like I’m just a useless sex doll, which is exactly what I wanted.
Chan suddenly pulls out of my mouth and goes to the nightstand next to him; grabbing out some rope. He crosses my hands together and ties them up with the white rope, chucking some rope to Seungmin, getting him to tie my feet to the bed so I’m laying down in a starfish position. “mm god you look so good right now.. I could just use you all over again nonstop.” Chan chuckles evily.
Changbin pulls out of my cunt and walks over to my mouth, forcing his dick in my mouth, meanwhile; Han moves away from jerking onto my tits and pushes himself into my cunt, groaning as he feels how warm and tight my hole is. I try and moan out in response but I can’t due to being suffocated by Binnie’s cock. Han starts grinding against my hole, pushing harder and faster than he has ever been before, almost as if he wanted to break something or someone. “Your pussy is so fucking good.. so tight around my dick.” he groans out, slamming his hips harder and faster against mine. While Han is pounding away at my hole Hyunjin finally cums inside my asshole, filling it with his seed before pulling out and letting Seungmin have a go inside of my ass. “god… h-her butt sure is tight.” he whimpers out, eyes squeezing in pleasure as he feels my ass stretch around his dick.
“Do you like this? do you like being used like a useless slut?” Minho teases, spanking my chest. “mmm..mhm..” I mumble out, I turn my Head and see Chan in the corner now, he’s touching himself to the site of them using me, motioning them to fuck me faster and harder. “mm is someone gonna cum?” Felix growls, his tongue swirling around my nipple.
“mhm.. mmgh!” I cry as I feel the boys fill up my holes with their cum, my body following along shortly after and having my orgasm.
“We should do this again later..” Innie mumbles, licking his lips.
#~skulla rxcks#stray kids smut#skz smut#kpop smut#bang chan smut#bangchan smut#hyunjin smut#lee felix smut#lee know smut#changbin smut#seungmin smut#i.n smut#han jisung smut#han smut
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Baby It's Hot Outside - A Sugar Mommies Drabble
Word Count: 1729
Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!
Summary: The One Where MJ cares for you.
Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader
You can’t open the door to your own apartment. It’s your first sign that the headache you’ve had for the past hour might be transforming into a migraine. And it sucks. Pain resonates behind your eyeballs and you have to squint to see where the stupid moving lock is so you can get inside.
Has it always been so low down? Surely not.
The key finally does its job and you’re allowed inside your own apartment, near collapsing on the floor as you go.
Definitely too hot today. Seriously too hot.
It’s your own fault really; your classmate in all her wisdom kept offering you caffeine and you, in all of your wisdom, kept accepting.
So now you're coming down from the copious amount of caffeine, mix that with the grand total of 0 litres of water you’ve had as well as the sheer heat of the day, and it’s no wonder you feel like your head is going to explode.
Mistakes have definitely been made.
You somehow manage to get to your sofa, falling onto the not so soft cushions face first. The sudden dark does a lot to sooth your eyes and you don’t know how long you stay like that, only shifting slightly to breathe, until MJ nb udges your leg with her foot.
“Two people live here, y’know. Move over.”
You don’t even try to form a coherent reply, moving your heavy body like she asks, wrapping yourself up into a ball. The shiver that wrecks through your body trembles the entire sofa and MJ doesn’t seem to notice. She clicks on Netflix and settles with her hot chocolate, completely unaware of your dying state beside her.
She glances your way when your phone rings, looking at the picture of Wanda as it flashes up on your cell. You don’t even move, eyes squinting shut against the dim light of the living room. For you, they feel like spotlights.
You shift uncomfortably on the sofa.
Your phone pings a minute later; a text from Wanda, asking you to call her ASAP, she’s having an icecream emergency - aka: she wants ice cream but Natasha and Carol won’t allow her.
You know she’s messaged in your group chat because your phone begins to after every few seconds.
Why didn’t you mute your phone? Why?
It doesn’t take long for MJ to let out a frustrated sigh and kick her feet so they’re under her. Her toes tickle your right foot, making you jerk and when you still don’t make a move to check your phone, MJ does it again.
“Dude, answer them or I’m throwing your cell out of the window.”
It takes all of your energy to move, and even then, you misjudge the end of the sofa and almost faceplant the floor.
With trembling arms, you struggle to hold your upper body weight and here is where MJ finally takes pity on you.
“This is painful, move.”
She snatches your phone for you and goes to pass it when she finally registers your appearance.
“Woah…you’re not about to die on me are you? I’d have three pissed off women on my case if you do.”
You shudder. MJ throws your phone aside and lifts you up by your armpits, settling you back on your original position on the sofa.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?”
You can only shake your head.
“I know this isn’t the time to notice this but that medicated deodorant you’re using really works, you’re bone dry!” MJ lets out a nervous chuckle. “Laugh, Y/N/N. You always laugh at my crappy jokes…even if they are pitiful…get it?”
You don’t even smile as a response and MJ jumps to her feet.
“Oh my god, you are dying!”
“...not…dying…sick…”
“You are sick, you feel sick or you’re going to be sick?”
“...all of the above.”
MJ falls over herself as she sprints into the kitchen. She returns with the anointed “puke bucket” which is a mixing bowl you had ended up using one time after too many shots. No sooner does she place it near your face, do you start to heave, body jerking gags where you think your stomach is going to come up out of your throat.
She touches your forehead.
“You’re burning up. Have you eaten something bad? Drank too much?”
“...not…” You spit out a wad of saliva. “...enough.”
“You haven’t eaten enough?” Something in MJ’s brain clicks. “Please tell me you’ve been drinking water today, Y/N. Please.”
You shake your head.
“I’d hit you if you weren’t so fragile. You’ve not drunk anything? Dude! It’s one of the hottest days of the year!”
“I had…coffee and stuff…”
You grimace and turn away from the bowl.
“You are actually going to die. They’re going to murder you, you know that? And then turn on me because I’m an unknowing accomplice. You’ve only had coffee all day? Y/N!”
“Don’t tell them.”
“How can I not? They’re bound to ask where you are! And what if they make a surprise trip to see you? You’re not exactly in a fit shape to fuck right now, are you, Y/N/.”
“MJ -”
“Fine. If they don’t ask I won’t tell them. Deal?”
“Okay, deal.”
“Right, you - don’t move. Don’t die. I’ll get you some water and a fan. Or something.”
MJ gets your water first, filling it with ice before rethinking and dumping it down the sink; before stopping again and getting slightly less ice for your glass.
“I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Now with a full drink, and a straw because why not, MJ places it in front of you with the strict instruction to “Sip it, don’t inhale it.”
She takes your phone when your head is in the sick bowl and vanishes into her bedroom; unlocking it with your passcode and finding the group chat with your girlfriends.
“Who’s the least terrifying? Natasha, no chance. Carol, maybe…Wanda…you’ll have to do.”
She picks up on the third ring.
“Hi baby!”
“Hey to you too.”
“…MJ?”
“Hi, the one and only.”
“Where’s Y/N? Not that I don’t appreciate talking to you but I’d much prefer to talk to my girlfriend.”
“She’s not…well. I told her I wouldn’t tell you but I’m genuinely worried about her.”
“What’s going on?” Natasha’s voice cuts through your phone speaker and MJ wants nothing more than to throw your phone away and hide under the nearest bed.
“Michelle Jones, talk.”
“I hate it when you do that.” MJ grumbles. “Y/N’s sick.”
“Sick, how?”
“God, she’s gonna kill me…erm,” MJ pinches the bridge of her nose. “She didn’t drink any water and I’m 90% sure she spent most of her day outside and it’s been super hot and she’s not well and I’m worried about her…I don’t know what to do.”
Natasha is silent for a moment.
“Stay with her. We’ll be there as soon as possible, understood? Let her sip, not inhale, at cool water. Not ice cold, it'll shock her system. Is she hot to the touch?”
“She’s hot, yeah. And not in her usual way either.”
“Get a damp cloth, that’ll help cool her off.” Natasha orders. “And MJ? Thank you for telling us.”
“Any…anytime I guess. Not that I want Y/N to get heat stroke or whatever it is again, ‘cos it’s scary and stuff but if she ever misbehaves again, you bet your ass I’ll be right on this phone to rat her out. I’ll even spank her for you if you can't get her fast enough.”
“MJ, breathe girl. Get some oxygen into those lungs. We’ll discuss this at a later date when you aren’t so frazzled. We’ll be there soon, okay? 30 minutes, max.”
“Okay, yeah, okay. Bye.”
“Damp cloth and cool water, MJ.”
“On it.”
MJ’s hands tremble when she returns to you with the items; a regular glass of water in one hand and a semi filled bowl with a wet cloth in the other. She takes the iced water from you and replaces it; ordering you to sip it slowly while she pats your head with the washcloth.
You do little to fight her.
“I’m not well, MJ.”
“I know, Y/N/N, I know. But you’re gonna get better soon, yeah? Just try to relax as much as you can. Google says you should start to feel better in 30 minutes or so.”
She places the washcloth on the back of your neck.
It takes you 23 minutes to feel slightly more human.
It takes 24 minutes for the Trio! to get to your apartment.
You can only stare as they walk inside, eyes locking onto your slouched form on the sofa with a straw between your lips.
You know you’re in for it when you’re better and you nervously swallow, offering them a sheepish smile.
“...hi…”
Wanda stares at your fragile state, a mixture of emotions clouding her eyes, from guilt to a slight twinge of insecurity. She wants to wrap you up and promise to be a better dom; for herself but most importantly for you.
Carol makes a beeline straight for you and starts fussing over you. She caresses your cheek and feels your forehead, frowning slightly, before reaching over for the washcloth. As she dabs at your face, wiping away the tears that tumble from your eyes, Natasha, with Wanda beside her, moves closer and places a gentle kiss on your damp temple.
“Hey there, little kotenok, how are we feeling, hmm?”
They’re there. Your trio. There to finally care for you and you instantly feel safe. Comforted by their presence and you reach out, grabbing the nearest body to drag them down on top of you. Wanda’s scent fills your nose and you nestle into her neck.
“Am I in trouble?” you whisper and you can feel her grinning.
“Oh yes,” she replies, “but not right now. Tomorrow maybe. But for now, rest sweet girl. We’re here.”
You can only nod as Carol gently moves Wanda so she can scoop you up into her arms.
As you’re carried away to your bedroom, you can see Natasha speaking quietly to MJ; and make the mental note to ask her what was said. But for now, you allow yourself to be carried away. Not even five minutes later, nestled against Wanda, you doze off with a smile.
#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#carol danvers#reader insert#sugar mommies#spiderbites#sugar mommies!asks#natasha x wanda x carol x reader#smu#sugar mommies drabbles#sugar mommies drabble
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BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH JASON TODD (college!au)
↳ the first time jason kisses you he's bloody and bruised, and you can't find him more attractive for it
cw: injury, blood, mentioned harassment (not of the reader)
blank blogs DNI you will be blocked
The first time Jason kisses you, he’s bloody and standing underneath a streetlight outside the bar he’s just been kicked out of. You’re utterly enamoured.
It is a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve just submitted your last midterm when the text comes through. The outline of his name on your phone sends a thrill down your spine, and you can’t help the curl of excitement.
J-A-S-O-N.
You trace your eyes over the letters, the blank contact photo doing little to curb the butterflies. They’re no less stronger than when he’d asked you for your number, a warm afternoon after class when the both of you had found your way to the your usual table in the library. You recall the reason he’d used, recall the slant of his mouth as he’d talked, the clutch of his bag in his fingers, the way the light had bent through the window and caught the dust floating above the table. You recall suddenly warm palms, fingertips hot to the touch as you saved his number when the first message had come through.
>> come out tonight?
You frown.
While it’s true that since the beginning of the semester you’ve gotten to know Jason better and as a not entirely unpleasant consequence, been better about hiding away, you’re still tired from the back to back assignments you’ve had to turn in. You’d much rather turn in for the weekend.
And yet, when it comes to the handsome boy you’d met in your literature class last semester, you find it hard to say no. You want to hang out with him so badly sometimes it feels embarrassing. You wonder if it’s obvious how you both soak up his attention and shy away from it. Even months later, you find yourself bashful around him.
As if sensing your hesitation, another two messages come through almost immediately, in rapid succession.
>> it’ll be fun
>> dinner’s on me btw
You chew your lip, staring down at the message.
<< i'm kind of tired idk
<< where do you wanna go
The text bubble appears as you begin to pack your things, sweeping papers off your desk and into a neat pile, collecting cluttered pens and highlighters. The last week has turned your bedroom into something akin to a disaster site, clothes strewn everywhere and sheets rumpled. You bite back a groan at the thought of the cleaning you’ll have to do.
>> i know a place like ten minutes away from campus
>> drinks after?
<< presumptuous
<< i haven't even agreed
>> ok so agree !
>> it’ll be a good time
You huff out a laugh at his tone, typing out a response.
<< who else is going?
>> just you and me kid
>> be excited
>> i’ll drop you home if you wanna leave after dinner
In the bathroom now, tidying the mess of skin and hair products, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You tilt your head, and your reflection does too, as if to say, well? Will you?
You text him your response.
<< ok when should i meet you?
<< send me the address
Jason is lingering outside the restaurant when you walk up, and you take a moment to admire him as you approach, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, relaxed. His hair looks wet, and orange light washes over him where he stands beneath an awning, a sky of darkening blue behind him. As if sensing your approach, he turns his head from where he’s been looking at something across the street and his eyes light up in recognition. Your name tumbles from his lips and he takes a step forward as you cross the distance.
“Hey,” he greets you, smiling down at you. “You made it.”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” you murmur. His lips stretch into a wider grin and you catch a glimpse of his canines, wolf sharp, a shiver curling down your spine at the sight.
“Guess you did. I’m glad. Come on,” he says, jerking his chin and reaching for the door, letting you enter first. “I think you’ll like this place.”
His shirt brushes against your back, and you swallowed by the sheer size of him, tall and broad shouldered, but it feels reassuring to have him there, especially as the hostess makes eye contact with you and he smoothly coordinates everything. His hand bumps against your elbow as she leads you both to a table and he murmurs out an apology at the same time you do, habitually, shooting you a funny look when he hears you, like he’s amused.
You’re seated across from him at a table so small his knees bump against yours beneath the table and he laughs a little when you say sorry once again. It isn’t the first time you’ve hung out with him, or the first time you’ve gotten food together–a semester has come and gone since your meeting him, and now the fall semester has started up again, but he has a way of short-circuiting your system, earnest and straightforward and far prettier than he has any right to be. You aren’t used to boys like him–though a voice in your head suggests that there isn’t anyone else like him.
You offer him a small smile when he laughs.
“Can’t believe they stuck us here,” he says to you, dropping his voice as a waiter passes your table. You look over to where a fair few tables far larger than yours remain unoccupied, and grimace in sympathy. “At least the food is good.”
You look up from the menu, sparing him a glance. He’s all rounded edges and sweeter looking in the soft light. You look back down.
“You’ve been here before?” you ask, feeling silly for the question but he nods.
“My brother took me, when I first moved out here,” he says, scratching idly at his cheek. Teal eyes skim the plastic menu. “We come here whenever he comes to visit.”
“Older brother?” you guess and he hums.
“Dick,” he says, and his eyes widen when you stare at him. “His name, I mean. That’s his name…Richard, but he goes by..yeah.”
“Oh,” you laugh, as your pulse flutters under your skin. “Bet he gets a lot of flack for that.”
“You have no idea,” he snorts, launching into a story that has you covering your mouth to stifle your laughter.
Somehow, dinner flies by faster than you think it would, a blur of stories from both your childhood and his. Jason asks questions and you don’t feel as though you’ve been put on the spot, pleasantly warm as you answer through your own laughter. The bubbles from your drink linger and pop on your tongue, and there’s a flush in your face that you blame wholly on him and his teal eyes, attentive and animated as he describes his family.
The both of you are pushing out of the door after an argument about splitting the bill (“I said I would pay, get lost!” and “I didn’t even agree to that!”) that had left you pouting and Jason smug. The rush of air that greets you is cool against your heated cheeks, and you smile to yourself as the both of you step out into the street.
“So?” Jason asks and you turn to him. “Was I right? It was good, huh?”
And he looks so pleased with himself that even if you hadn’t enjoyed a bit of it, you wouldn’t have it in you to tell him.
“It was,” you agree and his smile grows broader.
You lapse in conversation for a moment, and a breeze ruffles his hair on its way through the lit street. It’s grown fairly busier as night falls, crowds of people out to enjoy their weekend, and you step closer to Jason as a particularly large group passes you, falling into step by his side to avoid bumping into them.
“So..home?” he asks, tentative.
“I think so.” You chew the bottom of your lip. “I got up early to get in the finishing touches on my midterm.”
His eyes go soft, almost immeasurably fond, as he gazes down at you. “Of course you did. Alright, c’mon, then. Let’s get you home.”
He takes your hand gently, fingers circling your wrist loosely and guiding you down the busy street. You find yourself appreciative of this, even as the butterflies erupt anew in your stomach at the touch, his body carving a path in the flow of foot traffic that you can fall into easily without worry of getting lost.
The both of you walk in silence, the sounds of the city filling in the gaps around you. You admire the outline of Jason’s profile in front of you, light from the cars and storefronts washing over the both of you and throwing him into sharp technicolour focus in front of you. You feel a little dizzy at the sight of it, and looking down to where your hands join only worsens it, rendering you soft and pliant in his hold, tracing his footsteps with your own.
And then, all of a sudden, you’re coming to a halt in front of a parking lot next to a bar, nearly colliding with his back. You blink, equal parts sleepy and stunned, peering over his shoulder where he’s stiffened up.
“What?” you ask. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and turns around to pass you a set of keys. You frown, confused, following his finger when he points to an old, red car just a few feet away.
“That’s my car, I’m just gonna go check on something over there,” he says, tipping his head back to gesture to the bar. “Can you get it started for me? I won’t be long.”
“Is everything okay?” you ask, and now you’re the one holding his wrist as he turns, taking a half step after him. He looks back at you, and his mouth relaxes, offering you a reassuring nod.
“‘S fine, sweetheart,” he assures, pushing you gently in the direction of his car. “Be back in a sec.”
But curiosity roots you to the pavement where you stand, and you watch as he walks to the entrance of the bar, where murky yellow light spills out onto the walkway. Several bench tables have been pushed together on the outer side of the path, smaller tables with high stool chairs pressed against the exterior wall of the establishment. It’s fairly empty outside, all the patrons seeking shelter from the chilly weather inside and you step a little closer to see when Jason, shoulders set like a man on a mission, crosses the threshold and disappears into the building.
You creep a little closer, keys clutched in your fingers, until you can get a look through the windows. They’re a little stained, but you find Jason eventually, crowding close to a pool table where a boy around your age is leaning down, cue stick pointed against green felt. His back is to the window, but you watch the guy pause and straighten up, annoyance clear on his face even as he tries to cover it up with a smile you don’t think you like too much, self-assured and a little mean. There isn’t any friendliness in it.
Outside, the wind begins to pick up and you’re wondering whether you should just return to the car–every bad thing in the movies happens because people can’t mind their own business–when suddenly, so fast you almost miss it, his fist flies out and knocks right into Jason. You jump in surprise, a hand flying to your mouth to muffle the startled yell that slips out.
But Jason is seemingly unphased, and you catch a glimpse of blood in his mouth as he– smiles. It’s nothing like the smiles you’ve ever seen, wild and a little feral as he lunges forward, knuckles slamming against the boy’s cheek and sending him sprawling across the tabletop. He just gets that hit in before he’s being restrained and hauled back to the door, shoved across the threshold with no regard for gentleness. He stumbles, and that grin is still curving his mouth up when he looks up, wolfish, savage, and–it stutters when he meets your eyes.
You stare back, wide eyed at the sight of him. His keys hang limply in your hand, forgotten in favour of their owner whose nose has begun to bleed down his chin, drippin onto the collar of his shirt and staining it crimson.
“I–thought I told you to wait in the car,” he says weakly, at last.
“What was that?” you ask, dazed, ignoring him. You look between him and the windows of the bar, where you can still see the other boy, holding a tea towel to his split cheek.
His lips part, and he looks away as if to search for an answer he does not have. Like a magnet, your gaze flicks down. You swallow at the smear of red that settles above his cupid’s bow, dark, almost black as the shadows on his face stretch.
“Jason.” You stress his name. He grimaces.
“I didnt-” he breaks off, letting out a loud sigh. “I knew him, okay? Didn’t do that for no reason.”
You wait, sensing the oncoming explanation. By his side, you spot the reddening skin of his knuckles, looking at home amongst the pale, faded scars.
“He’s a dick,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It seems almost shy, the way his fingers press against his lips as he tells you the truth. “He’s in one of my classes and he was giving one of the other guys a hard time ‘cause..”
His face hardens and you fear he’s about to go back into the bar. You hedge a step forward to clutch his sleeve. He shakes his head. You don’t let go. “Anyway, he had it coming. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else. He was bothering some girl in there too, when I saw him…piece of shit.”
Affection blooms between your ribs so suddenly it leaves you breathless, and you stare up at him, stunned.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he blows out a breath, watching you carefully.
“I thought you’d hit him harder,” you blurt out, and his eyes widen. He lets out a tired laugh, wincing in between snickers.
“Don’t think you’re s’posed to agree with me, baby,” he murmurs, drawing closer. You’ve probably stretched his sleeve out with your grip, but you make no move to let go. Baby. It fits in his mouth, belongs to him, even. He’s claimed it now.
“Right,” you breathe out, blinking up at his face. The air goes still, the undercurrents of adrenaline re-igniting with the trip of your voice over the five letter word. There is no admonishment in your tone, and teal eyes turn onyx in half a breath, lashes fluttering as he looks at you. “Violence…is bad..”
His eyes crease, amused, but he’s barely moving, and his voice comes out a little strangled. “Word of advice, don’t ever go into politics.”
“You don’t believe me?” you joke quietly and he huffs out a laugh. Once more, your gaze snags on the glimpse of his canines, peeking from below his lips, pointed and shiny.
You can smell the blood on him when he takes a step closer, the toes of his sneakers scuffing against yours. You look at him clearly, awash with the yellow light of the street, bloody and bruising. He’s lucky that he isn’t due back on campus for another two weeks, but you have a feeling it wouldn’t matter either way–he’s no less attractive to you. It should concern you that you find blood a good look on him, or that the savagery in his smile only made your heart beat a little faster, but you can only stare through half lidded eyes at him.
Somewhere down the road, the roar of an engine filters through the air, but you pay it little attention when he draws closer, closer, closer.
You aren’t sure who moves first, only that Jason kisses you for the first time underneath that streetlight, and the taste of copper in your mouth only presses you closer into him, clutching his sleeve and hoping it leaves as much of a mark that he’s left on you.
i hope this made u guys feel as insane reading it as it made me writing it (and trying to post it, but for a different reason). something about a man covered in his own blood...
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Raffle Winner
Time for Day 7 with a blindfolded and almost completely free use Viviz
Length 3K
Viviz x mreader
It was difficult to believe the streak of luck you just had; first, you managed to get into a fansign to meet Viviz, then you won a special raffle they held. You would get your prize at the end, so you just relaxed and enjoyed the fansign for now. When it was your turn to talk to them, Eunha was up first. “Congratulations on your win today.” She chirps, her smile reminding you of a rabbit’s. “I hope you’re looking forward to your prize; it’s something extra special.” SinB elbows Eunha in the side before putting her finger to her lips. “Yah! I wasn’t going to tell him. I just wanted to tell him he should look forward to it,” Eunha whines as she rubs her side. “You didn’t have to hit me.” The eldest member begins to cry crocodile tears, making you laugh along with the other fans. You can hear Eunha kick her feet under the table, the tip taps of her heels hitting the floor.
You move on to SinB next, and she quickly gets to work signing your album. She glances at you before quietly saying, “You better enjoy your prize. It’s rare.” She says in slight annoyance. Eunha takes her chance and elbows SinB, and Umji gets involved, too, doing the same when SinB turns to the eldest. “Agk, hey!” The two women giggle, seeing SinB get more annoyed.
“You’re the one who wants to keep quiet, Unnie,” Umji reminds her. Seeing their playful natures in person fills you with joy, and you move on to Umji next. She’s careful to keep the discussion away from the prize; she nervously looks to her side, seeing both Eunha and SinB ready to jump her the moment she says something. You try to drag the conversation in that direction, but Umji manages to escape saying anything. Even though she avoided mention of the prize, Eunha and SinB decide to attack her anyway, poking her sides and making her body jerk in one direction before it jerks another. “I didn’t say anything!” Umji cries as she gets prodded by her members. You laugh at the sight and etch it into your memory before being ushered off the stage. When the fansign finally comes to an end, you’re told to stay a bit longer, and soon enough, a manager comes to get you, leading you backstage.
He knocks on the door, and from the other side, you hear Eunha say they’re ready. He opens the door and closes it behind you. You don’t see anything in the room at first, but turning to the right, you spot them. Eunha, Umji, and SinB are standing before you naked and blindfolded. “Is he in here?” Eunha asks, looking in the direction of her younger members.
“I am,” You say before either woman can respond.
“Oh, okay. Welcome!” Eunha says, taking a hesitant step forward.
“Your special prize today is getting to have sex with us,” Umji says, doing the same as Eunha. She slides one foot forward along the floor, trying not to bump into anything.
“For five hours, you can use our bodies as you like. You just can’t hurt us or take any pictures.” SinB says as she steps forward. You nod your head before realizing they can’t see you. You give them an audible response of agreement. Each woman provides small claps before SinB asks who you’d like first. Your reply with Eunha and she thinks about jumping up to cheer, but with the blindfold on, she becomes too scared. As you approach the blindfolded woman, you take in her body. Eunha’s wide hips and thick thighs immediately attract you. Her breasts were probably the biggest of all the members, too. You stand in front of her, and she can feel your presence.
Starting at her shoulders, you move your hands down her body, feeling her soft flesh. Eunha shivers at your initial touch and giggles. Your hands swiftly moan over her chest and reach her sides; you move them up and down before returning to her breasts, cupping them softly. Eunha gasps softly as she feels your thumbs move in small circular motions around her nipples. The light pink nubs are flicked side to side. Eunha places her hands on your arms. Her small hands squeeze your biceps lightly whenever you flick her nipple with your thumb. Once satisfied, you move your hands down the side of her body again, feeling her smooth skin until you reach the midpoint of her thigh. You squeeze it and hear Eunha moan. You glance at Umji and SinB, seeing a smile on both their faces after hearing their eldest member moan. Pulling your hand away from Eunha’s body, you tell her you forgot to undress. She tries to hold back a laugh and lets go of your arms. You quickly undress before walking over to Umji and SinB and finding them a place to sit while they wait for their turn. With them comfortably sitting, you head back to Eunha. You stand before her and place a hand on her outer thigh. You raise her leg and slide your cock between her lips. Feeling your cock slide between her legs, Eunha begins to moan.
You whisper to Eunha about how beautiful she is and how much you want her. She nods in response, trying to hold back a moan. She’s slowly getting wet; you feel her cunt coating your cock in her nectar the more you slide between her lips. The small woman’s hands wander your body, trying to learn more about you via touch. You can’t wait any longer. You angle your cock and push the head inside. She gasps when she feels you enter. You push more of your cock in before grabbing her other thigh and lifting her. Eunha immediately wraps her hands around your neck; she casts a wide net so she doesn’t miss you somehow. You shift your hands to her ass as you adjust. It’s soft but still toned from years of dancing. You dig your hands into the soft flesh. Eunha tilts her head back as she moans, leaving it in prime position. You kiss it softly, your tongue licking at her skin. You pull Eunha in close, burying your cock inside the small woman. You both moan. Eunha feels your cock spreading her lips and stretching her; though the pleasure is great, she grinds her hips on you without thinking. “You’re so big.”
You turn in place to face Umji and SinB, watching the women as they start to play with their bodies. SinB slides her fingertips along her folds while using her other hand to pull on her nipples. Umji does much the same, but she’s more intense about it. She’s slipping her fingers inside every so often, just the very tips of them, before pulling back and tracing her folds. You get harder watching them, and Eunha feels it. You start moving, pushing your cock further in before pulling out slowly. As you do, Eunha lets out a long, drawn-out moan. You enjoy hearing her voice and drive your cock back into her cunt. You feel her walls being split apart as you drive your cock inside. You get a shiver down your spine as your bodies meet. Your hands dig into her as you start thrusting in earnest. Eunha’s modest breasts bounce with every thrust; they mesmerize you. Leaning down, you start sucking on them. Eunha’s moans grow louder as you wrack her body with pleasure. She wraps her legs around you, squeezing your sides.
Umji and SinB’s moans grow louder as they continue to play with themselves. The sounds of Eunha’s moans turned them on. You near your first orgasm; your thrusts bring you and Eunha tremendous pleasure. “Eunha, I’m going to cum.”
Eunha presses her chest against yours, “Cum inside my pussy. Fill me with your love,” She whispers into your ear. Eunha follows that with a giggle, “Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes, yes.” You moan loudly. “Say it again.”
“Give it to me, cum inside me!” Eunha practically shouts. You slam your cock into her and unleash a wave of cum into her cunt. Feeling your hot cum spew into her triggers Eunha’s orgasm. Her legs tighten around you, and you feel her walls clench down on your cock, milking you. You press your head forward and capture her lips. Eunha returns the kiss. Her tongue slips out of her mouth for a second, and you take the chance to meet it. You remain together while your orgasms last. Eunha rocks her hips, giving you both small bits of pleasure. You lift Eunha off your cock and let her down gently. Eunha wobbles on her feet briefly before heading to her members with you. Umji and SinB have continued to tease themselves. Keeping themselves close to cumming but not going through with it. You walk to Umji’s side and take her hand, placing it on your cock. It’s coated in Eunha’s juices and your cum. Umji licks her lips and starts stroking your shaft, covering her hand in the mixture. You get Umji onto her knees, and Eunha takes her seat beside SinB.
You look down at the blindfolded Umji, watching her stroke your cock. She stops, licking her hand clean. You watch her small tongue gather your cum before drinking it. You get turned on and put your hand on her head, guiding her to your cock. The youngest member follows along and accidentally presses her lips against the head of your cock. She recoils from it. A tiny bit of cum got onto her lips. She licks them and tastes the salty liquid. You guide her back to your cock and watch as she kisses your tip. She grasps your cock gently, her hand glides on your shaft as she strokes you. Umji wraps her lips around the head of your cock; you feel her small tongue take small licks. You groan from the pleasure. Umji takes her time enjoying your cock. She slowly pushes more in your mouth, stopping often to swirl her tongue around your cock. Her small mouth is stretching to fit your size. She suckles on your cock, and as much as you want her to do more, you let Umji work at her pace. Soon enough, she has your cock down her throat; it’s expanded because of your size. You never expected Umji to be so skilled. Umji pulled back to your head and started to bob her head quickly, her tongue running along the underside of your cock as you near your climax. “Umji, I’m going to cum.” She doubles her efforts, placing her hands on your thighs as she rubs the head of your cock with the inside of her cheek. She swallows your cock whole and strokes it quickly as she releases it from her mouth. At your edge, you let go and cum onto Umji’s face. She opens her mouth, some cum lands in it, and Umji enjoys the taste of what she can get.
You help Umji to her feet before pinning her to the wall; you’re beside Eunha and SinB, who keep themselves on edge. Eunha feeds herself your cum, sucking on her fingers after scooping some out of her cunt. You’re pressing yourself against Umji’s back, feeling her ass rub against you. Placing your cock between her juicy thighs, you start thrusting. Umji moans as your cock rubs against her lips. To give her more, you snake your hand between her body and the wall until you reach her clit. You use your fingertips to rub around it before flicking it quickly. Umji shudders every time you do it. You’re coating Umji’s thighs in cum as you thrust. Umji’s thighs were amazingly soft as they surrounded your cock. She pressed them together, making it that much more pleasurable. You hear Umji whimper as your cock brushes against her lips. “I want it.” She says quietly. You slow down and come to a stop. Moving your hands up, you cup her breasts and squeeze them softly; they were a little smaller than Eunha’s but felt just as nice in your hands.
You align your cock with Umji’s cunt and push in. You feel some resistance as you do. Umji was a bit tighter than Eunha, making it difficult to push your cock in. Still, you manage, Umji groans as you struggle to push more of your cock. Once the head is in, the resistance fades, and you end up ramming your cock deep into Umji’s pussy. Her voice rings throughout the room as she cums from insertion alone. Her body shakes, but you keep her pressed against the wall. Her walls try to milk you, but you’re not close to cumming yet. That being said, the sensation pushes you closer. You give Umji a second to recover before thrusting into her. Her ass presses against you with every thrust; it jiggles as her body lurches a bit. Between you and the wall, Umji’s moans come quicker. “Are you going to cum again?” You ask her.
Umji nods her head quickly, whining as she does. You start thrusting quickly; Umji’s tightening cunt drives you crazy as you feel her walls try to keep you inside. Your quick thrusts are working against you as you’re nearing your climax. “I’m going to cum soon; just hold on.” You moan. Umji cums first, she couldn’t hold on any longer. Her whines bounce off the walls as she milks your cock. This time you bury your cock and give her cunt what it wants. You’re seed spills into her pussy. You both lean against the wall, tired and recovering. You thrust a few more times, and Umji’s walls return the favor by tightening and loosening around you. You pull out slowly, cum runs down Umji’s thighs. You turn her around and kiss her. Her tongue lazily returns the passion you put into the kiss. Umji stumbles to the other members as you aid her. She ends up sitting on Eunha, prompting the elder to feel around Umji’s body as she tries to figure out who’s on top of her.
That left SinB; you had special plans for SinB. You wanted to edge her for the duration you had left. You take her hand and help her up. “I was getting tired of waiting.” She says while continuing to rub her lower lips. You place your hand over hers and push her fingers inside. She moans quietly as if trying to hide them from the others. You smile, and though she can’t see SinB comments about how you must enjoy teasing her. You give her ass a squeeze with your other hand while she speaks. The blindfold looks good on SinB, and you’re tempted to take it off her so she can see what Eunha and Umji have gone through. You don’t, though. You abandon SinB’s hand and let her finger herself while your hands wander over her body, touching every part of her as you stare her up and down.
SinB had the smallest breasts of the bunch, but they suited her. You take her other hand and place it on your cock. SinB understands quickly, and she jerks you off while fingering herself; she imagines what you plan to do to her, not knowing you would deny her any orgasm. SinB moans a little louder as you kiss her neck. You ask her if she’s going to cum, and she replies with a yes. You pull her hand away and pin her to the wall, kissing her at the same time. You hold the kiss for some time and leave a trail of kisses down SinB’s body, wasting time to make sure her body calms down.
Once you think she’s ready, you place your cock at her entrance. You tell her to lower herself onto your cock, and she does. SinB slowly sinks onto your cock. You feel her walls surround you as she swallows you with ease. Her walls caress every side of your cock and cradle your head as you knock against her womb. You both moan and after a second, you start moving. Every thrust you drive impale SinB with your cock. You enjoy the feeling of her cunt wrapping around you and revel in the knowledge you're going to deny her any orgasm because you find it fun to tease her. SinB holds onto your shoulders as you thrust, gripping you with all her strength. You kiss her to keep her moans muffled. Turning to the others, you see Eunha playing with Umji’s body, fingering the maknae of the group with great eagerness. Your thrusts get more powerful and come quicker until you feel SinB tightening around you. You slow down, bringing the pace back to a crawl. Every thrust still has power behind it, though; you watch SinB’s small tits bounce as you slam your cock into her. She whines about you, slowly down, telling you how close she was.
Feeling like you could start again, you speed up, making sure SinB got to feel the pleasure of being fucked. SinB lifts her leg and places it on your shoulder, allowing it deeper. You begin to near your climax, and SinB knows it. She can feel your cock twitching inside her.
“Why don’t you cum inside me?” She says to you. She’s trying to goad you into continuing and making her cum too. You consider it. “Breed me, make me a mommy.” She whispers. SinB is saying whatever she needs to in order to get her orgasm. Her words turn you on, and you repeatedly drive your cock into SinB.
It’s at that moment there’s a knock on the door. “Your time is up. I’ll let you get ready,” says a staff member. You turn back to SinB and pull out without either getting to cum. SinB complains about being the only one that didn’t get to orgasm. She removes her blindfolds and sees Eunha and Umji filled with your cum.
“What if you came back with us to our dorm?” She asks.
“Really?”
“Yes, I won’t spend the night frustrated because I didn’t get to cum.” She replies. You happily agree; excited that you’ll get more time with Viviz.
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TWO GHOSTS — LUKE HUGHES X CHILDHOOD BESTFRIEND!READER
Ceilings Part Two, part one here
summary: Luke Hughes was your childhood best-friend and boyfriend until one mistake sent it all crumbling.
note: ellen hughes is my lord and saviour 🙏
warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, reader has not-so-great parents, panic attacks, swearing, nicknames such as: pretty girl and baby, questionable moments on both of your behalf, boys being jerks. Use of names Brock and Julia (if they’re your name change it!). The name Brock being slandered.
word count; 3k+
What people don't tell you about being cheated on is that the world around you seems to fracture into a reality in which everything appears false. What's usually right feels wrong, things that taste good now taste bad, songs that once breathed life now hung with the remnants of ghostly memories.
You had fallen into a state of loneliness. Your parents still refused to come home unless they had to. You hadn't seen them in days, you presumed they'd both decided to stay at separate hotels instead of risking having to sleep beside each other.
And Luke... you hadn't spoken to him in a week.
You hadn't called or texted him nor had he done the same. Why would he? It was all just a game for him. He'd used you and when he was done, he tossed you away like a broken toy he was bored by.
Yes, you had other friends, but the only person you wanted to help you stitch yourself together was the very person who'd been the one to rip you apart.
Since Julia had driven you home the night of the party, she'd been texting you daily to ensure you were okay and offering her shoulder to cry on. You appreciated the texts but you usually left blunt responses, too drained to give anything else.
You didn't even think you're heart was broken from Luke cheating, that was a small piece of rubble from the major wall. What hurt the most was how willing he was to tear down your years of friendship, to the point where thinking about going across the road, a simple feat, was now unthinkable.
And so the loneliness grew and you seemed to become one of the many ghosts haunting your house.
You felt pathetic as the situation warped your every way of life. You'd let him weave you in his web and he left you to rot there.
Your loneliness was eating away at you slowly but steadily. You found yourself less inclined to get out of bed each morning, less likely to eat breakfast or lunch, less likely to leave the house, go shopping, go to school– it all seemed impossible. Everything had built up in your life and one askew brick had sent the foundation crumbling.
It was exactly seven days into your stupor when a fierce knocking caused you to shift in your spot from the couch. You'd had a nightmare last night, and you'd woken up and vomited all over your bed, yet instead of cleaning it, you simply left your bedroom and moved yourself to the living room.
It's not like anyone but you would care about it.
Your head didn't even move to look as the knocks on the front door persisted. Nor did it swivel when a clunking of keys jingled before the door was unlocked and pushed open cautiously.
"Y/N?"
Your eyes welled with tears as the kind voice echoes through the empty halls. A sudden sinking feeling brewed in your stomach, as you curled further into yourself, your knees to your chest as a singular pair of footsteps traipsed across the house.
"Y/N? Are you here, sweetheart?"
You let out a small whimper, so small that it escaped you before you could even think to hold it back. The footsteps paused before they hurried in your direction. You bowed your head between your legs, tears streaming down your sunken cheeks. You felt the person crouch before you, their hand running over your hair comfortingly.
"Oh, darling,"
Ellen Hughes' soft voice caused you to crack completely as your body was wracked with silent sobs. She sat on the couch to your left, pulling you into her side as she tried to soothe your cries. You knew you probably smelled awful and that your clothes were days old but you couldn't find yourself caring as you leaned into the only comfort that had been offered to you since Luke had cheated on you.
Ellen didn't seem to mind, or if she did, she didn't mention it. She stroked a steady hand over your tangled hair and gently shushed as she allowed you to curl into her. You see, Ellen had always wanted a daughter...that's not to say she doesn't love her sons, hell, they were the greatest gift she had ever been given. But when she was younger she always imagined caring for a girl, teaching her hockey, taking her shopping for clothes, and being able to have someone else know what it's like to be a girl.
You were the closest thing she had to a daughter and right now, she was more than willing to mother you all you needed.
-
"Y/N, sweetheart...what's going on?"
Ellen sat down opposite you at the kitchen table, placing a glass of water and two slices of toast in front of you. Your downtrodden figure was wrapped in a blanket, still frazzled from crying. You felt your hands shake as they picked up the glass and raised it to your lips so you could sip.
"'m sorry," you croaked through a sniffle, "'m really sorry." Ellen's eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment she looked exactly like Luke. The sight made you lower your gaze as you focused on the food in front of you.
"You've got nothing to apologise for," Ellen stated softly. She leaned forward, her hands encasing one of yours as she tried to meet your gaze. "I need you to know that you can talk to me. You're not okay, sweetheart, and that's perfectly okay sometimes, but we can't let you continue like this."
Tears pricked your eyes once again as you sniffled, your hoodie sleeves wiping away stray drops. You took in an unsteady breath, your face crumbling as you met Ellen's warm eyes.
"Luke and I have been dating," you confessed, your timid eyes scanning hers for any resentment. "For roughly three weeks, we dated and we were exclusive– I thought we were exclusive, I mean usually that's what boyfriend-girlfriend means."
"And I really liked him, Ellen, really, really liked him...and he told me he really liked me too." You continued, a steady, continuous stream of salty tears running down your face. "Only for another week to pass and I found him kissing someone else and now everything is all messed up!"
"Not to mention the fact I don't know where my mom or dad are, and they haven't texted me and Ellen, I'm so lonely...so goddamn lonely. It's like I'm stuck in some never-ending labyrinth, where everything is some deceitful decoy out to get me and I can't breathe and I can't do anything I'm just stuck."
Your chest tightened significantly as you finished, the world around you narrowing. You could see Ellen's lips were moving but you could barely hear her, it was as if she was whispering in a hurricane– her voice lost to the wind.
"Breathe, y/n..." Ellen urged, standing up to round the table and rub your back. "You're having a panic attack, you need to breathe. Follow me...in...out...in...out."
You sucked in lungfuls of useless air, struggling to maintain it in your lungs. You gripped Ellen's hand as you tried to focus on her rising and falling chest.
"Breathe in, and through," she instructed, raising her free hand up and down slowly as your chest carefully slowed until the foggy haze around your head slightly lifted. "Good...very good."
She waited patiently until you'd fully returned to somewhat normality before she gave you the glass of water once again for you to drink from it. You took a few sips of water, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat. Ellen's calming presence helped anchor you in the moment.
“I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Ellen spoke with genuine concern, her hand still comforting your back. "It must be incredibly tough for you right now, but you're not alone. We'll figure this out together, okay? I'm here for you, sweetheart," Ellen reassured, her voice a comforting lull.
With those words, a glimmer of hope flickered in your eyes. And you could feel Ellen's genuine concern and support began to slowly mend the fractures within you, piece by piece. You nodded, grateful for the warmth and understanding Ellen offered.
As you sipped the water, Ellen continued, "First things first, I'll sort out your parents. It's not right for them to leave you like this, no matter how bad things are between them, they should never let that interfere with your well-being. And as for Luke, well, we'll deal with him too. I raised him better. No one should treat you that way."
As the morning unfolded, Ellen helped you navigate through the tangled mess of emotions and uncertainties. She'd gotten you to eat before she sent you off to shower and change whilst she stripped your bed and opened all the windows to air out the stagnant air.
Ellen became your anchor, guiding you through the storm. The loneliness slowly receded throughout the day as you continued to open up to her about everything that had happened from your parents to dating Brock and to the entirety of you and Luke's relationship, letting the walls around your heart crumble in the safety of her warmth.
You could feel strength returning as she stayed with you the entire day, not leaving your side for too long, not even when she left multiple scathing messages to both of your parents. She'd forced you outside the back onto the rickety bench to get some air, whilst the two of you continued to talk and every little thought you had, you'd tell her.
She may not have been your mother by blood, but you'd be damned if you denied that you hadn't wished she was.
-
"Back porch in 5."
Your trembling hands could barely keep your phone straight as you reread the message for the thousandth time. Ellen had left your house half an hour ago after cooking you dinner, ensuring that you ate it all. She instructed you to text her when you were going to bed and when or if your parents came home. If by the morning they weren't, Ellen welcomed you into the Hughes home for however long you needed.
You found your legs shaking as you grabbed a cardigan from the stair's bannister and shrugged it on, letting the comfort engulf you as you made your way towards the back door.
The chilly night air greeted you as you stepped onto the back porch. The weak glow of a single porch light illuminated the worn wooden planks beneath your feet. You wrapped the cardigan tighter around yourself, seeking solace in its familiar warmth.
As you approached, you saw Luke standing to the side of the porch, his hands shoved into his pockets. His face was painted with nerves, uncertainty etched across his face. The moonlight cast shadows on his features, almost emphasising the gravity of the situation. You shuddered at the sight, it was almost as if he was a ghost standing still as time continued. His head snapped towards you as you settled on the wooden steps of the porch, your knees drawn up to your chest.
"Hey," He spoke tentatively, his eyes searching yours for any sign of emotion as he stepped closer.
You remained silent, your eyes watching him as he moved to sit beside you. You were waiting for him to explain himself and the world felt suspended, time frozen as you said nothing, facing the person who had shattered your trust.
"I guess we should talk..." Luke finally spoke, scratching his head awkwardly. At his words, you found yourself tearfully scoffing.
"You guess?" you asked in disbelief, your voice steady but laced with pain. Your eyes remained ahead of you as you tried to keep a straight face. "Why did you do it, Luke? We were supposed to be more than this."
"Why did I do what?" Luke huffed, anger weaving into his tone. "I came over for you to explain why you did what you did at the party."
"What I did?!" You exclaimed, your hands fidgeting. "You mean having to watch you shove your tongue down a girl's throat in front of everyone while they laugh at me?"
"Why should that matter?" Luke rolled his eyes, "it's not like you did anything different."
"I don't know what you're talking about," your voice cracked, taken aback by his cruelty.
"Don't act clueless,"
"I don't know what you're talking about,"
Luke's sharp gaze scanned yours for any sign of a lie. His face slowly dropped, his eyebrows scrunching as your teary eyes remained locked on his.
"I saw you and Brock in the kitchen," Luke breathed out, "you kissed him!"
"Kissed him?" You choked on a tearful laugh, "I did not!"
"Then how do you explain what I saw, huh?" Luke spat at your laughter, his hurt plastering across his face. "I saw you..."
"You saw him grab me, and pull me towards him?" You asked rhetorically, "You saw me close to him? Wake up, Luke...Brock grabbed me, he pulled me, he yanked me closer, see the common denominator here?"
"That doesn't explain the kiss," Luke mumbled, his hands running over his eyes in frustration and exhaustion.
"There was no kiss!" You burst as stray tears flooded through the dams. "He was taunting me, Luke! He was being a dick insinuating that I was a whore filled with diseases!" Luke was ashen when he raised his head. You felt yourself deflating, growing smaller in yourself by the second.
"I didn't kiss him...I didn't," your voice broke off as you looked away from the boy you still loved despite everything. "I would never do that to you."
"But you... And they said..." Luke's nose scrunched up a confusion, which seemed to be interwoven with despair."...and I saw you!"
Your body shook, and this time it wasn't from nerves, but from the sound Luke made when he turned to face you again. It was almost an animalistic send one so inhuman, you thought there may have been some little creature out beyond your back garden, whimpering.
"...but I swear, they told me...they told me they saw you and him... And then I went, I went and I checked and then I saw..." Luke paused his rambling, barely taking a breath. "You didn't kiss him?"
Luke's voice trembled as if his world was collapsing around him, every lie he had convinced himself of, every brick in the foundation had come tumbling down on him leaving him in the ruined rubble.
"I thought you knew," Your voice came out as a breath, "I thought you knew I would never do something like that to you."
"...I thought you had. I saw you and him in the kitchen and you were so close. I thought you were kissing and all I could see was red. All I could see was a hazy fog and I... I didn't know what to do."
"So your best idea—your best idea was to go and kiss someone else?!" Your voice now betrayed your brain as it stammered, letting the hot tears streak down your face. "Instead of coming to talk to me, and instead of asking me, instead of coming over...you kissed someone else? You jumped to conclusions, and that is not on me..."
Luke's eyes, the eyes which you loved, were welled with unshed tears. You see, he knew what he did was wrong, but Luke?
Luke had a tendency to lash out, a tendency to jump before he even knew it was safe. He was known to leap from one place to another without any guarantee of a landing space.
And you knew that about Luke. You knew that a part of him was hurting so much and that the reason he kissed someone else was a twisted way to get back at you for hurting him all while protecting himself.
"Why didn't you just come over?" You whispered your heart dropped to your stomach. And the churning feeling of anxiety has long settled in your gut. "I thought we had the trust in one another to communicate, to be open to each other."
Luke sighed, a mix of guilt and shame crossing his features. "I don't have a good reason, Y/N. I got caught up in the moment, and I let everything unravel. I was stupid, and I hurt you, and I hate myself for it."
The raw honesty in his words pierced through the silence. You remained still, absorbing the weight of his confession. Ellen's guidance echoed in your mind, encouraging you to express your feelings.
"It's not just about the cheating, Luke," you spoke, your voice revealing the depth of your hurt. "It's about the trust you shattered, the friendship you trampled on. I never thought you'd be the one to hurt me like this."
Luke took a step closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I messed up, and I don't expect you to forgive me overnight. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I miss you, Y/N. I miss us."
Tears welled up in your eyes as conflicting emotions swirled within you. The loneliness, the betrayal, and the desire for connection warred in your heart. You glanced at the cardigan's sleeves, trying to muster the strength to say what needed to be said because looking at him in that moment it felt like you didn’t know him at all.
"Luke, I need time," you said, your voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. "This can't be fixed overnight, and I can't pretend everything is okay."
Luke nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I get it. Just... don't shut me out completely. I'm here, whenever you're ready."
With those words, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone on the porch. The night air felt colder, but a sense of clarity embraced you. You allowed your head to lull backwards, the tears slipping from the corner of your eyes as you gazed at the stars overhead. You knew the journey ahead would be challenging, but with Ellen's support and your own resilience, you were determined to rebuild from the broken pieces.
Anywayssss, don’t hate me but this is getting a part three!
#luke hughes x reader#wineauntie#nhl x reader#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes x you#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes x oc#luke hughes fanfic#luke hughes fanfiction#luke hughes imagine
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DOM!CHRIS WHO…/ HEADCANONS
once again inspired by @worldlxvlys bc i love anna’s content and maggie’s [@greatooglymooglyyy] attitude adjustment fic and lilah’s [@thugpugs4lrh] brat!tamer chris fic!
disclaimer: this is a bit more sexual than anything i write and it’s far from what i normally write or allude to, so please read at your own discretion. i am not your mother nor am i responsible for the content you consume.
dom!chris who does not take any attitude lightly and will not hesitate to wrap his hand in your hair, jerking your head back as he as tells you to watch your tone.
dom!chris who does not hesitate to slap your cheek, either lightly or harshly, depending on your behaviour, when you spit insults at him while he’s inside you.
dom!chris who laughs at how pathetically quick you let go for him, despite him not giving you permission.
dom!chris who will chase his own high, rutting into so roughly and so quickly, and will laugh when he leaves you a crumpled mess on the bed, sobbing after being denied permission to cum for the fourth time because you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.
dom!chris who is obnoxiously possessive in public, who will not hesitate to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you into a messy make-out as the guy who got the wrong impression and started flirting with you, slowly backs away with shame and embarrassment written on his face.
dom!chris who will force you to talk to him without attitude, and if you refuse, he will ignore you, even as you get yourself off on his thigh like a bitch in heat. he’ll just laugh at how pathetic you look.
dom!chris who will mock you in the smoothest voice, faux sweetness dropping from his tongue like honey, completely fooling you into thinking he’s not mad until he’s gripping your hips tightly as you’re pressed against his body and he’s calling you a slut in the meanest tone imaginable.
dom!chris who will mock your whines and moans, telling you to shut the fuck up because you begged for the way he’s treating you.
dom!chris who doesn’t care what you wear, as long as you’re prepared for a long night.
dom!chris who will not hesitate to kick some guy’s ass for getting too close and then turn around and drag you to the nearest bathroom, bending you over the counter and reminding you that you are his fucktoy, not anyone else’s.
dom!chris who is public about your relationship and laughs so darkly when he asks “what would the world think if they knew what a fuckin’ whore you are f’me?”
dom!chris who always reminds you that he loves you, in the middle of fucking your brains out, even if he’s pissed at you because he knows how easily his words can break you and make you believe that he means what he says, and forget that his words are just vocal foreplay, that they’re just dirty talk because he knows it gets you going.
dom!chris who mixes slight praise with his degradation, telling you that your body is made for him and takes him so well, just like the pathetic fucktoy you are.
dom!chris who uses your weak points against you in public, knowing exactly where to touch you to have you squirming in your seat.
dom!chris who enjoys setting you up, doing and saying things to have you begging for him, and then acting out when he denies it, which leads to him getting angry because you can’t go five minutes without his touch and attention.
dom!chris who, at the end of the day, holds you close and reminds you that despite the way he shows and holds control over your body during sex, you are your own person and that you can always say no if you need to. who reminds you that you did so good, that you are so loved by him because he knows that constant rough sex and rough dirty talk can really take a toll on you and he never wants you to believe that he sees you the way he does when he’s angry with you.
dom!chris who makes sure your emotional and romantic relationship is as healthy as possible, because he knows how toxic your sexual relationship can get, and he wants to keep a healthy relationship outside of the bedroom so there’s never a lack of trust or safety in the bedroom.
↳ taglist: @33sturniolo @worldlxvlys @sturnioloshacker @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @meanttomeet @breeloveschris @thugpugs4lrh @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @vanteguccir @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby @whatrulookingat11 @kqyslyho3 @hysteria-things [TAGLIST IS FULL!]
© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo x reader
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