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erodasfishtacos · 2 days

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Somethin’ Unholy (sexclubowner!hxengaged!yn)

prompt: YN and Arthur have to adjust their arrangement. The first scene leaves YN hopeless and wondering if she should even come back to the club.

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: emotional infidelity (kinda, it’s complicated), d/s dynamics, mean Harry

author’s note: next part is posted on patreon & continuing to be updated this week💕 this is the last part that will be posted on tumblr.

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PART ONEk

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YN isn’t above this.

Actually, this is exactly where she wants to be.

Her arms are akin to jello as she slowly starts to move across the floor, the hardwood was rough on her knees, and she had to complain.

YN sits back on her heels, eyes sparkling and challenging, she was going to make Harry prove himself as a good dominant.

Harry raises an eyebrow, questioning but unmoving from where he stands.

“Hurts my knees, sir,” YN tells him, the ‘sir’ was patronizing and not obedient in the way it was intended to be used when he demanded it from her.

“The funny thing is…” Harry tilts his head, eyes tracing over every inch of her, “I didn’t fucking ask if it hurt. Crawl to me now.”

YN huffs, putting her palms flat again and moving towards him.

“Slower. Move slower. I really want you to feel that ache you were bitching about in your knees,” Harry tells her, his voice was so calm and monotone that it was making her want to get him mad.

YN does as he says but to the extreme, going so entirely slow that she’s barely moving any bit forward.

Her face is towards the floor and suddenly, there is a pair of leather boots in her line of vision, standing in front of her.

A hand weaves into her hair, twirling the strands between slender fingers, and pulling upwards without mercy.

YN lets out a high-pitched squeak at the pain prickling on her scalp, forcing her neck to tilt upwards to look at Harry who’s now squatting in front of her.

“Is that too rough?” Arthur echos from behind her.

YN shouldn’t feel annoyance, this is a learning experience for both of them but she wants him to just sit there quietly.

The way Harry looks up towards Arthur was downright terrifying.

A sharp, mean smile spreads wide enough on Harry’s face that his dimples pop in both of his cheeks, and then he tugs her hair until her head is turned a an uncomfortable angle, looking towards her fiancé.

“S’it too rough for the lil’ angel?” Harry asks in a mocking tone, his grip hasn’t relented and YN had missed this type of pain so much she could cry.

“N-no, it’s good,” YN manages to get out between clenched teeth before focusing her eyes back on Harry.

She didn’t want to remember that Arthur was here.

“It’s good, sir,” Harry lets his blunt fingernails tease at her scalp, “You’re being so awful already. It’s making it hard for me to want to play with you.”

If YN wasn’t in a headspace like this, she could logically identify that he was saying this to get under her skin, making her insecure.

But because her rational thinking isn’t as present as it normally is, it makes her chest ache, and her voice sounds small when she says, “I’ll be good, sir.”

Harry’s laugh is loud enough that she jumps, his hand loosens and unweaves from her hair as she blinks up at him.

He was ethereal under the dim light, all of his sharp features were defined, like they were from renaissance times, and he’d be unreal but YN was witnessing him with her own eyes.

“Did that spark a nerve, pet?” He teases as he stands up, leaving her on hands and knees.

YN only folds her lips inward, refusing to give him an answer because she wanted to get the biggest reaction possibly out of him.

When he realizes that she’s not going to reply, he runs his tongue over his teeth, “Right now, I wish you were really my sub. This would end so fuckin’ poorly for such a defiant slut.”

“Whoa, I don’t know if you should call her that,” Arthur interrupts with an affronted tone, like he’s trying to stand up for YN.

YN feels the irritation of his interrupting itching at the back of her teeth, she wanted him to just sit there and stop.

YN doesn’t realize that she lets out a spoiled noise of impatience, of annoyance at her fiancé.

It causes Harry to take a step forward, lightly pressing the bottom sole of his shoe on her splayed fingers, warning.

“This is a learning experience,” Harry scolds her, pressing down just enough to add pressure on her knuckles, “ He’s allowed to ask questions and voice limits. If you have an issue with that, there is no purpose to this session. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” YN replies quietly because she did not want this session to end.

It had only just begun and she felt such a spark that had never been there before.

This was visceral, different than any experience that she had had with Klein before they broke up.

The atmosphere, the way that Harry held himself with such knowledge and confidence was unmatched.

“Good girl,” Harry murmurs lowly, almost as if he didn’t want Arthur to hear, and he moves his boot away from her fingers.

The praise felt fucking addictive.

She wanted more of it.

But at the same time, she wanted to create mayhem too.

“Is that a limit for you? Yellow?” Harry asks Arthur, checking in like a responsible dom would do during a lesson.

YN hated that it took his attention away from her.

“Er, not necessarily. I’m…this is all just new. I didn’t know whether she liked being called that or not is all,” Arthur trails off unsurely but he doesn’t sound like he’s distressed, he definitely is a mixture of curiosity and arousal.

He liked this.

“Arthur,” Harry replies in a conversational tone, he nudges his foot against YN to signal her to stand up, “You will learn that it doesn’t matter what YN likes because she likes to be disobedient and insubordinate. It only matters if she uses her colors. If she doesn’t like something enough to stop, she will either use ‘yellow’ or ‘red’.”

YN stands, feeling awkward in how overdressed she is as Harry provides education to her fiance, this was such a weird situation, and she wanted Arthur to stop bringing her out of her floaty headspace.

“Right, slut?” Harry smirks wickedly, he stands with his hands behind his back, and pointedly not trying to touch her in any way.

She could tell that in this weird dynamic, Harry was trying to be respectful that he was instructing and not taking ownership of her as her dominant, despite her body screaming at him that that is exactly what she wants from him.

“Yes,” YN agrees, purposely leaving out the ‘sir’.

The smile drops from his face, he had thought he’d broken her, and it wasn’t that easy by just some hair-pulling and name-calling, it would take so much more, and he would learn her threshold for pain tolerances is high.

Harry’s lips press into a firm line and he steps forward, grip firm on her wrist as he jerks her forward, making her stumble into his chest, and he whispers into her ear, “God, if you were mine you would be broken.”

It was only loud enough for YN to hear.

But he takes a step back, letting go of her wrist, and an odd emotion she can’t read crosses his face before he announces to them both, “This is an instructional session as I’ve stated before. That was an example of power play but now I will move onto the next portion of learning.”

And something has switched, YN doesn’t know how to put her finger on it but Harry had suddenly become more formal with her.

More of a teacher, less of a dominant like how he was acting in the beginning.

She wanted the latter to come back out, a hollowness started in her chest when he walked away from her to sit down on a tufted leather bench, and a completely uninterested expression on his face.

“Strip down to your bra and underwear,” Harry replies in almost a robotic tone, none of the teasing and lift was there anymore.

YN is shaky as she rids herself off her trousers, the structured corset bodysuit she had put on, and she was down to her strapless bra and seamless thong.

YN wasn’t self-conscious, she loved her body and was proud to show it off but there was something about Harry’s demeanor that made an inkling of self-doubt creep in as she stood in the middle of the room where he had left him.

When she subconsciously goes to wrap her arm around her chest, as if to give herself any type of modesty, Harry clicks his tongue at her and shakes her head.

Without having to speak, YN puts her arm back down at her side and takes a deep breath, shaky on the exhale.

“Ask to come lay on my lap,” Harry tells her calmly, his legs spread enough to be obscene, a hand resting suggestively on his inner thigh, much too close to his groin to be appropriate in any other setting.

“May I come sit on your lap, sir,” YN repeats as steadily as possible, she wanted to be good, and she wanted to earn his interest back.

Harry is surprised by her compliance, definitely not expecting her to follow his instructions without a fight.

“Come here, now,” His voice is tighter, lip between his teeth as he watches her carefully.

“Ho-how, sir?” YN swallows because she doesn’t want to get scolded again.

“How do you walk? That's a silly question, are you a dumb pup?” Harry asks as if she just asked the most outlandish question ever, “Walk with your two feet unless that’s too much brainpower for you, pet.”

“YN,” Arthur speaks from behind her, still sitting but YN’s back is turned to him.

She knows she should look, this is a lesson for them, to learn how to do this, to model the play, to communicate better.

She knows they’re here as a couple and Harry is simply an instructor.

But she doesn't want to turn to look at him.

YN keeps her eyes on Harry, in an almost pleading to have him help, to speak to Arthur for her because her fiance kept dragging her out of the fuzzy headspace she was desperately trying to sink into.

Harry doesn’t let anything show if he’s annoyed by Arthur.

He probably isn’t because this is a lesson for him, he isn’t really playing.

YN was and that was the issue.

“Yea-yeah?” YN manages to reply after blinking a few times, almost like snapping out of a trance, and she turns to make eye contact with her partner.

Arthur was visibly flushed, his hand was strategically placed over his lap to hide what YN is guessing is evidence that this situation is turning him on, even though he doesn’t need to hide that because that’s mostly the point of all this.

“Is…Um, color? I just didn’t know you liked being talked to that way or…ordered around like that…” Arthur still doesn’t sound upset or necessarily bothered by the revelation, just maybe a bit surprised.

“Green. I like it,” YN nods because she wants to snap at him, tell him that she’s been trying to communicate that she likes this for ages and he hasn’t caught on whatsoever, but she doesn’t want to ruin the scene so she simplifies it down to that.

“Ask him his color,” Harry reminds her from behind, “You need to check in with him too.”

I don’t want to check-in with him.

“What’s your color?” YN tries to keep interests in her tone but these interactions with Arthur are taking any semblance of an actual scene out of her mind which she knows that wasn’t the goal but she had made it her own at some point when this started.

“Green. You look amazing right now and I -,” Arthur smiles so sweetly at her, genuine and honest.

It makes her feel guilty.

YN was pretty sure in this moment that Arthur would never have the ability to be mean to her in the way she needs, in the way that Harry can provide, and that leaves her with a sinking feeling.

“Get your ass over here now,” Harry cuts Arthur off mid-sentence, irritation finally settling in on his features.

YN walks as gracefully as she can over to him, standing between his spread legs, and he reaches out to run his fingertips over the curve of her hip.

It’s surprisingly gentle until he pinches her, enough to sting, and says, “Kneel.”

YN obliges, her knees were already going to be bruised from the hardfloor beneath her but by this point, she was welcoming the aches that were going to last for days after, to remind her of Harry.

“Let’s keep simple today, shall we?” Harry asks her as he runs his open palm across her collarbone, getting closer to her chest.

Right now, she’s blatantly aware that they haven’t done anything inherently sexual which she be lying if she said that it’s not clawing at the pits of arousal in her stomach.

YN doesn’t know if she’s ever been as attracted to someone sexually as she was with Harry.

She knew these instructional sessions weren’t for his pleasure but fuck, she wishes that she got to see him in action - real, in scene action, not this only sliver of what he actually has to offer.

YN nods in response to him, trying to be on her best behavior because her disobedience really hadn’t made him more prone to play with her further than teaching.

“Open,” Harry commands as he withdraws his fingers, thumb now moving to tug on her bottom lip sharply as she complies. As soon as it was, he pressed down on her tongue, with enough pressure that she had to swallow harshly not to gag.

Harry laughs as he watches her, never taking his eyes off of her, “You can’t even handle my thumb but you want to have the attitude of a girl who can take me all the way down their throat.”

YN can’t speak, can’t tell him that she can and she can show him.

Instead, her brattiness that she’d been trying to tamper down flares right back up as she sinks her teeth into the skin of his hand in a clear way to convey she didn’t like what he had just said.

It takes Harry by surprise, his features twitching just the slightest before he’s steadying them again, and pushes down further on her tongue until she actually does gag. Before he’s pulling his spit-soaked thumb out and dragging it across her cheek, surely smearing the meticulously applied foundation and bronzer.

There’s a conflict, YN can tell Harry is debating on what his next course of action is and he seems to be arguing with himself internally before he’s gripping her jaw and making their eyes meet.

“Cut the brat shit. I’m not your dom, this is a lesson. Stop getting so far into it. Save it for your fiance,” Harry’s voice is cold, mean but not in a teasing way, almost a dismissive way and it doesn’t feel like they’re playing anymore.

It seems like he’s actually scolding her even though she sure he probably just thinks he’s giving her a reminder so that there’s no hard feelings between her and Arthur after this but it felt like a knife in her chest.

YN feels any of the feistiness leave her body, it would probably be a responsible time to use her colors, and let him know that she’s bordering on ‘yellow’ because she realizes she’s misinterpreting this whole scene.

He was never going to get into the full headspace with her.

Of course, he wasn’t.

This was fully for teaching.

And YN was trying to fall into her subspace that she would with her actual dom.

But the text messages, in particular, made her confused.

Why would he have goaded her over text like that?

“Let’s get this over with,” Harry presses his tongue to his cheek, looking frustrated as he signals for YN to stand right back up.

“Alright, I’m going to demonstrate how to properly spank. We’ll do five, alright?” Harry tells her as he reaches for her wrist, tugging her until he can position her over his lap, face-down.

But you said fifteen in the text.

Harry is now talking to Arthur directly as he lands the smacks, informing him on the proper amount of pressure, placement, repetition, and timing that all make a difference to how the scene goes.

YN can’t even focus on the words, her fingertips gripping at the leather bench in front of her, and the hits weren’t hard, they barely stung but she felt disappointment at this whole experience sink into her bones.

After the five, Harry pulls her into a sitting position next to him before standing up.

“No comment then? Want to be a brat the whole time but when you actually get a spanking, you’re dead silent?” Harry questions, hands on his hips, and he just overall seemed…unhappy.

“I wouldn’t call that a spanking,” YN scoffs in annoyance but it no longer had any playfulness in it, “Is this scene done? I’m ready to go.”

Arthur is oblivious to the intense tension between the two, standing up and straightening out his trousers, wiping the legs off, and smiling widely, “That was pretty awesome. I liked it more than I thought.”

YN embarrassingly enough feels like crying.

“Arthur,” Harry’s eyes haven’t left YN’s, “Can you leave YN and I for a second? To discuss before you head out.”

“Absolutely, I’ll be at the bar,” Arthur agrees easily, trusting as he excuses himself from the room with a kiss to YN’s cheek.

YN moves to pick up her clothes, bunching them in her arms, and refusing to acknowledge Harry’s existence as she lays them out of the bench to try to organize them in order to put them back on.

“Look at me.”

YN refuses, shaking her head, and clutching her shirt in her fist.

She felt embarrassed, let down, disappointed.

YN doesn’t hear Harry move but jumps when his hand snakes around her waist, physically turning her around to face him, and god, why the fuck are there tears streaming down her face right now?

“Why are you crying?” Harry asks bluntly, his hand leaves her hip and that makes the tears fall harder.

She’s crying over a fucking stranger who sent her a few flirty messages.

“It doesn’t matter,” YN tries to keep her gaze on her feet but the finger under her chin doesn’t allow it.

“It does matter,” Harry argues, exasperation through each word.

“I…It just wasn’t what I expected,” YN replies honestly because Harry can see straight through her lies anyways, “I’m just disappointed but that’s on me for my expectations, it’s not your nor Arthur’s fault.”

“What were your expectations?” Harry seems hesitant to ask like they both know that the honest answer isn’t appropriate for YN being in a relationship, engaged to be married type of commitment.

YN squeezes her eyes shut, the words are stuck in her throat until his hand comes back to her hip, very cautiously rubbing a circle on her hip, “I…I know you made it very clear that this was instructional. It’s not your fault for my expectations. I just….wanted….I just wanted a scene with you. A real scene.”

“You should want that with your fiance,” Harry sighs as watches her, voice low, “You should want to do a scene with him, not me.”

“I get that you don’t want that with me, that’s okay-”

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?” Harry cuts her off, a defensiveness that she hadn’t heard before in his tone, his thumb pressing in a bit harder to her hip, pressing against the bone and purposefully.

“It seemed like there were a few moments in the scene where you were into it but then…you went back to…” YN trails off because she doesn’t know the best way to put it into words.

“I went back to teaching because I shouldn’t have let myself get like that in the first place,” Harry bites out, his lip twitching as it furls downward, “It was unprofessional. This was strictly educational.”

“Do you often get lost for a moment in the scene when you’re doing instruction?” YN asks timidly, unsure of whether she wants to know the answer and if she’s trying to make this more special than it was to him.

“Never has happened before,” Harry tells her, his gaze unfaltering, “I’ve never struggled not to fall into an instructional scene before tonight.”

“This isn’t in my head,” YN swallows, feeling a bit braver in what she believes, “There is…a compatibility between the two of this. In this setting.”

“Be that as it may, it doesn’t matter,” Harry’s words are tight, strained, “You are in a relationship, working on these issues between the two of you. So that Arthur can provide you with what you want.”

“Tell me honestly, sir,” YN lets the name roll off her tongue thickly, smiling to herself when his hand squeezes at her again, pressing and pressing into her skin, “Do you think that Arthur will be able to tame me? You can’t even do it.”

Finally, that familiar wicked smile spread over his tense features, his eyes twinkling under the dim light.

Because just like her, he loves a challenge.

“I could break you, over and over,” Harry steps further into her space, she was suddenly very aware of how undressed she was in comparison to him, “Make you into the sweetest little sub that I would never get sick of using.”

“That-that doesn’t answer my question,” YN’s breath was picking up, he could tell, and he moves to cup the side of her neck, thumb laying over her pulse point.

“The question of whether Arthur will be able to learn how to handle you? In the way you need?” Harry clarifies as his eyes dart down to watch the way his fingertips dimple the skin underneath them.

YN nods.

“You and I both know the answer to that,” Harry scoffs with a shake of his head, the smiling fading a bit, “No, I do not think your fiance will be able to give you what you need. He doesn’t seem like the type to suddenly be able to dom.”

YN wants to kiss him, drop her kneels in front of him, beg him for anything he’s willing to give her.

And yet, she’s engaged.

The ring had never felt good on her finger but right now, it felt like a fucking trapped life sentence.

Harry moves to take a step back which has YN reaching out to grip her wrist, “Please.”

He lets her hold him but sighs, “We probably shouldn’t do another lesson together. I don’t think that I can do another scene with you acting like such a fuckin’….a brat and try to keep it as a learning experience. I can set you two up with another instructor-”

“Why didn’t you set us up with a different instructor in the first place?” YN throws the question at him, “Raven said you didn’t play here anymore or teach. But you-”

“You know why,” Harry cuts her off, not willing to lay it out any clearer for her, “You know why and I can admit it was a bad idea. I should have thought it through and I shouldn’t have offered myself.”

“It’s because you want me,” YN lets a smile creep onto her face, arrogance filtering throug her veins and she takes his hand, bringing it to her hip once again, “You wanted to play with me. You wanted a chance-”

“And I shouldn’t have given into it,” Harry won’t let her finish a sentence, “I know from your paperwork that you aren’t in an open relationship. You need to go the fuck out there to your fiance and forget about this.”

YN doesn’t like that answer.

Of course she doesn’t.

But he’s absolutely right.

What she was doing was borderline cheating, by just engaging in their conversations that she wouldn’t have had if Arthur was in the room with them.

YN had never once thought about cheating on Arthur or any of her partner’s in the past.

She judged people who cheated on their signficant others.

And now all she can think about is how much she wants Harry.

She was royally fucked and she knows it.

“Fine,” YN bites back, her guard completely up and she turns her back to him.

She can sense his hesitation before he’s cursing under his breathe and slamming the door on his way out.

They don’t talk about the lesson.

Not on the way home, not before bed, not the next day.

Arthur doesn’t try to initiate any type of power play when they have sex that night when they get home from playing.

YN doesn’t see a world where they’re going to go back to The Body Factory because the lack of interest from Arthur about domming was blatantly obvious in his actions following their arrival home.

YN notices Arthur being much more distant after that night, just for the following few days as he was much more quiet, reserved than he normally was, and overall seemed lost in his thoughts.

She starts to worry that this all was just such a poor idea, for both of them.

“What is going on?” YN finally asks one night while they sit at the dinner table, across from each other in silence leading up to this, “You’ve barely spoken to me all week. If it’s about what happened on Saturday night, just say it.”

Arthur puts down his fork and knife, wiping his mouth with his napkine before sighing, “I’m sorry, sweetie pie. There’s just been…a lot on my mind and a lot to process after this weekend.”

“You could have just talked to me about it. I thought we were supposed to have positive communication about all of this while we figured it out,” YN lets her fork clatter loudly, showing her irritation but to be fair, she was much more on edge later than normal.

“You’re right,” Arthur agrees, his expression is soft and apologetic like it always was, never wanting to argue, “I…I needed to figure some things out for myself and kind of…process. I worry that I’m going to upset you with what I want to talk about and I guess I was just trying to find the right time.”

YN braces herself for what she knows is coming, they’re not going back to that club, she’ll never see Harry again.

“Just say it, Arthur,” YN sighs, rubbing a hand over her eyes and she knows her shoulders have slumped slightly.

There’s a pause.

“I dont think I can be what you need, in terms of dominant,” Arthur’s voice is cautious, “But I discovered that I, uh, I liked watching you with Harry. Like….I really enjoyed it and have been thinking about it a lot.”

YN’s eyebrows raise to the ceiling.

That was not how she expected this conversation to go.

Harry asks YN and Arthur to come into the club on a weekday night to discuss what they are asking from him.

They weren’t able to get a hold of them and the secretary was able to set up an appointment to talk about their membership.

YN and Arthur are sat in his office, dark with the green undertones accented throughout the room, matte and deep oak wood.

The door opens behind them, YN feels herself tense and Arthur must feel it too because he gives her a reassuring squeeze on the hand he’s holding of hers.

“If you’re here to cancel your membership, you��re still charge for the entirety of the year. You already signed a contractual agreement,” Harry’s voice is disinterested, dull as he rounds his desk and sits down in front of them.

“No, that’s not why we asked for a meeting,” Arthur is a bit flustered, eyes darting away like he can’t quite look directly at Harry.

“I’m not interested in doing instructional sessions. It wasn’t a good match and I offered you other educators we have here.”

YN feels like it’s purposeful that Harry hasn’t made eye contact with her once when he typical couldn’t take his gaze off of her.

Arthur’s hand is clammy on hers, making her want to pull away but she was in all honesty feeling the nerves of this meeting too.

She didn’t know how she would handle a rejection from Harry.

Even though she knew there was a much higher likelihood that he would reject the proposition than accept.

Raven had given Arthur a bit of information last weekend when YN and Harry were along in in play room still.

She had told Arthur that Harry hadn’t had a sub in the eight years that he hadn’t played at his own club.

Raven wouldn’t disclose what happened that made him stop partcipating and only faciliating, as it obvious didn’t take his interest out of this world or his ability to be a good dominate.

This was a shot in the dark.

”I am busy. Let’s speed this up,” Harry makes a point of glancing down at the very-expensive looking gold watch on his wrist as if he has a meeting with the queen after this.

”Of course, my apologizes,” Arthur instantly responds, submissive without even realizing it, something that makes YN’s skin crawl, “After the instructional session last week. My fiancée and I discussed our thoughts and where we wanted to go from there.”

Harry just blinks at him, heavily like he’s losing interest.

”And er, I definitely realized that I don’t have the capacity to be what YN needs in that aspect nor is it really my interest. However, seeing YN act like….”

”A spoiled brat?” Harry fills in, running his tongue over the front of his teeth.

He was so intimidating, just by the way he held himself, shoulders broad, head held high to show off the defineition of his jawline, and his faux calm demeanor like nothing in this world bothers him.

Artuhur chuckles, squeezing YN’s hand again, “I was going to say that she was acting so differently, free, and yes, bratty. It was unlike anything I’ve seen from her before and I do not want to be the one to dull that light for her. However, I still want to experience it with her…from more of a onlooker perspective like last week.”

Again, cue a twitch of guilt because Arthur was a good guy and he cared about YN very much but it didn’t stop her from the craving for something from Harry as it should.

”There are plenty of open doms here or doms that will have more than one sub at a time,” Harry’s teeth are gritted now, it was subtle but YN notices that way his fingers are gripping a pen in his hand.

”That’s not what YN is interested in,” Arthur’s has seemed to calm down a little bit, his voice more conversational, “We talked about it extensively and the reason we are here is because we would specifically like you to consider being YN’s dominant. It’s something we’ve both discussed and both feel comfortable with. If it is something that you would think about.”

Harry cannot hide the surprise, his eyebrow raises before he’s steeling his expression again, giving Arthur a bored blink, and he doesn’t respond right away.

YN just wants him to fucking look at her.

“You put clearly in your paperwork that you are not interested in other partners,” Harry settles on stating after leaning back in his chair, hand dragging through his curls.

”Well, I discovered uh…” Arthur starts to become flush.

”It’s fine, Art,” YN finally says, patting his knee, “Everyone has something there. This is literally the place for it. What you like isn’t unusual.”

“I like watching YN with someone else,” Arthur admits, looking down at his hands and trying not to become even more embarrassed, “And I feel comfortable with her being with you. I trust that you would take good care of her but also give her what I cannot.”

Harry narrows his eyes, “You realize what you saw this past weekend was nothing in comparison to what actual scenes look like, right? You’re agreeing that you're open to me doing whatever I please with her, break her, and it won’t be pretty much of the time. At least to the outside onlooker…”

”I know, I’ve done my research recently,” Arthur nods, he starts twisting his wrists between his other fingers as he always did in an anxious habit.

”I cannot give you an answer tonight. It’s something that I will have to think about,” Harry decides, sitting up straighter and tugging at his suit jacket to adjust it.

”Are you going to even acknowledge my existence tonight?” YN blurts out because she cannot take it anymore, he won’t even make eye contact with her, and she knows it's purposeful.

“Did the kitty need attention? Can’t go a minute without it, huh?” Harry chuckles as he slowly rolls his gaze over to her, eyes finally glancing up and down her body before meeting her stare once again.

YN bites her lip, refusing to give into his teasing if this isn’t going to have the end result she wants because the fire building in her belly is already back with a vengeance.

“I just think you’re being rude,” YN shrugs defiantly, crossing her leg over the other and bouncing it like she was impatient to leave, giving him a reminder that he does want to play with her - he’s said it himself.

That fucking smile spreads on his face.

The one when he’s challenged and he knows he’s going to win.

”I think you’re being a greedy slut but I wasn’t going to say anything,” Harry’s voice sounds curiously fond, enamored by her, and it makes her preen at the unspoken praise of his reaction.

YN scowls but when Arthur touches her bouncing leg, it drags her out of any floatiness that she was going to drift to, and it was probably for the best anyways in this moment.

“I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow,” Harry tells them, standing up and motioning towards the door, and Arthur thanks him more than once before starting to trail out.

As Arthur starts to head down the hallway, a hand reaches out and wraps around her wrist, stopping her for a moment, and causing her to look back at the person who grabbed it.

Harry’s eyes are back to the intensed, lock-in almost predatory stare.

”Do you think this is a good idea?” Harry asks quietly, so even though her fiancé is oblivious, he doesn’t hear.

”I can’t think of a better one,” YN responds honestly, “If I’m being selfish, yes. This is a good idea.”

“And if you’re actually thinking about your fiancé?” Harry prompts, eyebrow raised and truly questioning her.

”He liked watching,” YN acts like she doesn’t know what the underlying question that he’s asking is, “I think this is a good idea for both of us. We’re adults who are consenting and both talked this through at lengths.”

Harry nods, lip tucked under his teeth, worrying it until it’s puffy.

YN feels a pit of despair at his reaction, it didn’t seem positive, and it doesn’t seem like this is something he will agree to which he has every right to do but the feelings must flash across YN’s face.

”Hey,” Harry’s voice is softer, his thumb comes up to tug at her bottom lip, “Everything will be fine, okay? I’ll reach out tomorrow.”

”Okay,” YN sighs, leaning into his touch more than she hold because it was definetly inappropriate, “Just…please think about it.”

Harry nods, letting her go, and starting to close the door.

YN can’t be one hundred percent certain but she’s nearly confident that she heard Harry mutter something under his breath as he closed the door that sure sounded a lot like…

”Don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to you. M’fucked.”

YN checks her phone all day during work.

Nothing from Harry.

It makes her even more anxious when she gets a text from Arthur saying that Harry reached out to him and would like to meet privately that night.

YN patiently waits for her confirmation of whether he’s on board or not but the text doesn’t come in until after Arthur’s stopped at the club after work and they talked.

YN realizes that it was all very intentional when at right near midnight sends a simple text.

Harry [11:59PM]: After talking to your fiancé, I’ve decided that I will agree to be your dominant. However, that is contingent on how our meeting goes.

Harry [12:00 AM]: When your shift is done tonight, meet me at the club. We will need to have a meeting to establish further boundaries, limits, and expectations.

Harry [12:01 AM]: Understood?

YN is tired and insanely happy which makes her feel rather pliant and sweet.

YN [12:03 AM]: Yes sir.

Harry [12:08 AM]: Good girl for me already? Get some rest, kitty. I will see you tomorrow.

YN sleeps like a fucking baby.

The club is surprisingly busy for a Thursday night.

YN’s shift was in the evening and when she walked into the club, there were people playing in the free play area - very much already into their scenes.

YN knew she didn’t look her absolute best.

She had changed out of her scrubs, into a flowy dress that had been easy to throw on, and purposefully forgoing a bra.

YN had taken her hair out of her claw clip, smudged on some tinted lip balm, and swiped on a coat of mascara hurriedly in the hospital locker room before making her way here.

It had been all she could think about all day and now that she’s in the darken, moody atmosphere it was feeling very real.

YN doesn’t see Harry monitoring the free play from his usual spot, in fact, he’s not in the main room at all.

YN decides to go over to the bar, always in the mood for a Shirley temple, reminding her of her childhood a bit.

Raven was there, as always, looking radiant and unbothered as she greets her happily, “Hey! It’s so great to see you again. I wasn’t sure if I was after last week's session. I swear Harry had been in an awful mood after that and it only got better once you and Arthur came in for a meeting.”

That was…interesting.

“Did he say anything?” YN can’t help but ask.

“Uh,” Raven’s eyes dart to the side, shifty and avoidant.

“No, no worries,” YN soothes easily, not meaning to put her on the spot, “It was an experience. It wasn’t what I -“

“Hello there, beautiful,” A deep voice interrupts their conversation, a hand brazenly sliding onto her bare shoulder.

It wasn’t Harry.

The man was attractive, above average but held no light to Harry.

He was muscular, in a way that wasn’t YN’s type.

His muscles were bulging, like they didn’t have enough room until his skin, and he was making it obvious that he was flexing his biceps.

“I just saw you walk in alone. God, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Your tits are -“ The man begins to compliment.

Raven snaps her fingers, making a motion across her lips to the man to be quiet.

However, someone clears their throat, and all three turn their heads to Harry who was now standing behind them with a displeased frown.

“Hands off of her,” Harry murmurs, his voice is level, non-aggressive but still incredibly domineering that it wasn’t a recommendation.

It was an order.

The man removes his hand like he’d been burned, stepping back, and instantly apologizing the owner, “I-I didn’t know-“

Harry ignores him, glancing at Raven, “From here on out, please inform the guests that my submissive is off-fucking limits. Clear?”

“Yes,” Raven agrees with wide eyes.

The possessiveness as he puts his hand on her lower back was quite possibly the hottest thing that YN had experienced in her life.

The man disappears back into the group but is clearly passing on the message, whispered surprise as Harry guides her towards his office.

YN can hear bits and pieces of hushed conversation.

“What do you mean that’s his submissive?”

“He’s never once done that before. When he used to play, nearly a decade ago, he always shared his submissive.” “He must be down bad for her.”

“I tried to get him for ages to play with me. She’s been here once.”

“Well yeah but look at her.”

That’s all she can gather before they’re out of earshot.

“You’re off limits. They won’t bother you again,” Harry assures her as he guides her into his office, motioning to a seat before walking to his desk.

YN nodded, her heart was pounding, and she had definitely lost a bit of bravery.

Harry opens a folder, YN notices her handwriting, and realizes it’s all of the questionnaires and paperwork.

“This paperwork is fine for casual play but we need to establish more before I feel comfortable getting started,” Harry tells her as his eyes trace over the information.

“Your hard limits…” Harry trails off as he skims, “We have a few similar ones. Neither of us are into body fluid play other than come. As well as we both do not like temperature play, well hot wax in particular.”

“Allergic reaction made my bum cheek swell up like I got stung by fifty bees,” YN smiles shyly, it was so nerve-wracking, she was intimidated and he wasn’t even trying at that moment.

Harry lets out a laugh, a genuine one, a sound she hasn’t heard before and it was beautiful like the rest of him.

“I also had an allergic reaction. I thought my cock was going to be permanently damaged,” Harry’s smile is softer, the dimple still appearing.

“I still have a scar on my ass,” YN giggles, he’d find it soon enough but now he knows why she has it.

“Any other limits not mentioned?”

“No, I mean I haven’t tried everything but those things are definite no-gos,” YN tells him, her nails digging into her thighs unconsciously almost.

“And we will find out other things you don’t like along the way. Hopefully, we find more things that you enjoy,” Harry's voice is gentle, like he can sense her nervousness and is trying to ease it.

“Things you know you like,” Harry prompts, looking back down towards her papers.

“I like to be a…brat as you know. I really love the dynamic of pushing and pushing until I give in. I love making my dom frustrated and annoyed. However, if the aftercare isn’t sweet and extremely gentle than it ruins the experience for me.”

The smile had naturally faded off if his face, eyes intent on her, “You want me to wear you down? Until you’re crying for me to be nice to you but even then I’ll give you more. After we wrap up, you want praise, compliments, and affection.”

YN nods in agreement, “Exactly.”

“Was this what your previous dom gave you?”

“Sorta? We were younger and he was still really learning. He wasn’t as mean as I wanted but he struggled with that part. He was definitely a softer dom than what I wanted. He could only handle so much of me being a brat, it was a fine line because he would start to actually get angry with me and it was hard for me to tell. I never fully felt like I was able to push as much as I wanted.”

“You will be able to push as far as you want with me. If you think you can go hard, I promise you I will give it back a hundred times worse,” Harry's words are threatening but she knows he’ll make good on it.

“We’ll see,” YN pokes the side of her cheek with her tongue in an act of indifference

Harry glances at her from under his eyelashes, gaze darting down to her chest for a moment before her lips then her eyes again.

YN knows her nipples are outlined against the thin fabric, ready to be played with, and teasing right in front him.

“As for Arthur,” Harry’s voice gets serious again, “I already laid out to him all of his rules and expectations. I do not share in scene.”

“I heard other members saying you did share your submissives,” YN isn’t arguing, just curious.

Harry pauses, lip twitching before blinking slowly and very distinctly says, “I will not share you in a scene. Is that an issue?”

“No, I don’t want that either. I just didn’t know what made me different,” YN responds, picking at her thumb on her lap.

“A lot of things make you different,” Harry replies cryptically, he doesn’t elaborate nor does YN ask because he continues speaking.

“He will not participate. He will not speak. And he will leave the room when I’m providing aftercare,” Harry tells her firmly, fingers drumming against the dark cherry oak.

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was hesitant at first but aftercare is very important to provide. I should be the one taking care of you afterwards, at least immediately afterwards, and I take it very seriously.”

“That all sounds fine.”

YN has to bite back saying ‘can you ask Arthur not to be in the room at all?’

“We will meet every Saturday night. At the start of hours. You will not socialize with others nor will you participate in free play. You will be fully dressed at all times in front of other members.”

YN tilts her head, leaning forward just the slightest so she knows there’s a gap in her top, flashing him his first sight of her breasts.

“Yes sir.”

Harry’s fingers roll tightly into a fist, exactly how she would hope he would have responded.

“I cannot wait to make you cry like the little disobident brat you are, fuckin’ starving for anything I’ll give you,” Harry tells her, voice dropping noticeably lower.

“I’ve been good all night. I’ve said sir,” YN makes sure to sound as innocent as possible, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

It’s crossing a boundary, surely.

Arthur isn’t here.

YN cannot find it in her to care.

“Then I guess our scenes will be mild, boring,” Harry shrugs, his cadence going slower, deeper into his accent, “Shame.”

He stands up, taking his time to round the desk, and reaches out his hand, “I will walk you out.”

YN raises her eyebrow, “In a minute. My legs are sore from running around all day.”

She gets the perfect response.

Frustration.

Harry’s jaw shifts under his skin, teeth together, and nostrils flaring, “Get the fuck up.”

“Jesus, someone has an attitude,” YN mutters under her breath but obviously loud enough that Harry would be able to hear her clear as day.

She pushes herself out of the seat and turns towards the door, the opposite side of where Harry is standing to bypass him.

As she walks towards the exit, a hand reaches from behind her, his chest suddenly flush against her back, and a hand cupping the sides of her neck.

He pulls her back into him with enough force that it knocks the wind out of her for a moment and she squeals in surprise, airway suddenly restricted slightly.

“You’re cute when you’re brave, kitty,” Harry whispers in her ear, teeth grazing her lone, and he bites her - enough to sting, “I’ll show you a fucking attitude. One you’ve never seen.”

His fingers tighten for a moment and YN doesn’t think before she’s pressing her bum back into the cradle of his hips.

He was thick, unsurprisingly big from what she could feel, and she was craving that inside her as soon as possible.

YN reaches for the hand on her throat and surprisingly, Harry lets her move if, down over her collarbones, down over her sternum, and guides him right to her chest.

Over the fabric, Harry finds her hard nipple with ease, and gives her the hardest tweak she’d ever experienced, gasping as she grinds backwards.

“Enough.”

Harry suddenly takes his hand, his body away, and is standing at a distance.

He shakes his head, “We can’t be doing things like this. You know that.”

YN bites her bottom lip, she knows why, and she knows Harry is just trying to respect her fiancé even when she can’t.

“Yeah,” YN agrees, trying to stop the tightness because she’s in over her head, how can she only have him once a week.

Why was she so fucking in to him when she barely knows him?

When she’s fucking engaged, with a date, a ring, and her father’s blessing to be wed.

YN crosses her arms over her chest, embarrassed because she almost feels like she’s being scolded for her actions.

As she should be.

His hand comes to her neck, cupping it gently this time as he sighs, shaking his head solemnly before their eyes meet, “This isn’t a good idea.”

YN’s heart rate spikes.

“You’re going to destroy me, aren’t you?”

And the way he says it isn’t teasing but isn’t accusatory either.

It’s like it’s a fact.

“I’ll try not to,” YN peeps up, swallowing harshly.

Harry laughs wistfully, thumbing over the center of her throat before stepping back, “S’a bit too late now, kitty.” ++

Friday cannot come quick enough.

YN is excited enough that the buzzing in her veins feels electric.

YN had sent Harry a picture earlier in the day of a hot pink lingerie set and then simpler black one next to it.

YN [11:03AM]: which one, sir? [photo attachment]

Harry [12:34PM]: It doesn’t matter. You’re stripping the minute you’re in the room.

Harry [1:01PM]: I am very rarely spontaneous. I have had this night planned since I first sat you in the club that first night.

YN [1:02PM]: when you were playing candy crush on your phone?

Harry [1:03PM]: I wasn’t playing candy crush. I was reviewing your file virtually to see if you were available for open play.

YN[1:04PM]: i thought you didn’t play in your club anymore

Harry[1:04PM]: I haven’t in nearly a decade.

YN’s hands were shaking, excitement, confusion, and curiosity.

YN[1:06PM]: what would you have done if i had been available?

Harry[1:13PM]: I would have fucked you so well that you wouldn’t have wanted to even look in your fiancé’s direction ever again. That you would have chased after me like a puppy after that instead of it being obvious how much I wanted you.

Harry[1:13PM]: I wanted you to only be able to think of me every time you slept with your fiancé.

Harry[1:14PM]: I’ve never been a possessive man but something in you has sparked it for me. I typically share without a problem. The one time I actually have to share, it’s going to be a struggle. I’m willing to try.

YN felt that Harry was actually being vulnerable with her for the first time and she didn’t know what all of this meant. There is warning signs that YN is blatantly ignoring because he just fed her everything she’d wanted to hear.

YN[1:23PM]: thank you for trying

Harry [1:39PM]: I will see you tonight, sweet girl.

Sweet girl.

It felt different than the sweetie pie that Arthur went with, a nickname that she never had liked but didn’t have the heart to tell him.

YN may have reread their texts a few times as she got ready for the night.

She was going to have to meet Arthur there as he was coming from a work dinner.

Arthur meets her outside the club, giving her a firm kiss which takes her by surprise, he murmurs, “I cannot wait to see you tonight in there.”

YN rubs his shoulder, stiff when he kisses at her neck, and grips her hip.

“We should probably go in,” YN whispers back, stepping out of his hold to motion towards the door.

“Okay, sweetie,” Arthur smiles brightly, oblivious to any tension that YN’s holding in her body as he keeps his hand on her waist and follows her in.

YN had forgotten to tell Arthur about the rule that Harry did not want her interacting with other members before a scene.

And Harry clearly hadn’t communicated that with him because when they walk through the free play room doors, he guides them towards a group.

Arthur had made friends with a few people and they wave at them when they walk in, encouraging them to come chat.

YN feels herself start to panic slightly, this wasn’t good, off the bat she wasn’t following instructions and she needed to speak up.

“Hey guys!” Arthur greets as he pulls her with him into the circle of people.

“No, Art. I can’t -“ YN starts to frantically whisper into his ear as his brows twist downward in confusion.

Suddenly, everyone in the group goes wide-eyed, and YN has a sinking feeling that she knows exactly why.

A hand wraps around her throat, similar to the other day, and applies practiced pressure on the sides where her blood flows as he yanks her backwards into his chest.

His lips to her ear and it’s not necessarily what he says but it’s the tone.

It’s the dominance, the aggression, and something about it seems borderline primal, rasp and deep as he speaks carefully.

“If you think this is going to work in your favor, you’re very fucking wrong,” Harry warns with another squeeze, firmer this time.

Everyone around them is quiet.

They’re almost in shock.

And YN knows it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with Harry being openly dominant when he hasn’t in nearly a decade.

Harry must look towards the crowd, “My stupid lil’ kitty seemed to forget her rules already. You are not to interact with her prior or during play hours. Afterwards, it is fine. However, she is off-limits in every fucking sense. Understood?”

“Yes.”

All in unison.

Harry doesn’t acknowledge Arthur’s existence.

The hand on her neck was possession, ownership, and making sure everyone knew that YN was his to play with only.

“Sir, I-“ YN begins to try to speak when he lets up slightly.

Harry leans back toward her ear, his voice noticeably softer and quiet enough no one else can hear, “Hush. No play in front of others, remember? S’just for us. Now let’s go.”

YN closes her mouth and nods, eyes downward to avoid making eye contact with anyone who was watching.

Harry releases his grip, hand coming to intertwine their fingers which seems like such a stark contrast from where he’d been applying pressure to her airways.

It’s a quiet trek down the hallway, YN keeps her head down even when Arthur exchanges pleasantries with Raven.

Once they’re in the room, YN feels like she’s quivering in a mixture of fear of the unknown and anticipated excitement.

Arthur goes to the chair in the far corner without prompting, silent as he should be.

YN doesn’t plan to look at him at all.

Imagining it’s just her and her dom.

Harry is hers.

Atleast on Fridays.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?” Harry rasps lowly, stepping in front of her and studying her face.

YN shakes her head.

“Speak the fuck up,” Harry’s voice is substantially louder, meaner, and his whole expression has changed into something darker, malicious.

“No,” YN shakes her head again, biting back with a little attitude.

The same smile, deviant and enthralled with her response spreads on his face, dimples carving into his cheeks.

“Then let’s start,” Harry rumbles as he steps back even further, sitting on the bench, “Strip. Everything off.” + 👀 please let me know your thoughts! They make my day

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles one shot

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andillneverbethesame · 3 days

Note

omg i love your writing!! could you do a taylor swift song prompt of “so high school” x james potter? potentially with a ravenclaw reader?

looove this! so high school is absolutely james coded aaaaa. this is so short but i hope u enjoy anyway<33

so high school

❥ james potter x ravenclaw!fem!reader

❥ warnings; none really

❥ word count; 1.2k

❥ my ts masterlists; pt 1 & pt 2

"oi, james!" sirius called his best mate and gestured for james to sit next to him as if he wasn't going to do that anyway.

"good morning, everybody," james smiled at his friendgroup, his eyes lingering on you a tiny bit longer than on anyone else, making your heart flutter and your cheeks to heat up. you glanced back Down on your plate in hopes to hide it.

"james," sirius spoke up again, "marry, kiss or kill; lily, marlene, y/n."

"well, we all know who'd he want to marry," marlene said in a low voice, only for you and lily to hear. lily snorted and you lightly elbowed her.

the girls were convinced that james fancies you just as much as you fancied him. however, you found that hard to believe that someone so perfect like him could like someone like you.

james frowned. "i don't like this game."

sirius rolled his eyes. "oh, come on, you just don't want to say it out loud so you don't hurt anyone's feelings." he tapped on his ear. "whisper it to me."

james lowered his head at the level of his best friend's ear and whispered his answer. you girls tried your best to read his lips but it was no use.

"oh." an amused look appeared on sirius's face and he looked at you. you stared back at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

come on, james. are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

——————————————————————

the gryffindor quidditch team won the cup.

just when it seemed that they were going to lose against hufflepuffs, james caught the snitch, making the score 250 - 260 for the reds.

you were never more proud of him than in that very moment. you jumped from your seat and yelled his name in a cheering tone, clapping so hard your hands almost hurt. like if he heard you, his brown eyes found yours in the crowd. he grinned and sent you a wink and a kiss. james was thanking you, you were his lucky charm.

that night, the gryffindors threw the biggest party ever. it was many student's last game at hogwarts so it was also a goodbye party. all of the team members were there and talked about the match and their time playing together in general.

quidditch wasn't your thing. you were the stereotypical ravenclaw and you'd much rather be in your bed, under cover and reading a book. but james practically begged you to be there. after all, it was thanks to you that they won. you knew that wasn't the truth but you couldn't say no to him and you were glad you didn't. he looked so happy and beautiful and you couldn't help but admire him.

"let's play truth or dare!" marlene's voice rang through the common room and every person there agreed.

"i think i'm gonna go back to my dorm, it's late," you yelled over the loud music into james's ear.

"nooo," james pouted and give you a puppy look, he got a hold of your hand. "you can't leave now. please? just stay here for ten more minutes."

you sighed. you hated how easily you'll do anything he says.

"alright," you said and let him drag you to the circle of people in the middle of the room. a lot of people had gone to sleep already or some could be found vomiting in the bathroom so there weren't a lot of you. you sat down next to each other and waited for the game to start.

marlene picked up an empty whiskey bottle and spun it around. it landed on mary and she groaned, knowing that her friend has some of the most. . . interesting questions and dares.

"mary," marlene grinned widely. "truth or dare?"

"truth."

the blonde took a few seconds to think of a question before asking, "the freakiest place you did it at."

"that would be. . . a bed of one of my dorm mates."

"what?" lily, alice and marlene asked in terror, each of them wondering whose bed was it.

mary smiled innocently. "my turn," she spun the bottle. and then, everyone glanced at the boy beside you. you let out a sigh of relief.

"jamie, truth o—"

"dare."

a devilish smile crept onto the girl's lips.

"kiss y/n."

your eyes went wide as the people around you let out an "oooooh".

"mary!" you hissed. "what the f—"

before you could finish your sentence, you were rudely interrupted.

he tasted of— well, alcohol. rum and coke, to be exact. but it didn't matter. he was kissing you, and your whole body was on fire, your heart rate raised to at least hundred more beats per minute and fireworks. it was maybe cliché, yes. but it was the truth.

before you could fully register what the hell was happening, he was pulling away, making your lips feel cold at the sudden loss of the warmth of his mouth.

his gaze shifted from your lips to your eyes.

"i imagined our first kiss differently," he spoke in a low voice so only you could hear, sounding disappointed. he reached for the bottle and spun it around so the game could continue.

you stared at him for at least ten more seconds. you couldn't believe what just happened and what he said after.

and you started to wonder that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

——————————————————————

and in a blink of a crinkling eye, you were at sirius's and remus's apartment, sitting on james's lap in the living room. all of your boyfriend’s closest friends were there and just like any other saturday night, you had a film night. tonight, it was american pie.

james and you started dating only recently. it’s been a month,to be exact. so everything felt still really new. and you felt embarrassing for the fact that he still had the same effect on you like when you were bittersweet sixteen. it takes you back to the times when you used to admire him only from afar. but now, you get to kiss him. you get to touch him.

like, for example, he was just touching you. as you tried to stifle your sighs, everyone seemed to be paying a great attention to the film. except for you two, of course. you coud not focus when james was constantly placing kisses in the crook of your neck and your shoulders. you could not focus when one of his hands was drawing on the skin of yourupper thigh. you could not focus when his hot breath made you shudder.

“james,” you sighed quietly. “you got to stop.”

“and why would i do that?” he whispered back.

you rolled your eyes playfully. “you’re horrible.”

he shrugged. “you love me.”

oh, you did.

out of the blue, he spoke louder, “guys, me and y/n are sorry but we’re pretty tired so we’re headed home.”

huh?

all of your friends looked at each other and than back at you, saying “suuuuureee” in union.

“james, why are we leaving?” you ran outside after him.

he turned around and smiled. “you already know.”

“aw, we’re horrible!” you pouted playfully. “we’re abandoning our friends to have sex.”

“i’m sure they understand,” he said as he opened the door of his car. “remus and sirius used to do that all the time.”

you burst out laughing and let him pull you to the back seat.

no one’s ever had you, not like him.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #marauders #marauders imagine #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #harry potter x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #harry potter fluff #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter x you

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hayakawalove · 2 days

Text

Test of Love (Chapter Five)

All Chapters

Summary: You and Satoru talk about the recent attacks. After he leaves, Suguru comes to your house. A/N: Hello! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. It was really fun to write and I've been building it up a lot. Comments always appreciated!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader W/C: 7,333

Credit to Benkeibear for the banner

Your apartment was excruciatingly quiet, the only sounds were coming from your fingers as you picked at your shirt, and the low hum of your AC.

He was going to be here any second now. Any second.

Satoru was coming to your house tonight to go over potential suspects regarding the attacks on the school. He was the one who suggested the idea. In theory it sounded great. After proposing it, he quickly followed up saying he wanted to do it at your house, which left you feeling a bit nervous.

The loud sound of your doorbell shakes you from your thoughts, causing you to jump to your feet. He’s here. You rush to the door, gripping the handle tightly as you swing it open. Satoru’s standing there with a pile of papers shoved under his arm.

“Satoru!” You say.

Before you can greet him properly, he’s leaning down and grabbing your face. His lips press against yours in a rather rushed way, the taste of him seeping into your mouth. You fly your hands up and grip his shirt, eventually pushing your lips against his. He’s grinning by the time he’s pulling away, leaning over you.

“Hey.” He responds, cooly.

You try to self regulate your breathing while he slips past you into your apartment. The air immediately shifts around you the second Satoru enters your place, a fact that is not lost on you. No matter where he went, he shifted it.

You carefully shut the door behind you as you turn around, taking in the sight of Satoru in your house. He’s dropped you off before, but he’s never been inside. Everything looks small surrounding him, briefly making you wonder if you’ve actually lived in a dollhouse this whole time.

Satoru takes in his surroundings, before making his way to your couch and sitting down. He splays the papers out on the coffee table in front of him, pulling his blindfold down at the same time.

Stunning.

You suppress a groan at the sight of his blue eyes, instead choosing to slide into the seat next to him. Your hands are sweaty, and you aren't sure if it’s because of your anxiety about the attacks or because Satoru was in your house.

“What’s the matter with you?” Satoru asks, handing you half a stack of papers.

You grab it and quickly flick through the pile, mentally groaning at the amount.

“I’m just worried about what’s been happening at the school.”

You had no reason to believe it was anything scary, anything scarier than what was considered normal at least. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of your brain telling you that something wasn’t right.

“That's why I’m here, right?” Satoru kicks up his feet on your coffee table.

Satoru had brought over a stack of curse users that Jujutsu High was keeping an eye on. It was bigger than you were expecting. You were hoping the answer would lie somewhere in the list. Now that you were looking at how many there were, you were sure statistically speaking they had to be in there, you wouldn't be surprised if the whole damn population of Tokyo was in it.

You heave out a sigh and look down at your half. The first page greets you, a man named Tetsuya Nakamura was listed, his picture staring right at you. He looked like the definition of evil, his dark eyes staring straight at you.

How were you going to narrow down the list?

“I have an update about the last attack. Remember how some trees were lit on fire?” Satoru asks, his gaze flicking through the first paper before he sets it down. “Turns out there were remnants of cursed energy on the remains of the trees. Someone used their technique to light it up.”

Well that would help in knowing what to look for. It didn’t make you feel any more relieved though, knowing there was someone who could light the school on fire lurking around.

“So look for someone who can start a fire, got it.” You mumble, setting Nakamura’s page to the side. As scary as he looked, he wouldn't have been able to do it.

The room is mostly silent as the two of you look through the files of what Tokyo’s most evil had to offer.

It felt like hours had passed as the two of you searched, the sun slowly setting outside your windows.

“Aha, there he is.” Satoru murmurs to himself, pulling a paper out and looking at it.

You perk your head up to see who he’s talking about. Mahiro Kawaguchi. He doesn’t look at all like what you’d expect a curse user to look like. He's skinny with short brown hair, his eyes holding something like humor in them.

“Who’s that?” You ask.

Satoru sets his stack of papers down, eyes drawn into Mahiro.

“He's a pretty infamous fire user. The kids been on our radar for months but we’ve always had bigger fish to fry. I think he's probably the most fitting out of what we have.”

You had never heard of the guy, but that didn’t really surprise you. The elders had their eyes on many people, most of which you probably didn’t even know existed.

“This whole thing is weird, Satoru.”

Something was off about this situation. At first, you thought that they were doing multiple attacks to wear everyone down. But it's been going on for so long, wouldn’t something have happened by now? It feels like there’s a missing piece, one you can’t quite wrap your head around.

Satoru looks up at you expectantly.

“Why hasn’t anything happened yet? If they were going to hit us with something major, they would've done it by now, right?” You ask, dropping your pile of papers on the coffee table.

Satoru looks away for a moment to think, his teeth digging inside his cheek.

“I think so. I'm also really confused about how they burned that patch of trees down. I checked the schedule for the day, and the graduates came as soon as we left. They should have caught them.”

If that was the case, why didn’t they?

You dig the heels of your palms in your eyes, feeling the onset of a migraine coming on. Two mysteries you had to solve, and you weren’t sure how much time you had.

Tilting your head to the side, you notice Satoru is staring at the ceiling. You were never sure if you wanted to catch a glimpse inside his mind or not. Just what did someone like Satoru think about? How much did he know?

“And I mean, Mahiro is a dumbass. The nature of it all doesn’t suit him. He never takes a slow approach. But his curse technique fits it the best. Unless, it’s someone completely new which will be a fucking headache.” Satoru taps his foot lightly against your floor.

He looks down through snow white lashes, making eye contact with you. He looks weary and broken down, exhaustion seeping through his features. It's sick, but you feel relief at the sight of him lowering his guard down for you. It was a sight not many had seen, other than Suguru.

It would be nice to have a break. Jujutsu was constantly on your mind. You loved it and found it fascinating, but god did you want to feel ignorant for just a moment.

“Why don’t we take a breather?” You ask, praying that Satoru will agree to it.

“Sounds good to me.” Satoru sets Mahiro’s paper on the coffee table.

“It's got me so stressed and I’m not even sure why.” You groan.

You deal with much more stressful things on a regular basis, there was no reason for you to feel worried about this. You raise a hand to press your fingertips into your temple, whimpering at the pain.

You’re too focused on your self pity that you don’t notice Satoru inching closer and closer to you.

“Do you need help relaxing?” Satoru grabs your arm, pulling it away from your face.

His cologne overwhelms your senses, making your brain short circuit. You weren’t horny, you weren’t even close, but the second his skin made contact with yours it felt like sex was the only thing on your mind.

“I'm not sure you make me feel relaxed.” You mutter, flicking your eyes to his lips.

Wasn’t that the truth. He made your heart race, your skin tingle, and your mind reel. Relaxed was the furthest thing he made you feel.

“Really? How do I make you feel then?” His face is closer to yours now, and you can feel the heat of his breath gracing your cheeks.

“I can show you.” You respond.

His lips smash into yours, causing a soft moan to slip from your mouth. Satoru smiles into the kiss, turning his body to face you more. The size difference is glaringly obvious as he turns you to face him, maneuvering your bodies to lay on the couch. Lean muscles sink into your flesh, making your back arch.

Satoru tastes like strawberry as his lips meld to yours. You would expect nothing else from the self proclaimed sweets enthusiast. Your arms wrap around his neck, tugging him down towards you as your lips part. Satoru takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth, grazing yours. Kissing Satoru was nothing like kissing Suguru. He was rushed, hard, and desperate. Suguru was more methodical, drawing you out until you wanted to beg. The two balanced each other out perfectly, neither being better than the other. Satoru’s breathing picks up as he feels you reciprocate his neediness. The room is filled with the sounds of lips smacking and quiet groans exchanged between the two of you.

You lace your fingers in his feathery hair, giving it a soft tug. Satoru’s brows furrow as he moans into your mouth. It shouldn’t surprise you, Satoru being a loud lover made sense. His groin is pressed against yours as his tongue tangles with yours. You shift your hips up until you can feel his bulge, sliding your pussy against it to get a reaction. You had yet to see it, but you knew his cock was perfect. There was not a doubt in your mind that it would ruin you.

Satoru pulls away to catch his breath, peering down at you. The proximity leaves you breathless, you were at the mercy of the man above you as you were trapped. His eyes are even more beautiful up close if that was even possible. Satoru pushes himself against you, smirking at the way your lips part. You wanted to rip your clothes off and get on your knees to beg for more, you certainly weren’t above it. But the game you were playing with him felt nice, the two of you waiting to see who would break first.

Your pussy clenches at the weight of his cock pressing into you. Even through layers of fabric your body calls for him. You moan out as Satoru pushes against you harder, somehow finding your clit. He grinds against you at a slow pace, his cock beginning to weep inside his pants. Satoru hadn’t been intimate with anyone besides Suguru in a long time, you could almost see the excitement leaking from his pores.

“Satoru, I need-“ you moan once more, your eyes squeezing shut.

“What do you need?” Satoru asks.

You’re pathetic.

You’re pathetic, but you don’t care. You open your eyes and look up at him, lust lighting up your features.

“Need you, need you bad.” You mutter.

Satoru lets out a shaky breath as he presses his lips against yours once more. There’s an urgency this time as he grinds against you faster, his hands gliding down your body.

God likes playing jokes on you, you think. Satoru’s phone blares as he gets a call, disrupting the flow. You desperately want to beg him not to answer it, not to even check who’s calling. But Satoru is a busy man, and you can’t be selfish with his time.

Satoru relents and pulls away, reaching for his phone. You don’t get the chance to see who’s calling him before he picks up.

“What?” His voice makes you feel bad for whoever’s on the other line.

Your chest heaves as you stare up at him, waiting for him to say he had to go. Satoru hangs up and sits on his ankles, his eyes dancing across your figure.

“I'm sorry, I have-.” He begins, sadness leaking from his words.

“I-it’s okay. Go. We can continue this later.” You assure, trying to keep your voice level.

You’re hoping you don’t look as disheveled as you feel. Satoru tugs your shirt down, pressing a kiss against your lips. A string tugs at your heart as you watch the world's strongest sorcerer pull himself up, standing while he adjusts his hair.

“I’ll call you.” He promises, gathering all the papers.

“Be safe.”

Satoru’s eyes flick up to you as if he's caught off guard. How many people have told him to be safe before? He cracks a grin that feels superficial at best before making his way to your door.

“Later!” He bids you farewell before slipping out of your apartment.

You’re met with the harsh silence that falls over your house, a heavy weight resting against your shoulders. Satoru’s presence was so large that the second he left it felt like a hole was carved out of your chest. This sucked. Not only were you sad, but you could feel stickiness between your legs, the result of all the teasing Satoru put you through.

The bastard.

You slowly sit up, releasing a shaky breath as you do so. Your stomach begins to twist as you suddenly realize that it’s dinner time, and you hadn’t had anything to eat since the half doughnut you stole from Satoru in the break room before lunch.

Your eyes glance to the kitchen where you feel dread build up in you. Cooking was the last thing you wanted to do. A chime breaks you from your inner debate.

Suguru: hey

Suguru: what’s up?

You smile at your phone, typing out a response.

You: Satoru just left so now I’m trying to figure out what to eat

Suguru: I can pick up food and bring it over?

You bite your lip as you try to hold back a smile.

You: yes please

Suguru comes to your house within 15 minutes, a soft smile on his lips as he holds up the plastic bag of take out.

“You have no idea how excited I am to see you.” You exclaim.

Suguru slides past you and sets the bag on your counter.

“Are you excited to see me or the food?” He asks as he chuckles, opening the bag. He had gotten yakisoba from your favorite place down the street, a while ago you made an off handed comment to him about how much you loved it. He remembered.

“Hmm, can it be both?” You tease back, appreciating him from behind.

Him and Satoru looked so large in your apartment.

You go to your kitchen to grab extra plates for the two of you. It feels entirely domestic, the way Suguru dishes out the dinner for you. You almost feel angry at Satoru for hiding this man for so long. Then again, if he was yours, you wouldn't exactly be jumping at the chance to share him.

While you eat together, Suguru tells you about his day. It sounded like he was on campus helping Yaga with a project, which apparently was a common occurrence. It honestly blew your mind at how often he went to the school, you had no idea how you managed to miss each other this entire time.

Your stomach is happier with you by the time you’re done. You don’t want Suguru to leave yet, so you ask if he wants to watch a movie with you.

That's how you find yourselves in your bed, his large frame beneath you as you rest your head on his chest. You focus on the way his heart beats underneath you while he strums your back, eyes watching the movie playing on your screen. The two of you aren’t really paying attention, only sort of understanding what was happening in the movie.

“What’d you and Satoru do?” Suguru asks.

“Not much, he came over to look at suspects for the problem we’ve been having at the school.” You conveniently leave out the part where you grinded against each other like a bunch of horny teenagers.

Suguru hums.

“You’ve heard about it, right?” You turn to look at him.

Suguru’s fox eyes drag to your face and you have to remind yourself to breathe normally.

“Yeah, Satoru’s told me a bit. It’s sort of weird.” Suguru slides his hand down your arm, causing a chill to run up your spine.

“That’s what I was saying! It just doesn’t make sense.” You respond. “There’s the fire which was weird, and apparently Satoru doesn’t understand how the graduates missed the last attack, since they should have been there. There’s also an uptick of curses near the school.”

Suguru’s eyes look up in thought.

“That's the part that’s weird to me. There hasn’t been any recent tragedies there, so there shouldn’t be curses there.” Suguru chooses his words carefully before speaking. “It’s almost like it has something to do with someone with curse manipulation, but that can’t be right. It’s not very common, and I would’ve heard of someone else with it.”

Well you had never thought of it like that before. If Suguru thought it was weird, then surely it was. Suguru had curse manipulation so he would understand the signs.

Hold on.

It dawns on you.

Not only are you seeing Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of your time, but you’re also seeing Suguru, arguably the next strongest sorcerer.

Your eyes widen before you force the surprise back down. You knew they were both strong, but there was never really thought put into it. You remember your thoughts from when you first saw Suguru in the bookstore where you told yourself you could handle him, what a joke.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, pulling you from spiraling.

“I just realized how strong you guys are, I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“You just realized? I feel like Satoru never lets people forget.” Suguru grins in amusement.

“Fair.” You laugh to yourself.

You wrap your arm around his chest, appreciating all the muscles underneath you. You think he shudders at the action, but you aren't sure if your mind’s playing tricks on you.

“You’re strong too, you know.” You speak softly.

Suguru’s body goes rigid for half a second before relaxing underneath your touch. You look up towards him, his deep eyes causing your breathing to stutter. It’s hard to tell who moves first, but your lips are on each other in an instance. It was soft and calculated the way his mouth moved against yours. Nothing like Satoru. You feel Suguru’s hand thread against the back of your hair, and you gasp in surprise. Suguru smirks to himself and takes the opportunity to glide his tongue inside your mouth, stroking yours. More, you needed more. You press your mouth harder against him, wrapping your tongue around his.

“Eager, are we?” Suguru pulls back to say.

He had no idea.

You hadn’t cum in days, and the boys were both teasing you the whole time.

Were they even aware of what they were doing?

“Please.” You mumble, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

Suguru pulls back to look into your eyes. You probably looked a mess. You felt like a mess. His eyes slide across your face, taking in your features.

“Tell me what you need.” He asks.

Just like Satoru.

“More.” You respond.

Suguru runs his tongue along his bottom lip before pushing his mouth against yours. You yelp in surprise, grateful to feel his body against yours once more. It was hard to breathe when you kissed him, but you weren’t sure if that was because your mouth was occupied, or because of who you were kissing.

Suguru keeps his lips on yours as he slides out from underneath you, throwing his leg over your body as he hovers over you. All you could see, feel, smell, taste was Suguru. You could hardly get enough.

He uses one hand to tilt your face up, guiding his tongue against yours as he balances his weight on a hand beside your head.

Jealousy strikes through you at the insight that Satoru had this every night.

You push your hips up in an attempt to create friction with something, but you’re met with open air. Suguru chuckles above you, removing his lips to watch you. Yellow eyes flick to your lips before back up and you have to force yourself to breathe.

“I can’t believe Satoru got to you before me.” He insinuates. You know exactly what he’s talking about.

“He-he didn’t. Not really.”

Suguru’s face draws in surprise. Hold on. Satoru didn't tell Suguru how far the both of you went? That was surprising. It was hard to tell whether or not you were grateful. You couldn’t figure out why Satoru would keep it from Suguru. Maybe because he wanted something to hold over his head?

“Really?”

“We just, he uh,” you look away. “He ate me out but that’s all.”

If you were looking at Suguru you would have seen the mischievous glint that flashed across his face. He brings your gaze back to his, craving to see the look in your eyes.

“Is that so?” Suguru trails his finger from your jaw to your throat.

You can feel your pulse beneath his finger, the fragility of your body completely in the grasp of the man above you.

“Y-yes.”

Suguru smiles, but it’s not the smile you know. It’s dark and nerve wracking, as if millions of ideas were flashing through his head. It would have scared you, you think, if it didn’t excite you.

Suguru grabs your throat with a gentle but firm hand and tilts your head up. You’re completely at his mercy as he dips his face down, moving his hand to press his lips against your neck. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders as he places soft kisses along your tender flesh. It's a ruse and you know it. Suguru was kind, protective, and trustworthy. But he was also strong, assertive, and domineering. You’d heard the rumors about him. Ruthless in a fight, they said. You were starting to wonder if that applied in the bedroom as well.

Suguru leans back to look at your neck before going in again, his teeth now digging in you. You yelp and hold onto him tighter, briefly spasming underneath him at the sharpness of his fangs. Suguru sucks your skin into his mouth, pulling back to glide his tongue over the injury. Your head is dizzy at the switch, and you’re almost left wondering if he bit you at all. He finally graces you with friction as he lowers himself towards you, pressing his cock against you. You gasp out, pushing yourself up more to get even a little bit of pleasure.

Suguru looks at your face as you try to angle your hips correctly, an amused expression on his face. You don’t care how you look. You just need it, and you need it bad. Suguru reaches up to gently push your hair out of your face before he kisses you again. Your attention is split between his lips and his hand as it glides down your body, resting at your waist as he slides it beneath your shirt. Your breathing is coming out much more heavily now as his fingers make their way to your chest. He pushes his hand underneath your bra, trailing across your breast. You pull away to groan as he slides his thumb on your nipple, causing your head to spine.

Off, you need it off.

You reach down to tug your shirt off, throwing it across your bedroom. Suguru instantly looks towards your exposed skin, pushing your bra up.

It had been awhile since you had sex with someone and your anxiety was finally starting to catch up.

You fidget beneath him, tempted to cover up. Maybe he didn’t like what he was seeing?

Before your doubts can eat you alive, Suguru is leaning down, his breath brushing across your sensitive skin.

“God…” he speaks to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth.

You moan and arch up into his mouth, his tongue grazing across your nipple. He uses his hand to pinch the other nipple, making your body shake beneath him. You twist underneath him, his heavy breath gliding across your skin as he switches breasts. You throw your head back, keeping your eyes closed. You couldn’t look at him. You may cum on the spot if you did.

Suguru sits up and looks down at you, enjoying the sight of you withering underneath him. You open your eyes to peer up at him, your hands carefully reaching out to tug on his shirt. You wanted more of him. Suguru pulls it off his head and tosses it near yours, before pressing kisses down your stomach. You twitch underneath him, his velvet lips leaving goosebumps as he goes.

Squirming beneath him, you dig your teeth into your bottom lip as he carefully pulls your pants down. Excitement bubbles up in your veins, but your legs try to squeeze shut once you're exposed.

A rush of cool air brushes against your exposed pussy, making you clench around nothing. Suguru’s eyes are focused on your core, his strong hands keeping your legs apart. He lifts a hand towards you, pressing his thumb against your clit.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, the tone of his voice making you want to curl in on yourself.

“H-hah!” You groan, your body spasming as you try to push against his finger harder.

Suguru’s eyes carefully trail back up to your face to watch your reactions as his thumb begins to swirl against your clit. It was the perfect amount of pressure, you think. Not too hard, not too soft. Your lips are parted as you look down to watch him rub your clit.

“You’re so wet already.” Suguru observes, flicking his eyes down to your pussy.

“Me and Satoru uh…” Suguru pauses his thumb and looks up at you.

Should you tell him?

“We made out and grinded against each other, but he had to leave.”

If you talked about any other man with someone else, you were sure the other guy would be pissed. But that wasn’t the case with Satoru and Suguru.

A hunger flares across Suguru’s face as he listens to you, your heart fluttering.

“He just left you like this?”

You dig your teeth into your lip and look up at him.

“Why don’t I take care of you?” He asks, starting to rub his thumb again as he looks into your eyes.

You aren’t even sure how to beg him for it, so you just whimper a “please”. Suguru smiles and slides down your body until his face is right in front of your pussy.

Your hands rest against your thighs as you stare down at him, his face mere inches away from where you needed him most. It was scary, you wondered what was going through his mind as he looked down at you.

“So fucking perfect.” He murmurs, looking up at you as he leans in.

The first lick is a shock to your system, and the second restarts your brain. Suguru slides his tongue through your folds several times to taste the wetness that clings to you, before focusing on your clit. You moan out and lift a hand up to rest on Suguru’s head, unable to run your fingers through his hair, as it was tied up in a bun. Suguru wraps his lips around your clit and gives a harsh suck making you arch your back. Just like kissing, Suguru was completely opposite of Satoru when it came to eating you out. Satoru was messy, and overwhelming. Suguru was slow, choosing to draw out your moans for as long as possible. You think Suguru would keep doing this forever if only to torture you.

“Pull it.” Suguru orders, speaking directly into you as he reaches up to take his hair from the bun.

The hair falls against your thighs, briefly tickling you before he flicks it back behind him. Why was such a small action so fucking hot? You tentatively run a hand through his hair before gripping it, unsure of how hard to pull. Suguru grins against you as he licks your clit again. Your hand is shaky as it holds his hair, and it seemed like Suguru wanted to change that. He continues to eat you out as he lifts a hand up to wrap around yours, tightening your grip on his hair. He pulls his hand back a bit, causing you to tug his black locks harder than you would’ve if he didn’t help. Didn’t that hurt? Suguru groans into your pussy, the noise making you go cross eyed. He liked it rough.

You keep pulling his hair with the same harshness once he releases his hold on you. His tongue trails down until it finds your pussy, sliding in once, twice, before pressing against you and keeping it inside. The moans filling your room are pornographic, the sound almost making you flustered. You couldn’t dwell on how ridiculous you sounded, not with the way Suguru was tongue fucking you.

“So sweet, I'm a bit jealous that Satoru got a taste first.” He says as he pulls back, staring at the way your clit twitches beneath his gaze.

“At least I get to have you fully first.” Suguru is talking to himself you think, because there’s no way in hell he expects you to respond.

Suguru licks your clit slowly several times before sucking it again, making you pull on his hair even harder. Your other hand is holding his next to your hips, fingers intertwined. He’s breathing hard against you as he brings you closer to the edge, you almost wondered if he was going to cum too.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, but you almost don’t want to cum. You wanted to stay in this state forever, the pleasure of being trapped beneath Suguru’s mouth leaving you breathless.

“S-Suguru it feels-“ You let out a moan, looking down at his face between your legs.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.” He’s muttering against your skin, lips finding their way back to you instantly.

“Fuck- feels so good Suguru, you’re gonna make me c- I’m gonna cum!” You sob, feeling your pussy rhythmically twitch.

Suguru doesn’t respond, at least you don’t think he does. You can’t hear anything besides the loud moans you’re releasing and the sounds of his tongue making contact with your dripping core. Suguru continues sucking your clit until your body goes completely stiff under him as you cum on his tongue. He uses it to his advantage as he sucks you through it, your groans only encouragement for him.

When he stops, you briefly wonder if you’ve died and gone to heaven. He looks like a saint between your twitching thighs, his lips covered in your release as his eyes look heavy with lust.

Even though you had just cum, you wanted more.

“How’d that feel?” His soft voice floats over to your ears as he runs his hands down your thighs.

Incredible, breathtaking, time stopping. You don’t think you’ve cum like that in years, if ever. The only other time you felt just as good was when you came on Satoru’s tongue.

“G-Good.” Your voice is shaky as his hands continue to run along your skin.

Why did he ask? Could he not see how you looked underneath him? Maybe he just wanted to hear you say it.

“I’m glad, it’s been awhile since I…” he trails off as he takes in the sight of your form beneath him, his eyes darkening.

You tremble beneath him as aftershocks flow through your body.

“Can I… I wanna…” you try to reach up to tug at his pants.

Suguru grins and takes your hands into his.

“Not now, I just wanna be inside you.” His voice is low and dangerous, the tone of a man who was going to ruin you.

Suguru’s eyes flick up to yours before something dawns on him.

“I don’t have condoms.” He’s speaking more to himself than you.

Suguru hadn’t been fucking anyone besides Satoru in years. It wasn’t like Satoru was going to get pregnant. Neither of them had any need to get them.

He pulls away to sit on his heels as he looks at you, a disappointed look on his face.

“We shouldn’t…” he mutters.

There was no way in hell you were stopping.

You had condoms in your nightstand, but you didn’t really want to use them. You wanted to feel Suguru wholly and completely.

“I'm on birth control.” You reach out to grab his hand again to tug him towards you.

You were on it, and you don’t think you had ever been so glad you started it until this point. You sent gratitude to your past self, grateful that you had the future insight to start birth control. Suguru searches your eyes and you try to translate just how badly you wanted him.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“I'm sure.”

Suguru presses his lips against yours and the taste of your cum leaks into your mouth. He wasn’t rushing, but you could feel the underlying sense of urgency in his touch. He holds your face with one hand as he begins to unbuckle his pants with the other. Your pulse is erratic in excitement as he pulls the clothing down past his cock, and you're too distracted with his lips to look.

Suguru pulls away, the string of saliva connecting your lips tearing apart as he tugs his pants off the rest of the way. You stare at the way his luscious hair hangs from his head, memories of what it felt like between your fingers.

“Ready?” He asks, snapping your attention back to him.

“Y-yeah I’m r-“ you start, looking down at his cock.

Holy fucking shit.

Suguru’s eyebrows raise as you stare at him, his leaky tip standing rock hard. He was joking, right? You knew it was big from the way it felt in the club, but you were not expecting this.

His face relaxes as he realizes what you're staring at. He smiles before grabbing your hip. His thumb smoothes along your skin while you look up at him, your eyes wide.

“It's okay baby.”

“Suguru, I don’t think, it’s not gonna,” your hole clenches as you try to imagine fitting all of him inside you.

“Trust me.” He kisses your forehead and you feel your defenses start to fall. When he said that, it was hard not to.

“I'll be right here this whole time.” He says lowly, pulling away.

You take a deep breath and spread your legs wider, staring at him as he situates himself between your legs. His cock nudges your entrance and you know it’s going to hurt more if you watch, but you can't look away.

At least you were dripping.

Suguru holds his cock as it pushes against your pussy, sliding in easily. Your mouth drops open as he starts to fill you up.

“Relax for me, I got you.” He speaks softly to you, and you will your tense muscles to calm down.

It works enough that he can slide into you even more, making you whimper in response. Your walls are clinging tightly to him as he pushes into you, nice and slow.

You throw your head back and shudder as Suguru takes his hand off his cock, resting his grip on your sides. He’s halfway in, but it still feels deeper than anyone you’ve had before. He leans on his forearms above you as he slides the rest of the way in, his body going completely still to let you warm up.

“Y-you’re so,” You stutter, your voice airy as you try to speak.

It pinches slightly, your pussy spreading wide to accommodate his size.

“I know, I know. Look at me.”

You lift your head up to look into Suguru’s eyes. He’s showing concern as he stares down at you, and your heart tugs at the sight. He was beautiful.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You were okay, you were just stretched more than you had ever been. The sting subsides as he sits inside you, refusing to begin until you give him the okay.

“Yeah.” You breathe out.

Your arms wrap around his neck, threading your fingers through his black hair. It calms you a bit.

“Want you to start.” You say as you look away, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming you.

Suguru chuckles and places a kiss to the side of your lips before drawing his hips back.

“Anything for you.”

He slides back in slowly and you moan at the feeling. Your walls hug him tightly as he pulls out again, moving ever so faster as he feels you warm up beneath him. It didn’t hurt anymore, all you could feel was white hot desire flow through you. Suguru’s eyes are watching your expressions as he fucks you, in awe at the way your face pinches up in pleasure each time he bottoms out inside of you.

The veins on his shaft press into your pussy, making you clench around him. Once you do, his brows furrow and he lets out a heavy breath. You wanted to hear him groan again, like the sounds he let out when he was eating you out. There’s no pain on your face as he speeds up, his hips pulling back to snap into you again. You weren’t sure you had ever felt so full before.

You moan as he thrusts into you, letting yourself tug on his hair. His slips inside you easily at the mix of your cum and his saliva, his cock picking up speed as he pushes into you.

The proximity of his face makes you dizzy, your body feeling shaky underneath his gaze. You were starting to understand what Satoru meant when he said Suguru was smothering. You press your lips against his and let his tongue slide against yours. You moan against his mouth until he pulls away, sitting up. You’re sad that he’s further away, but you’re quickly met with how much deeper he can get at this angle.

“F-fu…” you groan as he slides himself all the way inside you once more.

Suguru holds your waist as he fucks you, his cock pushing against your gspot each time he bottoms out. It was hard to breathe. Your pussy holds onto him tightly as if you didn’t want him to pull out, which you really didn't. His face is focused as he stares down at your pussy, his lips parted as he watches his cock slide out only to be sucked in once more.

“You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs, a groan slipping out as he raises a thumb up to press against your clit.

Your legs try to snap together in response but his body stops you. Suguru rubs your clit, his cock nudging into you at a much faster pace. Your eyes roll back in your head as he fucks you, his cock making you breathless.

You want him to rub your clit faster, but you're not even sure you can handle it. He angles his hips to push against your gspot even more, making you groan out. It felt like you were in heaven, you had never felt so good before.

Suguru slides his thumb against your clit faster, smirking to himself once you clench against him. He lets out a quiet moan at how tight you were, feeling dizzy at the way you wrapped around him.

He rubs against you while fucking you, forcing his eyes to stay open to watch your face. Drools seeping past your lips as he pushes into you, his cock filling you to the brim. You aren't sure how much longer you’re going to last. You already felt sensitive from your previous orgasm, and his thumb was only working you closer to the edge. His cock is fast and unforgiving as he fucks you, leaving you no time to recover.

“I'm close,” you moan, looking down at how he thrusts into you.

“Can tell, you keep,” Suguru groans as you clench around him again. He pants as he fucks into you. “Doing that.”

He speeds his thumb up and fucks into you faster once you clench around him again.

“Suguru,” you moan, reaching up to dig your nails into his arms. “Suguru!”

“Just like that, baby, just like that.”

You twitch underneath him as you groan, cumming on his cock. Suguru moans in reaction to the way your pussy grips onto him. He fucks you through it, his hips losing rhythm as he feels himself get closer.

Your eyes lose focus as they look up to him, your mouth hanging open as he continues to use your body. There’s a light sheen of sweat covering his chest, his head thrown back as he softly groans.

“Where?” He asks, voice sounding slightly strangled.

“Inside, inside.” You assure, moaning with him.

“F-fuck.” He murmurs.

Suguru’s hips stop as he starts to cum. It shoots inside you, whiteness leaking from your body. It feels warm as it fills you up, sliding down your pussy. Suguru stops and looks down at your core, pulling his cock out slowly. He watches his cum push from your needy hole before he snaps out of it, looking up towards you.

“Where’s your towels?” He asks, intent on taking care of you.

“You can just grab something from the hamper.” You grumble, feeling exhaustion start to seep into you.

Suguru hops up and digs in your hamper to find a discarded shirt, carefully sliding it between you to wipe up his cum. Your body spasms underneath him, still sensitive.

“There.” He says, tossing the shirt back into the hamper.

Suguru lightly runs his hands up your sides, making you shudder. He leans down to press a kiss against your lips, and you find yourself disappointed once it ends.

“You did so good, baby.” He coos, grinning at your sleepy smile.

Suguru lays down beside you, eyes fluttering as you situate yourself next to him. You wrap your arm around him, and nuzzle against his chest. His touch is light as he strums your back, letting the silence fall over you both.

You didn't need to speak, you didn't have anything to say. You just wanted to enjoy the presence of him before he had to go.

“When do you have to leave?” You ask, your arms subconsciously tightening around him like that would stop him from going.

You look towards your bedside table where your clock sits. 10:30 pm.

“Whenever you kick me out.” Suguru says, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I'm serious.” You nudge him and laugh.

“So am I.”

You think for a moment. Honestly, you were expecting him to leave soon. You were used to Satoru constantly being busy.

“Can you stay the night?” You ask, scared he might turn you down.

Suguru wasn’t rude, but you were afraid nonetheless.

“Of course.” Suguru kisses the top of your head.

Your eyes flutter closed as you grin, focusing on the electricity between your bodies as you drift off to sleep.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @spookysoowpprince, @reosnagi, @faerie-soirxx, @platrom, @oownowonwoo, @megumisdivinedogs, @sakui1, @maskedpacific, @riri-twix

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writerpetals · 20 hours

Text

just like the movies | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

// it's here it's here! the first thing i've written in SO long so I hope it brings you some entertainment hehe i decided to go with a sweet, silly fluffy single parent au smut for this one to get me back in the swing of things! i'm also going to try to queue some stuff for the week until i get to write more this weekend (i have a 4 day weekend this week so yay! writing time! this is why i love my job, i only work 3 12 hr days, then 4, then 3, switching every week haha) thank you for all the support! <333

Settling down into the scratchy polyester seat of the concert venue, you look over at the excitement on your daughter’s face. Ava can’t contain the wide smile and bubbling anticipation of seeing her very first concert, with her favorite band in the world. She twists one of her braids around her little finger before pushing her glasses up a little farther on her nose.

“I swear if Asher looks at me I’ll die!” she exclaims, bouncing in her seat just a few minutes before the show is scheduled to begin.

Your ten-year-old daughter might be getting way ahead of herself for her age considering her favorite boy band, including her favorite member, is years older than her, but who are you to dim her excitement? You were a fangirl once, too. Even if boy bands aren’t your thing anymore since you’ve grown up, one thing you do love is seeing Ava happy, as well as spending a fun night in town doing whatever you can to spend time with her.

“I hope so,” you say to her, smiling. She giggles and pulls out your cell phone she borrowed for the night to take a few pictures of the two of you.

As you’re smiling and posing in your selfies, the seat next to you shifts a little with the weight of someone sitting down. Within the view of the phone screen as Ava snaps away, you notice the man now sitting on the other side of you, whispering something to his just as excited daughter.

Or, you assume it’s his daughter at first, and the assumption is confirmed when she squeaks her thank you to him for bringing her to see her favorite band, and calling him the best dad ever!

Your smile widens a little at that. You’re not the only parent tagging along just so your daughter can have a fun, memorable night. Your heart melts a little, guessing the last place he wants to be is seeing a group of teen boys singing and dancing, but he’s here for her.

You only wish Ava’s father could be so attentive to her. You don’t want to cloud the night with bad thoughts and memories, but you can’t help to have flashbacks of all the ways her mostly absent father failed her when you see another showing up for their daughter. Envy, guilt, and the what-if’s hit you hard, wondering what you could have done differently to make a difference with your own family before it fell apart.

The bad thoughts quickly fade once the speakers start blasting the band’s latest hit while showing pictures of the boys on a huge screen ahead. Ava jumps up and screams. So does the girl sitting two seats to your left, as well as most of the attendees around you. You decide to stay seated, knowing you’re taller than most of the little girls around you, not wanting to block anyone’s view.

The grinning dad next to you does the same, remaining seated as he watches his daughter’s excitement.

“First Dreamwave Boys concert?” you ask him with a grin, leaning over a little so he can hear you over the singing. He turns to you, looking a little surprised that another parent is sitting next to him for the night. He smiles wide, and you can’t help but to finally notice how handsome the man is. His smile is charming and his eyes are warm and inviting.

“First timer, here,” he jokes with a chuckle, and his voice is smooth like honey, earning a little heated flush to your cheeks. “How about you?”

“First time here, too.” He smiles wider at your answer. “Ava just loves Asher, so I had to splurge on tickets.”

“My little Jayda here loves Noah so much that I love Noah by association. Never knew I’d know everything about some teenage boy band member down to their birthday and zodiac sign, but here we are.” A genuine laugh loudly escapes your lips, so he continues with a big smile. “Noah is a pisces, by the way. Highly creative and compassionate.”

You can’t stop your giggles as the arena full of singing girls drowns out around you. At least you would enjoy the company tonight while your daughter got lost in her own little world. As your laughter settles, you tell your concert buddy for the night your name, as he does the same. Butterflies flood your stomach when he takes your hand in a gentle, friendly shake of introductions.

Then you tell yourself to snap out of it. This is someone’s father, probably married, and you know you shouldn’t be getting butterflies over a handsome stranger. Maybe it’s because you haven’t talked much to other men since your ex left the two of you. Maybe it’s the way he’s so invested in his daughter’s interests, you wonder, but it shouldn’t matter either way. You’re here for Ava. Not to flirt with probably-married-dads.

“Your husband didn’t want to come?” he suddenly asks as the countdown for the concert begins. Your heart nearly stops. That was forward… way more forward than you were expecting.

“No husband,” you reply with a shrug after giving your heart a few seconds to calm down. “Just me and my girl.” You look over at Ava anxiously counting down the seconds, a big grin on her face and an even bigger one on yours. When you look back to him, he’s sporting a small smile and an understanding in his eyes.

He says nothing, however, as the beat to Dreamwave Boys’ debut single blasts through the venue and the screaming intensifies. The boys pop out from a lift in the stage floor and the crowd immediately starts singing along. Even you can’t help but to nod your head and mumble some of the lyrics to the parts you know.

Neither of you can hear much to say anything else to one another for a while, only silently bobbing heads and tapping feet along while both of your daughters’ scream all the lyrics beside the two of you. It’s not until he’s suddenly moving out of his seat does he lean closer to whisper and ask watching Jayda and that he’ll be right back.

You nod and give him a smile, and he’s off down the aisle. His daughter Jayda looks over at you with a big grin, then notices Ava at the same time. The two girls wave at each other, with Ava being the more forward one out of the two as she steps closer to introduce herself.

“Asher looks so good tonight!” she squeaks to Jayda, and you can’t help but to giggle.

“Okay, but Noah’s outfit during “Summer Crush”?! Hello?!”

At this point, an interlude video plays on the big screens so the girls can chat for a moment about the show. Your heart thrums away in your chest at the sight. You love nothing more than seeing your little girl happy and in her element, enjoying herself and making new friends. How did she become such a social butterfly?

You wish you could say the same as Jayda’s dad finally makes his way back to his seat, but realizes it’s now being occupied by your own daughter. With a chuckle, he happily sits in Ava’s seat on the opposite side of you, a few waters and snacks in his arms.

“I see our girls are bonding over boys that are too old for them,” he comments, making you laugh and shake your head.

“Ava’s going to make friends wherever she goes,” you tell him, glancing over to see the two girls huddled together and giggling over a silly video of the boys playing on the screen that shows some backstage access footage.

“Wish my Jayda was the same, but she’s a little shy. I’m always grateful for girls like Ava that bring her out of her shell.” With that, he’s handing over the waters to you to pass along. “Got you girls something to drink. Need to stay hydrated.”

Your heart practically bursts as he hands over three waters, two to pass along, and one for you to keep. “Oh gosh, thank you!” You say, getting Ava’s attention so the two girls can receive their bottles. She happily accepts them with a thank you to him, then turns to Jayda and starts giggling. Jayda looks at you, then at her dad, then at Ava before she returns the same laughter, and suddenly they’re whispering something you can’t hear.

“The snacks are for us,” he then says, earning your attention to see a pack of chocolate candies in his lap. “Figured it would help pass the time.”

A warmth settles over you as you watch him open the pack, then offer you some before himself. With a thankful smile, you take a few pieces and pop them in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, cheeks heated as his smile widens. “That’s really kind of you. I’m surprised your wife isn’t here at the concert, too.” Now you’re the one to be forward, but it’s been bothering you since the two of you started talking. Not that there’s anything wrong with a father taking his daughter to a concert, it’s only unusual.

“Jayda’s mom and I aren’t together,” he tells you honestly. “It’s my weekend to have her, and it was her birthday, so we’re celebrating together by being here.”

The two of you look at your girls at the same time, completely in their own little world as the intermission video begins to end and the show resumes.

“Well, she’s celebrating by spending time with her little boy band boyfriends and I’m just tagging along,” he corrects. You laugh louder than you have the whole night, and the satisfied smile on his face says he’s proud of it.

The show carries on without either of you being able to say much from all the noises and screaming, but you drink your water you’re now grateful to have, and snack on some of his candy with him. Jayda and Ava have instantly become best friends in the span of an hour as they dance and sing while holding on to one another.

The power of boy bands, you think.

The show lasts another forty-five minutes, with a fifteen minute encore and about five more minutes of saying bye to their fans, then everyone is hustling out of their seats.

“Mommy!” Ava begins bouncing toward you, still completely full of energy and excitement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for such a fun night! I got to see Asher and I met my new best friend, Jayda! Oh, give your number to her dad so we can hang out again! Please, please, please, pretty please?!”

She’s almost too much for you to handle. Sitting through the screaming and the loud music has you on the precipice of a migraine, but for her, you’d do anything. As you make your way out of the venue crowd, you look behind to see the father and daughter walking close.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, looking down at Jayda to see her bounce with her own excitement. How could you say no to that? Plus, he seems like a genuine, sweet guy. Ava’s own father wouldn’t be caught dead at a place like this. Most of the time he doesn’t even care about her birthday, only getting a card in the mail you can tell was filled out and sent by Ava’s grandmother from the both of them.

Before the thought has you burning with rage, you smile and accept the offer to give him your number. You hand him your phone so he can put his own contact information in, then the girls say their goodbyes, you tell him thanks once again, and you’re off your separate ways.

***

Turns out, the two don’t live that far away from Ava and you. If it weren’t for the girl’s school and after school activities, as well as both of your work schedules, you would have a hang out date set for your daughters. The two of you text back and forth, trying to make time for the girls to meet up and do something fun, but even a week after the concert there are still no concrete plans made, yet.

Still, you don’t mind texting him that much. He surprised you the day after the concert when he sent a simple text to you.

Did you know Noah’s favorite movie growing up was Spy Kids?

You read the text at work and nearly busted out laughing during a meeting. You don’t think someone has made you laugh so much in such a short period of time in so long. You can’t even remember the last time you texted a man so casually. Since Ava’s father left, your life has been her and only her, so when he keeps texting just to say something silly, you can’t help but to give in.

I like knowing you’re laughing and smiling. Makes me happy.

A few weeks after the concert, with a few failed attempts to plan a fun activity for your daughters and a few more fun and pointless texts in between, his message takes you by surprise. You aren’t sure how to take it. He is a saint, so it appears. Maybe he’s only being nice. Maybe he understands the struggles of being a single parent and trying to do your best.

It might be coming from a place of sympathy, not flirting, you think. You shake the thoughts away as you sit at your desk. It’s a quarter to three, your work is done for the day, and you need to leave to pick Ava up from school soon. You have nothing to do but overthink about his messages.

What if he is flirting? Your mind wonders and then wanders. He’s incredibly attractive. Your heart begins to race thinking of him the night of the concert, a tight t-shirt on and jeans. So casual, yet it’s making your skin hot when you picture it now.

I like when you make me laugh.

Your text is quick and short. You press send before you can back out. There’s nothing wrong with getting to know the person your daughter will be hanging around, right? You reason with yourself that you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re both single. You have a common interest: Ava and Jayda. He seems sweet and he is incredibly charming as well as funny. It’s completely fine.

Then maybe we need to speed up these plans of getting together… for our daughters, of course. How about a movie night next week?

Your heart nearly stops. He has been up front and direct since you met him. Maybe that’s another thing you like about him, as well. It’s clear he isn’t shy about putting himself out there, which only makes your message back to him easy.

How about next Friday?

***

Ava is thrilled to get the news she will be seeing her new bestie soon. Having a friend she doesn’t get to see at school made you finally crack and get her the cell phone she’s been wanting so she can message Jayda whenever she likes (within reason, of course).

The two of them aren’t the only ones that have been talking back and forth for a little over a month. He texts you nearly every day at this point. Sometimes it’s not even about Jayda or Ava. Sometimes, he’s just asking about your day. One afternoon, you even spilled to him the troubles you were having at work, and he let you vent. There was another time he sent you pictures of the car he was fixing up after informing you he was a mechanic, and has been so for about thirteen years.

The sight of his veiny arms in the shot with grease streaks did nothing to settle the attraction you’ve been feeling for this man. With every text, your feelings only grow stronger. You wonder how that can be when you’ve only been around him once, but each day with your messages back and forth, you get to know him a little better.

You walk into the movie theater on a Friday evening with Ava at your side and butterflies filling your stomach. It’s silly, really, to be so nervous when it’s only a movie night for your daughters, but you would be lying if you weren’t a little excited as well.

Okay, a lot excited, and it doesn’t help that when you see him in the arcade with Jayda playing against each other in a racing game, your heart swells. The pair are laughing while clutching their fake steering wheels, until he swerves into a fence post near the racing track and Jayda comes in first. For a moment, you watch the two, until Ava pulls you into the arcade.

“How are you so bad at driving, daddy? Someone needs to take your license!” Jayda throws her head back and laughs. Meanwhile, he can only shake his head until he spots the two of you.

“Hey, you made it!” There’s smiles on everyone’s faces as you say your hello’s. He reaches out his hand a moment later to drop a stack of coins in Ava’s palm. “You girls go have some fun. Movie starts in thirty.”

Then the girls are off, leaving you alone with him for just a bit. The two of you step away from the arcade to get away from all the music and flashing lights, finding a quiet corner near the concession counter to talk while still keeping an eye on the girls.

For a moment, he only looks at you, one side of his mouth raised in a smirk. The worries of maybe having something on your face arise, until you notice his eyes rake down your body adorning a faded band tee and skirt, then back up to take in your lips, and finally he meets your gaze.

“What?” Your body burns beneath his stare. Weeks of texting with him couldn’t prepare you for seeing him face to face again. The tension builds so thick between the two of you so suddenly, it nearly becomes hard to breathe. You take in his tight t-shirt once again, casual jeans, and hair so messily styles it looks perfect. His gorgeous grin widens before he finally replies to you.

“No way you could have gotten more gorgeous since the last time I saw you.” Heat washes over your body at the words. You weren’t expected such a forward compliment right from the beginning, but you assume he’s not one to beat around the bush. You realize you like that about him even more so, though your heart is racing. It’s been so long since you’ve paid any man’s advances attention. Insecurities arise at the thought of dating again since it’s something you haven’t considered in so long.

“Oh, um,” you begin, brushing loose hair behind your ear, “thank you.”

“Sorry,” he immediately replies, catching you off guard. “Sorry, that might have been too much. It’s just I haven’t really connected with someone like this in so long and—”

He’s cut off by a familiar voice calling your name, snapping you out of the moment. Dread instantly replaces any and all butterflies. Your racing heart falls to the pit of your stomach. You know there’s only one man that could ever do that to you.

“Bryce?” The frown is evident on your face as you stare at your ex, Ava’s father, the man that walked out on the two of you and would rather come to the movies with whatever new chick he found than his own daughter. If you’re honest, he makes you sick, but he also has a way to make you feel so small, you could never stand up to him. Maybe that’s why he left. You couldn’t fight for him to stay in the way he wanted or needed. At least, that’s what his mother had said about you.

“What are you doing here?” Bryce looks at the two of you, sizing him up and down before turning back to you. There’s a woman next to him that you’ve never seen, but she appears uninterested as she taps away on her phone.

“Well, I don’t know what you typically do at places like this, but we’re here to watch a movie.” He clearly has no problem sizing Bryce up as well, and from his tone you realize he doesn’t like much of what he sees.

“What? A date?” Bryce’s tone is more than mocking. As if he wants to make it clear he’s surprised by the fact that someone else would be into you. Another way to make you feel small. You aren’t even together anymore, but he still wants you to be that insecure girl he met when you were a teenager.

“Yeah,” he replies to Bryce, wrapping an arm around your shoulders after stepping closer to you, “a date. Is there a problem with a guy taking his girl and her daughter to the movies?”

Now Bryce’s eyes go wide. Your heart hammers away in your chest. You don’t like this situation. Not at all. You only wanted a relaxing, fun night for the girls and to hang out with a possible new friend.

“Ava is here? Where is she?” Bryce looks around, but you assume he hasn’t noticed the girls playing DDR in the arcade since their backs are to you all. You’re thankful for that. It’s never good when Ava sees her father. It only drills in the fact that she hardly ever does, and it gets her down for a while. If you can protect her from that sadness, you would do anything.

“The movie should be starting soon,” you turn to him to ignore Bryce and his question, forcing a smile. “Should we get some drinks and popcorn?”

“Alright, then,” Bryce says before anyone can get another word in, because of course he has to be the last one to get his word in. “See you around. Tell Ava I said Hi.”

You won’t be doing that, you decide, as Bryce and the woman thankfully go to the opposite side of the theater. You watch as he wraps an arm around her to pull her close before leaning in and placing a kiss against the side of her head. She remains glued to her phone, but you can finally sigh in relief.

“Thanks.” You turn back to him, too embarrassed and insecure to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” His arm falls from your shoulders, but he suddenly takes your hand in his, caressing your skin with his thumb in such a gentle motion you nearly melt. It’s been so long since you’ve had even the tiniest bit of intimacy, it's evident in the way your cheeks flood with warmth.

“First, you don’t need to thank me. No one is going to disrespect you in front of me.” He says it so matter-of-factly you nearly want to cry. You can’t remember the last time someone has stuck up for you so boldly with so much certainty. “And second, I kind of like the idea of you being my girl. One day, I mean. Like I was trying to tell you before, I haven’t connected with anyone like this in so long. I honestly thought I forgot how to even flirt, so that’s why I might have come on too strong. Believe me when I say this isn’t usual for me, or something I always do. I just feel like everything is right when I talk to you and the past few weeks getting to know you have been the best parts of my day recently.”

His confession leaves you speechless. It’s all the things you have been feeling but have been too afraid to even admit to yourself, let alone say out loud. This man really does wear his heart on his sleeve, you realize, but you know as you get older, there’s no point in playing games or leaving people guessing. Another green flag in endless green flags you’ve noticed since you first laid eyes on him. You wonder when the ball will drop when it’s too good to be true, but in the moment you decide you don’t care. If he’s willing to be so open with you, you’re willing to take a chance on something new.

“I feel the same way,” you tell him with a shy grin, earning a wide, satisfied smile in return. His shoulders relax a little in relief, you assume. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as you thought, but it’s only another thing you have in common. “This is so unlike me to even do something like this, but to be honest, when I saw you with Jayda that first night, I just felt something right inside of me.”

Before either of you can explore the feeling that’s bubbling in the moment, the girls come running over with a big, purple stuffed teddy bear.

“Look what we won at the ring toss game!” Jayda excitedly shows the two of you as she holds the teddy bear up.

Ava stands next to her grinning. “We named him Starlight!”

“That’s Dreamwave Boys’ first song they ever came out with!”

“Jayda’s going to keep him first! Then I will next!”

“We’ll switch back and forth every time we get to see each other!”

They’re speaking so fast you can barely keep up. He can only laugh next to you with a nod of approval.

“Sounds good, girls.”

In between all the excitement, you didn’t realize he was still holding on to your hand. It doesn’t take the girls long to notice. They each look at your hands, to your faces, then to each other. The sly grins that come across their features next don't go unnoticed, so you try to slowly pull your hand away with a nervous chuckle.

“Let’s go get some popcorn, okay?”

They both nod in agreement, but as you’re walking up to the concession counter, Ava leans over to Jayda, thinking you can’t hear her. “Oh my gosh, if our parents get married that would make us sisters!”

He nearly chokes on his laugh while walking next to you, but you can only focus on the way your face swells with warm embarrassment.

***

Lately, you've felt so unlike yourself. When you think about it, you know before you met him you would have never been so open to a new friendship so quickly with a stranger, let alone text back and forth for over a month and go on a movie date.

So it shocks you weeks after your movie date as you get ready for him to come to your house, not being able to hold back your nervous, yet excited grin as you powder your cheeks with blush and do final touch ups to your hair. Since Ava is at her grandmother’s house for the weekend, you decided to put yourself out there and invite him for dinner. You told yourself it wouldn’t hurt since the girls would be seeing more of each other eventually and most likely hanging out, but you can’t lie to yourself. You want to see him again.

It’s only a little after seven when he shows up on your doorstep, bottle of wine in one hand, flowers in the other.

“Evening, gorgeous.” Your heart soars with the compliment, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. The way this man can make your heart flutter from a few simple words…

“You shouldn’t have,” you say, grabbing the flowers from him, roses in different hues of deep red and soft blush arranged in the center, and smelling their scent softly. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He beams with pride at your own delight before following you into your house and toward the kitchen.

“Smells delicious in here.” You quickly grab a vase for the flowers to set them in water while he takes a seat in a bar stool at the island counter. “What’s on the menu, sweetheart?”

His compliments and nicknames come so naturally to him, it seems. Butterflies flood your insides once again, not being so used to such attention from someone you’re attracted to, but with each one you fall into something new and exciting with him. No longer wanting to ignore what this is between the two of you, you decide to accept it all from him, whatever he wants to give.

You describe to him the creamy chicken alfredo dish you prepared, hoping it’s something he will enjoy since it’s so simple, yet tasty. He assures you it sounds amazing, and together you prepare to eat. He makes himself at home in your kitchen by grabbing plates and silverware, and you finish up cooking before you both sit at the dining room table in the next room.

Immediately when the pasta hits his tongue he’s groaning in delight. You love to cook, but sometimes Ava can be a picky eater, so it’s nice to have someone else eat your food for once.

“Delicious, sweetheart,” he says in a deeper, lower tone you aren’t sure if he’s actually talking about the food. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s been years since you’ve been interested in anyone else. Clearly you’re a little rusty when it comes to all of this stuff. “A beautiful woman that can cook like this? That cooks like this for me? Have I died and gone to heaven?”

“Oh gosh,” you say giggling before covering your face with your hands. “You’re making me blush.” When you finally look at him, there’s a devious glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“Good.” Heat swells in your lower belly from the simple word. What is this man doing to you?

Once the moment of risky, heated flirtation dies down, you carry on eating your meal and getting to know each other. He tells you a silly story of his childhood and you tell him an embarrassing one from your high school years. He explains how he got started working on cars from his father and you talk a bit about the books you like to read. From one topic to the next, conversation with him flows so easily you almost think you’re dreaming. Before you know it, your plates are empty, the wine is gone, and hours have passed.

“It’s almost like a movie,” you tell him, feeling light from the bit of alcohol you shared. Not enough to affect your judgment in any way, but enough to make the words come out easier. Or maybe it’s just because he makes you feel so comfortable.

“What is?” he asks, crossing his arms before resting them against the table to lean closer.

“This. Us.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “It feels too good to be true. How do we meet like we did and get along so well and our girls get along so well and… it’s like a movie. But it’s not…”

“No, it’s not,” he says, reaching to take your hand in his. “It could be, though. It could be better.”

“How? Things never end up like the movies. Normally, there’s no happy ending. At least not for me.”

“You’ll never know unless you try, sweetheart.” His thumb grazes your skin, melting your bones and muscles away until you turn to putty in his hands. His touch calms you and feels so right. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather try than lose something that is becoming so precious to me.”

His words hit you hard. You know he’s right. Even if it doesn’t play out perfectly like a movie, you know he’s worth trying for.

So are you.

You’ve been stuck so long in the role of being the wife to a neglectful, hurtful man, even after your divorce. It’s time you finish that chapter of your life and begin a new one.

With your heart racing, you lean closer across the table, giving his hand a squeeze as the worries escape and a new kind of boldness takes hold. For a second, you meet his eyes, then your gaze lowers to his lips. Neither of you say anything as the seconds pass. Tension fills the air, the tone of the night shifting to something filled with desire and anticipation.

“I’d really like to kiss you, sweetheart.” The deepness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Would you let me?”

All you can do is nod and watch as he inches closer. Seconds feel like minutes in the moment of eager breaths and tension. Your insides shake with anticipation, suddenly dying to feel his lips on yours, skin on skin, heat swimming in the pit of your stomach before it races between your thighs.

Then his lips are on yours. Breaths slow as you feel the softness of his skin, the heat, the desire, all wrapped up in a simple yet already explosive gesture. He leans a little farther in, pressing himself against your mouth while you suck in a deep breath, chest heaving and a moan spilling out before you can stop yourself. He deepens the kiss, opening his mouth while his tongue slips against your bottom lip just as his hand rises to the back of your neck.

Melting him into, you allow him to take control. You drop all defenses to let him guide you close as you kiss. Closer and closer until the kiss that was once just exploring now unleashes in passion. Your body follows his lead until you’re suddenly in his lap, wrapping hands around his neck as his palms fall to your waist.

His kisses stray from your mouth down your jaw to end up against your neck. Without your mouth full of the taste of his skin, your mind begins to spin as you start mumbling the first thing that comes up.

“I don’t… I don’t want to rush this…” He groans against your neck as he sucks right beneath your ear. Chills race down your spine and heat floods your body to every limb. Heart racing, breath quickening, body nearly trembling and you know this is so unlike you, but you know it feels so good to be this free and trust someone again. Even if for a moment.

“Want me to stop, sweetheart, say the word.” His voice is a mumble of words against your heated flesh, speaking between kisses and sucking the tender spots that have you shaking.

“No,” you whisper and he freezes in place, all kisses halted, all touches stalled, “don’t stop.”

The groan of satisfaction from his chest travels directly between your thighs. He pulls your body closer by the hips, guiding you to press yourself against him, panties rubbing against his jeans thanks to the dress you’re wearing. As he continues kissing your neck and you begin rolling your hips against him in desperation, his hands travel from your waist to your breasts, running careful palms over the highly sensitive peaks until he’s driving you wild.

Fire ignites in your body and you can hardly handle waiting any longer. Boldly, you take the straps of your dress to slip them down your shoulders, exposing a black lace bra before him. He halts his kisses for a moment to take you in. You’re nearly breathless from anticipation and yearning, watching his eyes glide down your body and back up again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he groans, each syllable dripping with a desire you can feel between your thighs as you straddle his lap. The words give you the courage to reach behind you and unhook the bra, letting it fall from your body to leave you exposed and vulnerable. He takes in a deep breath, his hands resuming their caressing of your body, thumbs rolling over pert nipples to send your back arching, pushing yourself more into his grasp.

“Please,” you cry out, grinding yourself harder against his thickness between your thighs. Pleasure jolts through your body at the steady contact, lace panties rubbing about your swollen, aching clit as you ride his cock stiff against his jeans. Feeling good, too good, you’re sure you could come from this alone, but quickly enough his hands stall your motions at your hips.

“Not yet,” he growls against your neck, “I need to taste you first”

Taking you by surprise, he guides your body toward the dining table, settling you on top before falling to his knees. Your dress remains bunched around your waist as his hands slip beneath the skirt, up your thighs, gripping the sides of your panties and tugging them off in one swift motion. A gasp fills the air as he parts your thighs, getting a complete view of your pussy dripping with need before him.

He begins by kissing a trembling knee, working his way up your inner thigh all while keeping his eyes on your own. You don’t break contact, even though your eyelids begin to flutter as he inches closer to where you need him most. A sharp breath, a heavy exhale, and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your slit, then he moves lower. His tongue flicks out to slip down toward your clit, brushing skin against skin as a wave of heated need surges through you.

“Oh God…” Your head falls back, finally breaking the gaze he held you in, hand reaching to run fingers through his hair.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he groans between your thighs. You have no choice but to obey him. He has you right on the edge of losing your sanity. Your head dips and you meet his eyes just in time to watch him press a kiss against your clit before licking from your entrance and back to the swollen bud. “Watch me as I eat this pretty pussy and make it mine.”

Shivering at the words, you can only grip the strands of his hair tighter. The move causes a deep groan to build in his chest just before he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue reaches your clit in desperation, massaging the sensitive skin and swallowing all of your juices that he’s caused to drip out of you. Strong hands grip you at your thighs, holding you in place as you begin to tremble around his head. He devours you between your legs, sucking on your clit before diving down to your entrance to fuck you with his tongue. Then he travels back up, swirling his tongue around and around until you’re rolling your hips against his face.

“God… please…” you begin to mutter a stream of nothing because you can’t even think of what you need to tell him. You just want more. You want release. “Please…”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your flesh, dropping a hand from your thigh to bring fingers up to your dripping entrance. He pushes two digits inside, causing you to squeeze your walls around them as your legs tighten on each side of his head. “Tastes so sweet. So perfect. I want to feel you coming against me.”

He continues sucking on your clit as your moans and whimpers fill the room. He drives his fingers deeper to earn a sudden gasp falling from your lips, calling his name as you do as he says. Pressing harder against his face, rolling your hips to ride his fingers, you feel the bliss coiling at the pit of your stomach. The red hot pleasure swirls inside of you, building and building as he eats you out, until you can take no more.

The pleasure bursts through your body, taking hold as you tremble and cry his name. Walls squeezing around him, fingers gripping his hair tight, riding out the bliss against his face. He never slows his motions, continuing to massage your clit with his tongue, continuing to fuck you with his fingers, until you grow too sensitive between your legs all too quickly.

With a final lick of your juices, he finally pulls away as your body slumps, completely boneless from the orgasm he’s given you. There’s a sheen of your arousal against his lips and his fingers are coated just the same. The sight of him kneeling down, looking up, the remnants of your pleasure on his body as well as his wild hair thanks to your fingers do nothing but bolster your confidence in the moment. It’s like this man was made for you, not only for your pleasure but for your taking. You can’t deny what either of you want any longer.

He rises quickly to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss aside. Your eyes rake down his body, taking in his bare, broad chest, every line of every muscle, before settling on the defined bulge in his jeans.

“Do you have a condom?” He nearly pants, beginning to unbutton his jeans with one hand as he takes a step closer.

The question barely registers, then it sinks in. No. No you don’t have any protection. You haven’t needed it in so long, it’s not something you even thought of having in your house.

“I-I don’t…” Disappointment settles inside of you, but the urgency remains as well.

“I hope you don’t think any less of me, sweetheart…” He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out a foil wrapper from within. Relief washes over you, not even caring about why he would bring it in the first place. “I didn’t have any expectations for tonight, but I did have a few hopes.”

You can’t help but to giggle at this perfect, perfect man. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to press your lips against his own, tasting your pleasure on your tongue. He grips your waist, tight, pulling you closer to the edge of the table before pushing his jeans and boxer-briefs down his hips. He pulls away only to rip the condom wrapper open, and you watch as he rolls it down his thick, hard and aching length. Your pussy pulses in need once again, dying to feel him inside of you, filling you up.

“Hurry,” you gasp, pulling him closer to line the tip of his cock to your soaked and waiting entrance. “Please, I need you.”

“Fuck,” he growls, beginning to push himself inside of you, “a woman like you can absolutely ruin a man like me.” He glides inside of you with ease. Your pussy squeezes around him, feeling so full in seconds, so overwhelmed and so perfect. He fills you up completely, giving you a few seconds to accommodate his size with a few gasps and pants and heavy breaths until you can take it no longer.

With a roll of your hips against him, he begins to thrust his hips, shaking as if he’s trying to hold back. With his fingers tightening against the dress still around your hips, a deep groan builds in his chest the moment he slides back into your tightening pussy.

“God, you feel so good.” His mouth comes crashing down onto yours moments later. Hips work himself in and out of you between your thighs, tongues tangling together and hands desperately gripping to hold on to something. “So perfect, sweetheart.”

Heat begins to build once again, pleasure swirling throughout your body as you let go of all your worries, insecurities, and cares. Right now it’s just the two of you. A man between your legs giving you something you haven’t felt in so long. The trust and assurance that follows wraps itself around your heart, leaving you breathless as you succumb to all the things he’s offering.

“More,” you gasp, legs trembling around him, so close to the edge once again from the overwhelming lust and pleasure and freedom. Before you know it, a hand reaches between the two of you, finding your clit and rubbing circles mercilessly to reach your end. “Yes, please,” you cry out in a strained whisper, moans of his name filling the space as his cock hits the spot to fill your body with red hot tension that feels so good you would swear you’re dreaming.

“Come for me,” he orders with a deep, raspy groan in your ear. “That’s my good girl, come on my cock, baby.”

You’re shaking around him, body tightening with the need for release until the threat finally snaps, breaking all control as the heated bliss surges through your body for the second time. Your head falls back in cries of passion, so lost in him you don’t even know who you are anymore. He drops his hands to grip your hips tight, thrusting harder into you as you ride out the pleasure against him.

His motions become quick, breaths even more so, until his release inside of you. His own head falls back, eyes screwing shut while groaning, panting, coming undone within your walls and you feel his cock pulsing. Together you’ve made a mess of absolute pleasure, limbs tangling in limbs as your mouths crash. Heavy breaths and sticky skin colliding are all that can be heard for a few moments, until he finally becomes too sensitive to remain inside of you.

He pulls away with another satisfied groan. Your body grows limp once again. Tired eyes find one another, until giggling and breathy chuckles are shared between the two of you.

“One hundred percent,” he suddenly says, causing your brows to furrow.

“What?”

“Oh, I thought you asked what are the chances I’ve died and gone to heaven. One hundred percent.” You’re giggling again at him before he’s pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Then two of you make your way to get cleaned up, dressed again, and to clean up the table you’ve just made a mess of. He stops to press a kiss to your cheeks, forehead, anywhere and anytime he can in the process, and you realize you haven’t felt so genuinely cared for in so long. You could get used to this.

When it’s all done, you end up on his chest as he lays across your couch in the living room. His hand on your back, yours beneath his shirt on his stomach. Your eyes flutter closed as the night, including the pleasure, takes its toll on you.

“Just like the movies,” you mutter, halfway to sleep.

“Ready for your happy ending, sweetheart?” You can’t even laugh at the question. No giggles or smirks or chuckles.

Because you are, and you know it’s with him and your two girls now. “So ready.”

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billpottsismygf · 2 days

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Space Babies! Weird episode, but it had a charm. I had already prepared myself for the fact that RTD's era was notoriously camp and weird, and that I would for the first time be experiencing new episodes by him as an adult rather than as a 9-13 year-old, so it's not news to me that there would be some campy nonsense with a deeper message, and that this might be more jarring than I'm used to. The deeper themes were really thrown out (refugees, anti-abortion hypocrisy, genocide, capitalism) without being dwelt on, but that's not necessarily a problem.

The babies themselves were... a little unnerving? The mouth movements were quite uncanny, along with their voices and the general "I love you, Ruby!" of it all. I've just now made the connection that the latter puts me in mind of adverts for baby dolls.

The gunky snot monster felt very early 2000s British children's TV. If you weren't there for that, just know there was so much slime; think Slitheen exploding. I am very glad it got rescued. Nice message with the Doctor not usually running from things just because they look scary and, even though this is a creature specifically manufactured to be scary, it still deserves a shot at life.

It feels like a strange story to start with because I suspect it'll have mixed reviews. I would think you'd want a slightly more solid episode to draw people in with. Anyway, there was still a lot of thought put into making this a proper jumping off point with all its Doctor Who 101 stuff. Funny for a long-time viewer hearing it all rattled off in record time, but important to establish for new people, and I do think it's important for the show to remain accessible to people who haven't been obsessing over it for twenty years or more.

As a jumping off point, it very specifically reminded me of The End of the World. There's the big observation deck on a space station where the new companion, in her second episode and first off-world adventure, gets her phone updated so she can call her mum, in particular. The parallels to Rose are interesting, especially with the lecture the Doctor gives Ruby about how they can't travel back to meet her missing parent(s).

Speaking of that, there's some intrigue there with the snow appearing and the memory changing. I didn't like the Doctor doing a DNA scan of Ruby without her knowledge. It feels very 11th Doctor, especially when he literally scanned Amy and withheld medical information, but also the way he treated all his female companions as mystery boxes to solve without telling them. I guess we'll see what that's all about at a later point.

I'm still not completely sold on Millie Gibson, but Ncuti Gatwa is wonderful, and I do really appreciate their chemistry.

Small things:

Jocelyn was a good character, and the Nan-E filter made me laugh several times.

That place name before the Doctor turned the translation circuits off was absolutely not in English. Slightly weird way to phrase that line if it's going to be called Pacifico del Rio.

This is a very early point in the series for Ruby to get a TARDIS key! We're really speedrunning the usual steps here.

#doctor who #mine #space babies #doctor who spoilers #dwspoilers #dwmine #reactions #rereading this before I post and now 'gunky snot monster' has triggered the chris ramsey 'gunky slime vase' soundbite from taskmaster #dwe15

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charliesgoodboy · 1 day

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haiiiii sweetheart :3 how r u doin tonight??

I wanted to request a Tom x fem reader where readers all innocent and small and Tom tries to win her over by fucking her >:3 like imagine a small girl dressed all cutesy in all pastel and then this big strong man just shows up and tries to win her over >.<

it’s fine if you can’t :)

have a great rest of your day / night sweetheart <3

𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐤𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳

a female reader fic❤

you were so cute.

he loved hanging around you, always looking down at you and taking in your attire and the way you carried about yourself he loved it..loved the way your frilly skirts would fit on your figure, loved the colorful hairclips in your hair, you make up sent him over the edge.

but for the love of all things you were so damn oblivious. how could you just prance around all willy nilly around him like that? bending over so easily, jumping up and down when you got excited..he loved when you were happy, and it made him happy! a little too much..

when you hugged him or hang onto him it was far too much, when you'd stop him in the middle of the street as your eyes beamed at the kittens you saw in the window. "tom! tom, can we get one? please, please, please?" your voice was high which he liked when it got higher when you were excited. your arms pulling him down, and his eyes would wonder to the way your breasts would smoosh together. "uh-huh.." he hadn't even registered he said yes before you were already pulling him into the shop. damn it

not only did he like your make up, but god he loved watching you do it..he didn't wear make up and had zero interest in it but now? now he did. the way your body leaned up on its tip toes to see closer into the mirror as you applied the eye liner, your fingers so smooth as they held the eye liner stick. he wanted nothing more than to fuck it all off of you, to let all the eye liner and pretty pink lip gloss to smear off your face.

he couldn't take it anymore! it was driving him nuts. 'oh he's my friend!' 'oh yeah this is my friend tom! i wanted you to meet him!' he was done with it. "hush babydoll and keep your ass up like i told you." his hips were causing the wet skin slapping, his dick pounding relentlessly into you. you were supposed to be going out with him but you had to choose an outfit you thought was adorable. it was a very pretty pair of shorts that rode up your ass when you did the simplest thing, a thin strap tank top in which made your chest pop out more, and multiple accessories littered across the outfit and your hair.

the spaghetti strap was falling off your shoulders, your fingers gripping on for dear life. your fingernails glistened with the cute soft colors painted with polish. "fuck..thought you could go out dressed like that with me?" what if someone was to try and steal you from him? someone trying to take you away, you were his no one else could just have you.

your cunt was hot and sticky as the feeling of his cock was all that imprented in your mind, you've never felt this before, no ones ever done this to you and it felt so weird! your body has never felt so tingly all over, he was so good with it. his hand would make way to the back of your throat, your eyes rolling back and you looked so lovely..like tom had wanted, your eye make up was running down your face, your lip gloss smeared and your cheeks puffy from tears, you were so cute.

you swore you could see stars and clouds, you felt tom pull out and you finally thought it was all over. but his hand would only reach over as your dumbfouned eyes followed and his hands would open the drawer pulling out a condom packet. "ah..wish you could see your face.." he chuckled as he tore open the top with his teeth. "you thought we were done, huh?"

!!this was a draft before i changed my blog theme guys!! i have another fic coming soon

@tokio-motel @cherry-rawr @itsmealaiah @evieskiesss @20doozers

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel fluff #gustav tokio hotel #gustav x reader #georg listing smut #georg listing x reader #tokio hotel x female reader

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mytardisisparked · 18 hours

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I wrote a lil something X-Files flavored for Mother's Day. @singeart and I were talking about Maggie and Mulder and their dynamic and here's the result :)

Read on AO3

Other Mothers; Other Sons

The second her mother’s door was open, Scully felt herself being engulfed in a tight hug. She smiled and did her best to return it with equal vigor, even with her arms pinned to her side.

“Hi Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.”

Maggie Scully pulled back, still holding her daughter by the shoulders. “Thank you Dana.” The genuine joy and gratitude in her eyes was almost overwhelming. After a moment, she released Scully and took a step back towards the door. “I’m almost ready to go, do you mind waiting just a moment while I finish up?”

Scully shook her head and they went inside.

“Don’t get too comfortable!” Maggie threw over her shoulder as she breezed towards the bathroom. “I’ll be 2 seconds!”

“Okay.” Scully smiled after her. She lingered in the kitchen, looking at a couple of new pictures of Charlie’s sons on the fridge - he must have sent them in a card. The two boys were grinning wildly at the camera in that way that children do, with no regard for how much is too much. It made Scully smile wider herself.

She turned to the rest of the kitchen and her eyes landed on a large bouquet of lilies and baby’s breath on the table. Those must be from Bill. Or, more likely, his wife, she thought. She stepped forward and, in a moment of petty, sibling-like curiosity, plucked the little card from the flowers to see who’s handwriting was on it.

She froze. The handwriting was familiar. Very familiar. It was not, however, Bill or Tara’s handwriting.

Written in the same loopy cursive that was at the bottom of all their case reports to Skinner were the words: Happy Mother’s Day! - Fox.

The confusion evaporated as quickly as it developed; her mother had mentioned several times what a comfort Mulder was while Scully was missing, and Mulder had made a few comments himself about how much he liked Maggie. Scully also knew that Mulder’s relationship with his own mother was fraught - she never told him, but the emotional abandonment Teena inflicted on him has always been a steady, hot fuel for rage in the pit of her stomach.

She knew he went to visit Teena for the holiday. A phone call to him that evening would probably be a good idea.

“He dropped those off this morning.” Maggie’s voice made Scully jump. She turned to find her mother leaning in the doorway, all dressed up in her Sunday best for brunch. “He’s a sweet boy.” She smiled.

Scully nodded. “I-” She swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Yeah.”

Maggie gave her an all-too-knowing look before walking over to touch one of the lily petals. “He said he was on his way to visit his mother today.”

“Um, yeah.” Scully took a breath. “He’s taking her to lunch, I think.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and Scully wondered how much her mother knew about Teena. Eventually, they looked at each other in sync; Scully saw the same knowledge that burned in her own gut burning behind Maggie’s eyes.

Scully looked away. “Did, um, did Bill call?”

“No.” Maggie turned to grab her coat. “I’m sure he will later. He’s probably not out of church yet.”

As Maggie moved to the door, Scully bit her tongue against the frustration cresting in her chest. She looked one last time at the pictures from Charlie and the bouquet from Mulder, and then followed her mother outside.

#the x files #fanfiction #usually I just post a link but this one was short lol #anyway I think the mulder and maggie dynamic is super cool and we should have seen more of it #fox mulder #dana scully #maggie scully #mother's day #also fun fact this is my 50th work posted to AO3 #which feel cray to me #doesn't feel like i've written that many fics #i think it's because a lot of my early fics were Not Great lol and my brain forgets they exist for my own sanity

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mxnkeydo · 2 days

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gold rush ✧ annabeth chase

✧ summary annabeth chase going through a rollercoaster of emotions over perseus fucking jackson :)

✧ genre i actually don't know :))

✧ word count 509

✧ warnings none

✧ link to main masterlist

✧ A/N just something super short to get out of a writer's block heh pls dont judge enjoy the really cringe gold rush references

✧✧✧

Percy Jackson. Where to start.

He got looks everywhere he went at camp. Some were jealous. Others were delighted. But the rest… the rest were hungry for his attention. His validation. A smile, a laugh if they were lucky.

That’s what Annabeth hated the most.

There was no doubting the way Rachel looked at him. Like he was her only interest. And it was obvious he had talked to Calypso on Ogygia. It’s a miracle he came back, she thought to herself, secretly relieved. She felt horrible for feeling that way, but she couldn’t help it. The Aphrodite girls always circled him at bonfires, desperate for his intention, his gleaming, twinkling sea-green eyes that could sink ships. They were like waves, she imagined sometimes. Ocean waves that were so inviting, she almost jumped in.

But loving Percy was complicated. Sometimes he seemed to be giving the right signs, and sometimes she was two feet in the friendzone. Sure, she was starting to sound like your typical highschool sophomore, but she didn’t care. Every bit of common sense she had went out the window when it came to him.

Athena didn’t approve, of course, but that didn't matter.

Annabeth sat on the grassy fields surrounding the camp, lost in thought. She had a clear view of the entire place from here, which was why it was her favorite. But she chose to focus on only one person, the person that had her drowning in a pool of her insecurities, her flaws, her doubts. He was the only person who ever made a mess of her like that. Not even Luke had such an effect on her. She hated anticipating her face in a red flush, making herself a fool as he chuckled in amusement. She hated how every other girl would die to feel his touch. She hated how everybody wanted him.

It was selfish, she knew that. They were best friends, nothing else, so why should she care? But she didn’t want him as a best friend. She wanted to know what it would be like to love him, and for her to love her back. It was a fantasy that kept her awake after dusk and until dawn.

She was falling. Annabeth pulled her knees close and hugged herself. This was scary. She was falling—fast—and she needed something to stabilize her. It was like flying, but only until she met the ground with a sickening crunch. She loved it and despised it at once. Annabeth never thought it was possible to feel this way, but Perseus Jackson was all about doing the impossible. Hell, he’d escaped death too many times to count. He defied the very laws of existence. Sometimes she wondered how it must be to grow up that… beautiful. Sea-glass eyes, windswept hair that never failed him, that smile. There he was. Riptide a blurry figure, his delighted laugh echoing through the pines as Clarisse fumed.

He was the ocean wave. She’d drown if she jumped. But was drowning so bad when it came to him?

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #riordanverse #writing #writers #oneshot

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actuallyacerrr · 17 hours

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For the lovely @nuncscioquidsitamor-14 <3 The first interaction we had lolol. I am so greatful to have had you interact with me. I have made so many wonderful mutuals and have had so much fun being back on Tumblr over the past few months. I will be honest, I don’t think I would stuck around (as I have ghosted my account two times prior-). So I mean it when I say thank you for being the reason I stayed.

Also, sorry for what i’m about to do to Leo.

|| Mother Hen the Mother Hen

Pairing(s) ->

2012!Leonardo H. x F!Reader

Warning(s) ->

Violence, Injuries, Blood,

Summary ->

Leo goes to reader after being injured on a solo mission.

1067 Words : Masterlist

He jumped back, hand clutching himself with heavy breaths. Staring down the remaining foot. Taking his katana and charging. Forming a roundhouse kick, the tip of his katana being used as support, as he pushed off of one foot soldier to slam another. The hilt of his katana backing into another’s stomach before jumping away. Landing perfectly.

Leonardo has come alone. No one, not even Master Splinter knew of this outing. Just him. He took off again, with only a few stragglers remaining of this bust. Whatever they wanted, they were not going to get it.

Next thing he knew, Leo found himself being slammed against a wall.

His shell and body ached, he was exhausted, and most importantly did not want to face the scolding of his master, or brothers. So, Leo went to the one place he’d avoid all of that. The home of a special ‘friend’ of his. He knew the route by heart. A past solo patrol where he stopped a mugging led to one, two, three, more meetings after that night.

It was not far, but his injuries significantly slowed him down. He was more out of breath by the time he arrived. Landing with a stumble on your fire escape. Slumping against the side railing. He managed to make one tiny knock before he grew still, in hopes of not hurting his injuries further.

𓂃 ࣪˖

The second she heard the knock she turned to look, the knock was familiar. The sigh Leo used to let her know he was there. She found it a little strange he came without a heads up, but it wasn’t unwanted. But when [name] looked out the window. The smile she had faltered and her face shifted to one of worry and concern.

The teenage girl—without hesitation—swiftly got out the window and dragged the exhausted turtle, katanas and all inside.

“Leonardo Hamato! What the hell happened to you? Where are your brothers? Do they know? Does Master Splinter know?” This was exactly what Lep had hoped to avoid. But it seems he can’t.

“Shit- just wait here!” Her voice wavered and she was practically sprinting to find something. In the next few seconds he knew what: a first-aid kit, after he removed his hand from himself.

Blood—red shiny blood—it clung to his hand and the adrenaline just began to wear off right then.

“Oh..” His own voice wavered.

She can right back at that moment getting to work to stop the bleeding while rambling on to him about this. Like a mother hen- like himself.

“Seriously, Lee, do your brothers or father know you're out? At all?” Right- two things his brothers and father didn’t know. That he was out of a solo patrol, and that he had a girlfriend.

“No, they don’t know I'm out—or that you exist..”

“Leonardo.”

The blue clad turtle diverted away his eyes. He could tell she was more mad about the ‘his brothers and father didn’t know he was out’ thing.

“You need to be more careful! This wound is pretty deep, Leo. I’m just glad you didn’t pass out on the way here.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

As soon as the wound was wrapped and cleaned she stood up.

“Let me check your shell.”

“Huh-“

“You tensed when I was near it, let me see, c’mon.”

Leo turned with your help, letting you assess his shell. She could see him tensing in certain areas when she glided over them. There were no cracks, or holes, yet. So for now she took some diluted betadine and applied it to the area, then gently covered it to keep it from getting infected.

“There, it’s just bruised and nothing serious. But, as you get home you make sure they check it out and watch for cracks or holes, okay?”

Leo nodded. His eyes had been locked onto the movie playing, it was a good distraction. [Name] joined him back on the couch, and Leo slowly and gingerly leaned against her, burying himself into her side.

The two remained quiet during the movie, well except for the occasional adjustment, between the two. The little popcorn that had originally been made for [Name] was quickly gone.

“I’m gonna go make some more, I'll be right back.” She pecked the top of his head. Leo hummed a response, invested in the movie. He was content on the couch, even getting a little sleepy. Well if it wasn’t for the ache in his legs begging to move. He waited a while longer, until he couldn’t. The turtle mutant pulled himself up holding onto whatever he could as he guided himself to the kitchen.

“Leo-? You should be on the couch resting.” [Name] turned from the popcorn to look at Leo.

“I needed to stretch. So my legs aren’t sore tomorrow morning.” She took the answer with a nod, returning to the popcorn which was almost finished popping.

Leo stands beside her, slowly lacing their hands together, figuring with her fingers.

“Thank you for fixing me up.” She smiled.

“I would do it again, a thousand times over.” She added with her smile now directed at him.

“And I would ‘mother hen’ you even if you had gone home first.” Leo smiled, twirling her around slowly. Getting a laugh from her.

“Like I do?” He guessed.

“Very much like you do.” He would do it a million times over if it meant being with her too.

A beep came from the microwave, alerting them the popcorn had finished. Leo helped her bring the warm popcorn bowl back to the couch. Getting readjusted and comfortable on the couch.

The movie was almost over by the time they returned, it had been half way through upon his arrival at least. They both were—mostly—quiet during the rest of the movie. Little comments being made here and there. Popcorn grabbed and eaten. Soon the second bowl was discarded from their laps.

[Name] made sure Leo was comfortable leaning against her, that it wasn’t awkward on his shell, and that he wasn’t awkwardly positioned. He reassured her and she nodded with relief.

The movie ended around the time Leo fell asleep. [Name] turning the TV off and grabbing the blanket behind her wrapping it around the two. Falling asleep shortly after. A little smile on her face,and relief that Leo was okay tonight. Tomorrow? That would be a whole other story.

#acerrr writings #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 leonardo #tmnt 2012 leo #tmnt 2012 leonardo x reader #tmnt 2012 leo x reader #tmnt 2k12 x reader #tmnt 2k12 leo #tmnt 2k12 leonardo x reader #tmnt 2k12 leo x reader

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tuliptired · 2 days

Note

One-shot for Egon? Egon and the reader that constantly throws him off guard with their flirting?

Shut Up, You're Stupid, Just Kiss Me

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Reader

if you saw me post this to the wrong ask you actually didn't

better formatting on Ao3 😔

Another one of these benefit-things. Egon understood the whole spiel- show up and look nice so the city doesn’t shut them down and a few nonprofits can look generous. But they got repetitive quickly. He didn’t even know why they were invited to this one. But, Ray insisted that it’d be good for them- and possible investors. Everyday sacrifices.

Ray and Winston always handled the networking part of the night, while Peter sat next to him at the bar, absolutely bored out of his mind as he toyed with an empty glass, head in his hand. Egon didn’t drink, but for some reason these bars were the only seats in the entire ballroom. It never made much of a difference, as he always spent the majority of his time observing the guests or the bottles on the wall, or wondering what he’d do when he got home.

“Egoooooon,” Peter whined for the 10th time that night as his head hit the bartop. “I don’t know what to do.” They’d been through this.

“Do what you always do. Get drunk. Talk to women.”

Peter’s cheek lay against the wood as he turned to face him, eyelids lower than usual. “But I miss my girlfriend.”

“Halfway there.” Egon righted his forgotten glass as it threatened to roll off the bar.

“You don’t get it, man. I’m committed now.” If that was a solemn vow or a complaint, it was hard to tell.

A pair of women stood next to them at the bar, giving quick apologies for the close proximity. Peter notices Egon’s shoulders square, and suddenly becomes very interested in tonight.

He perked up quickly, leaning into Egon. “Y’know what would make my night? Seeing you take a chance. Don’t shake your head- you know I’m right.” Egon shut it down silently, shrugging off Peter’s hands. Peter was right, he hadn’t “taken a chance” in what felt like forever. Peter’s voice continued to try and convince him, as it was tuned out into a low vibration of sounds.

Romance- or love, didn’t scare Egon. He was a grown man, after all, and he figured he understood it well enough. But that was his downfall. Person A is attracted to Person B, and they start dating- it was a simple equation. Peter and Dana defied the equation at times. But they put themselves back into it. Louis and Janine bent the rules of the equation. Could he do that? Could he break the rules, make new ones, to law that evolves every moment? Peter’s voice turned into a ring. This didn’t matter. People didn’t look at him.

He first experienced that realization in high school, the week of a dance. Big ears, big glasses- but Peter had a date. Peter always had a date. Did he want a date? Someone to hold when it was dark? To blush with as they got dressed up together? He was only human. But would he ever get that? All signs pointed to no. So, he stopped worrying about it all together. It was easier to ignore while his nose was in a book.

Peter was practically draped over his shoulders. “Do you want me to die, Spenges?”

“Can’t you bother someone else?” He didn’t mean to snap. It was just an unpleasant moment of awareness, it always was.

Peter was unmoved. “Oh, Egon. Is it ‘cause they’re girls?” He jumped from his stool as Egon decided to remove himself from the bar. “Sit, sit, sitsitsit. I’ll go and find Ray. I think you need a nap, anyway.” Peter disappeared into the crowd before Egon could join him.

Loneliness. Maybe he really should start drinking. Or, coat tailing after Peter found Ray to get out of here sooner.

He couldn’t stew in his increasing misery for long, as he felt a presence behind him. As he turned around to be freed from tonight, to stick to Ray or Winston’s side like a lost kid, he was met with a different sight.

Oh god.

“Mr. Spengler!” Your cheery face beamed. “It’s been a while. Is anyone sitting here?” Not anymore, you were already lowering your butt into it.

He remembers you well. He was required to take an Humanities class, something about ethics and morals in STEM students. You were a TA, the professor explained not necessarily going into that field, but taking the opportunity anyway. Egon considered himself to be well-rounded academically. But you were near tyrannical. In a class of liberal arts, english, and history majors, he stuck out like a sore thumb. You picked on him relentlessly, engaging in back and forth discussion that the rest of the lecture watched on. Even the professor.

Independent analysis- each student assigned a poem and asked to dissect it. “But, Mr. Spengler, surely you’re not insinuating that the speaker didn’t grow throughout her poem?” Your voice was loud, though the hall was smaller than normal and his seat was much closer to the front than he remembers it being yesterday.

You were always on the side of emotion and subtext, him on the side of logic and literalism. “In 6 stanzas, she wrote about flowers. I’m insinuating that her perspective did not grow in those 6 stanzas.”

You turned your back to him, moving to the large chalkboard. “Are you sure you’re not dancing around the fact that your assignment was an allegory for sex?” The class broke, and his face flushed into a bright, knowing red, as you flashed him a bright, knowing smile.

Relentless torture. You’d stop him before he could leave the hall, a timed essay in your hands that you’d returned to everyone but him.

“Interesting topic,” you offered, after an hour of grilling him. As he reached for the paper, you pulled your hand back.

“Your writing is improving. You do exceptionally well when it’s something you enjoy.” You let him take it.

You start for your things by your desk, before calling out into the empty room. “And you’re cute when you actually try!”

So he decided that he hated you. It was the only plausible explanation. He left your debates cherry pink , stumbling over his own words. He could have sworn that he was beyond intelligent. But when he stepped into that room with you he became a bumbling idiot. And hate was a powerful thing. He found himself contemplating what would occur that day as he made his trek across campus. He was sure he’d understood the essay he was assigned to the point of being able to recite it. That would show you. But you shut him down, and up. No matter how calculated and practiced his responses were, you tore down his guard with your comments. How could someone who made him feel so stupid say such…things? He sat alone at night, pondering his ailment. You confused him to an intense degree. Sweaty palms, increased heart rate- this was hate, white and hot.

The morning before he graduated, preparing to return in the fall for his doctorate, he appeared in the desolate classroom, as you cleaned out filing cabinets.

You looked up from underneath the desk, the smile he’d seen for a whole semester spreading on your lips. “Your reception outfit is nice, Mr. Spengler.”

God damn it. Why was he here again? The grip on his bag tightened as he scoured through his brain for any recollection. You had a box in your arms, simply passing him.

“Don’t change,” and the door shut behind you.

How he hated you.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you managed to order a drink while talking directly to him.

“Of course.” Sweaty palms, increased heart rate.

You sipped your glass. “You finished your doctorate? No more school?”

He adjusted to spontaneous conversation, albeit slowly. He didn’t face you as he responded. “No more school.” You let out a noise of surprise.

“Doctor Spengler. I like that.” His ears burned.

“And you’re doing the ghost-thing?” Oversimplification. But he found himself not caring when the words fell from your lips.

“Full-time.”

“I get your ads 24/7. You look great in a jumpsuit.” His long legs jerked against the underside of the bar, and he heard you stifle a laugh. His stomach soared. Vitriol.

There was a hand on his arm. That commanded his attention. If he wasn’t full of…rage then, he was now.

You murmured. “I don’t still make you nervous, do I, Dr. Spengler?” He couldn’t breathe. As he opened his mouth, the only sounds that came out were stammers. You just laughed, squeezing his arm as you rose from the stool.

“I’ve gotta get going. Goodnight, Dr. Spengler.” You were gone before he could blink.

Nights later in the firehouse, in the safety of his lab, he couldn’t focus. How ironic? As he trotted down the steps for fresh air, the phone rang out. Janine was out for her lunch, and the others were still on the road from a last minute job. He sighed.

“Ghostbusters.”

“Hey, Dr. Spengler. I enjoyed seeing you again and,” He held the phone to his ear with two hands. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner tomorrow night?”

He hated you. He’d show you just how smart he was by hanging up, ending this (one-sided) college feud.

“We’re back,” Ray’s voice startled him as he leaned against the desk’s edge staring at nothing. “Did we get a call?” He looks to the phone, resting on the tabletop rather than its proper place. Egon swallows.

“Just one.”

“Okay?” They wouldn’t accept his answer. He averted his eyes.

He conceded, letting himself lean back against the desk again. “An old TA.”

Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “The one who used to needle you all the time?” Ray had never met you, but he recalled Egon’s bad moods after having left your class.

“Egon’s got a bully,” Peter directed at Winston as he did something in his own open office, behind Janine’s desk. “What’d they want?”

He took a short breath. “Dinner.”

Peter whistled. “Gutsy,” Winston offered as he sent Peter a look of shared surprise. Ray kept his attention on Egon.

“Good on you for saying no.” Egon was silent.

Peter reappeared. “You said no, right?”

More silence. Egon was a weak, weak man. Peter put him in a headlock, pulling him in tight as Ray’s eyes blew out, wide, and Winston laughed in disbelief.

“Spenges is a big fat masochist!”

A woman walked in for an in-person consultation, confused at the sudden spectacle.

“Would you be quiet?”

You were (fashionably) late. 5 minutes and 23 seconds, to be exact, but he wouldn’t mention it. Not while you were going on about losing your house keys before you were about to leave. As you talked, he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked in the warm lighting of the restaurant. Jealousy, perhaps?

So he let you talk. And talk. But he didn’t find himself searching for other stimuli like he normally did with characteristically chatty people. You seemed nervous, cringing a bit after every poorly measured story or unintentional confession. He had a bit of an upper hand. He smiled to himself, albeit small.

“What?” You grinned back, probing him.

“Nothing,” he took a sip from the water he’d been nursing in place of wine. His expression was smug, hidden behind the lip of the glass.

“How’d you stay single, with a face like that?”

He choked on his water, setting the glass down as he coughed into his elbow. You had your head in your hand, leering at him like he was food. “I beg your pardon?”

“When you were post-grad? Guys and girls lined up outside your office to speak to you. And it wasn’t for your brain.”

You were messing with him, like you always were. But he’d bite. “They were eager to learn.”

You drew your hands up, incredulously. “Yeah, eager to learn what you looked like naked.” For the first time in his Jewish upbringing, he felt compelled to utter the name Jesus Christ.

The night went on for a bit longer. Against his better judgment, he started to find you funny. And witty. And incredibly alluring. You strung him along for 10 minutes about a classic of fiction, only to reveal that it was a personal story of your sexuality. And then you did it again, this time making a comment about his rear end. He couldn’t help but be startled every time.

You let him go on a tangent about his studies at one point, watching and listening intently. He felt the feeling rise in him again. This must have been full revulsion, because he couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. His cheeks began to grow sore from prolonged, uncontrollable smiling- what he considered to be himself reverting back to primal reactions from how hot his hatred burned. You fell into your old ways, going back and forth about a classic he’d read between then and college. He felt like he did in that lecture hall, temperature increased and body leaned towards yours.

“Assine point of view, Dr. Spengler,” you crossed your arms. The name made him feel like he’d collapse onto the floor every time you said it, however the scene was made in a fancy restaurant.

Begrudgingly, he spoke up, voice weaker than it had been in hours. “You can call me Egon.” He absentmindedly picked up his glass.

You shook your head, twice. “Dr. Spengler is fine. It's pretty fun to say in bed.”

The glass in his hand shattered in his white knuckled fist. That’s how you both were escorted out the establishment, partially for the glass now strewn into the carpeting as well as his palm, in addition to his failure to react to the staff shaking him around. You guided him outside, the cool air doing him some good as his hand was wrapped haphazardly in white napkins.

“Sorry. About your hand.” You broke the silence, assuming an arbitrary direction as you continued in the path of your apartment.

He was in his own world. Nay, his own universe. He stopped you as a cool wind blew through the sidewalk, rustling a nearby tree.

“I don’t understand. I don’t know what I know anymore. I hate you. And you hate me.”

His face was one of desperation, while yours was one of dismay. He continued.

“When I talk to you- when I see you. I feel the intense-st emotions, most of which I never thought I’d experience. I sweat. Too much. I forget what was on my mind. I look like an absolute moron. And- I never knew what that meant. So it had to be hate. That’s why you treat me the way you do- you laugh and smile and call me an idiot while calling me handsome because you hate me, too.”

He never vomited his soul out like that to anyone. Only a handful of times, really, to his closest friends. You only blinked, before a new expression drew over your features. Your face melted into a smile, to his surprise, as your arms suddenly found their way around his neck.

“Come inside, Dr. Spengler.”

He woke up the next morning- in your bed as you slept soundly. How he hated you.

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1989 #ghostbusters 1984 #egon spengler #egon spengler/reader #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader #egon/reader #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #oneshot #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #open requests #ask box

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kezzzx · 2 days

Note

Still doing writing prompts? 7 and/or 10? Thank you!!

Yes of course! Sorry this took so long - life is a bit manic. I wanted to try and get both in one, but this idea just took hold. Hope you like it!

7. Taking interest in their hobbies

“You realise I’m going to be absolutely horrible at this, don’t you?” Wylan asks. He’s sitting on the grass in the most secluded part of their extensive garden, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine as Jesper diligently sets up a line of empty bottles along an old table he’s dragged outside.

Jesper glances back at him over his shoulder, lips curled up in a grin. “It’s just a bit of fun, love.” He shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. “As long as you don’t hit me.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

Wylan lets Jesper help him up off the grass and lead him over to their improvised shooting range. He’s a little nervous but also excited, a quiet thrum of anticipation pulsing in his veins. Jesper unholsters one of his beloved pistols and hands it to Wylan, who gingerly takes it.

“It’s not going to bite, darling,” Jesper says with a fond roll of his eyes, stepping behind Wylan and positioning his body appropriately. When Jesper next speaks, it’s from right beside Wylan’s ear, and it makes him shudder. “That’s it, raise your arms a little higher. I’m going to take the safety off now.”

Having Jesper pressed up close behind him, dextrous fingers steadying Wylan’s hands as he takes off the safety and helps him aim, turns out to be extremely distracting. Wylan wonders if he’s doing it on purpose.

“Okay, now pull back the hammer and squeeze the trigger.”

Wylan does, almost jumping out of his skin at the pop of the gunshot and the shattering of glass. He stumbles backwards a little, fortunately steadied by Jesper’s arms around him.

“Did I actually hit it?” Wylan asks in disbelief.

“You sure did,” Jesper says with a laugh. “And the one you were aiming for, too. Not bad for a first go.”

He ends up using all six rounds of the pistol, managing to make every single shot.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly Grisha?” asks Jesper, taking the pistol back from him and reholstering it.

Wylan grins. “Jealous of my natural gift?”

“Jealous? No…” Jesper steps in close to him again, resting his hands on his waist. “But you do look very sexy when you shoot.”

#wesper writing prompt #wesper #writing prompt #six of crows #wylan van eck #jesper fahey

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nekohime19 · 3 days

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Mini Mac # 6 : lil guy and Monkey King first outing (some would say date)

Macaque is so obvious in this chap, he's just thinking every lovesick things Wukong does is some weird Monkey King business. Poor Wukong, 😔.

Macaque wasn't nervous, he was only meticulously preparing his outing with the great sage. So what if he imagined everything that could go wrong? What if he prepared ways to save himself if it went downhill? He only liked to be prepared. The winds passed through the wall's cracks and flipped his ears, something it liked to do to tease him. Macaque huffed and shooed it away with a flick of wrist.

“It's good to be prepared.” Grumbled Macaque as he stuffed his homemade sleeping powder inside one of his bags. “There will be no storms right?” The wind brushed his cheeks affectionately and ruffled his head, Macaque rolled his eyes but let it do as it pleased. “Good.”

Macaque took a deep breath and tightened his bags around him, he messed with the red cloth covering his body a little, making sure no inch of his skin was showing. He hesitated at the edge of his room, wondering if it was truly a good idea. The wind, not one to stay still, pushed him forward towards the shadowed passages of the walls. Macaque stumbled a little, he threw a glare at the void behind him, at what he assumed was the wind position, and hissed when the echoes of a cackle tickled his ears. As much as the black-furred monkey wanted to be mad, some part of him was grateful for the wind's pushiness, he had a tendency to get stuck in the recess of his mind when it came to matters such as those. Macaque ran towards his nearest hole and slipped inside the house once he found it. The westward wing was seemingly empty, not a sign of a giant golden-furred monkey in view. Macaque straightened himself, let his ears unfold and listened to his surroundings. Sun Wukong was on the mansion's threshold, his tail thumping excitedly against the stone stair leading to the mansion main door.

The black-furred monkey let a smirk grace his lips, amused by the sage's impatience, and jumped in the shadows, traveling through them. The shadows were always particularly gentle with him, they embraced him with glee and let him swim around them as he pleased. Macaque liked to travel in the darkness, but he had to admit it could be exhausting, especially since manhandling shadows required a lot of energy.

Macaque smirked when he found the sage innocently waiting for him, blind to the world around him, and jumped out of his shadows, startling him a little. Sun Wukong yelped and turned towards him with pursed lips, half-mad, half-amused.

“Can't you come out of my shadow normally for once?” Huffed the King with crossed arms, cheeks tinted with the slightest of red.

“I like my entries, so no thank you.” Replied the macaque with a puffed out chest. Sun Wukong rolled his eyes but Macaque noticed the soft smile hiding at the edges of his lips, the sage was rarely upset with his antics, in fact he never truly got mad at him. He got frustrated at times, especially when Macaque decided to mess with his peaches, but never mad. It was something Macaque appreciated in his own way and why he kept messing with the sage in the first place, he knew Sun Wukong wouldn't be upset by those harmless pranks.

Sun Wukong summoned his cloud with a flick of wrist and turned towards the macaque with something akin to nervosity swirling in his eyes.

“Is this okay for you?” Asked the sage as he gestured towards his cloud. Macaque knew he would have to be close to the King when he asked for this outing. It was the King himself who proposed the idea, but Macaque had been the one to ask for a sight of the moon, the longing inside of him winning over any fears he fostered towards the outside world. Fortunately, Macaque wasn't afraid of height, he knew the wind would come to his aid if he fell out of the cloud, and even if by some misfortune the wind couldn't come, his shadows would caution his fall. The black-furred monkey climbed the cloud and sat at its edges, the texture was odd, something soft and elastic, it wasn't unpleasant. Sun Wukong huffed a laugh and sat behind him, his tail shyly brushing the macaque's back. Macaque raised an eyebrow but decided to not mention it, after all the touch was so light it felt like it wasn't even there.“Buckle up, lil bud.” Laughed the sage as he began to steer his cloud outside of the cave.

Sun Wukong commanded the waterfall hiding the cave with a single gesture, cutting the water in half with his will alone. It would be impressive coming from anyone else, but as it was Macaque knew commanding the water wasn't even a tenth of Sun Wukong's power.

Macaque had to admit, the mountain was splendous, the lush green expended everywhere, highlighted by the moon kind veil. Of course, he saw the mountain the day he arrived on the eastward bone-white shores, but at this time he was more preoccupied by the need to find a shelter and his own survival, he didn't spend much time admiring the beauty of nature. Nonetheless, more than the mountain jade colored forests, what Macaque found the most fascinating was the moon itself. He couldn't look away from the pale disk lightening the darkness, each rays touching his face with grace and warmth. Sun Wukong guided the cloud to a valley hidden in the heart of large trees, the sky was clear in this place, the swaying grass illuminated by the pure light of the night's ruler.

Macaque felt nostalgia fill him. He hadn't seen the moon since he decided to take refuge inside of the water-curtain cave. Macaque had always adored the moon, the night in itself was a time he liked (especially since he was born from the shadows) and the moon had been his guide more than once, a comfort in the most dire of his travels. Shadows were always wary of light, but at the same time they craved it to exist. The moon's light was Macaque's favorite, it was not burning like any other, but kind and welcoming. The black-furred monkey turned towards the sage, wanting to thank him for this outing. Sun Wukong was looking at him, face softened by something Macaque couldn't recognize. Macaque wondered if the sage was drunk, he looked like it with his flushed cheeks and wagging tail.

“You're okay?” Asked the macaque with a raised eyebrow. Sun Wukong startled, broken of whatever trance he was in, and looked away with reddening cheeks.

“Y-yeah, everything's fine.”

“Hm, well thank you for this.” Mumbled the macaque with the shadow of a smile on his face. Sun Wukong threw a glance at him, immediately his fur fluffed up and his tail wagged harder.

“Anytime.” Mumbled the sage with a longing sigh on his lips.

Macaque frowned at the weird behavior but decided to not comment on it, it was a lovely night after all, he could bear the sage’s oddness if it offered him such a view.

+ meme!!

+ cut scenes

Macaque : the moon is very beautiful!😊

SWK *looking at Mac* : yeah 😍

Macaque : why are you looking at me the moon is in the sky you dimwit 🤨

SWK *crying inside* : yeah 😭

Macaque : Hey, about that offer you made...you know about going outside...

SWK *immediately straightening* : yeah? 😳

Macaque *embarrassed* : I was thinking, maybe, if you have time, you know bc I'm bored, You could show me the moon?

SWK *almost in tears* : of course! 🥹

SWK *drunk at one brotherhood fest* : and then he told me to show him the moon, he's sooo cute, I can't 😍🥹🥰

Peng *at the rest* : who the fuck is he talking about? 🤨

Azure : I have no idea, brother. 😔

Bull King : just nods along with him like the rest of us

The wind *after the outing* : spill the drama six-ears, how was your date ?

Macaque : Idk what you means by date but it was nice seeing the moon. SWK was looking at me instead of the moon, that was weird 🤔

The wind *chuckling* : Oh yeah? I'm not surprised 😏

Macaque : maybe he was surveilling me?

The wind *flicking Macaque's ears* : 😫😑

SWK *rolling around in bed and giggling like a schoolgirl after the outing* : Agjisbzhabgs, he was so cute!! 😍🥰, I'm melting 🫠

Monkey passing by : 👀

SWK : you saw nothing! 😳

Monkey : 👀👀

SWK : here, food 😣

Monkey : 🙈

#shadowpeach #lmk #mini mac au #shadowpeach fanfic #Macaque being obvious #The wind watching his favorite drama #Wukong acting like a high-school girl with a crush

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vincess-princess · 22 hours

Text

we, the psychos

ch. 5

Word count: 2724 Warnings: violence A/N: i really am spoiling you with all those updates. gene simmons fans, i'm sorry, i needed a bad guy

Vince was suffocating.

Water in his lungs, water in his eyes, water in his nose. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even scream – no sound came out, only bubbling. The coldness burned his skin; he grasped the handles of the chair, but couldn’t feel its wooden texture. And it went on, and on, and on, and the world was just cold and water-

And then it ended. The water trickled down his body and pooled at his feet. Vince opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything and for a second panicked. Then he realised it was just his hair covering his eyes. He shook his head to get it out of sight.

His eyes were hurting as they do after you open them underwater, and his vision hadn’t returned to him completely, so he could only see a figure in white coming up to him. But the voice was unmistakable.

“Well, Wharton,” nurse Simmons said, “enjoyed the shower?”

“Screw you,” Vince coughed out.

“Well, you’re the only one screwed here,” nurse Simmons responded cheerily. “You might want to be more polite if you don’t want another shower. And you don’t, do you?”

Vince didn’t answer. Nurse Simmons came close to him and squatted down in front of him so that their faces were on the same level. He smiled. It was all fun and games to him.

“Well?”

“Yes,” Vince croaked. He wanted to spit in Simmons’s face so bad, but that would not help his situation.

“That’s a good boy. Now, I’ll untie you, and don’t you try to pull anything.” Simmons unfastened the belts first on Vince’s legs, then on his wrists.

Vince stood up, stretched his shoulders. And when nurse Simmons turned his back on him to fetch a towel, Vince launched at him.

He jumped on nurse Simmons’ back and clasped his arms around his neck. Simmons staggered back and clutched at Vince’s arms, but Vince clung to him like a tick. Simmons was like a head taller than him and twice as wide in the shoulders, so direct assault would have Vince on the ground the very next moment. This – this gave him a chance. Not to kill Simmons, no. That would be too much. To cause him at least a sliver of the pain and discomfort he just caused Vince.

“Let go,” Simmons croaked. He tried to poke at Vince’s eye with one hand, but missed. Vince bit his finger, and Simmons yelped in pain. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Vince’s arms began to hurt, so he enclasped Simmons’ body with his legs to give himself some propping. Simmons finally realised trying to reach the parasite on his back was useless and backed into the wall with all the speed he was capable of.

Vince hit the wall with his back so hard all the air went out of his lungs. His grip weakened, and Simmons managed to shove his hand in between his arms. Now that he could breathe again, Simmons began slamming his back into the wall until Vince released his grip and slid to the floor.

Simmons began kicking him in the ribs vehemently, shouting curses along with it. Vince covered his head and lay onto the floor in the pose of an embryo – that minimized the damage to vital organs. And now just to wait, just to endure until Simmons runs out of steam. Blows rained down his back and legs, some even came at the arms covering his face – the nurses usually tried not to hit in the face, but Simmons must have got too carried away.

In a distance, as though through fog, Vince heard another voice – a different nurse. Wonder if he stops Simmons or joins him?..

Then blows stopped.

Stradlin stood over Vince, looking at him with his typical indifference. Nothing ever touched him. Vince wished he could go through life like that – with a glass shield separating him and the world, so that he could see everything but not care about it. Stradlin never got angry, even when a patient was smearing shit all over his face, and barely ever smiled.

But at least he stopped Simmons.

“What’s that again?” he asked Simmons tiredly.

“The motherfucker tried to choke me!” Simmons said, rubbing his neck.

“Why’d you do that?” Stradling now said to Vince, not a change in his tone.

Vince moved his arms away from his face. The back of his palm was bleeding from Simmons’s sharp heel. He licked the blood off and smiled.

“He’s a dick.”

”And what do we do with him now?” Stradlin asked Simmons, losing interest to Vince.

“I’ll go ask Dr. Duren. I don’t even know what else can be done.” Simmons spit on the floor. “Would you mind watching him while I am away?”

“Alright.”

Simmons sent Vince the last hateful look and left. Stradlin picked up the towel that Simmons dropped when Vince attacked him and threw it at Vince.

“Wipe yourself up and dress.”

***

The man Duff delegated Tommy too surely was… peculiar. Long black hair that almost reached his waist that was unusually well-kept for a psycho streamed down his shoulders. Clear blue eyes looked at the world with wariness so old it was almost ingrained in them. His hospital robe was well-worn but clean, without a single wrinkle. This man hardly looked insane, and at first Tommy even doubted Duff told him the truth: how can be this man a patient? But then he looked at his fingers, and they were covered in wounds and scabs; the man kept picking at them absent-mindedly even as he and Duff spoke. Blood was under one of his nails. The man seemed not to notice.

“Bob, this is Tommy Lee. He just arrived to our asylum, so make sure his first impression is good!” Duff said with a smile. “Tommy, this is Bob Deal. He’s one of the oldies. Knows everything around here. He’ll show you around.”

“Hello,” Tommy said carefully to the man, hesitating whether he should offer him his hand. Then he decided to go for it – and the man looked at it like it was smeared with crap.

“Bob doesn’t shake hands,” Duff said apologetically. “He’s very… hygienic. Our laundresses’ favorite patient!”

“Ah, alright.” Well, what else could I expect.

“People used to show their hands to each other to prove they had no weapons. This is where hand-shaking comes from. You both can agree this is not needed in our situation,” the man spoke with a low, slightly hoarse voice. He must be a smoker. Were cigarettes allowed here?

“Well, you know, with some patients you wish they got in the habit of showing you their hands,” Duff laughed. “Not needed with you two, though, that’s true. Alright, I’ll be on my way. Please be back in twenty minutes, gents, or I’ll get into a big trouble. And keep out of nurse Simmons’ sight!”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Bob Deal said, made Tommy a lazy gesture to follow him and turned around. They went up the pathway circling the asylum.

“Hey, Bob. What’s so bad about nurse Simmons?” Tommy asked. Bob kept silent so long Tommy thought he was ignoring him. What did he do to earn such unfriendliness?

Then he stopped and turned to Tommy. “Two things,” he said. “First: don’t call me Bob. My name is Mick Mars. Nurses mustn’t know.”

“Mick Mars?” The name was more fit for a practicing performer than for a psych patient. Though… these were not too far apart. People of the arts were all a bit cooky. “Alright… And why nurses mustn’t know?”

“They will tell them.” Mick highlighted the last word with his voice. He looked at Tommy with grave seriousness. To laugh now would be to lose his favor for good.

“Oh. Them. Alright. And who are they?”

Mick didn’t answer, just put his finger to his mouth.

Well, if that was the asylum’s most reasonable fellow, Tommy feared to imagine what their worst case looked like. The blonde guy from the canteen? Or something worse?

They stood in silence until Tommy lost his patience.

“What’s the second thing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mick’s tone switched to lazy casual so suddenly it gave Tommy a whiplash. “Nurse Simmons. Right. Well, he’s very good friends with Dr. Duren. And he tells him about everything he sees. And he usually sees things that we’d rather Dr. Duren didn’t know about.”

“A snitch,” Tommy concluded.

“You could say that.” Mick turned around and continued his path. He was surprisingly fast for a short man that he was - his head barely reached Tommy’s shoulder.

They went up the path and reached the asylum building.

“Alright. This,” Mick waved vaguely in the air, “is out beloved Feelgood Asylum. You feelin’ good here already?”

Tommy snorted. Mick clearly liked that.

“Our beloved asylum contains about seventy patients, give or take. About twenty nurses and then the director, Dr. Duren. He’s the one who’s gonna diagnose you and prescribe you stuff and all. Sometimes he requests help from other doctors when the case is tough, but usually he does it all himself.”

“And what kind of case is so tough Dr. Duren can’t crack it?” Tommy’s father spoke of him with much respect, even reverence. Dr. Duren also treated Tommy’s uncle, and, as far as he knew, successfully. Tommy never met him, but father said he was living peacefully in the Yorkshire countryside. If your treatment goes well, you can join him there, father used to say. That was before Tommy’s psychosis revealed itself, though.

“I think you’ve already met him,” Mick said, looking pointedly at Tommy’s cheek. Tommy couldn’t help but touch the bruise the blonde guy left him. It hurt a bit, and the cheekbone began to swell, but overall Tommy felt pretty good about the fight. He didn’t back off and stood up to himself.

“You saw the fight too?”

“No. But everyone had heard about that already. You did the right thing. Wharton had it coming.”

“He really is… something else.” Tommy recalled the inhuman shriek and shuddered. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually not. But he’s had a bad spell for a couple weeks. Spent almost all of them in a padded cell. Guess that makes a person a little bit… mad.”

Tommy snorted again. Well, at least this old man was fun.

“And what was the consensus on him?”

“I don’t know, but if I were those doctors, I’d say: pour more cold water on the bastard. He surely needs to cool down.” Mick started walking again, and Tommy followed him. “The problem is, he hurts other inmates. Some complain of sexual assault. Some… well, don’t react well to his antics. My advice is: keep away.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. What he saw and heard of Wharton convinced him this was rather sound advice. He only wished Wharton would also keep away from him. For some reason, Tommy doubted it. People like him tended to be pretty vindictive.

“Now, the asylum itself is Building A. Nurses live there – in Building B.” Mick waved at a smaller building a little bit farther away. It was connected with the asylum by a corridor. “We’re pretty far in the countryside, and they can’t commute here from London every day.”

“Looks much newer than the asylum.”

“Because it is. When asylum housed less people, nurses lived in the same building, just in a different wing. Good times those were. Peaceful.”

“You were there already?” Tommy stared at Mick. He didn’t look that old – in his forties, maybe. How long had he spent in the asylum?

“You heard Michael – I’m one of the oldies,” Mick huffed. He looked clearly displeased, and Tommy decided to drop the topic.

“And then the world went crazy, and people went crazy, and the asylum had to take in more and more patients. And now we’re all cramped in here, two, three in a ward… I heard you’ve got it rather fancy?”

“What, the ward?” Tommy clarified. “Fancy” was the last word he could come up with to describe it. But other patients probably didn’t have even that. “Well… the curtains are full of holes and the carpet needs washing, and I’m pretty sure someone bled on my mattress, but otherwise yeah, you could say it’s fancy.”

“Oh-oh, look at him, he’s got holes in his curtains!” Mick teased. “Spoiled little brat, you are. Why aren’t you wearing a robe like us peasants, anyway?”

“Du- Michael said there’s none in my size.”

“Well,” Mick looked him over critically, “your size is probably hard to match, that’s true. But don’t you worry – they’ll dress you up like the rest of us.”

“Oh no,” Tommy moaned. “These look just horrible.”

“You’re in an asylum,” Mick reminded sternly. ”It’s not a beauty pageant.”

“Maybe that’s why you all are crazy here,” Tommy grumbled. “Humans need beauty to live.”

“Humans need food, water and air to live. Everything else is secondary.” Mick waved his hand and headed up the path.

“Now, that’s the laundromat and that’s the kitchen. You might be assigned laundry or kitchen duty some time – if you’re normal around knives, of course.”

At home Tommy was forbidden from going to the kitchen after a maid discovered four knives under his pillow and two in the pockets of his coat. He decided not to tell Mick that, but the old man with his piercing gaze probably saw something anyway.

“So do the patients do all the work around here?”

“Well, not all. There are cooks and laundresses and cleaners. But there are too few of them to service all the patients, so yeah – we have to help ourselves.”

“And why don’t just hire more people?”

Mick stopped dead in his tracks, looked at Tommy, saw he was serious and erupted into laughter.

“Oh, sweet innocence! You do know that services cost money, right?”

“Of course,” Tommy pouted, crossing his arms on his chest in a defensive gesture. “It’s just… doesn’t the asylum have sponsors?”

“Sure it does. But sponsors are also not bottomless moneybags. And they, unlike patients, haven’t doubled in numbers in recent decades.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s father was one of the sponsors, and he never mentioned the asylum was underfunded. And Tommy’s father had no problem with money. Couldn’t he invest even a little in the place he sent his son to?

“Yeah. So that’s why we have to work. Dr. Duren says, of course, that labor humanizes and ennobles, but we all know that’s just an excuse.”

Tommy imagined himself mopping a bathroom floor and shuddered. Working like a servant, getting all sweaty and dirty, fumbling with psychos’ dirty underwear or washing the dishes – horrible, horrible! Maybe his privileged status would also absolve him of all this labor? He was already noble enough.

Duff would probably tell him to get off his high horse, and as much as Tommy liked him, that attitude irritated him. They all may be psychos here, but even among psychos there is variation. He needed to ask Dr. Duren about it. He was friends with Tommy’s father, surely he would cut Tommy some slack?

“And you sure need to learn what real labor is like. You look like you haven’t washed a dish in your life,” Mick added ruthlessly.

Well, he was not wrong. Tommy was used to considering that a reason for pride, but somehow the only thing he now felt was shame. And then – anger. How dares this lunatic shame him?

He just opened his mouth to express his resentment when Mick frowned, staring at the nurses’ dormitory, and then quietly cursed.

“Damn it. Nurse Simmons! He can’t see us!”

Tommy followed the path of his gaze and saw the nurse from the canteen. Even at this distance he instilled some primal fear in Tommy. Especially now, when he was walking in big strides, his hands were clenched into fists, and his coat half-soaked in water.

Mick dashed to the nearest tree and hid behind the trunk. From there he gestured to Tommy to hide behind another tree, which he did.

They watched the nurse enter the building, and even from their spots could hear the bang he slammed the door with.

“Hm. Someone got him real mad.” Mick scratched his stubbly chin. “We better go back to other patients.”

#we the psychos #asylum au #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars #duff mckagan #guns n roses #izzy stradlin #gene simmons #i wrote 2700 words in three days what is even happening i havent been writing for months before #that's what you get when you give love to your resident fanfic writer #i managed to whump vince even here. sorry hes my babygirl even when hes a sex obsessed psycho

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