#<- i think?? i made this with said intentions

[alchemistc]

i like your voice in person

Evan's staring at the bed like he's trying to navigate a minefield.

Six months ago that would have sent Tommy on another journey of self-deprecation, a reminder that he'd known Evan wasn't ready for this, known this was a possibility, but Evan, for all his own insecurities, knows what the hell he wants and if he'd felt even an ounce of pressure or remorse up to this point he'd have said something long before now.

Sometimes Evan likes to work it out himself, and sometimes he needs a little nudge, and Tommy watches the head tilt and the angle of his pursed lips for cues as he settles under the sheets.

"Something on your mind?" he prompts, and Evan blinks, like he hadn't realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts.

"Uh...nothing, maybe."

"Sounds like something, probably."

Evan's smile tilts up at one corner, and he settles on the bed a little stiffly. "It's nothing major. Just. Something I've been thinking about?"

He can feel his brows jumping, can see the way Evan takes in the look with a fond expression. Evan steels himself for something -- they're still muddling through past experiences and learning how to be a bit more intentional in some of their conversations, because they both have a bad habit of reverting to flirting and deflection.

"You remember what we talked about last weekend?"

Tommy can genuinely remember about 93 percent of what he and Evan talk about at any given time, which is an astronomically high number and not at all an exaggeration. He'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't have clear evidence that Evan was as deep into this as he was.

They talk a lot, is the thing, about inconsequential shit just as much (definitely more) than the important stuff. They talk far more than Tommy can remember talking in any other relationship he's been in. But Tommy can pinpoint the exact one he means.

"You mean the roles thing."

Evan hadn't been a stranger to a little daddy talk in bed when they started to explore it, and he'd brought it up right at the start for a reason, but Tommy had taken a while to come around to the realization that Evan had sort of internalized the 'I don't have daddy issues' of it all in a way that Tommy hadn't actually meant it. There'd been little things, here and there; like Evan reaching a door before him and then bashfully waiting with it half open like he'd made a misstep; like twisting his mouth a little funny when he snatched the bill from the table before Tommy could get it. Little things.

Things that, in the abstract, yeah, Tommy liked to do for his partners, but in reality weren't actually that big a deal to him.

He'd needed to clear the air.

Evan nods. Curls a hand around his knee before he shifts his body so that he's facing Tommy. "So, I like taking care of people."

(A conversation, a month ago, Evan grimacing around "My therapist says I have to stop calling myself a people pleaser in a derogatory way.")

Tommy hums, something to remind Evan he's listening.

"And I guess I sort of built up this idea in my head that that was like, a hard stop with you."

("Everyone likes being taken care of sometimes, Evan.")

"And I'm not -- I'm not upset at you, or like, feeling guilty, I just -- I've been thinking about it, and I feel like I forgot to ask you how you wanted to be taken care of."

The thing with Evan is that no matter how often he'll deflect with a joke, when he wants to say something serious he's blunt as hell about it. There might be some hemming and hawing to get there but sometimes he says things that just make Tommy wonder if he'd ever actually learned how to say things before Evan.

"I don't really have a list, babe," he says, and then sort of hates himself for it. Deflect, distract, hey baby how about I blow you about all these big feelings inside my chest I can't articulate.

Evan, though, Evan squinches his eyes and runs a heavy hand through his hair. "I...sort of do?"

"Lay it on me."

Evan grins. "That's actually one of the things on my list."

Tommy blinks. Tries to figure out that trail of thought, but he's coming up with nothing. "Okay, can you expand on that?"

"Like --listen, you know I'm a huge fan of being the little spoon. I'd let someone put screws back in my leg just for continued little spoon privileges. But sometimes I miss being the big spoon, and in my head the idea sounded so stupid to bring up but now I'm wondering if, like, maybe I've just been denying you the joy of being the little spoon?"

Tommy thinks of Evan's hands spread big and warm across his belly, of knees tucked up behind his, warm breath on the back of his neck like when Evan stumbles up behind him in the mornings whining about coffee, and maybe he blue screens a bit because he's never actually dated someone so close to his own size, because there's always been an assumption at the outset that he wouldn't want that.

Alex had been a little too into the same dynamic he'd seen Evan stumbling through, and Colin had hated sleeping with someone's flesh touching his own. Beyond that he hadn't really dated anyone long enough to really form a preference.

Maybe Kara might have been willing, back when he'd been closeted enough to pretend it wasn't an effort to get it up when she had his dick in her mouth, but they'd been young enough that staying the night wasn't really a consideration.

"And like -- listen, I don't necessarily prescribe to gender roles as a thing in general, but a few weekends ago I spent like twenty minutes staring at a bouquet of flowers in Trader Joe's and convinced myself you wouldn't like the gesture so I didn't buy them but you have a few vases in your moms old china cabinet and the moment I remembered them I felt stupid for not buying the flowers."

There's something curling tenderly underneath Tommy's ribcage that he's not sure he's ever felt quite like this before. It's not new, exactly, but it seems to be thrumming particularly hard tonight.

Three months in, Tommy had gotten the man-flu from hell, temperatures so high he'd been grounded and sent packing to rest it off, and he'd texted Evan a jumbled mess of barely discernible things when they'd tucked him into the Uber.

Evan and Bobby had made chicken noodle soup at the station and Hen had sent Evan off with a laundry list of things he could do to help drop the fever, and Tommy had spent the duration sulking and glowering and dragging himself out of bed every time Evan had wanted to change the sheets, to keep Tommy as comfortable as he could, but when Evan had caught it four days later he hadn't hesitated to do all the same shit with gusto. Evan hadn't been particularly grateful either, because neither one of them liked being laid up when the world was out there waiting for them, but he'd at least had the grace to not be an asshole about it.

He had, though. Been grateful. A little awestruck, too, at the mere idea of someone so unafraid of just being there through all the moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing, keeping the tissues from piling up on the bedside table and switching out cold packs to the freezer so he always had one ready in case he wanted it. In the clarity of a full day without fever making his brain feel like cotton candy he'd stared down at a sleepily wheezing Evan and known he could absolutely lose his heart to this man.

"Also I don't want to toot my own horn here but I give excellent foot rubs, and I feel like there's about a million other things I've just been -- holding back from doing?"

"Because of the role thing, or because all your stupid exes told you you were needy?"

It's not a night to pull punches. Also Tommy wants to send thank you cards to every single one of them and attach them to boxes with a bark scorpion inside.

"Both," Evan says without a second of hesitation. His smile crinkles at the corners of his mouth, and Tommy is suddenly annoyed with the space between them. When he holds out his hand to tug Evan into him, Evan melts into it for the space of a moment before he pulls back. "I actually kind of desperately want to be the big spoon right now, if that's something you'd be into." Evan had definitely clocked the look on his face when he'd mentioned it, but he's keyed into the way Tommy checks in and reciprocated in kind since the start of this, so.

Tommy peels his glasses off, snags his bookmark to keep his spot in the monstrosity of the Wrangler maintenance manual he'd stopped being cagey about the fifth time Evan caught him flipping through it, and watches Evan settle comfortably into bed next to him. The problem is, Tommy actually isn't sure where to go from there, which is a ridiculous thought to have because Evan hadn't either and he'd figured it out just fine.

"How do you want me, Buckley?"

The roll of his eyes is so bitchy that Tommy has to remind himself that for all his people pleasing attributes, Evan Buckley is, at heart, a huge fucking brat. Evan tugs and twists and maneuvers his arms and Tommy sort of sinks into it, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, draping his leg over one of Evan's when he shifts his knee pointedly, a massive, unruly breath escaping Tommy once they're all done shifting.

"You should absolutely try out the rest of your list," he murmurs into the space where Evan's shoulder meets his neck. "Although you don't need to woo me anymore, I'm actually fully wooed."

Lips against his crown, pressed tightly enough that he can feel the smile against his scalp, Evan chuckles. "You don't know how good my wooing is."

The fingers shifting up and down his arm feel somehow different, from this position, even though Evan has done it a hundred times before from the spot he likes to claim with his head right over Tommy's bleeding, three-sizes-too-big-for-him heart. It's ridiculous, and it shouldn't feel any different, but it does. He wants to be greedy with it, soak it in and then never let Evan do this again because he finally understands the appeal and he doesn't want to deprive Evan that.

"This is nicer than I expected."

Evan's soft laugh ruffles his hair, and Tommy wonders if he's dumb enough to ask Eddie how long he should wait before he can reasonably beg Evan to spend the rest of his life with him.

"Save the reviews for when I actually spoon you. It's gonna rock your world." His hand drifts up, fingers digging into the dimple of Tommy's skull.

The hum in his throat has a mind of it's own, going thin and reedy and --

Evan pauses, and Tommy can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, because this is new information.

To both of them, actually, but Tommy doesn't have time to process it because the fingers on the back of his skull spread and sink deeper, just enough pressure to be more than a glancing ruffle, and Tommy can't quite help the way he tilts his head back into it, or the way he hitches his leg to press his groin a little more firmly to the outside of Evan's thigh.

They're both too tired for it to really mean anything -- both off 48's and a fumbled round in the shower while they were already bone weary -- but Tommy wants the reminder for them both when they wake up in the morning.

He can feel his eyes drooping the longer Evan scrubs his fingers against him, and the thought pops into his head as he's drifting off. He doesn't want it to disappear into the fog, though, so he murmurs it into the soft, warm skin of Evan's neck. "I like camellia's. White ones."

Evan hums, and Tommy just knows that the moment he drops off, Evan will be reaching for his phone to google the language of flowers.

#bucktommy #buck x tommy #bucktommy fic #911 fic #tevan fic #as if shoehorning sportsball into a fic wasn't enough now i've gone and added the language of flowers back into the lexicon #white camellia means 'you're adorable' #but once buck actually finds what he's looking for he ends up ordering a ridiculous bouquet of red camellia baby's breath and red salvia

[andavs]

Seriously, does Eddie know what Kim unintentionally did to him?

I'm not trying to absolve him of everything that just happened because he was the one to go back to the store and talk to her in the first place. He continued to see her at least a few times, so that part is entirely on him—but he also came clean with her and ended it. It was over and done with.

But he brought her to his home to explain and she came back later to ambush him. She used the photos he showed her to dress up exactly like his dead wife—maybe it was just some careful styling, but it looked like she even dyed the white streak in her hair. He opened up about the faults in their marriage and she threw his own words back at him to push him into engaging with her. Everything he shared with her, she twisted and used against him.

Even with nothing but good intentions, Kim is a fucking actress! She is not in any way qualified to guide him through something like that! She broke him open while he repeatedly asked her to stop, unintentionally blew his life up, and then left him there in pieces. And he couldn’t even begin to process what just happened because Chris walked in.

Yeah, Eddie could’ve slammed the door in Kim’s face from the start or told her to get out, but even if he had, would she have left? She was determined to do this “for him” and didn’t take no for an answer. He could barely even look at her, but she kept pushing until she struck a nerve. 

That was such a fucked up thing that Kim did, yet Eddie defends her and blames himself completely in the aftermath. He was so messed up and wracked with guilt and worry about Chris that he couldn’t even properly explain what happened. He talks around it while blaming himself for everything, to the point where it sure as hell seems like Buck thinks they had sex while Kim pretended to be Shannon, and Eddie was fully into it.

In the episode before when he first confronted Eddie about her, Buck specifically clarified, “You haven't had sex.” And Eddie said, “Exactly, that’s not even what I want from her.”

And then when Eddie’s trying to explain, Buck says “And what wasn't happening between you two ended up happening.”

Buck thinks they had sex—or were at least making out—and Chris walked in when in reality, Eddie was pushed into a breakdown by the ghost of his dead wife about how he's broken and unfixable and alone. And I don’t know what that misunderstanding means, or if it’ll even end up being relevant! Will Eddie actually tell him what happened, or will he lock that away too?

Eddie’s made so much progress with opening up to people since his breakdown, but this time every single thing he shared got used against him and started a chain reaction that has left him completely alone with nothing. His son is gone, and his parents were there just long enough to convince him that he’s a terrible father screwing up Chris like they screwed up Eddie, which is what Eddie’s always worked hardest to avoid. The one remaining good thing in his life was the 118, and even that’s going to be terrible under Gerrard.

Either next season is going to be equal parts brutal and magnificent on the Eddie front, or it’s going to be incredibly disappointing.

#i've been stewing in this and needed it out of my brain

[s-brant]

Three’s Company

When Patrick visits his best friend at Stanford University, Art’s new fling finds herself stuck between two very attractive men.

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, they’re all pervs, and strong language.

-

The room is stiflingly hot.

There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.

Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirting—the oblivious little thing she is—he shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.

They came back to his room to study—only to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocence—for their approaching final exams.

"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."

They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.

When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.

Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."

To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.

"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."

Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."

The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Art’s lips.

As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.

He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.

The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.

"So, how did you and Art meet?"

Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.

"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."

"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."

Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.

She chuckles.

"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"

Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.

"Well, there were some other contributing factors."

"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."

This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court together—what was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.

"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"

Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.

The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.

He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletes—showing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.

When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.

With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.

The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.

Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.

Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable bra—which is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh material—and a pair of tiny spandex shorts.

Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of her—almost angelic in her beauty—and tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.

They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.

"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."

Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.

After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them. 

She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.

With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.

Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.

Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"

Patrick doesn't miss a beat.

"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"

The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.

"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to—"

Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...

Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.

He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.

Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.

She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.

"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."

To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.

Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, then—"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"

The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.

In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.

That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.

While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him alone—between his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured face—is enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.

One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her. 

He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."

Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.

Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.

Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.

She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her ass—always moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.

Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.

Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."

To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.

Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.

When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.

"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "More—I need more. Please."

Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.

The contrast of the men as lovers—Patrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperate—threatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.

So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.

Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now. 

When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.

The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.

They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with food—humming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...

Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.

"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.

It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.

She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"—The sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into her—"Please"—What she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anyway—"Ah!"

The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.

It hits her harder than she ever knew it could. 

Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on her—touching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her hand—yet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.

If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.

Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.

She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.

Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.

He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"

Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.

"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."

They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.

Patrick is the first to break the silence.

"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"

"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.

Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.

"Only a little?"

She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.

It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.

Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

"Too much clothes."

But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.

Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.

"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.

To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.

It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.

A taste is all she allows herself, though.

Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.

She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"

Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of them—with Art following closely behind—and he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.

To their surprise, it's Art who answers first. 

Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.

"On my lap."

Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.

Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.

"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few times—as if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."

And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.

The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. The feeling of Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.

Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.

"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.

There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.

Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.

Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.

She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."

"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."

If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.

"He feels"—she says, chest rising and falling faster—"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfect—mmm—fucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."

With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.

Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.

She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.

As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.

Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.

"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.

Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.

Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"

A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.

"If it's too much, you have to tell us."

Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."

Patrick does not need to be told twice.

Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism experienced tonight.

One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.

She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animals—utterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.

Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."

The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.

One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.

As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.

And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.

Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes. 

"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"—Every merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from her—"Patrick, please!"

The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.

With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"

Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.

Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.

He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"

A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of her—face twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.

He asks again, "Is that what you want?"

Her response is immediate.

"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'm—mmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please; please!"

To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.

The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.

To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.

Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."

Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.

Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up in their arms with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.

She digs her dig into Art's shoulder hard enough to break skin as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasm—the throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.

It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.

Her head is laid back on Patrick's shoulder with Art's nose nuzzling her bare breasts, which rise and fall at a rapid rate with how she tries to catch her breath. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.

It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.

The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlight—Art's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

The silence continues to stretch on, then—

"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if don't mind sharing me."

His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.

"I don't mind one bit."

-

Thank you for reading this! I probably won’t write any more Challengers fics but I saw the movie like five times in theaters and needed to crank this out to satisfy the part of me that is obsessed with the hotel scene. I would really appreciate a comment to let me know what you thought if you’re open to that 🫶🏻 The oral part of this fic was inspired by these two (1) (2) I read, so def give them a read cause they're great!

#fanfiction #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #no editing other than grammarly cause idgaf #art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader #challengers #listened to white mustang by lana the whole time 😩 #and uncle ace cause duh

[astrxq]

CHAPTER 1 → The Art of First Impressions

words: 3.4k

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Benedict felt his sister’s pull on his arm once, twice, three times before he snapped out of his reverie. Eloise scoffed, her arm linked with his, as she listened to their mother’s pleas for her to please, please, please consider dancing tonight.

"Honestly, Mother, I have no interest in prancing around like a trained pony," Eloise retorted, rolling her eyes.

Their mother sighed, exasperation clear on her face. "It's just one dance, Eloise. It wouldn't hurt to socialize a bit more."

Benedict chuckled softly, earning a glare from his sister. "You know she's not going to give up, Eloise. Might as well dance once and get it over with."

Eloise grumbled under her breath but eventually relented, albeit reluctantly. She managed to escape her mother, finding Penelope on the other side of the room, who was also standing aside, avoiding dances. Turning back, Benedict found himself face-to-face with his mother again, she smiled.

"And you, Benedict," Violet began, raising an eyebrow. "Have you considered dancing tonight? There are plenty of eligible young ladies here."

Benedict sighed inwardly, "Mother, I think I'd rather enjoy the evening in other ways. There's no shortage of good company even off the dance floor."

Violet's smile wavered slightly, but she nodded in understanding. "It's important to make an effort sometimes."

"I know, Mother," he replied, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I'll make an effort. Just not tonight."

With that, he made his way across the room, scanning the crowd for his brothers. He found his brother Colin near the refreshments, engaged in animated conversation. Benedict joined them, picking up a glass of brandy from the table.

"Escaping Mother’s matchmaking efforts, I see," Colin said with a knowing smirk.

Benedict raised his glass in a mock toast. "To avoiding dances and hungry mamas."

Colin chuckled, clinking his glass against Benedict's. "Here, here. Though I think she's got her eyes set on Eloise tonight. Poor thing."

Benedict glanced over to see Eloise and Penelope deep in conversation, both clearly intent on remaining wallflowers for the evening. 

"She'll manage," he glanced at their mother, now deep in conversation with one too many mama’s asking for her sons to dance with their daughters. "You know Mother, once she sets her mind on something, there's no stopping her."

Colin nodded in agreement, then leaned in closer to Benedict, lowering his voice before taking a sip of his drink. "Speaking of setting minds on things, I think I might ask Penelope for a dance."

Benedict raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk appearing on his lips. "Oh? And what's the occasion?"

Colin shrugged nonchalantly. "We're friends, aren't we? It's only proper to dance with a friend."

"By all means, go ahead," Benedict said, gesturing towards Penelope, who was engrossed in conversation with Eloise. "I'll take care of Eloise for you."

With that, both brothers stalked their way to where the two girls stood. Eloise, upon seeing her brothers look so determined, made a face, Penelope grinned at the sight of Colin approaching. 

“Good evening, ladies.” Benedict said, immediately linking his arm with his sister’s and pulling her to walk with him. 

Eloise made a move to let go of her brother and return to her friend, but Benedict pulled her forward. As Benedict led her away from the crowd, he could feel her resistance soften. He knew his sister well enough to understand that while she might grumble at being dragged away from her conversations, she often secretly appreciated the break from social gatherings.

"We're not escaping to the stables, are we?" Eloise quipped, a hint of amusement in her voice as Benedict guided her towards the quieter corridors of the house.

Benedict chuckled. "Not this time, though I must admit, the stables do hold a certain appeal."

As they entered the grand gallery of the house, Benedict felt a sense of calm wash over him. The opulent space was adorned with exquisite paintings, illuminated by the soft glow of strategically placed lamps. The air was filled with the faint scent of old books and polished wood. He stayed silent and walked to stand in front of the biggest painting, a landscape of the lake near their house – the water shimmered with delicate strokes of blue and green, wisps of mist floated above the surface of the lake, adding an ethereal quality to the scene. In the distance, a lady in a white dress, feeding the ducks. ‘Byron Montclair’ signed at the bottom.

Eloise rolled her eyes at Benedict's lingering gaze. "Are you going to stare at the walls all night, or are you actually going to tell me why you dragged me away from the party?"

Benedict grinned, enjoying his sister's feisty demeanor. "I thought you might appreciate a moment away from the chaos.”

She hummed, “Not because Colin wanted to dance with my friend?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Benedict watched as Eloise settled herself on a wooden bench near the walls, her posture betraying her boredom despite her attempts to appear nonchalant. Her shoulders slumped forward, legs crossed one over the other and hands falling to her lap, she played with her bracelet while Benedict slowly paced around the room, taking his sweet time to stare at each painting.

As he gazed at the various paintings adorning the walls, his eyes landed on one that seemed familiar yet out of place. It was his own work, a sunset he had painted months before and gifted to his mother, even though he was not too proud of the outcome. He approached it, lost in his contemplation, Benedict didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching from behind until a voice broke the silence.

"Do you like it?”

Benedict turned to your voice, a woman, around his age, standing next to him, eyes glued to his painting. He looked back to where his sister sat, though she was still distracted by her own boredom.

“I suppose…” he answered, now staring at you. You didn’t look at him. 

“Interesting choice of colors," you remarked, your voice soft yet carrying an air of authority. "Although I must say, the technique could use some refinement."

Benedict arched an eyebrow at the unexpected critique, feeling a mixture of surprise and curiosity at your boldness. He hadn't anticipated such an assessment of his work, especially from someone he hadn't met before.

He glanced at the painting again, then back at you, noting your composed demeanor and the confidence in your voice. 

"I see," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "And what, if I may ask, would you suggest to refine it?"

You turned her gaze towards him, finally acknowledging his presence with a subtle smile playing at the corners of your lips. 

"Well, for starters, the brushstrokes could be more fluid," you began, "And perhaps a greater attention to light and shadow would enhance the overall depth of the piece."

He stared at you, then back at the painting. He squinted as he focused on every detail you’d pointed out. You were right, it wasn’t a good painting, not his best at least. You made no move to go look at another painting, instead choosing to stand next to Benedict as he analyzed his own work.

“It’s almost as if the painter has no motivation.” 

Benedict widened his eyes, quickly turning to look at you. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

You shrugged, your gaze still fixed on the painting. "Just an observation," you replied cryptically. “If the artist is not motivated to paint, if it’s a chore to them, paintings turn out boring. Just like this one, might I add.”

Benedict couldn't help but feel a surge of defensiveness at your blunt assessment of his painting. After all, it had been a heartfelt gift to his mother, even if he wasn't entirely satisfied with the outcome himself.

"I wouldn't say it was a chore," he retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of indignation. "But perhaps you're right. It lacks a certain... spark."

You turned to him, a thoughtful expression on your face. "Exactly. Without that spark, a painting loses its soul."

Benedict couldn't help but feel a prickling sense of irritation at your bold critique of his painting. After all, who were you to question his artistic motivations and the soul of his work?

"And what, may I ask, qualifies you to critique this painting?" Benedict's voice held a subtle edge, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

“I am merely just making observations,” you heard Eloise chuckle from the other side of the room, quickly covering her mouth when both you and Benedict turned to look at her. “Women aren’t allowed in art school, much to your privilege, but I know when a painting is a masterpiece and when it falls short." 

Benedict's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your response. He hadn't expected such a bold and insightful remark from someone he had just met. It intrigued him, and he found himself wanting to delve deeper into this conversation.

"I see," he said, his tone softening as he regarded you with newfound interest.

Before he could ask you more questions, though, a chaperone appeared at the door, calling hands behind her back, and a serious look on her face. “Miss Montclair, the carriage you called has arrived.”

Without another word, you turned to look at Benedict, “If you need insight in how to better your… work, if you may call it that, I'd be happy to offer my expertise." 

With that, you offered Benedict a small nod before gracefully exiting the room, leaving him standing there, slightly taken aback by your departure. He watched you leave, feeling a curious mixture of intrigue and admiration for your boldness and insight.

Eloise approached Benedict, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Well, that was unexpected," she commented, gesturing towards the door through which you had just left.

He couldn't shake the feeling of fascination that had gripped him during your brief interaction. There was something about your confidence, your insight, that intrigued him.

Benedict couldn't help but smirk at Eloise's comment, her playful demeanor adding to the intrigue of the moment. "Indeed, quite unexpected," he replied, his mind still lingering on the exchange with you.

Eloise nudged him lightly with her elbow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I must admit, she certainly knows how to make an entrance and an exit."

Benedict chuckled, nodding in agreement. "That she does."

"I must admit, I haven't seen you at a loss for words like that in quite some time, brother." 

Benedict chuckled, shaking his head.Eloise leaned in conspiratorially, a playful glint in her eye. "Well, aside from her keen eye for art, I must say she's rather... captivating, wouldn't you agree?" she teased.

Benedict raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, and here I thought you were immune to such charms, dear sister."

Eloise laughed, nudging him playfully with her elbow. "Please, Benedict. Even I can appreciate beauty when I see it."

Benedict grinned, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. He couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu as he found himself once again standing in front of his favorite painting, the lake, lost in its serene beauty. As he admired the brushstrokes and the way the artist had captured the essence of the landscape, he felt a gentle nudge from Eloise, who was studying the painting with a thoughtful expression.

"Isn't it interesting?" she remarked, her voice barely above a whisper. "The signature at the bottom of the painting, it's the same last name as the woman who critiqued your work earlier."

Benedict's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he followed Eloise's gaze to the elegant cursive letters that spelled out 'Byron Montclair' at the bottom corner of the painting. The realization dawned on him slowly, a flicker of curiosity igniting within him.

"You don't suppose..." he began, his voice trailing off as he turned to look at Eloise, his mind racing with possibilities.

Eloise shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. "Who knows? But wouldn't it be quite the coincidence if it were true?"

He simply glanced at the name once again, before silently following behind his sister. As Benedict and Eloise walked back to the main hall, the echo of your words and the coincidence of the painting's signature played on Benedict's mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this brief encounter than met the eye.

The sound of laughter and music grew louder as they approached the party. Eloise seemed content with their little diversion, her earlier irritation replaced with a more relaxed demeanor. She glanced at Benedict, noting his thoughtful expression.

"You're not going to stand there brooding all night, are you?" she teased, nudging him gently.

Benedict offered her a half-smile, shaking off his musings. "Of course not.”

“Even though I enjoyed seeing a woman speak her mind so freely, especially to you, brother, I must admit it was a tad rude interaction.”

Benedict chuckled softly, acknowledging Eloise's observation. "Yes, it was rather... direct, wasn't it?" Eloise smirked, her eyes dancing with amusement. 

"Direct is one way to put it."

Benedict couldn’t help but smile, cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink, his sister dramatically gasped, pointing a finger at him. He grabbed the finger and shook it, telling her to put it down, “You liked it? You freak!”

Benedict's cheeks tinted slightly pink, but he couldn't suppress the grin that tugged at his lips. "Perhaps I did," he admitted, his tone laced with amusement.

Eloise arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Someone's got a soft spot for a bit of sass and intellect." she snorted, her smile quickly fading away as a suitor approached, hand in front of him and ready to ask for a dance.

Benedict's smile widened as he turned to face the approaching suitor, his demeanor shifting smoothly from amusement to polite courtesy. 

"Ah, I believe you have your dance partner for the evening, Eloise," he said, gesturing towards the eager gentleman. 

She glared, and reached to hold onto his arm tightly to stop him from leaving, Eloise's eyes widened in horror, but she quickly composed herself, offering the suitor a polite smile. “Maybe later?”

Benedict elbowed her. Their mother was approaching. 

“Or, now! Yeah,”

Benedict chuckled under his breath, admiring Eloise's quick recovery. As their mother drew near, he straightened his posture and greeted her with a warm smile. Violet beamed at the sight of her children, her eyes twinkling with maternal pride. 

"Ah, there you are, my darlings. Enjoying the party?"

Benedict offered his mother a warm smile, his gaze flickering to Eloise’s clumsy dancing before returning to Violet. 

“I cannot wait to go home, mother.” he teased, linking arms with her as she shook her head with a cheeky smile. Once he noticed one of the mama’s from before, approaching him and his mother, he scurried away while Violet kindly greeted them. Benedict made his way towards the refreshment table, pouring himself another glass of brandy. The rich amber liquid swirled in the glass as he lifted it to his lips, savoring the warmth it brought. 

"Mind if I join you?" Anthony, his eldest brother, stood beside him, a smile playing on his lips.

"Not at all," Benedict replied, gesturing to the empty space beside him. "I could use the company."

Anthony poured himself a drink and took a sip, his gaze sweeping across the ballroom. 

"So, what do you make of all this matchmaking business?" Anthony asked, his tone light yet curious. Benedict shrugged, a wry smile playing on his lips. 

"Same as always, I suppose. Mother means well, but sometimes her enthusiasm can be... overwhelming." 

Anthony chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Indeed. But you have to admit, it does make for some entertaining evenings."

He nodded in silence, drawing another drink, “Wherever did you and Eloise disappear to? I did not see you both around the ball.”

Benedict took a thoughtful sip of his brandy, pondering Anthony's question. "Oh, just needed a moment away from the chaos," he replied casually, choosing not to delve into the specifics of their little excursion. "You know how it gets sometimes."

Anthony raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, yes. Dodging matchmaking attempts, I assume?"

Benedict chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Something like that."

As the evening wore on, the chatter and laughter in the ballroom reached a crescendo, signaling the height of the festivities. Benedict, having slipped away from the main hall, found himself once again in the grand gallery, the serene ambiance a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere he had just left behind.

With practiced ease, he approached his painting, studying it with a critical eye. The soft glow of the lamps illuminated the brushstrokes, casting shadows that danced across the canvas. Benedict couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction with his work, spurred on by the candid critique he had received earlier.

As he reached out to carefully lift the painting from its place on the wall, a voice broke the silence, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

"What are you doing?" Anthony asked.

Benedict turned to his brother, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Just... admiring my handiwork," he replied, his tone light yet tinged with uncertainty. 

Anthony arched an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to the painting in Benedict's hands. "Ah, I see. And what do you plan to do with it? Wasn’t it a gift to mother?"

Benedict hesitated, unsure of how to articulate his thoughts. "It was, yes," he conceded, clearing his throat. He put the canvas under his arm to carry it with more ease, and without another word of explanation, he slipped away from the room. 

He retreated to the solitude of his art room, the familiar scent of oil paints and turpentine enveloping him like a comforting embrace. With practiced hands, he carefully propped up the painting on an easel, the canvas stretched taut and waiting.

Yet, as Benedict picked up his brush and dipped it into a pool of vibrant colors, he couldn't shake the feeling of dissatisfaction that gnawed at him. Each stroke felt clumsy, each hue seemed wrong, as if the colors refused to blend in harmony. His mind drifted back to the encounter with you, your candid critique echoing in his thoughts.

"Without that spark, a painting loses its soul," your words echoed in his mind, resonating with a truth he couldn't ignore. Benedict found himself scrutinizing every detail of his painting, searching for that elusive spark, that intangible quality that would breathe life into his work.

But no matter how hard he tried, Benedict couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, that his painting lacked the depth and vibrancy he so desperately sought. Frustration mounted with each brushstroke, each attempt to capture the essence of the landscape that had once inspired him.

As he stood back to assess his work, Benedict couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat wash over him. The painting before him seemed lifeless, devoid of the vitality that had once captivated him. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his tousled hair as he struggled to come to terms with his artistic shortcomings.

In that moment of vulnerability, Benedict found himself thinking of you, of your keen eye and unapologetic honesty. 

With a heavy heart and a mind clouded by frustration, Benedict reluctantly admitted defeat. Setting aside his brushes and palette, he extinguished the flickering candlelight in his art room, the darkness enveloping him like a shroud as he made his way to his chambers. 

Despite the late hour, sleep eluded him, his thoughts consumed by the encounter with you and the weight of your words. He tossed and turned restlessly, the image of your gorgeous face and the echo of your soft voice haunting him in the silence of the night.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict Bridgerton x you #benedict Bridgerton fluff #benedict Bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton #bridgerton season

[suguae]

'cause it was always you..

જpairings. G. Satoru x F. Reader

“I do ballet, I’m a ballerina.” 

Satoru smiled in amusement. "I honestly would've never thought," he said, his tone light and teasing. "It's like I learn more about you each day." He chuckled as your face turned red. 

"Do you have any performances coming up soon? I would love to see you dance in person." His tall body hovered over you, his head tilting as he waited for your answer."Y—yeah, um, in two weeks, I think." You scratched your head slightly, trying to remember.

He chuckled once more before playfully rubbing your head. "Cute," he mumbled, his smile lingering on his face. "Let me know the time and date. I'll see you around."

"I cannot tell you how important it is that you must focus, y/n," Your instructor muttered. "This is a very complex piece. Don't make me regret choosing you for this important role." 

Her words felt like a slap to the face. "Yes, ma'am," you muttered before getting back into position. As the music started playing, you moved gracefully. With every move, her face showed satisfaction, but you knew she wanted more than just satisfaction.

"That's your lunch?" Satoru asked, his eyebrows lifting as he examined the small portion of salad and a bottle of water sitting in front of you. His gaze shifted to meet yours, his blue eyes curious and concerned. "Oh, hi Satoru..." you mumbled nervously, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks as he took a seat right in front of you.

"Here, we can share my lunch," he offered with a warm smile, reaching into his bag to pull out a beautifully crafted bento box filled with an array of tempting dishes.

Your stomach grumbled at the sight and aroma of the food, but you shook your head slightly. "Oh, it's no worries. I have to be on a strict diet for this upcoming performance," you replied, forcing a smile despite the longing in your eyes for a taste of his lunch.

Satoru looked around before flashing a mischievous smile. "Well, who's gonna know?" he whispered, his tone playful and conspiratorial.

"Oh, believe me, she'll find out one way or another," you replied awkwardly, chuckling nervously. He playfully rolled his eyes at your response. "Anyway, are you busy tonight?" he asked, changing the subject smoothly.

You nodded in confirmation. "I have rehearsals," 

He leaned in slightly, his blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "From what time?" he inquired softly, his tone laced with curiosity.

You looked up, unaware of his intention, and replied, "From 3 to 9..." Confusion tinged your voice as you tried to decipher the meaning behind his question.

"You're overworking yourself for this piece, huh?" Satoru remarked, his voice gentle with concern. "You need to be careful; I don't want you hurting yourself." He leaned back slightly, throwing you a reassuring smile. You couldn't help but blush at the thought of his genuine concern and care for you. It warmed your heart to know that he was looking out for you.

"But after, we should watch a movie at the cinema. I know it'll be late but..." He trailed off, leaving the invitation hanging in the air. "Yeah, um... I mean, yeah, if you want," you quickly replied, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the prospect of spending more time with him outside of school.

Just the other day, you two had started talking, and you were still surprised when he first came up to you. His dazzling blue eyes charmed you in an instant, but even before that, you had always watched him from a distance. Never would you have expected this turn of events, where you were not just talking, but making plans to spend time together outside of your usual interactions.

"Perfect," he whispered softly, watching you silently enjoy your sad meal. "After your recital, we are gonna go out and eat so much food," he partially joked, his tone light but sincere. "Because I know you deserve it, because you're gonna do amazing," he reassured you, his words causing your cheeks to flush with warmth at his confession.

"Better, I love the improvement. Keep your moves sharp yet graceful," she instructed as you danced with your partner. Her words spurred you on, pushing you to embody the precise balance between sharpness and grace in your movements.

"And more emotion!" she yelled, her eyes fixed on you like a fox with its prey. Her demand for greater emotional expression pushed you to delve deeper into the performance, infusing each movement with raw emotion.

After hours of rehearsing, you found yourself standing a little under her gaze. "Not only is this performance important to the school, but to you as well," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern. "You've improved, but you have got to show more emotion," she sighed, her words weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"I thought you were gonna ditch on me," Satoru said, smiling as you met him in the cinema."I would never do that," you replied with a smile, playfully poking his arm. 

"Did I forget to mention, it's a scary movie," Satoru chuckled, noticing the quick head turn as you gulped in fear. "Relax, you can always hold onto me whenever you get scared," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he offered you comfort in the face of the impending fright.

"N-no, I can handle it," you said, trying to sound brave, but your face betrayed the exact opposite. Despite your attempt to mask your fear, Satoru could see right through it, his smile softening. 

"Let's go, or we'll miss the beginning," Satoru suggested, his hands softly holding onto yours, catching you by surprise. The unexpected touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and you followed him into the theater,

There you sat, side by side with the boy you've always had eyes for. His perfect face watching the gory movie with a smile on his face, seemingly unfazed by the horror unfolding on the screen. But rather than watching the movie, you found yourself watching him, mesmerized by the way his features softened with amusement.

Your heart pounded intensely in your chest as you stole glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away. When you looked down, you realized your hands were still interlocked, his warm touch sending shivers down your spine. In that moment, the fear of the movie was overshadowed by the thrill of being so close to him. 

His head turned as he met your gaze, and you quickly turned away in embarrassment, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You could hear his soft chuckle, the sound sending a flutter of nerves through you.

His hand unlocked from yours, and he brought it up to your cheek, gently turning your face to look at him. Your faces were mere centimeters apart now, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as your heart raced.

"Kiss me," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips as he leaned in even closer. And there you were, lost in a mini makeout session. His lips were like cherries—sweet and red—as they moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He smiled as you two stood outside the cinema, the evening breeze cooling your flushed cheeks. "I like you, y/n," he confessed softly, his words sending a warm thrill through you.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, placing one last peck on your lips, the gentle touch lingering for a moment before he pulled away. "And I had a lot of fun tonight," he added with a grin, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy.

"M-me too," you stammered, feeling a rush of gratitude and nervousness flood through you. "Thank you for tonight." You glanced down, unable to meet his gaze, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for the unexpected turn of events and the wonderful memories you had created together.

Despite the magical night you shared at the cinema, the next day at school feels like a stark contrast. Satoru's sudden avoidance leaves you bewildered and hurt. Every time you pass by him in the school halls, he seems to purposely avert his gaze, as if trying to pretend you don't exist.

At first, you wonder if it's just a misunderstanding, if perhaps he's dealing with something personal or caught up in his own thoughts. But as the days go by and his behavior remains unchanged, doubts begin to gnaw at you.

As you walked past an empty classroom, you overheard snippets of conversation that made your heart sink. "That was gonna be easier than I thought,'' one of Satoru's friends joked, followed by another chiming in, "Yeah, no kidding, she waited no time."

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a mix of confusion and hurt wash over you as you realized they were talking about you. Satoru's smile at their words only added to the sting, and you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal creeping in.

Was it all just a game to him? A bet or a dare among friends? The realization left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you couldn't help but feel foolish for believing in something that was never real to begin with.

Relief washed over you as your instructor clapped, praising your performance. "That's perfect, y/n!" she exclaimed, pausing the music. "You've been doing well; the portrayal of the emotion is just right."

As her words soothed you, you couldn't help but feel the weight of built-up frustration from the events with Satoru earlier. The emotion you poured into your performance wasn't just about portraying the story—it was also a release valve for the pent-up feelings swirling inside you.

With each movement, you channeled your anger, hurt, and confusion, allowing them to fuel your dance with a raw intensity that left you feeling both drained and empowered. 

There you were again, watching Satoru from a distance as he laughed playfully with his friends. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you reluctantly tore your gaze away from him, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. You rested your head on the cold wooden desk, closing your eyes as you tried to push aside the thoughts and emotions swirling inside you. It was a familiar routine now—watching him from afar, longing for something that seemed increasingly out of reach.

"I think she's cute though," one of Satoru's friends remarked, prompting Satoru to turn his attention towards you. "Knowing how easy she was, I might just go after her now," they laughed.

But Satoru's reaction was immediate. His brows furrowed in disapproval as he quickly intervened. "Don't," he stated firmly, his eyes shifting to you, where you lay your head down on the desk. 

His eyes lingered on you longer than he intended, the soft glow of the sun casting a graceful halo around you. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, a pang of longing mixed with regret washing over him. He knew he liked you—perhaps even more than he cared to admit—so why did he still go along with this stupid dare from his friends?

As he watched you, lost in your own world, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was betraying something precious between the two of you. The laughter of his friends echoed in his mind, but in that moment, all he wanted was to bridge the distance that had grown between you and make things right.

The night of the recital was excruciating and nerve-wracking. Every step you took felt heavy with anticipation, the weight of months of preparation bearing down on your shoulders. As you stood backstage, the murmur of the audience filtering through the curtain only heightened your anxiety.

Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst from your ribcage as you waited for your cue. The stage lights glared brightly, casting harsh shadows against the darkness backstage. Your palms were slick with sweat, and you fought to control the trembling in your limbs.

Despite the hours of practice and the reassurances from your instructor, doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind. What if you forgot a step? What if you stumbled and fell? The fear of failure loomed large, threatening to consume you whole.

You took a peek out onto the stage, your eyes instantly drawn to the sea of faces in the audience. But amidst the sea of strangers, your gaze quickly found solace in the familiar sight of your parents and your two younger sisters. They were seated near the front, their faces glowing with pride and anticipation. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. 

As your cue arrived, you shook off all your fears and made your way onto the stage, each step filled with perfect grace. Your movements flowed seamlessly, every emotion conveyed with precision and depth. But then, as your eyes shifted to the crowd, you saw him—Satoru—standing there with flowers in his hand.

A wave of conflicting emotions crashed over you, and all you wanted to do was run away as far as possible from him. Tears welled up in your eyes, betraying the facade of composure you had worked so hard to maintain. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you beneath its burden.

Many in the audience seemed to notice your distress, including Satoru himself. His brow furrowed in concern as he watched you, his earlier jovial demeanor replaced with a look of genuine worry.

Meanwhile, your instructor watched proudly from the wings, unaware of the turmoil raging inside you. To her, your performance was flawless, your portrayal of emotion transcendent. Little did she know, the tears streaming down your face were not just part of the act—they were the raw, unfiltered expression of a heart torn between love and pain.

As the performance came to an end, you and your fellow dancers bowed to the audience as the curtains closed, the applause ringing in your ears like a symphony of triumph. But amidst the fading echoes, your eyes remained glued to Satoru's figure in the crowd.

There he stood, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world around you fading into the background as you locked eyes with him.

"After that, so many dance schools are gonna be giving you offers like there's no tomorrow," your mom says, her voice filled with pride as you all walked out of the theater, caught up in the whirlwind of congratulatory remarks and well-wishes.

But then, as if out of nowhere, your eyes met Satoru's. There he stood by his car, flowers in hand, a silent testament to the emotions that lingered between you. For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning as you took in the sight of him, the memories of your shared moments flooding back with a bittersweet intensity.

"I'll meet with you guys later," you say, tearing your gaze away from your parents, who had been just as surprised as you to see Satoru. They exchanged a smile before walking away, leaving you alone with him.

As you approached him, a whirlwind of emotions swirled inside you, uncertainty mingling with hope. You couldn't help but wonder what he had to say, what his presence meant after all that had transpired between you

"Y/n..." He started, his voice tentative as he searched for the right words.

"I really liked you, Satoru," you say, interrupting him, your voice soft but steady as you walk closer to him. "I've liked you for longer than you can even imagine."

His expression softens, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes as he meets your gaze. "Was it worth it? The validation of your friends?" you ask, the words heavy with emotion.

For a moment, there's silence between you, the weight of the question hanging in the air. Then, with a sigh, Satoru reaches out to gently take your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

"No," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Without any hesitation, you embraced him in a tight hug, tears streaming down your face as you allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions that had been building inside you. Satoru felt his heart grow heavy as he returned the embrace, holding you close as he whispered soothing words of comfort. "None of it was worth it, y/n," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "Everything I said to you was true."

"Then why? Why did you leave?" Your muffled voice said as your face was stuffed into his chest, the words tumbling out between sobs.

"Because I was being dumb, but please let me make it up to you," he whispered, his voice filled with regret and sincerity.

In that moment, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, replaced by a flicker of hope. Despite the pain of the past, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for a second chance, for the possibility of rebuilding what had been broken.

With a shaky breath, you pulled away slightly, meeting his gaze with tear-stained eyes. "I want to believe you," you say, your voice wavering with uncertainty. "But you have to prove it to me."

He pulled away from the hug, placing the beautiful roses gently in your hand. Then, in a bold move that caught you off guard, he got down on his knees, despite the crowd still bustling around you.

"Y/n L/n," he began, his voice ringing out clear and unwavering, "I have loved you ever since the day I laid eyes on you. So please, just please give me another chance."

Your face flushed red from crying and embarrassment as you realized the extent of Satoru's devotion, his declaration of love unfolding in front of a crowd of onlookers. But despite the eyes watching, all you could focus on was the sincerity in his words and the depth of emotion shining in his eyes.

"G-get up," you say, your voice wavering as you watch the people around you smile at the heartfelt scene unfolding before them. But Satoru remains steadfast, his eyes never leaving yours as he stays on his knees. "No! I will wait here until I know you will give me another chance to prove myself, because I love you," he declares.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips despite the tears still glistening in your eyes. "Yes, I will give you another chance," you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and forgiveness. "Now, get up."

With a relieved smile, Satoru rises to his feet, his eyes shining with gratitude and love as he pulls you into a tight embrace. In that moment, surrounded by the murmurs of the crowd and the gentle rustle of the breeze, you knew that together, you could overcome anything that life threw your way.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips before resting his head in the crook of your neck. "I really do love you, and I will do anything to prove that to you," he murmured, his words filled with sincerity and determination.

Tears of happiness pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held him tight, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a comforting cocoon. "I love you too, Satoru," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but filled with all the love and affection in your heart.

"Now how about we go eat any and everything in our sight? You more than deserved it today," Satoru says, cupping your cheeks gently with his hands.

A smile spreads across your face at his suggestion, feeling a warmth radiate from deep within as you gaze into his eyes. "That sounds perfect," you reply, your voice filled with gratitude and excitement.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #angst #jjk angst #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru angst #light angst #angst with a happy ending #suguae

[rosedom]

Consider, male Naga reader (with character of your choice because I'm indecisive) using our tail to wrap around the character and hold him down as we pleasure him because he's really sensitive and keeps subconsciously trying to wiggling out of our affections even thought he very much likes what's going on and is completely consenting 🤔 Maybe, it's our first time with the character (or at all/vise versa). Size difference would be so hot with this, too, don't you think? Perhaps, we're eating him out, perhaps were dicking him down- either way it would be very hot. Wait, what about a stomach bulge because that could be either our penis or our tongue since snakes have longue tongues. Also, think about how a forked tongue would probably feel on his insides 😵‍💫. I'm kind of rambling, I think, but what about like a hissing pronunciation if we ever say a word with an 's' in it and we could also have scales on parts of our body besides our tail? We could even be able to open our jaw super wide, too! Hehe, I'm going to stop, now. Sorry if this didn't make a bunch of sense, by the way!! English is my second language and I'm more used to speaking it than writing it; the punctuation is the only thing I'm confident about 😶‍🌫️

"an unnamed player has invited SHIKANOIN HEIZOU to play . . . a practice of form

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, naga!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!heizou, he's j human, cunnilingus, vaginal/anal fingering/sex, size difference + stomach bulge, creampie, aftercare implied but not written .

A/N : it made perfect sense, don't worry !! i hope what i wrote does . . .

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

There are perks to being a naga. There's the sensitivity of your tastebuds, for one, and the way warmth can seep into you oh-so easily.

So, really, it only makes sense for your tongue—this long, forked thing—to delve across the contours of Heizou’s body. He squirms under you, breathless, the heat of his blush seeping into you. Like this, you could simply swallow him up. 

“Ssso warm, mm,” you murmur, all tipsy-like off of his body. 

You’ve been absolutely aching for his warmth recently, the blood in your veins far too chilled to provide you any comfort; after all, the sun’s been hiding behind the clouds all week, and with its disappearance comes a pain that you can feel in your bones.

It’s lucky, then, that your partner doubles as your own personal heater. Even though he wields Anemo, he runs warm: many a time, Heizou’s created small gusts of winds to cool him down (or, alternatively, warm you up.

Your favorite remains skin-to-skin, though; or, rather, skin-to-scale. Is that even a thing?). 

“And you’re so colddd,” Heizou whines, squirming away—that is, until your tail wraps around his middle and successfully pins him in place. He visibly gulps. 

The bob of his throat is irresistible, and you lean down to lick at him there, too. It's so warm, here, tucked into his throat like this, the heat emanating from the thin surface of his skin down to his veins, to the heavy thrum of his pulse.

“You said you could take me like this,” you coo against him. “Backing down now, little detective o’ mine?” 

He pouts and says, “Of course not;” and in his eyes is nothing but bare want.

(“I can take you,” Heizou had said, all that time ago.

You had him wrapped up in your human arms, your markedly human legs tangled with him, and it was, for all intents and purposes, a normal night—the two of you, curled up together, the soft hum of the radio lulling you to sleep. 

That is, until Heizou broke that sea of tranquility with that one dirty promise.

“I dunno, Hei,” you had murmured. You had hesitated, at first, trying desperately to deny the heat that you felt in your belly at it. For a man with cold blood, you swore it had singed, right then and there, with him squirming in your lap, all those naughty fantasies of his running around in that smart lil’ head. 

And, as you thought of little, you murmured, “You’re just—you’re so little that I fear I would hurt you.”

“No pain, no gain.” He had laughed, but you went on and pinched the humor out of him. 

“No, Heizou.”

...

Obviously, you acquiesced in the end; and you can’t deny how much the idea aroused you, even back then. After all, Heizou, sat up in your lap like that—he had certainly felt the swell of your cock.)

“Okay,” you murmur, finally, the silence—save for Heizou’s barely-laborious breath, from the heartbeat that pounds in your ears—broken, “but you will tell me when it hurtsss, won't you?” 

He scoffs. “You won't let it hurt.” 

Your heart does something silly, a hiss crawling from your throat that you smother into his bare throat. “You’ve never taken me like thisss before, Hei, I can't promisss—” and then his lips are on yours, devilish little tongue probing into the “o” of your gasp. 

His tongue—this small, cute thing compared to yours—licks across your palate before you regain your bearings, the muscle swiping your breath as you take control again. He melts easily when you wrap your tongue around his, teasing and tickling his mouth as you bully your way into his, instead. You can taste a hint of the chicken katsu he had earlier in his spit, dragging your tongue through his mouth in a desperate bid to swallow him right up. 

You pull back at that. “S-sssorry,” you murmur, embarrassed. You knew your instincts were strong, but—

“Quit apologizing, babe.” Even as arousal simmers in his eyes—heady enough to taste, and, oh, how you want to—, his emerald irises are gentle, soft. “I’m into it, okay? And I’ll tell you if—” he looks at you pointedly, “—you hurt me.”

Melting into the hands he has beneath your jaw, you sigh, nodding. “Okay,” you repeat. “Okay.” 

He grins this toothy thing, then, and tries to scoot aside, tries to get out from under you; but what neither of you expect is the way your chest aches, the way your tail lashes out and curls tight around his middle to keep him firm in the coil you’ve wrapped him in. Even through your thick skin—covered in emerald scales, some spanning the width of a small nail to an entire hand—, you can feel the erratic pitter-patter of Heizou’s pulse. 

He is trapped, and he loves it.

“If I’m going to fuck you like this—” you let your words hang in the air, your breath fanning hot across his blushing face, “—then you’re going to be a good boy for me and ssstay exactly where I leave you.”

He says nothing.

“Heizou, darling,” you coo as you lean down—just enough for him to go a little bit cross-eyed—, his lips parting for a kiss that never comes. “Did you hear me?”

When he nods, you tut. “Words, please.” 

“Yeah,” he whispers, slow, and his tongue darts out to lick across his dry lips. “Won't you kiss me?”

Who are you to deny him? Immediately, your eyes soften, and you lean in quick to pepper kisses across his face before you land on his lips. His arms wrap around your neck as you do so, and he squirms, body twisting in the grasp of your tail; yet even as he writhes, you admit, he does stay still. He never makes like he's trying to leave your embrace; he’s merely overwhelmed by the sensation of you throughout his body. 

Soon enough, you're leaning back, chuckling at the way Heizou tries to chase your lips. You squeeze him, though, preventing him from doing so. 

He pouts. “Why'd you stop?” 

“I can't sssuck your cock if my mouth’s busssy kissing you, sssilly,” you coo, but you do lean back in for a quick, parting peck. 

Heizou’s certainly not complaining anymore. “O-oh,” he murmurs, nodding rather dumbly. You gently grin at him before, with the help of your tail—and absolutely no help at all from the man himself, manhandling him as if he weren’t over a hundred pounds of limber muscle—, laying him flat on his back. Like this, your tail acts like the perfect support for his lower back—with the added benefit of leaving him fully exposed for your greedy sight, your salivating tongue. 

“You're ssso gorgeousss.” You run your hands—cold, scales brushing across his flanks—down his sides, fingernails barely-there marks of white that fade quickly. 

Eventually, you tire of the same motions; so instead, you lean down, holding yourself up by your forearms, and lick at his skin, at the moles dotted across his torso. 

He squirms again, then: “You’re—” he giggles, “—you’re tickling me!”

Though it’s far from the first time you’ve ever licked your sweet partner—and, truly, the taste of him is nothing but sweet across your tongue—, Heizou still can’t seem to get used to the sensation. Though, to be fair, you’re not exactly playing fair, here: with each swipe of your tongue, you tease the forked end of it in small circles, the tips terribly ticklish. 

“‘m sssorry, lovely,” you say, not sorry at all. You squeeze his middle again, once, this gentle thing that forces a shaky breath of air ricocheting from his chest; and, speaking of chest: “God, you’re divine.” You trace the ragged scar that sits below his chest—on his heart’s side, closest to where it steadily beats for you—with your tongue, delighting in the way Heizou is torn between pressing his chest into you and saying away from the attention. 

Soon enough, you slide over to the other side of his torso, letting your tongue rake across the twin scar there, too. One of his hands comes and tangles itself in your hair, and he lightly tugs to pull you away from his skin; you succumb to his pull, but only after nipping at his nipple. (He can hardly feel it, anyway, but it's the thought that counts.)

“Stop teasing,” he says before his hand falls from your hair to rest against the tail you have curled around him. His hands are a welcome pressure against your scales, and you find yourself almost purring at the sensation. 

“Ssso hard already,” you murmur, lips brushing the ruddy head of him. You can feel his hips try and jump, but, held down as he is, he’s resolutely stuck in place. “Easy, easy—” you grin when you see the way your breath makes his cunt clench around nothing, his cock throb beneath your lips, “jusss’ relax. I’ll be gentle, jusss’ like I promisssed you, yeah?”

But, you decide your beloved is right: it is time to quit teasing. “Fine, fine,” you acquiesce, beginning to nose down his belly, nose rubbing through his faint happy trail. The hair’s soft against your cheek and well-groomed, leading down to the thatch of hair that hides that which you so adore: his cute, chubby cock. 

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, voice shaky in a way that is, really, so unlike him, the revered Shikanoin Heizou, detective. His voice never shakes like this, outside of this—and you love it, the possessive snake you are. (It’s a good thing Heizou loves it, else this would become awkward quick.) 

Every single time, you forget just how big Heizou is: his cock fills your mouth perfectly, its weight heavy on your tongue as you lave at it. Your tongue curls around it, once, twice, the forked tip of it rubbing incessantly against the head of it. Throughout it all, Heizou whimpers pitifully, hands twitching on your tail as he can’t quite decide whether to pull you away or pull you closer.

“Please—” he cries out, and you swear his cock grows thicker between your lips. Beneath it all—where your chin juts into his leaking cunt—, you can feel him clench erratically, cunt empty yet wanting so terribly for something to fill it up. “In me, in me, please, baby,” he begs. 

Around your mouthful of cock, you hum to the affirmative, delighting in his shrill cry; after, though, you slowly retract your tongue, letting it unravel from him bit-by-bit. The split at the end of your tongue rubs either side of him before you retreat fully, and then you’re fucking it into him, inch-by-inch, sliding in slow and easy, slick from him and your saliva combined. Your tongue—wholly in your control and rather sensitive at that—rubs against a swollen spot deep in his cunt, and he cries out, head falling back into the pillows as you press at it relentlessly. 

“Oh, oh, please—” When he’s drunk off pleasure like this, Heizou always begins to babble: it’s always nonsensical things, little pleas and pleads for more, more, more. “‘s so deep!”

“Mhm?” you hum against his cunt in reply, tongue deep ‘nuff in him that you begin to eye a small, barely-there bulge below his navel. A moan tumbles out of you at the revelation, one of your hands coming up to press into it. The pressure makes Heizou scream.

“Fuck!” he yells, hands scrabbling for the one you have pressed on his belly. He thrashes, writhes, and you only grin against him, tongue bullied in deep; but, oh, you can go deeper, can’t you?

The perks of being a naga, you suppose. 

You hum a soft warning against his blushing cunt before you gently crack open your jaw, letting your mouth fall open impossibly further. Heizou makes a wrecked sound when he realizes just what it is you’re doing before it grows louder, the sensation of your tongue going even deeper making him sob. If your eyes weren’t closed—if you weren’t enjoying this meal so terribly—, you’d notice the fat tears slipping down his cheeks.

Alas, you can kiss them away later. With your jaw cracked open like this, you’re able to run the base of your tongue against the hot jut of his cock as the end of it undulates inside of him, thrusting shallowly; but you’re favorite part? 

Speaking of your cock—it’s, frankly, this ridiculous thing, long and thick and the same emerald color as your tail. It alone, however, is hardly anything noteworthy; no, instead, it's the fact that you have two in this form. It's these two twin cocks that scared you so, and it's those two twin cocks that urge you to pull out the fingers you've got knuckle-deep in Heizou’s cunt to press them, one-by-one, into his ass. 

The way the added space gives you plenty of room to slide a finger below your own mouth, adding one, two, three fingers into his cunt as your tongue bullies relentlessly at the front of his walls. Like this, you can’t curl your fingers very well—not without uncomfortably jabbing through your own tongue—, but you can stretch him plenty and prepare him well enough for your cock.

His cunt would surely break with both of them. 

“‘m ready, please,” he mumbles, cries, reaching for your head to pull your face away from his cunt. You don't make the prettiest sight, jaw unhinged and stupidly long tongue lolling out of your mouth, but Heizou doesn't mind it. Besides, it's easy to click everything back in place, wipe away the slick and saliva that coats your chin, and reach for Heizou’s face with the hand that was in his cunt. The fingers of your other hand still work at his ass, loosening him up for you. 

“Mm,” you hum, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. “Now you are.” Your fingers leave him with a quiet pop, a sound that makes Heizou’s ears flame red. At his reaction, you gently laugh, nuzzling at his cheek. “Don't be embarrassssed,” you say, fumbling over the double s. (It’s hard enough saying anything with an “s” in it, thank you.” “‘sss hot.”  

He huffs at you. “Quit talking and fuck me,” he grumbles, before adding a quiet, “please,” when you lean back to look him in the eye. 

“Can’t fuck you ‘til you get my cocksss out, sssilly,” you murmur, taking him by the hand and guiding him to the soft scales beneath your belly. They're hardly noticeable, indistinguishable between the scales of your tail, but, like this, aroused and swollen, the slit of you is more apparent. As your fingers—and his—work in tandem, these small, gentle motions that get your cocks to peek out and grow, the relief of no longer being stuck inside you makes you hiss in pleasure. 

Once your cocks are out, though, your tail tugs at your lover’s middle in order to get him hovering above your lap. The mess between his thighs dribbles onto your cocks, mixing with your sticky pre-cum. “Go on,” you coo, “sssit on my cocks.” 

He gulps.

“We can ssstop at any time, lovely,” you add, but Heizou’s eyes turn hooded as he lifts his chin at you in challenge. “Alright!” 

Heizou, the minx, lowers his hips further, supported by your tail and your hands gripping at him, ‘til his cunt and ass brush your cocks, smearing your pre-cum between his thighs. He mewls when one of your cocks bump into his just right, and, for a moment, he lets himself grind against you, still terribly empty. “Please,” he murmurs, “Fill me, please, you promised—”

“I promisssed I’d be gentle, Hei,” you say, letting his body weight be held up entirely by your tail as your hand takes hold of your cocks, instead, slowly aiming them in, regardless of your chastising tone, “and ‘m not gonna go back on it just ‘cos you’re impatient. Be ssslow, okay?”

Finally, Heizou nods, letting you lead until your cockheads pop into him one at a time, first in his cunt and then in his ass. He moans at the stretch, his breath shaky, fresh tears budding up at his waterline and threatening to spill over when he begins to slide down, down, down. You’re not even halfway in when Heizou’s body seizes up, forcing your tail to wrap tight around him to keep him still lest he fall too quickly and hurt himself.

“You’re so big,” he manages through labored breaths, “fuck me, fill me, please, please—”

“Easy, lovely,” you mumble, taking over and drawing him off your cocks incrementally before tugging him back down, allowing him ample time to stretch with each gentle thrust until he’s fully seated on your lap, cunt and ass full to brimming. “There we go.

“Do you feel good?” you ask, tail keeping him upright as his body threatens to crumble with the pleasure of your cocks filling him. He’s so warm inside, and your cocks, normally as cold-blooded as the rest of you, absolutely singe with the heat emanating from him. 

In lieu of reply, though, Heizou tips his head up and begs you, oh-so sweetly, to “please, move.”

How could you resist? 

It’s hard (hah), moving Heizou in this form of yours. You’re scared of hurting him—of the scales across your skin nicking him, of your tail squeezing too tight, of your cocks stretching him too painfully—, yet he moans so prettily, so unabashedly, bouncing on you as the sweetest of melodies spill past his lips. Your tail dwarfs him, and you’re taken by the size difference between the two of you. So easily, you could snap his back; he could be your prey, but here he is, boneless with trust and pleasure in your lap.

“Please, please,” he begs, delirious, eyes open and heady, aimed at your lips. You lean in to kiss him, entranced by the way his eyes flutter shut as your face gets nearer to his. Like this, you can swallow up every one of his sweet moans, his delicate cries: it is delightful.

On one particular grind, though, paired with an adjustment of your tail around him, you feel a subtle bump against his abdomen: your cocks. Just like your tongue prodded through him earlier, so, too, are your cocks, enormous inside of his small body. He seems to notice it just as you do, leaning back from your lips with a loud gasp as a shiver wracks his frame. “Oh, oh—”

“You’re ssso sssmall,” you mumble, moving him quicker and quicker as he erratically clenches around you. Like this, he won’t even need his cock touched to tumble into orgasm; and it’s this thought that makes you realize how close you are, the rope in your belly terribly close to snapping. “‘m gonna cum,” you warn, leaning into his throat to lick at his salty skin. “Gonna cum in you, fill you up even more—”

Heizou’s mouth falls open. “I-I’m—” He tries to warn you, too, but it’s too late: his body tenses as his orgasm crests over him. The sight, the sounds—it all serves to make that knot snap, following close behind him in your own orgasm. 

The clench of his cunt and ass around your swollen cocks makes your orgasm feel like it goes on forever, cum spurting out of both twin heads and filling him up nice n’ heavy. He moans and mewls, whimpers and whines, clutching at you as his oversensitive holes cling to you. “Ssso good for me, lovely, Heizou, you were lovely,” you say, delirious, cocks softening and beginning to retract, sliding out of him and back into the scales below your belly. You’ll be sticky and messy inside, later, but for now, you’re worried about your beloved. 

He’s limp in your hold—the hold of your tail and hands both—, twitching every now and then at the way thick, opaque cum begins to dribble out of both of his used holes, smearing across his inner thighs and you. It’s going to be a bitch to clean up, you already know, but you merely sigh, tugging him closer into you until you’re pressed chest-to-chest and you’re laying on your back. 

“You did ssso good,” you repeat. “Was it what you wanted?”

He nods. “Everything I wanted and more,” he mumbles, voice barely-there. You grin.

It’s time to get used to this form: Heizou’s going to want to be fucked like this again soon. (Preferably in another week, though; he already won’t be able to sit tomorrow.)

if u noticed any spelling or grammar errors, no u didn't. i hope this fulfilled your fantasies, anon !! >< this ask made me think sooooo hard . . . but i ultimately kinda-sorta burnt out, ergo why i didn't write an aftercare scene. it is there, though: aftercare is the most important part of sex !!

don't forget to support palestine with your free, daily click.

2 JUN. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】 #this was over 3k words btw . . haha . . #sub heizou #heizou smut #shikanoin heizou #heizou x reader #sub character #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #trans smut #ftm nsft #dom reader #top reader #amab reader #aaaand that's a wrap (a wrap of ur tail around heizou) #o(*////▽////*)q

[thedensworld]

Towel Argument | H.Js

Pairing: Joshua x Reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, bit of angst

Summary: Towel is just a towel. It's not something essential. But why it is able to crack a relationship? Joshua is the first man to proof you that you won't have a towel argument.

You sat on the edge of the bed after finishing your nightly routine. Joshua, your husband, was likely still on his—meticulously ensuring every window was closed and every door locked before coming to bed. Your first intention was to wait for him so you could cuddle together, but your mind drifted to the conversation you had with your friends earlier today.

One of your friends, Jinah, had confessed that she was going to divorce her husband after just two years of marriage. All of you had offered sweet words and encouragement, striving to be the support system Jinah needed. Jinah explained that she had decided to divorce her husband because of a persistent argument about towels that irritated her every day. The irritation had snowballed into something intolerable for Jinah.

You couldn't help but pity the situation between Jinah and her husband. They had dated for seven years before marrying, only for Jinah to discover something post-marriage that she couldn't stand. It made you reflect on the complexities of relationships and how small issues, left unresolved, could lead to such drastic outcomes. You wondered if Jinah might regret this decision later, but respected her choice to pursue what she felt was best for her happiness.

Lost in these thoughts, you barely noticed Joshua finally joining you.

"Hey..." Joshua tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts. You looked at him, slightly startled.

"I've been calling you. What's wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes. He knelt down in front of you, positioning himself close to your swelling tummy.

A gentle smile lingered on Joshua's face as he wrapped his arms around you, his lips brushing against your stomach in a tender kiss.

"Is something bothering you, love?" he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and care.

You felt a wave of emotions wash over you, grateful for his presence and the way he always seemed to know when something was on your mind.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the day's conversation settle over you again. "It's just something that came up during my gathering with the girls today," you began, your fingers lightly tracing circles on Joshua's arm.

He looked up at you, his eyes full of curiosity and concern. "What happened?"

"Jinah...she told us she's going to divorce her husband," you said, watching his reaction carefully. Joshua's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Really? They've only been married for two years, right?"

You nodded. "Yes, but they've been together for seven years in total. It was shocking to all of us. She said it was because of this constant argument about towels that irritated her every day. She felt it was something she just couldn't tolerate anymore, and it snowballed into a bigger issue."

Joshua's expression softened with understanding. "That sounds really tough. It's always the little things, isn't it?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the comfort of Joshua's embrace, but the thoughts continued to swirl in your mind. "I guess, seeing Jinah go through this made me worry about us," you admitted softly. "Especially with the baby on the way. There's just so much to think about—stress, work, everything that could affect our relationship."

Joshua's eyes remained gentle and reassuring as he listened. "I understand," he said, his voice steady. "It's a lot to take in, and it's natural to feel worried."

You felt a lump form in your throat. "I'm scared that with all the changes coming, we might face challenges that we haven't even considered yet. The stress from work, sleepless nights with the baby, trying to balance everything—it just feels overwhelming sometimes."

Joshua squeezed your hand gently, his touch grounding you. "We will have challenges, that's true. But we also have each other. We can face those challenges together, just like we always have."

You looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. "But what if it's too much? What if we start arguing over little things like Jinah and her husband did?"

Joshua shook his head slightly, his expression resolute. "We'll argue, sure. Every couple does. But the important thing is how we handle those arguments. We need to keep communicating, be honest with each other, and make time for ourselves as a couple, even with a baby in the mix."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of fear and relief. "I just want us to be okay, no matter what."

He brushed a tear from your cheek, his thumb lingering softly on your skin. "We will be. We'll make it through because we care about each other and our family. And when things get tough, we'll lean on each other even more."

As you and Joshua got ready to sleep, both of you lay down on the bed. Joshua was almost drifting off, his breathing slowing into a relaxed rhythm. You, however, couldn't find a comfortable position, something that had become a nightly struggle as your stomach grew. You shifted from side to side, trying to settle in.

Your mind kept circling back to Jinah and her husband. The thought of their crumbling marriage weighed heavily on you. Sensing your restlessness, Joshua stirred and pulled you gently into his embrace.

"Try to get some sleep, love," he whispered, his voice drowsy but caring.

You sighed, unable to hold back your thoughts. "It's not really about the towel, you know," you said softly, your voice tinged with frustration.

Joshua blinked, trying to shake off sleep. "What do you mean?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

"It's actually not just about the towel."

"The fact that Jinah had to keep repeating herself every day is a sign that he never really heard her, right? And that hurts," you explained, feeling the depth of Jinah's pain.

Joshua's brow furrowed as he processed your words. "So, it wasn't about the towel at all?"

"No, it wasn't," you replied, your voice firm. "It was about feeling unheard and unappreciated. Imagine telling someone something that's important to you over and over, and they just don't seem to care enough to listen or change. It's exhausting and hurtful."

Joshua nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I get it now. It's about respect and validation. No one wants to feel like they're talking to a wall."

"Exactly," you said, feeling a sense of relief that he understood. "That's what I'm scared of. I don't want us to ever get to that point where we stop listening to each other."

Joshua tightened his embrace, his hand gently rubbing your back. "We won't. We'll make sure we always hear each other, no matter what. Communication is key, and I'll always strive to listen to you, truly listen."

His words brought a sense of calm over you. You snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his body and the strength of his commitment. "Thank you," you whispered, closing your eyes.

"Always," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Now, let's get some sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow, and our little one needs their rest too."

You smiled, finally finding a comfortable position. With Joshua's reassuring presence, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that together, you could handle anything. As sleep slowly overtook you, the worries about Jinah and her husband faded, replaced by a deep sense of love and security.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #densworld🌼 #seventeen scenarios #seventeen series #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #joshua x reader #joshua hong #joshua hong imagines #joshua smut #joshua fluff #hong jisoo

[shark0zu]

JJK boys when someone calls their s/o ‘ugly’

(prompt credit to kazenomegaminowanpisu)

pair: JJK boys x GN! Reader warning: harsh words and curse words. featuring: Toji, Satoru, Suguru, Hiromi, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Shiu, Yuji, Megumi and Ino. content: JJK men being (aggressive) cuties and caring for their s/o <3

an: i’m very delusional and I made this while in my English class.

TOJI— » he will look at the person who called you ugly. He will— just stare. No words. No actions. Just stare as he grabs you by the waist. At some point the person who dared call you ugly just- leaves… scared.

SATORU— » drama queen. He will ignore the person who said you were ugly. “Ugly? Did you hear something dear? Maybe a disgusting lil’ nobody was trying to talk?” He says rather loud. Loud enough to let the person know to fuck off.

SUGURU— “monkey.” He says. “Look at yourself first, then maybe… just maybe you can start to talk about other people, yeah?” He smiles, no remorse behind that smile. He then takes you by the hand and walks away with you.

HIROMI— » he hears someone calling you ugly? He takes your hand, leads you to some place else. Very mature about it, can’t be bothered to deal with anyone or make a scene over some person who probably just wanted attention. He compliments you and reassures you how much he loves you.

NANAMI— » he either does not have time to be bothered or is too bothered to let it go. Will take you by the waist and lead you somewhere while telling you not to listen to the person or he will approach the person and tell them to kindly fuck off- as kindly as he can, depends on how pissed he was that day.

CHOSO— » will get extremely angry, but won’t know what to do. You end up telling him “it's ok, I really don’t care” to calm him down. Will intertwined his fingers with yours, kissing the top of your hand and telling you how beautiful you are. (certified cutie pie)

SUKUNA— version 1: he cares about you » he will look at the person and simply cut them in half. Like c’mon- if he truly cares for you, this man will not let any sort of harm come your way (verbally or not). Will not hesitate to kill either.

version 2: he can’t be bothered (“realistic”) » he’d agreed with the person. You get sad of course, he’ll laugh at your misery (no remorse). He is the King of Curses after all, extremely nonchalant, he steals and eats souls- without having one of his own.

SHIU— » will simply take out a cigarette, take a puff, and blow it out on the person’s face to piss them off. He will smile and ‘apologize’, “oh sorry, didn’t see ya there.” Polite as ever, with hidden intentions.

YUJI— » this boy thinks you are the most beautiful thing in the world (and it's true, you are), so when someone dares to say otherwise he gets defensive. “What did you just say?” He approaches the person cracking his knuckles. “ Care. To. Repeat.?” Safe to say the person apologized and ran off.

MEGUMI— » very calm and collected. He ignores the person and keeps walking as if nothing happened. After a while he will ask you ‘how you are’, making sure you are ok. If you want to talk about what happened, he will always be there for you.

INO— » energetic ass oh my. “Ugly.” Said the person pointing at you. Ino SNAPS his head towards the person who dared address you. Staring them up and down and making a judgmental face. Making the person feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. Then he screams “THEY ARE NOT UGLY YOU MOTHER FU-!” you end up shutting his mouth (for the better of everyone).

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #anime #hc #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #geto suguru #higuruma hiromi #nanami kento #choso kamo #sukuna #shiu kong #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #ino takuma #toji x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #higuruma x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #ryomen x reader #shiu x reader #itadori x reader #megumi x reader #ino x reader

[maidragoste]

Needy

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Warning: +18, NSFW, unprotected sex.

MDNI!

A/N: It was supposed to publish Jacaery drabble first but I woke up thinking of Aegon and I could not avoid it 🤭

If you enjoy reading please do not hesitate to leave a comment or reblog 🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also, I don't usually write smut so I apologize if this is a mess, have mercy on me lol

Thank you for reading!

When you put on that pretty new skirt, a little shorter than you were used to using, to go to the Helaena house it had been with the intention of attracting Aegon's attention. But you never imagined that when he offered to take you back to your home you would end up being fucked by his fingers in the passenger seat of his car.

Your skirt was lifted, your panties to one side and two Aegon fingers didn't stop moving quickly inside you while with his thumb rubbed your clitoris seeking to give you another orgasm.

You had already cummed before and made a mess on the seat but Aegon instead of worrying about it he continued fucking you and telling you how pretty you looked making you fall in love with him even more.

“Come on babe, I know you can give me another one” Aegon said increasing the intensity of his movements making your moans increase “Come on, be a good girl for me and let me see again how pretty you look while you cum” his words were like a switch because you began to move your hips desperately trying to reach your orgasm faster.

You cried his name as you felt the knot in your stomach unravel, wetting his fingers and part of the seat again. You felt empty as Aegon's fingers left your insides. You thought disappointedly that it was over, that you would just be best friends with his sister again, but then Aegon put his fingers in his mouth and the image of him sucking his fingers to taste your juices made your pussy throb. You are greedy and want more so you went to sit on his lap. You looked at the bulge in his pants before looking into his eyes.

“I want your cock, can I have it?” you asked directly, forgetting about any modesty you may have had before. If this was going to be the only time you could have Aegon then you wanted to have the whole experience. “Please,” the smile on his face made your desire for him increase.

“Come on, take me” as soon as you had his permission your hands went to his belt but you were too anxious so you were having a hard time unbuckling it making him laugh “Look at you, so desperate to have me” he mocked before helping you.

Maybe at another time you would have been embarrassed but the only thing you were thinking now is that you want him. So once him got rid of the belt you hurriedly pulled down his pants and boxers revealing his erection. Aegon watched enthralled as you lowered your hand to your wet pussy and then spread your juices over his cock, moving your hand up and down making him sigh. Seeing that he was starting to get impatient, you directed his cock towards your entrance and slowly began to put him inside you. Aegon gasped as he felt your walls tighten around him and you dug your nails into his chest as you began to ride his cock. Then he lunged at your mouth, giving you messy kisses because in the middle of them he couldn't help but moan at how good your pussy felt. Hearing it only made your lust increase. You love hearing him needy for you, feeling the warmth of his hands on your waist, his tongue and teeth on your neck. You're so caught up in your haze of lust that you can't help but let out a surprised scream when he begins to ride you on and off his cock at a more intense pace. Now it's you who seems needy, whining to Aegon not to stop, that you love the way his cock feels, that you're close to cumming and you want to cum along with him.

The volume of your moans increase as you get closer to reaching your climax, Aegon should put his hand over your pretty little mouth and try to shut you up because the last thing he wanted was for someone passing by on the street to hear you and interrupt but he doesn't because he loves to listen to them. Now the next time you come home the only thing he will think about when he sees you will be this image, you cumming on his cock, looking at him with eyes clouded with ecstasy and moaning his name.

Aegon cums inside you and you feel his heavy breathing against your neck. You wonder if now is the time to go back to normal but he surprises you by giving you kisses on your neck and gently caressing your waist making you melt in his arms.

“Are you coming home next Saturday?” he asks, looking at you without stopping his caresses.

“Helaena is busy on Saturday,” you respond, knowing that your best friend had planned to meet up with her college classmates that day.

“I'm not asking you if you're going to see Helaena, I'm telling you to come see me” he smiled when he saw the surprise in your eyes. “I want to fuck you in front of the mirror in my room, what do you think?”

Your response comes with a hungry kiss.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @yn-jackson

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #modern hotd #hotd modern au #hotd smut #aegon smut #aegon ii smut #aegon ii imagine #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen ii #modern aegon

[foreingersgod]

You (on my arm) . CH

pairing: caroline harvey x reader

synopsis: cute moments with kk throughout your relationship!

A/N: this came out kinda shitty, but i promise i’ll have better kk content coming haha

I wanna sit around and watch you do your hair

“you’re so pretty,” caroline sounded from the doorway of the bathroom “d’you know that?”

it was nearing 6:30 am on a friday morning. you hated getting up early with every fiber of your being, wanting to stay wrapped in caroline’s arms for as long as you could. but today, she had an away game, causing the both of you to pack an overnight bag and make an excruciatingly long drive.

you quite honestly looked a mess, dressed in your comfy clothes and your face decorated with the smallest amount of makeup. your hair was a disaster as you brushed it out, trying to style it in a somewhat presentable manner.

“shut up,” you laughed, looking at her through the mirror. she looked so good, also in her lazy day clothes as she leaned against the frame of the entry way, arms folded across her chest. she looked you up and down, smiling adoringly “i look like a disaster”

“not to me,” she came up behind you, moving stray hairs away from you neck so she could rest her chin on your shoulder. her hands planted themselves on your waist “you look gorgeous no matter what”

you turned your head, planting a kiss to her temple, humming against her skin. she sighed as she gave a gentle rub to your hip.

“love you” she mumbled, voice muffled by your sweatshirt.

“love you more” you confessed to her like you had a thousand times before. she was your person, your everything.

Talk it all into the ground

Have a ceremony there for something, don't know what it'd be

you were sprawled across the grassy meadow, long green blades standing tall, surrounding your body. your sundress rode up your thighs a bit, sneakers kicked off somewhere next to you. your arm was outstretched to your left as your hand fit snuggly into caroline’s. she laid next to you in the grass, smiling at you past the scattered flora. you looked radiant like this: skin glowing and sunkist, hair descending down your shoulders and onto the dampened earth beneath you, teeth sparkling as you let out the most infectious laugh.

she sat up, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her hand as she stared down at you. her free hand maneuvered over to toy with the hem of your dress, fingers gliding across the soft material.

“i’m gonna marry you one day, i swear”

your cheeks burned from the sun, growing even hotter as she said that. there weren’t enough words to describe how caroline made you feel, so appreciated and wanted and loved. you had every intention of marrying her. although for now it would have to wait, you hated the idea of planning things and balancing school and a job and a full on wedding at the same time. but you both knew, without having to say it, that it didn’t matter if you married or not. the love was there all the same.

“one day,” you mirrored her movements, also rolling to your side “and i can’t wait for that day”

But it'd become nothing, it's nothing

And you'd smile at me

you had done it. through all the last minute study sessions, stressful midterms, and the nights spent crying at the kitchen counter as caroline rubbed your back sympathetically. you had finally graduated college. it was a beyond thrilling moment to slip on your gown and bobby pin the unflattering cap to the top of your head. just thinking of walking away with your degree made your stomach ache with excitement.

your high heel clad foot bounced against the floor as you stood in the long line. the room felt hot and crowded while you waited to make your way across that stage and get your degree. in the distance, the boom of the microphone could be heard echoing through the stadium as the names of the graduates were announced. with each passing moment, you were getting closer and closer to your turn. the hundreds of faces sat in the stadium made its way into the view as the line slowly inched forward. you strained your neck looking around the different sections, trying to find caroline’s familiar face.

unfortunately, your parents and the rest of your family couldn’t make it to this huge milestone in your life. you had gone no contact with the majority of them a while back once they ‘disowned’ you. when they found out you were dating caroline, a girl, they were furious and couldn’t stand having a daughter that followed such a lifestyle. your sister was the only one you stayed in contact with, but she was studying abroad and couldn’t make it back to the states in time to see you graduate. you were absolutely gutted about the whole situation.

but caroline was there for you through it all. sat with you while you sobbed the day before graduation because it was all settling in. she assured you that, even though it wasn’t the same as having your parents and sister there, she was going to be there front and center to watch you succeed. caroline was by far your biggest supporter, your rock through everything. you couldn’t believe you had gotten so lucky with someone so attentive and prideful towards you.

so as you finally reached the front, body shaking with excitement, your eyes bounced around all of the smiling faces. it was only when you handed the announcer your name card, taking your first steps onto the stage, you saw her. she was beaming ear to ear as she locked eyes with you. she had her phone out, ready to record her gorgeous girl accepting her degree. caroline had dressed up just for you, sporting a navy blue dress shirt and slacks to match the colors of your university. she watched as you accepted all the hand shakes, posing for pictures with the dean, and evidently walking off that stage with that cherished piece of paper.

you walked off the stage and started to make your way back to your seat to finish out the rest of the grad ceremony. you looked over to her, finally able to get a clear look at her face. you gave her an excited wave, showing off your degree to her. she clapped for you and blew you a kiss, still smiling as brightly as before.

‘i love you’ she mouthed ‘i’m so proud’

and you smiled, mouthing back to her with tears in your eyes ‘thank you’

I wanna be, I wanna buy you pretty little things

And never ever lie to you

“what’s all this?” you asked, stepping through the door into your shared apartment with caroline.

you had gotten off of work quite upset, driving home with irritation coursing through your veins. you got called in for a so called ‘emergency’ even though you had requested the day off for yours and caroline’s anniversary. in reality, it wasn’t an emergency, rather your boss just needed someone to run errands for him. your girlfriend was so sweet and had planned out the entire day to celebrate, you were in a bad mood the whole day wishing you could just got back home.

but when you walked through that door at around 7pm, the scent of pine wafting around the kitchen, your heart melted. a bouquet of your favorite flowers sat upon the marble countertop, a neatly sealed letter leaned against the vase. there was a small box that also sat next to it with a baby pink ribbon tied around it. caroline stood from where she was previously sitting on the kitchen stool, coming over to greet you.

“just wanted to do something since you had to work today, s’all” she shrugged, pulling you into her by your waist as you set your stuff down on table “happy anniversary, baby”

you felt like you could cry, tears welling up at your lash line. you had felt horrible for spoiling the day by going into work, but caroline was so sweet and understanding and always made sure you felt seen.

“caroline, you didn’t have to do this!” you gestured to the flowers and box, leaning in to smell the flowers “i spoiled our anniversary, i don’t deserve this”

“don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t spoil anything” she kissed your cheek, you could feel her lips curl against your skin “and of course you deserve it, you deserve the world. now open your gift!”

the small ribbon glimmered underneath your dim kitchen lights as you ran your fingers over it. you looked at her with a skeptical face, smirking slightly when she laughed at your expressed. she urged you on, promising that you would like the small little present. you untied the ribbon excitedly and lifted the lid carefully.

sat on a small bed of tissue paper, was the most beautiful charm bracelet you had ever seen. you instantly pulled it out, putting it up to your face to see it closer. it was only when you had gotten a closer look that you had realized what it was.

when you met caroline, you noticed she had always worn a small little bracelet on her left wrist. she told you about a month into your relationship that it was something she’s had since she was a kid, a way to keep important memories close to her. you adored the thing, always asking about the charms that she added and what her favorite ones were.

the bracelet she had gotten you was a near exact replica of hers. it shared a few of the charms that hers held, ones that you said were your favorite. but it also had several new ones. many came from the vacations you and caroline took together, others she bought because they reminded her of you, and one that had both of your initials in a heart. it was by far the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever gotten for you.

“caroline,” you exhaled, completely blown away “baby…i don’t know what to say”

she laughed, taking the bracelet from you and grabbing your hand. she delicately wrapped it around your wrist and secured the clasp. she pulled you in for a passionate kiss, wiping away the tears you seemingly couldn’t stop shedding.

“i hope you like it,” she said “i just know how much you like looking at mine and so i thought-i don’t know maybe it’s silly, but i thought you might like one of your own so we can match”

“of course i like it” you shook your head, looking back at your wrist to admire the charms “this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me…thank you so much, babe”

you spent the rest of that night on the couch, curled up into her side with a glass of wine as caroline explained each and every detail of the charms she picked out. she watched as you giggled at every fond memory she took inspiration from, noticing how you ran your fingers across the intricate designs of the little pieces, thinking about how much she loved you.

Watch you get dressed

And compliment your taste

she laid on your side of the bed, extended horizontally so that her stomach stretched along the width of the bed. her elbows were propped up to support her head as she watched your gorgeous figure from across the room. at first she was scrolling mindlessly on her phone to pass the time until you were ready to leave for your guys’ date, but now she was beyond distracted.

you emerged from the bathroom, hair done up and makeup dewy, walking over to your walk-in closet. you wore nothing except your nude bra and underwear, rushing around frantically trying to pick out an outfit. caroline was practically ogling at you, drooling at the sight.

“is this cute?” she had snapped from her trance when you came out, holding up a yellow dress to your body “i don’t know i can’t decide”

her eyes flickered back forth between your stressed expression and the frilly, lacey dress that had previously been tucked in some corner of the closet. she had seen you wear it a few times, remembering how much she loved the neckline and the way it flowed gracefully down your thighs. in truth, she loved everything you owned no matter what it was. she thought you looked good in everything.

she grinned at you, wanting to scream from how beautiful you looked “yea honey, that looks perfect”

“are you sure?” you asked again. she knew you liked things to be perfect, wanting to look your best for outings and such. but caroline always thought you looked your best no matter what “is it too fancy or anything? i don’t want to look like an overdressed loser or something-”

“hey,” she interrupted, making you quiet down and take a deep breath “you’re gonna look amazing, ok? you could be wearing a paper bag over your head and you’d still turn heads”

“you’re too sweet to me” you said rushing over to press a small kiss to her forehead before scurrying back into the closet to change. caroline observed you through the small crack you left in the closet door. not in a lurking way, she just wanted to appreciate her girl.

she bit her lip as she watched how you shimmied the dress over your hips, how you stuck your tongue out as you tried to zip up the back, and how you ruffled up your hair in the mirror probably a dozen times before deciding you were ready. then you waltzed out, just as beautiful as you were before, grabbing your bag and ushering her off the bed. you kissed the back of her hand as you interlocked fingers, making your way out the door.

man, she had really hit the jackpot with you.

…I'd be better armed

If you agreed to take it <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

#Spotify #foreingersgod #caroline harvey #kk harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey x reader #wlw imagine #wlw #lesbian imagine #lesbian #pride month #hockey #women’s hockey

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 3

An Anger Management/Hardcover ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 Part 2

As Jason was engrossed in the collection of Infinite Realms lore, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in." Jason said absentmindedly finding a stopping point and placing his finger in between the pages to mark his spot. Jeeves let himself in.

"Yes sir, it is dinnertime, I have been sent to escort you to the dining room." He said as he patiently floated.

"Right yeah, let me just find a bookmark-"

"Here you are sir." Jeeves held out a silver feather shaped bookmark from apparently the aether.

"Awesome, thanks." He placed the bookmark in his spot and set it on the side table next to the bed. "Okay, lead the way please."

Once more Jason was led throughout the dark, yet glowing, halls of the High Queen's castle. They passed many different entities, all of which were obviously not human and Jason hadn't seen this diversity of different fashions since he was last at a costume party. There were actual knights with swords and lances, some yeti's with arms full of scrolls, and eight foot tall women with bright blue skin and Amazonian armor, some with multiple arms. There was what appeared to be a wolf-man talking with the knights, in some language that seemed to have some roots in Latin, though other words he could hear were from other areas. Eventually, they arrived at a set of carved wooden doors.

"Here you are sir, the royal family awaits you inside." Jeeves said prepared to open the door.

"Wait, the whole family? I thought it was just Jazz?" Jason was suddenly nervous, he thought he'd have more time before meeting the family.

"It's quite alright sir, tonight it is only the High Queen Regent and High Prince Danny in attendance. I believe she thought the entire family would be a bit much, but the High Prince has a habit of showing up anyway. He is quite protective of his sister." With that bit of advice, Jeeves opened the door.

The room was ornate, though not as large as he was expecting, clearly this was the smaller dining room. Sat at the head of the table in a seat that in some countries would be considered a throne, was Jazz, she still had her helm-crown, but now she was just in the teal toga with clasps shaped like a sun at both shoulders. She still had her arm bracers on, which he expected, if she was trained by an Amazon, then those would likely stay on always.

Sat to her right was a young man, perhaps around 16 years old, with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes. He had been talking animatedly with Jazz when he heard the door open and his eyes snapped to Jason. He was in clothing far more similar to the yeti Frostbite, though in different colors and with a white peasant shirt on. Where Frostbite had gold, Danny had silver, where the yeti had blue, Danny had black.

"So, you're the sacrifice huh?" Danny looked unimpressed at Jason's entire existence. "How'd you manage to get sacrificed? You look like you'd be hard to take down for cultists."

Jason took a moment to process what was said and then made his way to the seat to the left of Jazz. He cleared his throat. "They got me while I was distracted helping a little girl get her stuffie that was stuck on her rusty fire escape. When she was walking away with her mom, I got clocked on the back of the head. Now I'm here." He splayed out his hands as if to say 'what can you do?'

"Hmmm, okay that's fair. At least I know you're not a cretin. What are your opinions on the undead?" He slouched back into his chair with his arms crossed, a critical eye on Jason.

"Danny! I thought I told you no twenty-questions! He hasn't even been here a day, and since I was dealing with paperwork all afternoon, I haven't been able to talk with him yet either." She scolded before she turned to Jason. "I am so sorry about him, I had one bad boyfriend years ago and now he thinks any guy that comes near me has unsavory intentions." She turned back to Danny. "Jason didn't choose to be here, remember? I'm sure the whole sacrificing to an unknown being in an unknown dimension has got to be somewhat traumatic and I don't want to make him relive that if we can help it."

Jason snorted. "Honestly, not even in my top ten most traumatic experiences. This one ranks so far a solid 3/10."

"Really?" Danny quirked an eyebrow. He stared longer at Jason and his eyes flashed that Lazarus green. "Ancients dude, what the hell happened to you?"

Jason sighed heavily. "I mean, Jazz already knows some of it, but," he swallowed heavily, "I died." He took a deep breath. "And then I came back. It hasn't been great since then." He said with a tone of finality, indicating he was done with this line of questioning. Danny's look of judgement turned more understanding.

"Okay, let's say we start dinner then? I'm sure you have some questions for us too." Jazz clapped her hands and skeletons came in with carts full of food. They placed plates in front of each of them and refilled the glasses of water before exiting the room. Upon the plate was a cut of salmon, some roasted asparagus and mashed potatoes. Okay, so they at least have a similar diet to humans. He dug in, and was reminded of Alfred's cooking.

Alfred...

"Would it be possible to get a message to my family somehow? To let them know that I'm alright?" He asked a little desperately.

The siblings traded glances. "It might take a while to pin down the correct dimension, but we should have a record of your time here in the archives, and that should have your dimensional code. You mentioned heroes, maybe we can pin down which one it might be if we can figure out which ones have those heroes?"

"There are heroes in your universe?" Danny perked up at the mention of heroes. Seems like the kid is intrigued by them.

"Yeah, there's a bunch, I don't even know all of them. The big three started an organization called the Justice League. Superman, Wonder Woman and Batman founded it to help protect the Earth."

"What's their deal? What are their powers? Do you know any of them?"

"Danny! What did I say about the twenty questions?"

Jason narrowed his eyes momentarily, thinking. Do I tell them? I did show up in armor with a domino on. "It's alright Jazz, I'm used to being interrogated by younger siblings. It comes with having the Batman as a father and all his birds and bats as siblings." He looked a little smug, bragging about his family where they would never hear him.

Both siblings looked blankly at him. Right.

He blew out a breath. "I forgot you don't know who that is." He took a bite and thought how to describe his family. "So, B is the world's greatest detective, and every one of his kids ended up becoming heroes in their own right. All of us are human, one of us has meta abilities, but we mostly rely on our minds, bodies and tech. Superman is from the planet Krypton, but it was destroyed just after he was born and his parents shipped him off to Earth. He's got a laundry list of powers, but the big ones are super strength, flight, enhanced senses and laser and x-ray vision. Wonder Woman is an Amazon Warrior Princess from Themyscira, she was molded from clay by her mother Hippolyta and trained as the strongest warrior of her people. She's got flight, super strength and the Golden Lasso of Truth." Jazz grasped her bracers when it was mentioned that Wonder Woman was an Amazon. Jason looks directly at her. "I noticed you have similar bracers and armor to her, as well as some of the people I've seen around the castle. Were you trained by an Amazon?"

Jazz looked up with wide eyes, not expecting the connection. She quickly recovered and took a bite of food before responding. "Yes, I was trained by Lady Pandora here in the Realms. When I completed my training, I received these." Jason nodded.

"Wait, Pandora? Like the Box Pandora?"

"Yeah, she's nice, but strict. She's the Ancient of Peace, and trained me in quite a lot before I took the throne. I found I quite enjoy sword fighting."

"Maybe we can spar sometime? Lord knows I get enough practice from the Demon Brat demanding fights all the time." Jason and Jazz shared a smile with each other.

"Demon Brat? Do you have a demon sibling?" Danny asked, startling Jason and Jazz and causing them both to blush lightly. He smirked at breaking up the moment.

"No, I just call him that. He's the only one of us that's biologically B's, but he was kinda raised in a murder cult. When he first came to us, he tried to murder every one of us to gain his 'rightful place as blood son'. Obviously it didn't work, but it was not for lack of trying. Replacement got the worst of it honestly, and the Brat seems to mellow out around Dickwing."

"How many siblings do you have?" Danny asked shocked.

"Uh, that's a good question. Are we talking legal adoption or emotional adoption?"

"What's the difference?"

"Oh probably at lease six people."

"I think your dad has a problem."

"Trust me, you aren't the first to say that and you definitely aren't the last." They all dug into their dinner and there was several minutes of quiet. "So, I guess the biggest thing about my universe would be finding one that has the League and meta-humans. Then find whichever one is missing me that should have me in it."

"Yeah, that's probably a good start, I'll get some of my aides to scour the archives. One team to locate the file about the time you spent here when you were, you know," Jazz hesitated, "Yeah, and then I'll have a team looking for the files on which universes have those heroes you mentioned. If there's any other details you can think of to help us narrow it down, that'd be great." She looked at him earnestly.

He smiled softly at her. "Yeah, I'll let you know. I guess another big one is probably that in that universe, I am known as the Red Hood."

"Oh, is that your hero name?" Danny asked.

"Uh, kinda kid. My methods are often frowned upon by the majority of the hero community, they also don't like that I use guns most of the time." He cleared his throat. "Some people consider me a hero, most just see me as a nuisance crime lord of Crime Alley. Which, I get, I do technically run drugs, but it's just to keep it outta the hands of kids and make sure it's all clean so nobody's dying from contaminated product. It's gonna get sold anyway, I might as well make it as safe as I can. I'm just trying to clean up my city as best I can." He carefully wasn't looking at either of them, they seemed like decent people, they probably would agree with the majority on this particular topic.

Jazz placed a hand over his. "I get it. There are some decisions I have had to make since taking rule that seemed counter-productive to my goal, but any little thing helps. You do what you need, those people are just gonna try and get it elsewhere that's not as safe if you don't provide the service, I'm sure some people are thankful for you." Jason looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. That is, his mind stuttered at how regal she held herself as she was comforting him, leader to leader.

Danny cleared his throat breaking the moment again. Jazz was wide-eyed for a moment before collecting herself and Jason blushed to the tips of his ears. Dinner was cleared by the same skeletons from earlier and dessert was placed before them. It appeared to be a chocolate fudge sundae with hand-churned vanilla ice cream.

"So you mentioned sparring, You gotta spar with me before you can spar with Jazz." Danny pointed at him with his spoon.

Jazz sighed, exasperated. "Danny."

"Nope! You have meetings all day tomorrow, I call first dibs."

"Danny!"

"Come on Jazz, I haven't been able to spar with anyone new in so long. Please please please?"

Jazz rolled her eyes and looked over to Jason. "If it's alright with you? He's right, I'm busy all day tomorrow so I wasn't going to be able to entertain you anyway, and it's probably better than being cooped up in the guest room all day."

Jason shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see why not? It'll be fun, I usually spar with an alternate version of Superman named Bizarro, so I'll go easy on you." Jason smirked, but was startled to find Danny already smirking at him with fanged teeth.

"Oh, you'll regret that." There was a bright flash of white light and suddenly floating there was a color-inverted version of Danny with bright Lazarus green eyes. He winked and flew out one of the windows near the ceiling.

There were a couple awkward moments before either of them spoke. "So, I didn't want to be insensitive at all, but uh, are you guys human? I know you said you were from Earth, but I've met all sorts of different types of beings too." Jazz sighed heavily.

"That's a complicated answer." She closed her eyes and folded her hands on the table. "Let's move to the library, we can discuss more details there." They rose and he followed her out the door and down the corridor.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #fanfic #dcxdp #dc x dp #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #get it Jason #live out your romance novel dreams #sacrificial bride au

[halleyscomet14]

girlfriends

relationship: billie eilish x reader

warnings: alcohol, mentions of rape, some guy being a creep

word count: 2672

summary: you finally get a night out to yourself, but when things go south, you need billie to the rescue.

a night out to clear your mind was a rare moment, as you were always stuck in the current of your busy life. whether it was just running to meeting after meeting, or studying for your lectures, or even when billie invited you to an event (which you just couldn’t say no), you seemed like you had no time to just go out by yourself. all you wanted to do was get drunk, chat with the bartender and maybe ask for a couple of numbers. your love life was dry, and the only action you had was billie, yet you almost drifted away from that crush knowing she will never like you back.

your schedule had finally cleared up, and you found a day to go out into the outside world. you had sprayed your best perfume, dressed in your most classy black mini dress, wore your most expensive crimson red boots, and had put on the most elegant yet approachable necklace with matching earrings. you grabbed your best purse as you got into the taxi, touching up your also crimson red lipstick with your small mirror. you looked your best, with light makeup and a beautiful job done on your eyes, your mascara just hitting right.

it wasn’t long before you arrived to your local bar, ready to get wasted. “two shots of gin” you said to the bartender, signaling two with your fingers as you sat down at the nearby stool. he nodded, ready to make conversation with you: “night out? you look fancy.” he said complimenting you. you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks as they started to red, but who could blame you. it had been so long since you got compliments from another human being accept flirting as a joke with your friends. he placed two shot cups on the counter, then reached back to grab two bottles of gin, holding them up to you asking which one would you like. you weren’t exactly that familiar with alcohol, so you pursed your lips, “which do you recommend?” you asked.

“new to the game?” he read you easily. you weren’t new, you just didn’t know your basics. “hits hard,” he started holding up the bottle on your left hand, “hits soft, but still hits.” he said switching to the other bottle. “hit me hard.” you said, smirking.

maybe you shouldn’t have said that. as within the span of around and hour and a half, you were 7 shots deep, and wasted as one can be. during the time you had made great conversation with the kind bartender. he had dark skin, very fluffy hair with the whitest teeth you’ve ever seen and freckles. he was wearing a small apron around his waist. most of the night, you talked with him, engaging in deep conversation the more drunker you got. he was a good looking guy, and was very obviously flirting with you. the night went on with laughter, jokes, and small talks.

both of you got more comfortable as time passed by. he occasionally passed his hand on top of yours, yet you were too drunk to notice. he was flirting with you so much, at one point it got a bit too much. “hey… i was thinking.” he said as he tossed his hand around his neck, grasping it in nervousness. “maybe you’d like to head back to my place later?” he said, whispering. his charm did have you under its control. you but your lip as you took a sip of your espresso you had ordered in order to not pass out. and that’s when it hit you. maybe it was the espresso, but this wasn’t you. you would never head back to some random dude’s house, and his intentions were very clear. no, you didn’t want to have sex with some random guy!

your eyes widened for a second, as you muttered, “fuck”. he looked at you weirdly, “i… i’ll be right back.” you said ripping you hand from his, as you grabbed your purse and rushed into the bathroom. the ladies room was the most disgusting thing you’ve seen by the way. you hands rushed to your phone, and you clicked on the button on the side. you had a couple of messages from your group chat with your friends, a couple of likes from instagram and two missed calls from ‘No Caller ID’. you were on seven percent. your mind thought about who you could call that would be awake at midnight, and could pick you up. someone who never gets sleep… and can drive fast… got it. you hands went up to your favorite contacts and hovered over billie’s number. you clicked it as you heard the dialing noise.

“hey mamas” she answered the phone. her voice sounded tired yet still joyful as her normal self. “billie.” you said as your voice echoed through the disgusting floors of the washroom. you gagged, feeling as if you were about to vomit. ah yes, the great side effects of alcohol. “you okay?” billie asked into the phone. “i-“ you said before you on purple dropped your phone onto the floor and rushed to the near stall. you threw up into the horrifyingly revolting toilet. this definitely wasn’t the night you dreamed of. you stood up, breathing heavily as you heard the familiar voice of billie yelling at you through the phone. once you got your balance up, you walked towards where your phone fell and leaned in to pick it up. you moaned at the gruesome feeling.

“y/n?? where the fuck are you??” billie’s voice kept saying as you reached the phone to your ear. “hiiiiiii” you said lengthening the i in hi, with your sick raspy voice. “can you pick me uppp?” you asked, once again lengthening the p in up. “i’m getting into the car right now. where are you?” billie asked, relatively calmly. “the bar on 15th avenue, but we have a problemmm” you said once again lengthening the m in problem. you rolled around the walls of the vulgar restroom, “what? why, whats wrong?” she said as you heard the car starting from the phone. “there’s this guy…” you said, stopping and going to the sinks to wash your hands. you put the phone on speaker, the water flowing sound could be heard through it, “what guy?” billie said loudly.

“this one charming dude” you said still in the affect of your drunk mess. “what charming- who are you calling charming-“ she said panicking as you cut her off. “no big deal, he just wants to take me home. his home. you know?” you said, turning off the tap and reaching for the paper towels on top of the counter. the light flickered in the room, as you picked up the phone back from the counter. “what?!” billie said angrily. even though you were wasted in your own form, you could hear the jealously in billie’s voice. it didn’t add up, she had no reason to. maybe she was just worried because of her past relationships with men. you shook it off.

“how am’ i gonna get out?” you said, whispering dramatically into the phone. billie went silent for a minute, most likely either concentrating as she was driving or because she was thinking of ways out. “bils?” you asked once more, grabbing the attention of the girl. “uhh…” billie thought. “ask the chef if there’s a back. try to find another girl maybe?” she said. “uh, okay.” you said as you grabbed your purse from the front of the window, and got out of the restroom silently. you looked around to see the bartender still at the bar serving drinks to a young lady. you went to the left, scanning the area if there was anyone around.

“did you find it?” billie asked, you could still hear her engine from the phone. “no… shit yeah! got it.” you said as you turned to the emergency exit door, which latched you out to the back of the bar. next to you were two dumpsters, and a broken old sign beside to them. “i’m gonna wait-“ you started before the sound of her engine stopped. “are you here?” you spoke to the phone, no response. “billie?” you talked again, no response. you pulled the phone away from your ear only to see that you ran out of battery. “fuck” you muttered in exhaustion.

you walked towards the sidewalk a bit far from the bar, and wait hoping billie was going to hop out of the blue. you sat on the concrete, so tired your legs couldn’t take you anymore. you looked up the night sky of los angeles, hoping to see a couple of stars. your head was killing you, utterly. this was a mistake, you thought to yourself. “well, look whose here.” you heard a familiar voice say. you looked up towards your right, only to see the guy from the bar. “running off is kinda offensive, don’t you think?” he said, grinning a smile as he leaned down on his knees, to get closer to you. “why didn’t ya’? i’m a nice dude.” he said in a heavy accent, you look away towards the pavement. his hand reaching to grab your chin, “look at me, you bitch.” he says, loudly. thoughts ran towards your mind on what would happen next. you closed your eyes in fear. he kept talking, but your nerves blocked everything out.

“she has a girlfriend, you jerk!” someone yells out of the blue. you open your eyes, your view blocked because of his siluette. he turns around towards the voice. you get a glimpse of the person standing, only to see that it was no other than your angel, billie. you gave a sigh of relief. “oh, yeah?” he said, grasping your chin even more, “did you know your girlfriend was flirting with me? i’m not one to judge but-“ he gets cut off by billie kicking his head with her platform boots. he yelled in pain, as he recentered his head with the help of his hand. his nose seemed to be bleeding, how weak. this time she leaned down towards him, “did you know, her girlfriend is a great fighter?” billie said as she slapped him hard. his head swooned with the sudden contact, making him fall on the concrete pavement.

“fuck off before i sue you for rape, you imbecile!” billie yelled deep into her ear as she pulled your arm, making you stand up. her hand went down to your wrist, harshly pulling her whilst making you walk towards her car. she opens the door as she signals for you to get into the car. what the fuck just happened. everything was such a haze, you didn’t get how billie showed out of nowhere, how she found the courage to kick that guy’s ass, and how she called you her girlfriend. you sat in your seat as billie went to the other side to get in. she handed you your purse, which she had probably picked up without you noticing. her hand went up to the steering wheel as she sped away.

you didn’t say a word, you couldn’t. your head hurt and ached, horribly. something felt wrong though. your drunk self could figure out that billie wasn’t taking you to her or your house. this was another route you didn’t know. billie drived furiously, speeding though everything. your hand went up to support your head. billie had probably noticed, “there’s aspirin in the glove box.” she said. you looked and smiled to her. she seemed to look back, but with no expression.

your hand went up to the compartment, shuffling though to find the familiar box. you couldn’t find it, you looked into the gloxebox, confused, before billie harshly reached into the box looking for the meds herself. you laid back into the seat, as billie rummaged around, before she pulled out a box of aspirin. she tossed it to you and left her hand there, on your thigh. she didn’t hold your thigh, or do anything, she just let the other side of her hand rest on it. she made a sharp turn, to the… beach?

she parked the car, the back facing towards the ocean. the sky was dark, with a light blue aura. she got out of the car, and walked towards the back of it. she opened the trunk, in a way that you could sit in it. she sat in the back, legs curled up. “you coming here or what?” billie said loudly for you to hear, towards you. letting out an understanding ‘oh’ you got out of the car, with a bottle of water and a pill in hand. you went and sat next to billie, as you opened the bottle up. well, tried to. no matter how hard you twisted it, it wouldn’t budge. “oh you’ve gotta be shitting me.” you said to yourself as you kept trying to open it. billie reached her hands towards the bottle and opened it with one flick. you stared at her in despair. she handed you the bottle as you swallowed the pill.

“are you okay?” billie broke the silence. “yeah.” you replied. both of you stared into the ocean, accompanied by the sound of waves hitting she shore. they made small yet relaxing noise every time they hit. you let your head rest on billie’s shoulder as both of you watched the blue darkness. she reached out a hand pulling you closer towards you by your arm. she placed her hand on your shoulder as both of you enjoyed each others accompaniment.

“i’m sorry i caused difficulty. i just shouldn’t have gone out in the first place.” you said apologizing, you felt guilty. “it’s okay, mamas.” she said, smiling. hearing a pet name made you calmer. you felt the need to make an act, so you placed you free hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently. billie very silently whimpered at the sudden sensation. you grinned. “it wasn’t your fault that guy was being an asshole.” billie continued, “and you said that he was charming.” she said jokingly.

“cmon, he was good looking!” you replied, louder. “uh, no? he looked like he just stepped a graveyard!” billie said, laughing. “yeah that was because you kicked the guy in the face. he was bleeding, of course he looked like he was dying.” you said, also laughing. “oh so you’d rather get raped?” she said. “you know i didn’t mean that!” you said, “you enjoyed kicking his ass didn’t you?” you continued. billie chuckled, “i enjoyed calling you my girlfriend more.” billie said bravely. you chuckled this time, “no, i’m serious.” she said in a lower, raspy tone. a silent pause came between you. you didn’t expect that. she joked around about this but… this time she was serious? that would explain the jealousy, and the way she went out of her way to protect you.

“well, i liked being called your girlfriend.” you said as you lifted your head up from her shoulder, to look deep into her ocean eyes. she looked back, you made your grip on her thigh tighter. you felt something around your stomach, indicating that you were nervous. the sound of waves and the night sky made things calmer, and way more romanticized.

she let go of your shoulder as you leaned into to close the gap between the two of you. millimeters away from your lips, you whispered “billie…” before she crashed your lips onto yours. you tightened your grip on her thigh even more, still being careful not to hurt her as your lips connected, moving in sync. you let your free hand go up to billie’s neck as she reaches her hand to grab the curves of your body, in the breathtaking mini dress you were wearing. both of you made out, meaningfully.

you pulled away to catch your breath, and so did billie. both of you breathed heavily as billie reached her hand to caress your cheek, as you smiled, making your dimples visible. you connected your foreheads by leaning in. “i really like you, y/n” billie said before closing the gap by smushing your lips together. you moaned in between kisses before you pulled away, “me too, love” you said. billie grinned at you before pinning you down to the plastic coverage on the floor of the trunk, as she reconnected her rep lips with yours, tasting your red lipstick which was now very ruined.

#billie eilish #spotify #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish smut #happier than ever #don’t smile at me #fanfic #hit me hard and soft #hte #when we all fall asleep where do we go #dsam #dont smile at me #ilomilo #wildflower #tv #what was i made for #hmhas #wwafawdwg #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader #billie #eilish

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 4

Part 4:

There was a hand on her boob. When Liana opened her eyes in complete darkness, it took her a moment to remember where she was. Art was sick. She was in his room because she wanted to make sure he fell asleep; in reality, she fell asleep herself. Now their legs were tangled, his heavy breaths tickled her neck where his head was buried, one of his hands was holding her waist, and the other, well... it was on her chest.

She knew it wasn’t intentional. None of what happened in the last day was intentional. That’s not her relationship with Art. It’s a glitch in time. One of those moments where the universe collapses into itself and needs to fold a bit to straighten the course. She considered waking him with a sharp movement but remembered how miserable and wretched he looked yesterday. He would cry from embarrassment if she woke him now, with them in this position. So she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and decided to deal with the problem in the morning, if necessary. She tried to remind herself that the more Art slept, the faster he would recover, and she could return to her routine. With these thoughts and his breaths as a grounding factor, she managed to fall asleep. When she opened her eyes again, Art was gone. 'The fever broke. Thanks for everything, Li, went for a run' was the message waiting for her on her phone, making her smile unconsciously. The glitch was over.

The last two months were harder than Art was willing to admit. The studies and training were grueling. The routine was exhausting. And Tashi was still in a relationship with Patrick. Art didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Well, of course he knew. Tashi was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. But it’s not like he lacked girls around him who were just waiting for him to say hello to jump into his bed. Maybe he was thinking about it more than usual because lately, Liana didn’t have a free moment. She was stressed from exams and choosing her major. She didn’t tell him that, he just knew her. Liana was the most calculated person he knew. She made long-term plans, for no real reason. When Patrick would come, she would plan the time she spent with them two weeks in advance. Art knew the uncertainty about her major weighed on her. He also didn’t know how to help her. His life was clear to him; Tennis. Tennis, family, and Patrick. Everything was clear, easy, and unchallenging. Patrick was supposed to visit in two days, and Art would never say it out loud because that’s his best friend, but he hated it. He knew Patrick was coming to be with Tashi, that he would waste Liana’s time, and in the end, he wouldn’t have time to sit with him at all. Maybe that’s what made him approach Tashi while she was collecting balls from the court after practice. “Art...” she said in a dubious voice, not fully understanding what he was doing there. Their schedules almost never overlapped. Their practices were at different times. He thought of inviting her to eat first, using some of his cafeteria points, but he remembered that Liana preferred their cafeteria over the one near her campus. “Do you need help?” he offered instead. “Sure, why not.” Tashi shrugged, her voice unconvincing. She knew he wasn’t just here. She knew Patrick was supposed to arrive and that Art was going to say something that would anger her. “I see you want to say something, so just say it.” She placed the basket of balls down, folding her arms. “Okay.” He sighed, moving towards the bench as she walked after him. “Patrick is coming the day after tomorrow.” He said. “I’m aware.” Her answers were sharp. She didn’t have time to waste on him and his circling around without saying what he wanted. “Do you want to plan a surprise party or something?” she asked jokingly, trying to move the conversation along. “Why are you still with him?” He looked her in the eyes, deciding to be direct. “Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow, her face changing. She was no longer curious; she was angry. “He’s in love with Liana.” Art said automatically. He seemed as surprised by the words that came out of his mouth as she did. Patrick is in love with Liana? No way. At least he didn’t think so. So why did he say that? Now the thought that Patrick wanted Liana while he was with Tashi, the most beautiful girl he knew, wouldn’t leave his head. Tashi continued to look at him without saying anything, then chuckled, making him raise an eyebrow. “No, Art. You’re in love with Liana.” She rolled her eyes, her level of anger rising. “Absolutely n—” he started to defend himself but was immediately cut off. “And even if he does. Even if he wants to marry Liana. Even if he’s sure she will be the mother of his children. What do you want from me?!” She shouted the end of the sentence, causing Art to shrink for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend?” she asked, starting to walk away. “I’m not in love with Liana.” Was all he managed to say in response, “She’s my best friend,” he muttered, quickly following her, not fully understanding why he was explaining this. “Art,” Tashi suddenly stopped, close to him. “I suggest you open a dictionary to check what ‘best friend’ means and when you understand, don’t cry that you lost yours.” She ended the conversation (which led nowhere) and only pushed him further from his goal and confused him about what the goal even was. Why did he start this? He hadn’t seen Patrick for too long. Or Liana.

When Liana entered her room, around midnight, Patrick and Art were there. “Give me the key!” She extended her hand towards Art, who just smiled. They both knew he wouldn’t give it. “I could have been with someone. I could have entered here with someone, and at the peak of the moment when we enter my room, you’re here!” She raised her voice, but not too loud because the hour didn’t allow it. “I’m not joking, Art, give me the key. You can’t come in here whenever you feel like it! Tell him!” She turned the end towards Patrick. Talking to him as if it were completely natural for him to be at Stanford in the middle of the night. “Who is this mysterious man she could have entered with at night, Art? I thought you were keeping an eye on her,” Patrick’s voice was amused, but the thought of Liana bringing a random guy to her room didn’t appeal to him. “That’s why I have a key, to scare off guys she meets in the library. Once, I saw her hanging out with someone who wore Crocs,” he said to him. They talked about her as if she wasn’t there, knowing full well it was the thing she hated most. “Out. Both of you, out!” She crossed her arms under her chest. “Hey, Amanda the lowbreaker, are you going to hug me and say hi, or just yell at me?” Patrick understood that her nerves were frayed at this stage of the day. “Amanda?” Art asked, not understanding what they were talking about. “She knows.” Patrick didn’t look at Art for a second. He only saw Liana. Her dark hair, identical to his, was tied in a messy ponytail, and there was a coffee stain on her shirt. She looked exhausted, yet she approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist, causing him to close his eyes for a moment. If Patrick could pinpoint the smell he loved most in the world, he would say it was citrus and roses. Liana’s scent. To him, it characterized summer from the moment he met her; smelling it in the middle of the year felt like a bonus. Like a pay raise for a job well done. Even though he knew nothing about his job was going well. Art cleared his throat, and they separated. “What are you doing here?” She really sounded exhausted. Like she hadn’t slept in a while. “I told you I was coming. I put my things in Tashi’s room and wanted to say hi before you go to sleep. We’ll hang out tomorrow, okay?” he asked at the end, his voice begging for a positive response. He couldn’t leave without making the most of the time he had with her. Time she would have to allow. Art watched the dynamic between them from the side. Thinking about what he said to Tashi; Patrick is in love with Liana. Patrick is in love with Liana. Patrick is in love with Liana. Like a mantra he couldn’t stop hearing for two days. Now also seeing it. Patrick is in love with Liana? Maybe it’s a crush? Art tried to remember how Patrick was with the girls at school, did he hug them for too long? Did they have private jokes? How did he look at them? “I don’t know if I can, Pat, I have an exam in two days...” her voice was apologetic. "Then I'll just sit next to you while you study. Come on, you can't say no to me." His smile was genuine, teeth showing. Not a smirk. "Alright..." Liana shrugged, her tone half-defeated, half-amused. "But you have to promise to behave and let me study," she said with absolute seriousness. "I'll behave however you want, Amanda. I'll be the quietest, I'll be so good for you. The best boy in the world," he winked. It was objectively funny banter. Tho Art wasn't amused. "Okay, fuck off, both of you. Now. I want to sleep!" she declared, giving Art a small push, shaking him out of his daze. Patrick is in love with Liana.

Hey there, me again. Is posting once a day a bit too much? I hope you're enjoying it. Tell me what you think about the characters so far. Also, tell me if you want to be tagged for the next part. Have a great weekend ❤️

taglist: @swetearss

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers fic #tashi duncan

[chefkids]

Claire was the Cold Prep.

The Ice Chips episode will be the when he talks to her again because she is the last chip of getting stuck in the freezer he has left over to deal with. They are always connected to cold and fridges. He reconnected with her in the freezer aisle at the grocery store.

They made out in the garde manger which is the cold prep station in kitchens.

And of course they broke up by the walk in fridge.

Claire was a Cold Reading for Carmy. A rehearsal. A practice girlfriend before the real thing. Molly and Jeremy did not even do a chemistry read before they were on set running lines together, and that was not due to poor planning. It was very intentional just like Claire's entire character. Her lack of development, he costuming, their interactions, are all tied up with being a cold prep. Their entire relationship was written as practice for Carmy wanting to be with Syd, which is why he mirrors everything about Sydney into that relationship.

Fak is going to tell Claire that Carmy told him he’s still in love with her to try and get them to fix things. She will probably try to reconcile and tell Carmy that Fak told her he does love her, but I think Carmy is going to tell her he never told him that and that he’s not actually in love with her and can't be with her.

*Season 3 Spoiler Skip this paragraph* That is what is going to cause the fight that we heard, because Fak/Claire will accuse Carmy of lying about it and Carmy will insist he didn’t lie about saying he loved her.

Technically Carmy didn’t say he was in love with her. Fak asked Carmy how much he love Claire and he said he loved her a lot. Carmy does love Claire. But he’s not in love with her. 

He loves Claire same way he loves Fak or Tina or even Mikey. He loves her as an old friend and someone in his life he cares about and doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, which why he tried to gently reject her with a fake number but couldn't say no to her face.

He asked Tina how much she loved Mikey and she said a lot. Which is the same thing he told Fak about Claire, because he doesn't love her romantically.

Carmy tried to be in love with her. But he never told her I love you and he was bothered when she said it to him in the voicemail because he realized love and being in love are two very different things.

Claire loves Carmy romantically but he doesn't love her in that way.

In his panic attack he figured out the difference between the two. He loves Mikey and his family and even his mom and Claire. But he’s not in love with them. Sydney was a completely separate type of love and peace for him because he doesn’t just love her, he is in love with her.

Claire was there Christmas after Donna crashed her car. He saw that she saw the mess behind his life. He didn’t want to stay there so he left to New York. She has always been tied to horrible memories for him and it's not her fault, but he can't separate the two.

But honestly, the fact that Claire saw what his life was like that night and the full extent of his family trauma around alcohol makes me even more angry that she took him to that party and the told him that “she knows” about him having to take care of sad drunk people.

She might have said she wants to understand, not fix people. But it seems to me like she thought she could fix Carmy’s shyness and trauma around parties and alcohol by forcing him to be around it, but really she was just bringing up all the past trauma he had and bad memories tied to her.

They both tried to use that relationship for bad reasons, he tried to teach himself how to be a boyfriend and she tried to teach him how to be "normal" because she wanted a boyfriend, but the type of guy she wanted is not who Carmy really is, which is why he was pretending to be Logan at that party and why she loved seeing him act like that, even when it's not him. Carmy wanted to see Syd in Claire, and Claire wanted to see "Logan" in Carmy.

#the bear #the bear meta #carmen berzatto #claire the bear #sydcarmy #the bear season 3 predictions

[fum1ku]

FIRST “I LOVE YOU” - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, kei tsukishima, koushi sugawara, kenma kozume, hajime iwaizumi, tobio kageyama

OSAMU: it had been a long day at onigiri miya. rush hour had kicked ‘samu’s ass and he had just now, it being well past 9pm, stumbled into his apartment. as soon as he entered the door he lazily kicked off his work shoes and tossed his keys aside, collapsing into the arm chair in his living room. took a second, but he finally heard you shuffling around in the kitchen.

“baby?” he mumbled, hardly picking his head up enough to look to where he thought you were.

“‘samu? sorry, didn’t hear you come in. how was work?” you shouted from the kitchen.

he finally dragged himself up and into the kitchen to find you, stirring around a pot on the stove. and just a few seconds later he heard the rice cooker go off.

he could smell the delicious, savory smell of the curry you were heating on the stove. his eyes brighten when he watched you pile up the the fluffy rice into a bowl and scoop some of the curry you made on top.

placing it down on the counter you called, “‘samu?”

he quickly snapped back into reality. “work? sorry. work was.. rough. long day. tired.”

“oh, i’m sorry, baby. at least you have tomorrow off,” you smiled, making another bowl of rice and curry.

he wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood over the stove, burying his face into your neck. he could smell the soft scent of your perfume mixed with your shampoo.

“didn’t think you were comin’ over,” he mumbled.

“yeah.. sorry, ‘samu. i just let myself in. i saw how busy the shop was today and thought you might like something to eat once you finally got home.”

you were both quiet for awhile. you had set your second bowl aside and just stood there, feeling the warmth of osamu’s breath against your neck. until osamu finally spoke up.

“i love you,” he said, his words muffled into the crook of your neck.

you laughed. “i love you too, ‘samu. let’s go eat, okay?”

KEI: it had been your first time meeting kei’s family. everything was going well, so far. his mother was the sweetest. and akiteru made you laugh while he told you all the embarrassing bits of tsukishima’s childhood. but, between chatting and dinner, kei made the executive decision to drag you up to his room for awhile to take a break—just him and you. plus you had just been begging to see his childhood room.

he plopped down on his bed as you shut the door behind you. you took a minute to glance around his room, noticing the dinosaur figurines lined on his shelf; the few posters on his wall.

“this was your room in high school?” you mused, holding back your laugher.

“yeah. what about it?” he snarked.

“it’s just so.. y’know?”

“sure. whatever,” he said, folding his glasses and putting them to the side as he later down on his bed.

you spent another minute glancing around the room again. then, smirking, you made your way over to kei’s bed. you laid down right atop of him, wrapping your arms around his slim torso.

“what are you doing?” he questioned, an annoyed tone laced into his words. “you’re squishing me.”

“good,” you mumbled into his chest.

“idiot,” he grimaced, only to whisper a soft “i love you” afterwards.

you perked your head up.

“oh? kei tsukishima loves me?” you teased.

“oh, shut up. idiot.”

KOUSHI: you both had worked at the same school for over a year now. he had been the first person to show you around the campus and introduce to you the best cafe for lunch just around the corner from the school yard. he took you there often, especially after you two were official.

you sat just across from him as you picked around at the plate in front of you, taking an occasional sip of your coffee. you were rambling about the kids in your class—how amazing, talented, and smart they all were—and about future lesson plan ideas.

koushi listened intently. smiling as your eyes beamed with excitement as your bounced from topic to topic.

“oh! koushi! we could do a whole lesson around this book—shoot. i don’t remember the name of it. but i know that—”

his eyes stared at you, lovesick. focused on the way your lips moved as your spoke; the way your eyes shined with pride as your went on and on about your students.

“i love you,” he said, stopping you in the middle of your rant.

you paused for a moment, feeling the red tint that overtook your face. “i-i love you too, koushi!”

he couldn’t help but softly laugh at your embarrassment. oh how he loved you.

KENMA: you often would hang out on the couch in the corner of kenma’s gaming room, reading a book or scrolling on your phone as he held his streams. you’d softly laugh to yourself as you watched your boyfriend play his games or respond to his fans in the chat.

as soon as his stream ended he’d toss his headphones to the side (maybe toss is an overstatement. those things were too expensive to toss) and make his way towards your corner of the room. he’d lay down on you and push his head under your arms as you still held your book in front of you.

you laughed as his antics, placing your book to the side. “tired, kozuken?”

he absolutely hated it when you called him by his streamer name, but he was too tired to care. he only nodded his head in response to your question.

this only made you laugh more. “shouldn’t have stayed up so late gaming last night, hm?”

he groaned in response, burying his face into your chest. you softy ran your hands through his hair.

“okay then, you big baby. take a nap with me then,” you smiled, planting a soft kiss atop his head.

“i love you, y/n,” he said, his words muffed—making it sound more like “i wughv vyou, y/n”.

you chuckled. “i love you too.. kozuken.”

HAJIME: iwaizumi always had early mornings as a trainer. your sexy boyfriend and his early morning runs, as you’d best describe it.

you noticed the dim light that shone through the cracks of the bathroom door. you rolled over and looked at the alarm on your bedside table. 4:58am. not even 5 o’clock yet,m. you groaned.

iwaizumi suddenly walked out the bathroom door.

“babe? go back to sleep, it’s early. you don’t have to be awake yet,” he softly said as he sat down at the edge of your shared bed, putting on his compression sleeves. you made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“haji,” you groaned. “come back to bed. it’s too early.”

“i know, i know, but i’ll be back before you even get up. promise.”

you sat up, still keeping your arms wrapped around him. you pressed a soft trail of kisses down his neck.

“or you could come back to bed with me right now,” you cooed in between a few kisses.

he turned around to face you, cupping each side of your face in his hands. he pressed his lips to yours for a quick kiss.

“i’ll be back before you know it,” he said, walking towards the door to your bedroom. “i love you!”

the door closed behind him. you groaned. “love you too, jackass!”

TOBIO: he loved you. he knew that way before he ever said it. he knew he loved you the day you showed up to his big game with his jersey on, smiling in the crowd. he knew he loved you when you iced his wrist after he screwed up during practice one day, scolding him for not being more careful. he knew he loved you when you’d get up to go on his morning runs with him on your days off—even if you lagged behind him and complained about how the cold morning air nipped at your skin. he loved you. so much. but saying it? a completely different scenario.

he was laying down in his bed as you brushed your teeth in his bathroom—the door wide open. you rinsed out your mouth, turned off the bathroom light, and made your way into bed beside him. you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his body go stiff beneath your touch. but, after a few seconds he eased into it.

you slowly drifted off to sleep, softly breathing beneath him. he was still wide awake, too focused on the way your hand rested against his chest for him to be able to sleep.

he sighed, breathlessly. “y/n.. i love you. so much.”

your body stirred beneath him. you pressed a kiss to his forearm as he tightly held onto you. “i love you too, tobio. s’much.”

his face went red. “i thought you were asleep..”

© fum1ku 2024

⁂ taglist: none currently !! let me know if you want to be added ;)

my requests are always open! please feel free to drop a lil something to keep me inspired with new ideas for fanfics <3

#haikyuu #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu x reader #osamu mikumo #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x y/n #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #koushi sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x you #haikyuu time skip #hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama x you #haikyuu kageyama #haikyuu karasuno #haikyuu inarizaki

[submissive-wifey]

𝙏𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙈𝙚 Stop Crying Ft. Husband Scaramouche

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Warning ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ᰔ afab! reader ᰔ mentioned of both female and male reproductive system ᰔ overthinking ᰔ nsfw! under the cut

So, I am currently having a mix feelings since before and a hundreds of negative thoughts was crossing on my mind about what if my husband don't love me anymore, what if he got tired of me or he find me just a bother? I know that he's busy since he is the 6th Harbinger of the 11th Fatui but I couldn't help but to think such things.

Maybe, what if he is already having a love affair? What if there is another woman..?

Those thoughts made me feel like I was stabbed straight to my heart and I decided to go to his office to check him out if he's doing alright.

I knocked on the door softly and heared unfamiliar feminine voice, my heart skips a beat before opening the door and saw him sitting on his chair with another girl standing in front of his table wearing a very short skirt.

"What do you want?" He said with his husky voice in annoyance. I gulped in nervousness since my heart skipping every other beat but I still keep my cool because of that girl, she had a face as pale as porcelain and looked like a ghost except for her light short green hair and her hazel eyes which seemed to bore into my soul and gave me the creeps with how cold they were while she stood in front of him with a frown on her disgusting lips. She glared at me as if she has some beef with me and I don't even know her, but why is she in my husband's office?

A thought suddenly strikes me about my overthinking that what if I'm right? What if he was actually having a love affair with a seductress?

I mean, she looks like a whore.

My brain helpfully supplied and I shook away these thoughts. No one's sleeping with my man. It wasn't like he was a virgin. That girl probably just wanted some sex with his money. But that didn't mean she should be here. Her presence alone makes me feel so uneasy.

"I just wanted to check if you're doing alright since we've barely see each other." I replied softly with a fake smile on my lips, I felt a bit guilty that I couldn't get my hands off of my dress. I felt like such a fool for thinking my husband would cheat on me and I was trying to act nonchalant about it and keep up appearances when I really wanted to cry right then and there. I had this horrible feeling that my husband cheated on me by being with another woman while I sat at home and waited for him like an idiot.

"You do know that I'm busy, Y/N" He inhaled deeply and crossed his arms as leaned against his chair, he looked like he wants to say something but stopped himself before saying anything."Yes, I know you have a lot of work, I can see it from your office." I said looking around and saw that there was a disorganized documents on his table and some papers scattered on the floor.

"So, I wanted to talk to you about-" "No" He cut off my words abruptly. His face had a stern expression and his indigo eyes with a bold red eyeliner glistened as they focused on mine, but there was something about them that sent chills down my spine. I felt like his eyes were staring straight into my soul and could read my every little feeling. They also held an unknown emotion and I was unsure of what was going through his mind at that moment.

"No?" I repeated. He took in another deep breath, exhaling slowly and let out another sigh before leaning forward with both arms resting on the surface of his desk. He stared at my chest which he knew by now that I wore a simple tight black dress that showed my toned legs with a v neck which reveals my cleavage, but I didn't wear any shoes. He was still gazing into my eyes intently as he spoke again,"I said no."

"But you didn't-" He cut me off again, "Y/N, I am busy. I told you already that I don't have enough time to spend with you lately.""Why not?" I questioned curiously. I know I shouldn't ask those questions, but his stare made it hard for me to control myself,"Because you are an absolute nuisance. You keep spitting unnecessary things." "That's impossible. You always tell me whenever I have a question. Now, answer me this, is my husband cheating on me?"

I heared my heart pounding loudly in my ears when I ask him my question and gripping on my dress to ease the emotion I felt. He then grit his teeth as he close his eyes in irritation before turning his gaze back to me. "GET OUT!" He shouted as if he's commanding me to get out of the office. He then pointed at the door with anger shining in his indigo eyes. I felt like crying. But instead of letting tears come out, I just ran out of his office.

My heart couldn't accept what he said to me and I immedietly stormed straight to my room and lock the door as my tears started flowing.

I threw myself on the bed and burried my face on the pillows to minimize my sobs.

And at the present moment, I continued sobbing for the past 2 hours. Hoping he is not cheating on me with that girl, wishing he would remain faithful to me but he is sophisticated and attractive man that would eventually the ladies will try to seduce him.

I only wished him to cuddle with me but then he shut me out with his hurful statement.

I hug my pillow tightly as my heart continue to bawl out. I never knew that such things existed but I was too dumbfounded and scared to ask about them. He was a professional person who rarely gets involved with the women's industry because of his integrity. He wouldn't cheat on me right? I asked myself that. Maybe he was just jealous that other women got ahead of him but why didn't he confide in me?

And suddenly, I heard a knock on my door. I didn't respond to it and hoping that person who is knocking on my door will leave since I am currently crying. The knocking continued to grow louder as the moment continued to pass by, but I choose not to pay attention to it.

I sense my door opened and a footsteps echoed inside my bedchamber. The empty space of the bed dips with the heavy weight that I assume belongs to my husband. I didn't bother to look at him but remained burrying my face on the soaked pillow. The mattress sinks in the place where my husband should rest his head.

"I didn't mean to shout at you.." He whispered softly with his husky voice, he sat beside me and he wrap his arm around my waist and kissed my hair lightly. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but his cold touch sent shivers down my spine. He pulled me closer to him and nuzzled his face on my hair.

"No." I tried saying a single word with a neutral tone to avoid quavering. "Look at me." He commanded with a stern voice as he tried to cup my cheeks but I push him instead. He fell down on the bed and he let out a loud groan, looking at me in disbelief and I burried my face back to the pillow.

"I see how it is.." He rolled me over and pinning me under him as he grab my wrists, forcing them above my head. "What are you doing!?" I shrieked as I squirmed and struggle to get away. It seems that the way to deal with me was just to pin me down and make sure that I'm under him until I finally calm down.

"You're throwing a tantrum which gives me a headache and I refuse to listen to your damn crying! You're going to give me something in return for taking your stupid emotional outburst!" He yelled at me with a furious tone of his voice and I flinched. It didn't take long before he pinned my legs together making my breath catch on my throat and I could feel tears streaming down my face.

He leaned down and he start giving me light kisses on the side of my neck, leaving a row of a light bruises and kiss marks on it. He then continued leaving an array of light markings on my neck as if he starts to enjoy himself at the taste of my skin as his kisses making their way down to my collarbone that made me gasps softly.

"Now, are you going to stop your damn crying, Y/N?" He asked me sounding rather amused and satisfied at the same time. My cries slowly stopped after he left a few more light bruises on me. "Good." I hear him mumble. Butterflies started to ramble on my stomach as he continued his bold actions on me and I started to feel my cheeks burning at the sensation of his markings.

"S-Stop.." I gasps softly since he is now activating my hormones. "Why should I? I deserve a reward for putting up with your constant stubbornness." He move up to my ear and whispered those words with his husky voice and a goosebumps crawls on my skin.

I bit my lip to avoid making those sounds he was trying to trigger and struggles to remove my hands away from his grasps.

"Ah... Ah.." He grumbles as he tightened his grip on my wrist, moving his kisses to the base on my neck before sinking his teeth into my soft delicate skin as just hard enough to leave a light possessive mark. "No biting, You will not hide the sweet sounds you make."

"S-Scara..." My breathing became shallow as soon as I felt his teeth on my skin and I let out a soft moans as the shivers running down to my spine. "So, you finally decided to stop crying." He says while removing his lips from the sensitive part of my neck, leaving behind two wet red trails that makes me shudder involuntarily.

"S-Scaramouche.. Please.. Stop.. " My body went stiff once his hot breath hit the sensitive spot causing me to shiver even harder. My heartbeat started getting irregular with each passing second, as all thoughts were gone except one: 'I want it.'

"Maybe if your moans get loud enough, I might think about stopping." He whispered on my skin as he gave the new mark one more lick before moving to the other side of my collarbone. I let out a muffled scream at the pain that he inflicted on me. His kisses were starting to be too much and it felt like my whole body was going to melt if he keeps doing this. And yet his lips weren't on mine yet. I didn't dare to open my mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction knowing that I was enjoying this torture.

I then averted my gaze from him to hide the blush on my cheeks and he grumbles as he places his fingers under my chin, forcing me turn my head back to face him again. "Now, who told you to look away from me? You will stop holding your moans back and make those lovely sounds for me." He demanded in a low demanding tone and my eyes widen at the sudden order. "Don't be so disobedient.." His finger trailed along the edge of my jawline. "Please..." I whimpered helplessly and he laughed before sinking his teeth once again into the base of my neck leaving a dark, harsh looking bite mark on the skin as he feels another shaky breath from me.

He lift himself away from me for a bit and moves his leg before looking at me dead in the eyes as his leg brushing against my cloth entrance. His breathing grows heavier as he sees my legs shaking causing me to arch into him as I hold the blanket tightly on both sides of me.

"Mhmm.. S-Scara..!" My breath hitches when he added more friction and angled his leg properly on my sensitive spot. He groans in response when I called out his name as if he's unable to hold back the sound that wanted to make its way from his throat.

"I need to hear you say those words.." He whispers between his heavy breathing as he move his leg in a circular motion against me, my breathing grow more shallow as I continue to shake for him. He pant quietly as he leans in even closer, leaning down and starts to trail kisses along my jawline.

"Hahh... I'm.. I'm yours.." I looked at him with a bawdy expression before inhaling deeply while moaning sofly. His breathe hitches in his throat as he hears me give him the answer he wanted. I could feel a satisfied smile growing on his face as he hears the words fall from my mouth, his body started shaking a bit from the heat that had taken over. "That's a good girl..." He praised as he move his head away from my jawline, looking down at me with his eyes shining and a sinister smile appeared on his lips. He started kissing my face repeatedly before placing his mouth on the soft spot below my earlobe while his hand travels to my core. He caresses my wet folds through my panties as he rubs slow circles over my swollen cloth clit. I squirm and gasp loudly as my body started reacting to what he's doing to me and I can't keep myself composed any longer.

He close his eyes and bites down on his own lip as he feels the heat of my body through his clothes. He leans in and plants a soft kisses on my lips and moving his hand on my thigh that was circling on my cloth folds before, brushing two fingers on my inner thigh that made me feel all tingly inside and my breath hitch and I started trembling uncontrollably.

"I'll show you how much you can take of me." He said in a hoarse deep voice. I let out a moan just like he wanted as my body is already preparing to get ready for him. Feeling hotter and hotter.

His other hand moves up to my breast making me let out a small moan that only fuels him further and he lets out another husky chuckle before his thumb started rubbing around my hardened nipple and my eyes closed as I tried to relax myself but it's impossible. His movements were slow and deliberate as he continues caressing my heated body.

"Please, S-Scaramouche.. I couldn't keep up any longer." I whined as the feeling of his touches intensified and he laughs before he slowly lifts his own hips as he pushes his pants and underwear off his legs and letting it land somewhere on the ground. Shivering as I feel his own body getting even warmer than before. I look up to him, feeling slightly dizzy and a desperate expression can be seen on my face. He was breathing shaky and heavy, "Are you ready...?"

I nod quickly without a word and he smirks playfully at me before he slowly move the hem of my dress and taking off my panty, he then grab my legs and pulled them apart until they are wide opened. He grabs one of my legs and placed it on top of his shoulder, I felt so open and vulnerable in front of him especially when he is staring at me intensely like I am his prey. As soon as he starts teasing the center of my opening, my whole world gets turned upside down and I can't help but cry out loud with pleasure as his fingers started digging inside my wet velvety walls.

"Ahhh... Ohh... S-Scara... Ahhh!"

He groaned lowly, moving faster against me as my cries grew louder and I wrapped my legs tighter around his shoulder. I felt my body start to get weak and he chuckled before wrapping my legs around his shoulders again and continuing the action. "You're so wet..." He moaned with his mouth near my ear causing my already tight core to tighten even more.

At the part where I'm about to reach my climax, he stopped. The feeling of emptiness spread all over my body as I felt a wave of disappointment washed over me. I breathe heavily and look at him curiously, wondering why he stopped, I saw him smirk evilly before pulling out all his fingers from me, making me whine in frustration. His eyes shifting to look down on my legs as he positioned his body in between them, he stares at my hole, licking his lips lightly as he started pushing my legs to spread even wider. He looks at me with a smirk, "Ready?~"

My husband's member is so huge and veiny almost bigger than my entire body. He is still coated with pre cum, which makes me wonder just how long it takes before he came. It seems like it doesn't take long at all since he hasn't started thrusting his thick member yet. He wrap his fingers around his shaft, stroking it slowly and I watch causing sparks of electric feelings to fly around on my stomach. My heart rate quickened at the thought that he could just thrust real hard, deeper inside of me. I feel so hot and aching in just an instant.

"Mhmm... Yeah.." I answered breathlessly as I bite on my lower lip. Watching how he stroke his shaft up and down with his fingers in anticipation. And with that, my eyes rolled at the back of my head before I threw my head on the bed board and released a loud moan, gripping onto the sheets tightly because of the intense pleasure I felt out of a sudden entrance of his massive cock.

Author's Note :

[ I got the art icons from pinterest ]

I'm falling in love with this first POV writing style ahhh!

Request are open btw!

[ Reblogging my post appreciated! 🍷💕 ]

#genshin smut #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #eventual smut #genshin x reader #kunikuzushi #scara x reader #submissive-wifey'sunderthecut #afab reader #reader insert #fem reader #female reader