#and he’s never had voice lessons before I- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skyrigel · 1 day

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Hi! I love all of your writing, could please do Benedict and best friend reader at a ball and he over hears some girls bullying reader and goes OFF and reader runs off and he thinks he’s embarrassed her but when he finds her she explains she found it super hot and then some smut please! 💖

You are in love 1 || B.B

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x best friend! Reader, + Polin

Warning: fem! reader, no description of reader, friendly flirting and teasing, mutual pinning, use of inappropriate words, reader has a step sister. Fluff and angst, part 1 of you are in love. Part : 2 will be smut

Rigel's note 🪩: Thank you for requesting, and the compliment<3333 *smooches* I hope you don't mind me doing it in two parts :) the title is taken from Taylor Swift's song " you are in love", it popped as soon as I read best friend reader, hope it's not as bad as it's in my head, sending love back, also part 2 soon.

" Perks of being a woman, you don't have to dance with Eloise bridgerton." You remarked when it was the fifth time Eloise stepped on lord White's toe.

Benedict snorted on his lemonade as he looked at you sideways, his iconic lop sided grin plastered to his smug face.

" I was her dance partner, " Benedict fake sniffed, wiping the fake tear, ", that too, before she started lessons."

You winced at the idea of Eloise before her lesson and gave Benedict a pat on his back for being ever the sacrifice.

" I thought that's why you danced wierd " you told him, smiling when he looked at you scandalously.

" Excuse me ?! " He narrowed his eyes, " you take that back ! " He slammed the glass down with force.

" Will not, you dance like...like a snowman ! " You beamed, slamming your fan down and glaring back, nose to nose, eye to eye.

" That never stopped you from dancing with me." He said smugly and retreated to his space with a satisfied look in his eyes when your jaw slacked slightly.

" You don't dance like a snowman with me." you told him in a small voice and that's when it hit you how gracefully he twirled you around when he was practically running away from other beautiful young ladies.

Benedict smiled, his eyes twinkling at you as he raised his brow, like in a question.

" And why would you think that ? " His mouth twisted and you didn't know what to say.

" Perhaps because I dance well...? " You tried and despite it being not the answer he expected, he laughed all the same.

" You dance like a ... a Kangaroo." Benedict thought hard and a muscle in his jaw twitched, he smiled proudly when he got the right word to annoy you.

" What's a kangaroo ? " You asked, you had heard it somewhere but it was easier to ask him than think hard.

" It's like..." Benedict motioned with his hands something like a vase," it's a cute animal." He finally said when nothing more could be made out from his gestures.

"Oh." You nodded and then it hit you, " Did you just call me an ANIMAL ?! " You snarled at him and he shaked his head with a chuckle.

" I called you cute too." He squabbled.

" Kangaroo's aren't cute ! " You jabbed at him and he chuckled, grabbing your wrist firmly, a spark so bright jolted inside you and you felt your face grow hot.

" Then I don't dance like a snowman—" you sticked your tongue out at him and he was lost in words, just looking, you saw the opportunity and yanked your hand away from his grip. He relented like a gentleman.

" You are always like..like running away and leaning off while dancing and it's so so snowman like." You argued and Benedict's eyes twinkled like moon.

" Have you seen a snowman waltzing ? " Benedict asked and you shaked your head, while clutching at your chest, you couldn't help the giggling.

" Yes if we are talking about a tall, handsome and smug snowman."

" You think I am handsome ? " Benedict ducked his head closer to your face and you felt your breath hitching in your throat, like air was punched out of your chest.

You rolled your eyes when it became too apparent that no word would come out of your traitorous throat and you couldn't help but gaze back at him, he looked back just the same, all fire and blaze.

" You didn't answer my question." He said slowly, each word carefully and it squeezed your heart how close his face was, how beautiful those eyes were, and that nose, and those cheeks, those lines when he smiled, he oftened and it was so warm and gorgeous, how you never noticed how captivating he was, every atom of his body was tied with an invisible thread with yours, a golden one. And you would be damned to think of that mouth, your lips parted at the ethereal site and Benedict smiled at that.

" No." You just said it, eager to say anything and break this moment, it was swirling you around in a storm.

" No ? " He questioned, frowning and he was handsome at that too, you were so doomed.

" You are silly like handsome, like some lord Byron poetry." you murmured softly, safe guarding the hammering heart in your chest and blinking at the sudden burn from his gaze on you, drinking you in, his brow knitted in funny way, a mock annoyance crossed his face.

" Lord Byron ?! Really, " he dropped back to his seat and you finally took a breath, then he covered his face like a damsel in distress and when he glanced sideways at you, he was smiling his brightest, oh, you just realised how goofy and precious and mesmerizing his smile was, you wished to stop time and paint it under your lids so everytime you close your eyes, you could meet him there, in your secret gardens and then a death like that would be sweeter.

" What ? " You exasperated when he refused to look away, even when your nose wrinkled and face basked in it's warmth, he wouldn't let go of you, taking each and every detail in like he was wishing to stop time too and paint you. He could, he was an artist.

" You called me poetry..." His mouth quirked up in a delightful grin, like it explained all the merry and you groaned, looking away as you huffed the tingling in your body that wouldn't go, your eyes landed on a very eventful moment.

" Is that our Colin ? " You raised your brow at Benedict who sat up straighter and turned his gaze to the other side of the hall.

" Why is he eye murdering lord Debling ? " You asked him, he winked and pulled your chair closer, not caring if any mama saw or perhaps lady whistledown herself.

" Penelope is dancing with lord Debling, and well she's laughing at something too, oh—" Benedict whispered in the shell of your ear and you barely nodded, Colin looked like he had enough, he was making his way through the crowd towards Pen.

" Forty shillings if he punches lord Debling." You piped up, Benedict shaked his head.

" You are gonna lose cupcake, he's gonna take Miss Featherington's hand and—" you gasped when Colin stopped abruptly, said something urgently and took Penelope's wrist between his hand, Benedict cocked his head to his side and winked smugly.

" And ? " You drawled and it amused Benedict beyond limits, like he has been waiting for it.

" Birds and bees." He said in a code like hushed whisper, you smacked the back of his head.

" I don't have a mother, you know." You told Benedict and he touched his upper lip with the tip of his pink tongue, he nodded along knowingly.

" Well, someone's gotta teach you."

" Mm.. you are my best friend." You would look anywhere but at him but your eye's were locked in his, he was being brave then so can you. One step, not much.

" I can not tell you birds and bee." Benedict said sincerely.

" Colin helped Pen ! " You said, nose flaring as he worried his jaw but didn't say anything.

" He told her how kids are made, something like going to a farm and then...well he kissed her but that's not the point." You blurted in a whisper, he listened intently.

" He kissed her already ? "

" Well a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell but a lady can, but that's not the point! " You pouted, his resistance crumbled but then again, bloody bridgerton.

" That's not my place cupcake." He was breathing hard, his mouth would open and snap close again, taking back all the things left unsaid.

" Well then—" you hated how choked your voice got, you tried, didn't you, it's not like you left it on god's cue, this was the biggest hint you could have given him and if he didn't got this, then only bricks might work.

Give him one more, a small voice said in your head, it was yours, but stronger and braver than you.

" —then you can tell me about love."

Benedict laughed on that, like it was the funniest thing you had said.

" You know what? I take it back, I am gonna ask someone—" you smoothed your skirt and began to get up when he pulled you down.

" Sorry, I didn't mean that, sorry, don't go leaving me stranded." He pleaded.

You looked at him hard, looking for any sign of humour and you found none, he was glittering when he clapped his tongue and opened his mouth, his soft tongue resting like a tired cat.

" Love," he began," is like music."

" Like music." You repeated, struggling with the fit laughter that shook your shoulders.

Benedict glanced at you offended but when he spoke next, it was how the poets said, with longing and desire, like bleeding for your beloved and when no blood was left then it was ink and parchment.

" You can hear it in the silence." He said, you remembered those afternoons when no word was said between you and your bestfriend and yet nothing was hidden and left unsaid.

" You can feel it on your way home." He said, penetrating his gaze in you eyes and he remembered damn well that night after he rescued you from the lake when you almost drowned, the terror of losing you, the spark of holding you closer than ever.

" You can see it with the light's out, it's so bright and golden." Everything is more beautiful with you Benedict, you told him one Sunny afternoon, basking under a tree while he read you poetry, Better than Byron.

" Loving that one person will make you love yourself, with them, you are enough." He was whispering now, chest heaving as his hand trembled and unknowingly yours found his under the table, locked eye's and joined hands and sacred whispered chants. It was enough.

" You aren't too much, or too little, or loud or boring, you don't have to be interesting or witty or anything, being youself with them is enough." I like myself with you, he had told you when you were sixteen.

" That's love, being safe with them is love, being their home is love, to be able to leave all shades behind and be naked in just body and soul and not being afraid, not being embarassed is love."

" Benedict..." Your voice was soft and sweet and it took him a moment to realise he was crying, when you gently wiped it's proof with your handkerchief.

" I...I will be back in a moment—" he stumbled out, still smiling a small smile and oh god what you have done, you have ruined him as well your self and nothing will ever be the same.

" Yes...." You said, because he was waiting for your approval, he nodded back when he got it and disappeared amongst the crowd as you watched him leave.

Love was indeed like music, the one you liked, it could be light as bee buzzing and sharp as thunder roaring in clouds, it could be slow and rhythmic and soft like water flowing, it could be the sound of his laughter and the way he drew his breath, it could be how he whined and joked and played and teased, for you, love was the music and muse of Benedict bridgerton and yes, you were very much doomed.

" What a pleasant site, a spinster smiling on her own, have you planned some scandalous plan of yours to bag some noble man ? " Claire wheezed in a duckling like laughter, shared with Asha Patil and Gissele Turner.

You refused to say anything, it only further added spice to their boring marital lives, with their husbands out and wombs empty.

" Would you look at her ? She's giving us that attitude, no wonder she's still unmarried ! " Scowled Asha, with her frizzy hair and crooked nose, her eyes coated in loathing of most tainted kind.

" She might had gotten the ring if she wasn't being Mr. Bridgerton's bitch." Gissele whispered it down to you and anger shot up through your veins and your eyes snapped to her, it didn't matter if she was your elder sister and the rage that blinded you was so fierce that you didn't feel when two big tears rolled down your cheek.

" Don't cry now, you can always be his mistress atleast." They all laughed, loud and big and white teeth flashing, with their fake diamond rings rubbing in your eyes but it was too blur, you saw nothing, you heard nothing, everything was drowning around you.

" Speaking of mistresses, Lord Hasting has bought a bigger estate for his mistress than your home in east London and I wouldn't blame him lady Hasting."

You can hear it in the silence.

It was your love's voice, it was your Benedict speaking and you lifted your mascara stained lashed eyes at him.

If you had known him less than you couldn't have known of the terrible anger that was shaking him, that smile was no ordinary, it was feral and stray, wanting to tear anyone who dared to come near, he was burning in anger that was beyond words.

Claire sizzled at that remark, turning her hand to her palm side and only moments ago she was flashing her ring and now, she was hiding it.

" Don't ruin your reputation by showing ungratefuls such as her your pity Mr. Bridgerton." It would've hurt less, were it Claire or Asha, but it was your own half sister, be it half blood but blood all the same.

" Lady Turner, i have no wish to speak to you, you have hurt my best friend beyond words, you had taken her affections for granted so if someone's ungrateful then it's sorely you, you don't deserve a sister like her, she's too good for all of us." He was carefully placing the word and his anger slipped between, his teeth grinded and breath hitched, you stared, just at him and him, everything was getting dimmer but you knew in that moment, you would know him in darkness.

you can feel it with the light's out.

He had done many things for you, Benedict stole Anthony's horse to take you out on a midnight ride, he nicked Colin's sword and taught you fencing, bought ribbons of your favourite pastel silk, saved your favourite sweets, and so many and so more, but this was something you couldn't have done yourself if you wanted, he had done it, he had stood up for you and it was the most gleaming moment of your life, he wasn't playing hero, he wasn't being mean, he was protecting your with your honour and Benedict, the gentleman who wouldn't hurt a fly, he was going to dagger them down with words alone.

He was speaking and speaking and they were all quiet, their eyes low and nose bowed down, he was speaking and speaking, words clear with pure affection and respect and then your felt it.

The warmness aroused in your womanhood and an inaudible gasp parted through your lips as you felt the slicky wet feeling caress your inner thigh and the sensation was so electrifying that you had to close your eyes in order to take a breath and even then, you could feel his words, soft and praising, " ......if you were half good as a woman she is....." He was breathless and he wasn't stopping and something inside you wanted to cup his face and tell him, don't Stop, never stop.

And then his eyes looked for you, he found your gaze and held it and you felt the shame, you couldn't do this to him, this burning desire would take you both down in flames and what it would be to become one, only in ashes, it was scaring you.

And before you could think of say anything, you were already on your feet, stumbling through the crowd with your gown kissing the floor behind you.

You didn't know where you were going but far, away and this feeling wouldn't let go, you knew well but you wanted air, the warmness that was spreading was maddening and the hunger was tugging under your skin.

He was calling out your name, you hated yourself but you needed to run, this love would ruin you, what if Benedict hated you if you told him how you felt, how you thought about him, would he call you a whore along with Gissele, would it hurt more ?

More than anything.

His voice turned to pleading as crowd thickened and you were getting out of his sight. You wouldn't look back, because if you did then you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from doing something very stupid.

You were out of the gates, descending down the stairs as one heel slipped out but you didn't care, you were on a run.

Johnny was already motioning the horses as you frantically climbed in, you could see Colin chasing down Penelope's carriage in a distance as you opened the window to inhale heavy gulps of air.

Would Benedict Chase you down too ? Would he come and look for you ? And if he did, what would you tell him ?

You are my best friend.

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qqueenofhades · 24 hours

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Is it foolish of me to sympathize with how marginalized people on the far-left are incredibly frustrated that the Democratic establishment isn't as scared of/desperate to please them as the Republican establishment are toward the MAGA fringe? I guess from their perspective, voting feels like begging - most of the people who hear you won't even glance at you, let alone drop you a coin. But you still have to do it, or else you (or worse, your family) are *guaranteed* to starve.

Okay, a few thoughts here. Note: for you and the other people who have recently sent politics asks, I have been very deliberately NOT talking about it for the last few months. I had to break it yesterday because of the Orange Menace finally getting fucking convicted, but I do want to go back to not doing that (at least for the next few weeks/months/until whatever else stupid happens). So while I will answer this, I am generally not going to answer others and my apologies for that, but yeah. It's just so much and I have GOT to keep myself sane until November somehow. (Or God forbid, afterward, but you know.)

First off, most members of the American far left aren't actually marginalized people, or at least not marginalized enough that their personal well-being seems in any way likely to be affected by their loud and ceaseless campaign to tell other people not to vote. Actual marginalized people who have lived in America for any length of time are *well* aware of how the government and the state can be weaponized against them; witness how black community organizers will voice well-deserved criticisms of the Democratic establishment or other aspects of American party politics that are frustrating for everyone, but they will still always tell people to vote. Black people are also extremely aware that earning the right to vote was an incredibly long, difficult, and bloody battle that they were never given it for free, and the white power establishment fought them having it at every turn. They are thus far more aware than your average white online leftist that voting matters, because they had to work so hard to get it (and still to defend it as various red states launch openly racist assaults on voting rights, especially aimed at disenfranchising people of color). Witness how Bernie also got literally zero traction with African American voters, despite being the darling of the (white) online left.

Hispanic people are also (rightfully) frustrated at how both American parties can use Latino immigrants as a political football, but they're still backing Biden by 30-point margins. We hear a lot of chatter about Trump supposedly gaining ground with voters of color -- maybe he has, though I doubt it, but that's still incremental gains from the massive holes he was in before, and where he generally remains. Arab Americans are (rightfully) angry with Biden over Gaza, but even in the much-hyped Michigan primary, he got roughly the same amount of "uncommitted" voters as Obama did as an uncontested incumbent in 2012, and most of them have said they'll grit their teeth and vote for him in the general election anyway. Yes, a few of them have decided not to, but they are not the size of the Black and Latino populations in America insofar as electoral power, and many of them have grudgingly decided that as bad as Biden might be on this particular issue (though far less so than the social media groupthink would paint him) the alternative (i.e. Trump openly promising to deport everybody who's not white and crack down on pro-Palestinian protests and anything else) is much, much worse.

And yet, white leftists seem utterly incapable of making these same calculations. Frankly, I'm not sure they actually care about Gaza, let alone anything else they say, because if so, they wouldn't be slavering at the mouth to let Trump back in there to "teach a lesson" to Biden, Democrats, and everyone else who was not Smart And Clever Enough to sanctimoniously sit on their hands and let the fascists take over. I know this because they spent all their time lying about Biden and distorting his record and insisting people not vote even before October of last year, and then it only got ten thousand times worse. I'm not saying that all leftist or leftist-identified people are white, but they are disproportionately predominant in leftist spaces and in pushing the idea that there's "no difference" between the parties and somehow Trump and Biden are morally equivalent or will have the same amount of impact on what will happen after one of them is elected. That is, yes, because they are white and they have the privilege of assuming that a weaponized fascist government will not go after them for that reason (even though Trump and his surrogates are now claiming that "everyone" who opposes Trump has to be "dealt with.") As such, when you say that marginalized far-left people are frustrated with the Democrats, I'm... not entirely sure that's true. Marginalized people AND the far left are both frustrated with the Democrats, but one of those groups has generally still decided not to voluntarily disenfranchise themselves, and the other is pumping out Vladimir Putin-wet-dream anti-voting propaganda at every chance they get.

There is also the fact that America is not a left-wing country in any sense of the word, and that while it's easy for the MAGA Republicans to go ever further far-right and promise to be even more outrageously cruel and stupid and fascist than ever before, but that's not an actual policy or a plan. It is also a strategy of diminishing returns; witness the fact that for all the cruelty and stupidity Republicans have pumped into the public arena since 2016, they haven't actually been that good at winning elections, and most of their major successes have come from Trump winning in 2016 and thus being able to stack SCOTUS and the district and circuit courts with hand-picked right-wing nut jobs, who are functioning exactly as they were designed to do. (Which Hillary Clinton warned about, along with everyone else, and yet she was taken out by the exact same dirtbag leftist disinformation moral purity machine that is working overtime to handicap Biden for the exact same reasons.) Mainstream Democrats warned about this before the 2016 election and were scorned and laughed off. Indeed, the entire Online Left continues to resolutely deny that the extremist SCOTUS is responsible for anything (It's Biden's Fault) and thus are likewise identical to Trumpies. And since they also want Trump to get back in there and teach a lesson to the Democrats, they're just as anti-democratic, dangerous, stupid, and deliberately short-sighted as actual MAGATs, and can by no means be considered allies to the singular movement of keeping fascists out of power. That is our only present goal.

If Democrats bent over to everything the far left asks for (which is often a combination of tankie gobbledygook, various vague ideas about Communism utopia where capitalism magically vanishes with no consequences, half-baked revolution cosplays, and other stuff that is functionally equivalent to the wildest lunacies of MAGA) they would never win an election again, and that would be exactly what the fascists want. Witness how they struggled when they were branded "defunders of the police" and "socialists" and other effective responses to the mildest milquetoast efforts for reform or accountability. And the political climate right now is just far too dangerous to throw everything to the wind and prance out some pipe-dream perfect-utopia plan. I'm sure you've heard about Project 2025 and how the far-right Heritage Foundation is planning to systematically implement fascism at all levels of the country, the instant they have a compliant Republican president and congress. I would take all these people crying about Biden even a fraction more seriously if they weren't openly jonesing for something that is so unbelievably, incredibly worse.

For example: I currently have major beefs with literally the entire foreign policy of the Biden administration right now. I think they're being too hard on Ukraine (forbidding them to strike targets on Russian soil with American weapons, which would end the war faster) and, despite some promising signs and open displeasure, still far too easy on Israel. They looked foolish after insisting that Rafah was a red line and then essentially making up an excuse that what's going on now is not a "major operation." Secretary of State Blinken floating the idea of helping Congress censure or neuter the International Criminal Court arrest warrants issued for Netanyahu and co. was also one of the fucking stupidest things I've heard from a serious (i.e. non-Trumpist) American diplomat in a long time. So we respect the ICC when it issues warrants for tyrants we don't like (Putin), but when it issues one for tyrants we still do, apparently (Netanyahu), then bingo, it's back to the bad old habit of ignoring international law like we're special and it doesn't apply to us, and allows all the other bad actors around the world to do the same by pointing at America and correctly pointing out that we ignore it when it doesn't suit our purposes. I think this is wrong and I don't agree. So? What am I going to do?

Well, you see. I'm going to vote for Biden and I am going to give him money and I am going to remind everyone I know that they have no moral option but to do the same. I do this because I am aware that despite my disagreements, Biden is acting from a cautious anti-interventionist standpoint and does not want to throw American military might around recklessly or dangerously like good ol' George Dubya or Trump or even Obama and the drones. He is listening to sober mainstream advisors who have (however incorrect and useless) ideas about "avoiding escalation" and trying to bring conflict to a managed end. He is doing this with a realistic appraisal of the power of the office of American presidency and he's not going to capriciously end democracy and become a full-blown fascist dictator on day one, as Trump has openly and repeatedly promised to do. Yes, if there was a viable option apart from Biden, maybe I would think about voting for them, but there is not, and literally everyone who does not actively vote for him is helping Trump. I do not care about any other contrived and disingenuous online squealing. I know that Biden does not want the war in Gaza to go on for no reason and for maximum carnage; Netanyahu and Trump both do. That is just to name one thing.

So: yes. I absolutely understand being frustrated with the Democrats and wishing they would push harder and etc. But I am also aware that they can be pushed, that they are the only option right now, and the people who huff and puff and whine and groan about how it's such a moral imposition to vote for them are literally doing the fascists' work for them, and that is not acceptable. If they want a better system or a better world that isn't just useless internet fantasies about magical end-of-days Raptures fixing everything, also a la the crazy fundamentalists, they will have to get off their ass, do the work, and create that change. I will be happy to vote for that candidate when or if they arrive. In the meantime, I will continue to do my damndest to ensure that we even have a chance to get there. So yeah.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #okay back to Not Talking About Politics i go

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theodorenmyth · 3 days

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THEO NOTT REQUEST<3

I don’t read smut so I would like to request something angst to fluff or just fluff. Maybe something where we are jealous but not in a toxic or overbearing way. Maybe he gets paired up with a past hookup of his in class and we get uncomfortable. But we aren’t weird about it. Thanks! And drink your water babe

A Twinge of Green

Pairings : Theodore Nott x M! Reader Summary : You never imagined Theodore Nott could make you feel this way. Paired with a former flame in class, Theo seems unaffected while your discomfort grows. Navigating your emotions and trying not to be overbearing, you grapple with a jealousy that is unfamiliar but undeniably present. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 900+

You’ve always prided yourself on being rational. Cool-headed, even. It’s why Professor Slughorn paired you with Theodore Nott for Potions; you two balance each other out. Theo’s knack for improvisation complemented your methodical approach perfectly. But today, Professor Slughorn had other ideas.

"Today's lesson will require some collaboration," Slughorn announces, clapping his hands together. "I'll be mixing up the pairs for a bit of variety. Let's see… Mr. Nott, you'll be working with Miss Carmichael."

You freeze. Eloise Carmichael. You’re more than aware of her brief but intense history with Theo. They had a fling last year that ended as quickly as it began, but the memory lingers in your mind like an uninvited guest.

Theo nods, unaffected, as if the shift in partners is no big deal. Of course, to him, it probably isn’t. He walks over to Eloise, exchanging a few words before they settle into a comfortable rhythm. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but their familiarity is evident in the way they move around each other, seamless and fluid.

“Y/N, you’ll be with Mr. Diggory,” Slughorn's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you turn to see Cedric Diggory smiling at you warmly. Cedric is kind, intelligent, and charming—an ideal partner. Yet, as you make your way to the workstation next to Theo and Eloise, all you can think about is the flutter of irritation in your chest.

The task is straightforward: brew a Draught of Peace. As you and Cedric gather ingredients, you catch glimpses of Theo and Eloise out of the corner of your eye. She laughs at something he says, and you grip a jar of moonstone dust tighter than necessary.

“Everything okay?” Cedric asks, concern in his voice.

“Yeah, just… distracted,” you reply, forcing a smile.

You’ve never been one to get jealous. It’s not like you and Theo are even dating. But there’s a nagging feeling, a twist in your gut every time Eloise touches his arm or leans in too close. You want to look away, to focus on your own potion, but it’s like trying to ignore a splinter.

Theo looks up, catching your eye. For a moment, his brow furrows, and he seems almost puzzled by your expression. Then Eloise says something else, and he’s back to their conversation, leaving you feeling like a ghost in the room.

Cedric is diligent and polite, filling the silence with small talk about Quidditch and upcoming exams. You respond automatically, your mind elsewhere. The Draught of Peace is coming along nicely, the potion’s silvery vapor curling up in delicate tendrils, but your concentration wavers every time Theo chuckles or murmurs something to Eloise.

“Here, let me stir that,” Cedric offers, taking the ladle from your hands. You let him, too preoccupied to protest.

“Do you think Theo and Eloise ever felt awkward after their thing ended?” you blurt out suddenly. Cedric looks at you, surprised.

“Um, I’m not sure. I guess it depends on how it ended. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” you mumble, but Cedric’s perceptive enough to understand there’s more to it.

“Hey,” he says gently, “if it’s bothering you, maybe you should talk to him about it.”

You nod, knowing he’s right, but the idea of bringing it up with Theo feels daunting. What would you even say? That you’re feeling jealous over something that happened ages ago, something that shouldn’t even matter?

The class drags on, and by the time Professor Slughorn calls for the end of the session, you’ve barely held it together. Cedric smiles at you as you clean up, and you thank him for being a great partner, even if your heart wasn’t fully in it.

As students start to leave, you notice Theo lingering by the door, waiting. Eloise says goodbye, and he nods, then turns his attention to you.

“Walk with me?” he asks, and you nod, falling into step beside him.

The corridors are quieter now, the hustle of students fading as they head to their next classes or the Great Hall. Theo walks beside you in comfortable silence, but you can feel the weight of the unsaid words between you.

“You seemed off today,” he finally says, glancing sideways at you. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you reply too quickly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Y/N, come on. I know you better than that.”

You sigh, stopping in your tracks. Theo stops too, turning to face you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“It’s stupid,” you begin, “but seeing you with Eloise… I didn’t like it.”

For a moment, Theo looks taken aback. Then, a slow understanding dawns on his face.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, not mocking, just genuinely surprised.

“Maybe,” you admit, crossing your arms defensively. “I don’t know. It’s just… weird seeing you with someone you’ve been with before.”

Theo steps closer, his gaze softening. “Y/N, Eloise and I… that was a long time ago. It didn’t mean anything. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, looking down. “But it still felt… uncomfortable.”

Theo reaches out, lifting your chin so you’re looking at him. “You have nothing to worry about. If I’m with anyone, it’s you. Not her.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. It’s the closest either of you has come to admitting there’s something more than just friendship between you.

“I guess I just needed to hear that,” you whisper.

Theo smiles, a rare, genuine smile that makes your chest feel lighter. “Anytime. And next time, just tell me. We’re in this together, right?”

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Right.”

He pulls you into a hug, and you relax into his arms, the tension melting away. As you walk together down the corridor, you feel a sense of clarity. Whatever you and Theo are becoming, it’s real, and it’s worth the occasional moments of uncertainty. And that’s enough.

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lyssasdrafts · 7 hours

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★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

chapter three: (written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist previous next

over the weekend, you had thanked mor countless times for the opportunity she’d given you. she had insisted it wasn’t a big deal, but perhaps she wouldn’t understand how much this meant to you, how badly you had wished for a path in photography to be there for you. it had been a dream that you’d given up on for a long time until you started again for fun in your first year, but you would’ve never thought to consider it until you had the safety net of your degree.

“are we getting distracted now, y/n?” rhysand’s words interrupted your thoughts. you can hear the arrogance that coated his voice like honey. he peers above you, leaning over your desk to stare you down.

you had your chin in your palms and had been staring into the distance, but that didn’t mean you weren’t listening. however, a part of you was embrassed to admit that it was rhysand who caught your attention again and not the lesson. shifting your gaze to look up at him, you fake a smile as you respond, “i can promise you that pretty face isn’t distracting anyone, rhysand.”

rhysand quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like he was trying to guess what you were thinking about. “i never implied you were distracted by me in particular,” rhysand says blankly before a smirk makes his way onto his lips. you blink at him, realizing the insinuation about what you’d said. you curse yourself for referring to rhysand as pretty, but he definitely knew what you were talking about. it wasn’t unlike him to wink at people on campus and make small flirty comments when he knew he could talk someone into something. perhaps he’d even tried it on you at some point. it was a skill that you sometimes envied, the only ever way you convinced people was through your clever reasoning. at some point, you’d heard from elain that apparently you also happen to be quite intimidating unintentionally, something she said you had in common with nesta.

you take a moment before you respond, using it to scan rhysand’s figure. he wore his usual dress pants and a white button down shirt, his jacket further showing off his expensive preferences. despite the shiny silver watch and necklace he used to accessorize, he made himself look more casual by undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. you admired his style only because you could tell rhysand takes good care of himself and as a photographer. you recognized his jacket to be from a designer you admired and studied, revealing how his taste could be similar to yours. although he was a bother for you, the bastard didn’t have a bad fashion sense at all.

rhysand continues to stare down at you, while you wanted nothing more than to slap the expression off his face. his gaze made you uncomfortable, it burned into your skin and left your heart beating faster. he was insufferable, always taking pleasure in annoying and distressing you when he could’ve been a friend. in a perfect world, the two of you should be helping each other instead, if only rhysand wasn’t so petty and you weren’t so competitive.

you stand up for your desk, the chair making a squeak that catches the attention of some people sitting around you. those glances in your direction are ignored as you stare back at rhysand, your faces slightly inched closer than when you were sitting down. you give him one last comment before you stride out of class.

“you clearly think so highly of yourself that i’m not wrong. but since i’m not as vain as you, i have better things to do than entertain you.”

you’d actually been in a good mood for your entire ride to the studio, despite your earlier conversation with rhysand. you had brushed it off for once instead of obsessing over every comment and heading to the library, insisting on working harder to beat him.

this was your first professional shoot as a photographer, and you had a likely chance of being asked to keep working with the studio since the previous one had quit. never once would you imagine that posting your account online and building your portfolio that it would be shown to someone at a studio like this one. you didn’t believe in fate, but a part of you thanked every star in the sky that you ended up with mor as your roommate. maybe there was some greater power that brought you and your best friend together.

perhaps this could become a real job for you, unlike what your parents had always insinuated. you could work in engineering after your degree while free lancing as a photographer. perhaps if you were really good and built a name for yourself, you could even do photography full time. you would prove your family wrong, you could find a job that provides for them plenty enough.

the studio lobby is quite modern and newly renovated, you can tell from the moment you walked through the revolving doors of the building. from the running water fountain to the hanging lights over the main desk. checking in was easy as well, once you gave the name of morrigan’s manager you were immediately given an entry pass and escorted to the correct room.

the studio room is smaller than you expected, though it definitely wasn’t underwhelming. the small room was full of lights, with different backdrops in multiple colors. the equipment caught your eye the most, with large heavy professional cameras that you almost didn’t want to touch in fear of how expensive they probably were. these were cameras that you probably wouldn’t ever get a chance to buy on your own without getting a job in photography first.

you’re left alone in the studio room after being told that the model would be out shortly. even though it was a smaller space that the studio offered, you were told that this model was apparently quite promising, but he just preferred to work with few people. you hadn’t realized until now that there wasn’t anyone else working on the shoot with you, though you didn’t really feel like it was your place to request for any staff.

you realized that he would arrive any moment now and notice the door in the back leading to a dressing room. you remind yourself that everything will be alright, that you can handle being alone with a stranger for an hour or two. you didn’t necessarily need to be too nice since you didn’t want to come across as desperate, just polite enough to be professional. your model would likely be a beginner as well, someone who might understand your current position.

in the corner of your eye, you notice a navy blue jacket hanging off a chair, proving your assumption that the model was probably in the dressing room. you can’t help but recognize the design, the style of the fabric that almost looked black from a nontechnical eye and you realize that you’ve seen it earlier.

your eyes widen once the door creaks open and rhysand steps out, fixing his hair before his gaze shifts to look for his photographer. your jaw drops at the sight of him.

“y/n,” rhysand pauses, angling his body towards you before lifting an eyebrow again. “are you stalking me now too?”

— NOTES

the bat boys are bit mischaracterized at the beginning to show y/n’s misconception of them

y/n is so clearly attracted to rhysand physically… despite hating his personality <3

y/n always wanted to be a professional photographer but their family disapproved and so they decided to go into astrophysics instead :(

— TAGLIST

@thelov3lybookworm @starsand @lilah-asteria @therealmoonstone @just-a-social-casualty-1 @ashjade19 @girlontheblock @cherry-cin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sweet-chai-amore @kierramofficial @noelli-smv @c-dizzle99 @littlestw01f @marina468

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desi2go · 23 hours

Text

Moonlight

pairing: werewolf Minho x vampire reader

warnings: fluff

request: I think it would be so cute to have like Minho have the whole “I hate everyone but you” kinda vibe and the reader is just a social butterfly who talks to all mythical beings. Would love a cute fic on this (even better with a skz pack meeting vampire!reader)

author's note: Thank you for my first request! Loved writing it 🫶🏼 and I hope you enjoy it as well

Mystical creatures weren't something uncommon in your world. Since the beginning of time there were documents, statues and other thing that showed evidence that not only humans wandered around the earth. These creatures mostly hid and disguised as humans. The most common species were werewolves and vampires.

And you never thought that especially you would meet so many different creatures. Let alone, turn into one. You were born 1975 and lived a rather normal life. But suddenly that changed when you turned 23 years old. You were still in college and walked home after the last lesson for the day in the late afternoon to your small apartment.

It were only 300 metres from the campus to your home, the sun had already sunk, and yet you met a creature right in front of your front door. The person didn't even look human, the dark nearly hiding it's appearance completely.

But you heard the whimpers of a woman. She must have been forced into the corner and the creature towered over her.

"Hey! Let her go!" You exclaimed and drew the attention of the thing to you. The street light lighted the face and it was a man, a vampire. His blood stained lips crooked into a smile, showing his sharp fangs. "Who are you, little one? Do you wanna play the hero?" His voice was raspy and his yellow eyes never left your body.

He let the woman down, she tumbled but catched herself and ran away as quick as possible. "You look stunning, dear. You're too pretty to be a blood bar, right?" He purrs, with a great speed, his body crashed against yours, forcing you to fall backwards to the ground.

His fangs pierced your skin and a scream escaped you. He chuckled and retracted his fangs. "Sorry dear. Needed to taste you" then, he bit in his own wrist and pressed it against your lips, forcing you to open your mouth so that you could feel the cold metallic blood on your tongue. Unsuccessful, you tried pushing him away from you.

You felt a mingle there, where his fangs broke your skin and the pain eased away.

He then pulled his arm away, brushing the remaining blood from his wrist, the wound already closing. " Good night dear" he whispered into your ear and before you could process that, he grabbed your neck and everything faded to black.

⛧☯⛧

The following months were hard for you. Being a vampire was totally different from being human. When you woke up the day after that man gave you his blood, everything hurt in you, the sun made your skin itch and you quickly ran into your apartment since your skin was already lightly burned.

You had been shocked when you catched a glimpse on your bright yellow eyes in the mirror and some of your teeth were sharper than usual, forming your fangs.

The blood lust was a torture and you couldn't even be in the near of a human. But fortunately, you crossed path with a witch that teaches you how to control yourself whenever humans are near you. She helped you to learn how to hunt animals so that you don't need human blood. With that help, you could finally complete your college.

After your graduation, you packed your things and moved to the rim of the city. That way, you where near the witches home and could easily hunt animals due to the fields and the forest at your place. It was a small house that you bought from your savings but it felt like you could finally be yourself there.

Years passed. Well, 20 years to be exact. You still lived in that house. But you don't live alone anymore. Five years ago, you crossed path with a young witch, Arin, she was just 18 years old. You found her on the streets after her parents kicked her out because they were afraid by her magic.

The old witch that helped you a long time ago, told you how you could identify if a person is a mystical creature or a human so that as soon as you layed eyes on Arin, you knew that you needed to help her. Just like the old witch did.

You took her home and introduced her to the old woman. With her help she could finally understand how her powers worked.

Since then, you became a shelter for mystical creatures. And you loved to help them.

⛧☯⛧

The forest was quiet, no voice could be heard. The full moon stood high in the night sky and bathed the forest in a silvery light. A cold wind blew through the trees. You loved to hunt in the night. After all, you were a vampire. The old witch crafted a ring so that you could go into the sun but hunting was more fun in the depth of the night.

Soundless, you sneaked up to a rabbit. Then, a twig cracked and your pray ran away. You sighed and looked out for the source that made the sound. You guessed that your meal needs to wait.

It wasn't a deer or another animal. It was a werewolf. The moon lightened some strands of his black hair, making it slightly silver. With attentive eyes, he followed every motion.

"Hey, wolfie. What's your name?" You asked friendly, brushing your own hair out of your face. He doesn't answer you. "Okay. So, I'm Y/n" you introduced yourself.

"You're a vampire." He stated coldly. "Yeah, I am. And you're a wolf. I don't remember any packs that live here. Where you coming from?"

"We moved here recently" he just mentioned. His body language showed his cautions and the cold temperament that hid underneath his skin.

"That's great. I'm always open for new neighbours. I live here. So maybe you want to come around with your pack" you smiled at him.

"Sorry, not interested" he told you, leaning against a tree.

"Okay. Then, hopefully see you soon, wolfie" you exclaimed, walking away to search for your next pray.

"Don't call me wolfie!" He shouted annoyed. You chuckled, it was sweet how easily he was to tease. "Alright, then tell me your name!" You said over your shoulder.

"It's Minho." He exclaimed. "Well, then it was a pleasure to meet you, Minho" you loved how easily his name rolled off your tongue. With the speed of a vampire, you searched for another rabbit.

⛧☯⛧

At home, Arin was over the moon as soon as you told her about the werewolf. She was a helpless romantic and always dreamed of love that mostly happens in books or movies. She demanded you to go into the forest again and we'll, you needed to hunt anyways.

The moon lighted your way deeper into the woods. The more time you spend here, the clearer became your mind. You loved being here.

"Hello Y/n" the voice as yesterday said. You quickly turned around. It was indeed Minho. Like yesterday, he leaned onto a tree but now with a more relaxed posture.

"Nice to see you, Minho. What ya doing here?"

"Enjoying the night. And you?" His eyes sparkled under the calming light of the moon.

"Hunting"

"Aren't you drinking blood?" He asks. "Yeah but I just drink from animals. Like rabbits and other creatures that live in the woods" you explained.

"So you're not drinking from humans?" You chuckled. "No. And in addition, I take the dead animals home so that my friends can have something to eat too"

"Are they also vampires?"

"Sometimes. Like I said yesterday, my door is always open for creatures that need shelter. And sometimes I live together with werewolves, vampires or witches"

"That's crazy." He muttered. You laughed, giving him a toothless smile. "Yup, but I like it that way."

You noticed how comfortable he was slowly getting as the conversation progressed further.

The following days, you met Minho often in the woods. He still held some distance but he grew more open and outgoing as the time went along. You couldn't deny that he was sweet and funny. And you enjoyed spending time with him.

Sometimes, you could even lure out a small smile so that his lips formed a toothy smile and a rosy tone was covering his cheeks.

As the time went on, you couldn't help but fall for the wolf. Both your personalities were totally different. He was the night, somewhat cold but at the same time caring from far away, and you were the sun, warm and friendly, even to strangers. But undeniably, you complimented each other. Just like Ying and Yang.

It was once again another meeting with him and you found him on the exact same place as always, the place where you had met for the first time.

"Hello Y/n" he welcomed, walking towards you. "Hello Minho" you smiled at him. Just like the other times, you both strolled through the woods, talking about everything and nothing, or just enjoyed each others company in a peaceful silence.

You told him about the young boy who stood at your porch this morning, a little vampire who just got turned. Of course you offered help to him. As you talked about the little guy, you walked over some big roots on the earth.

However, something that didn't disappear while being a vampire, was your clumsiness, especially when you don't concentrate on your environment.

Just like now, you didn't see a root and tripped over it. You yelped and grabbed anything to stop you from falling. Well, the nearest thing was Minho's shirt. But you didn't expect him to loose balance as well. Together, you crashed to the ground, him over you.

Quickly, he held himself up with his forearms to get his weight off your chest. "Are you okay?" He asked, worry showing clearly on his face. "Yeah" you whispered. His warm body heated your cold one.

Your eyes wandered over his face, searching for any hints of pain. You were met just with the prettiest eyes you have ever seen. They were black in the low light of the moon, still his soul and passion lightened it. Slowly, he changed his position to take some weight off his arms. One hand crept up your waist and your side. Then, it reached your neck and finally his warm hand caressed your cheek.

"You're beautiful" he mumbled, his hot breath hitting your neck.

His fingers brushed over the soft skin if your cheek when he lowered himself some more, his eyes jumping up and down from your eyes to your lips. Then, he overcame the last few centimeters and his lips crashed against yours. At first slowly and cautious but more and more passionate. You closed your eyes and just concentrated on the feeling of his pillowy lips and his scent.

⛧☯⛧

"Are you sure, you wanna meet the pack? We can still go home" Minho asked for the hundredth time. His hand held yours, caressing his thumb over yours.

"Of course it want to meet them! They're you're family" you exclaimed. Your first kiss was five weeks ago and you were over the moon when he suggested that you could meet his pack. The first thing that he did was warning you. His family was chaotic, he had said.

He brought you to a house at the other side of the forest and it was so much bigger than your tiny home. Minho opened the front door and entered, you followed him slowly.

"Guys, I'm home!" He shouted and lead you into the living room.

"Hey Min!" A brown haired boy with round cheeks exclaimed. Then, he noticed you. "Who is that?"

"Jisung, that's Y/n. My girlfriend" Minho introduced you, his fingers drawing circles on your lower back. "Since when did you have a girlfriend?" Another wolf with blonde dyed hair asked who just came through one of the doors.

"You are capable of finding a girlfriend?" A man with brown hair asked with a teasing smirk. He seemed much younger than Minho who just rolled his eyes.

Then, a wolf with curly hair came towards you with a friendly smile. "Seungmin don't be so sassy! Anyways, nice to meet ya! I'm Chan." He said.

So the younger wolf must be Seungmin. "It's nice to meet you too!" You answered.

"I'm Felix and that's Changbin and Hyunjin!" The boy with the blond hair stated and pointed to two other persons. "I'm excited to finally meet you all. I'm Y/n!" You introduced yourself as well. They seemed to don't mind that you were a vampire and not a human or a werewolf.

"I never thought that that old guy could find someone who was possible of loving him" Seungmin mentioned teasingly. Minho pressed a short kiss against your cheek. "Alright that's enough. I'll be right back, love. I just need to murder Seungmin" he grumbled and chased after the younger one.

You laughed as you watched the chasing. Chan sighed and sat beside you on the sofa. " I hope Min warned you that we are chaotic when we are ourselves" he said. You chuckled. "Yeah, he mentioned that" and you already loved that bunch of people.

#stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids #lee know x reader #werewolf lee know #lee know #lee minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho stray kids #lee minho skz

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small-z24 · 3 days

Text

Shadows of Fate 4

Summary:

Y/n, Cassian's shy and quiet sister, prefers to keep to the shadows. Unbeknownst to her, she is Azriel's mate. His shadows are inexplicably drawn to her, and as they grow closer, a slow-burn romance ensues. Cassian, ever protective of his sister, watches over her as the bond between Y/n and Azriel deepens.

Word Count: 803

Warnings: None

Chapter 4: The Protective Brother

The days passed in a tranquil routine, with Y/n continuing her self-defense lessons with Azriel. Cassian, though still wary, began to ease his constant vigilance, trusting Azriel more with each passing day. However, the protective brotherly instincts never fully faded.

One evening, Y/n was in the common room, sketching the flowers she had seen in the garden earlier. She found peace in drawing, her mind relaxing as her hand moved over the paper. Azriel was beside her, reading a book, his presence a comforting constant.

Cassian entered the room, his eyes narrowing slightly as he saw them together. "Y/n," he called, drawing her attention away from her sketch. "Can we talk for a moment?"

Y/n looked up, her heart sinking a little. "Of course, Cass." She glanced at Azriel, who gave her a reassuring nod.

Cassian led her out to a balcony overlooking Velaris. The night was calm, the stars twinkling above like scattered diamonds. He leaned on the railing, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I need to ask you something," he began, his voice serious. "Do you really believe Azriel is the one for you?"

Y/n's eyes softened. "I do, Cassian. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. He understands me, and he makes me feel safe."

Cassian turned to face her, his expression conflicted. "I just worry about you. I’ve seen how harsh the world can be, and I don’t want you to get hurt."

"I know you’re just looking out for me," Y/n said, placing a hand on his arm. "And I appreciate it. But Azriel is different. He’s patient and kind, and he respects me."

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I see how much he cares about you. I just... it’s hard for me to let go."

"You don’t have to let go," Y/n reassured him. "Just trust that I know what I’m doing."

Cassian nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Alright. I trust you, Y/n. Just promise me you’ll be careful."

"I promise," she said, giving him a hug. "Thank you, Cass."

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. Finally, Cassian pulled back, his expression lighter. "Go back to Azriel. I’ll be here if you need me."

Y/n smiled, giving him one last squeeze before returning to the common room. Azriel looked up as she entered, his eyes filled with concern.

"Everything alright?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she replied, sitting beside him again. "Cassian just needed to talk. He’s trying to trust us."

Azriel nodded, a look of determination crossing his face. "I’ll prove to him that his trust is well-placed."

A few days later, a sense of unease settled over the House of Wind. Y/n felt it in the air, a tension that seemed to affect everyone around her. She couldn’t quite place it, but it gnawed at her, making her restless.

She found herself wandering through the halls, seeking out Azriel. She found him in the war room, deep in conversation with Rhysand and Cassian. As she approached, the conversation hushed, and the three males turned to look at her.

"Y/n," Rhysand greeted, his tone warm but guarded. "What brings you here?"

"I just... felt like something was wrong," she admitted, her eyes flicking to Azriel. "Is everything alright?"

Azriel stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We’re just discussing some security concerns. Nothing for you to worry about."

Y/n wasn’t convinced, but she nodded, trusting Azriel’s judgment. "If you say so."

Rhysand gave her a gentle smile. "We’re handling it, Y/n. But thank you for your concern."

She nodded again, squeezing Azriel’s hand before turning to leave. As she walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was looming on the horizon.

That night, Y/n couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, her mind racing with worry. Finally, she got up and made her way to the balcony, hoping the cool night air would calm her.

She wasn’t surprised to find Azriel already there, his shadows dancing around him like restless spirits. He turned as she approached, his eyes softening.

"Couldn’t sleep?" he asked.

"No," she admitted, leaning against the railing beside him. "I can’t shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen."

Azriel wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "I understand. But whatever happens, we’ll face it together."

Y/n looked up at him, her heart swelling with love. "Promise?"

"Promise," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

They stood there in silence, the night wrapping around them like a protective cloak. In that moment, Y/n felt a glimmer of hope, a belief that no matter what came their way, their bond would see them through.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Y/n and Azriel's story. Feel free to leave comments and let me know your thoughts!

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kyletogaz · 24 days

Text

simon fucking the attitude out of you

cw: penis in vagina sex, spanking, mean!simon (a lil bit), calling simon daddy, fingering

"i told you that mouth of yours would get you in trouble, love, but you didn’t listen. you never do.” simon was starting to think you were doing that shit on purpose.

all you can do is whine and moan loudly into the mattress as you grip the sheets tight in your fists, your body jerking with every smack of simon’s hips against your ass, as the lewd sounds of your dripping cunt getting drilled fills your ears. simon’s fucking the attitude right out of you. you thought you could talk slick, but he snatched your ass right on up and dragged you back to his room. as soon as he closed the door, he had you face down with your ass up and pussy stuffed with his cock in no time.

you try to convince simon that you’re sorry for talking back. you sweeten your voice a little, as the words i’m sorry, daddy spills from your lips in between moans. it’s all lies though. you love making simon lose his composure. seeing him snap gets your pussy real wet.

“you’re not sorry, sweetheart.” the but you will be is left unsaid.

you almost cry when simon pulls his cock out of you, leaving you empty and leaking. you open your mouth to argue, but he delivers a hard smack to your ass. you cry out when he does it again. tears spring to your eyes when he smacks your ass a little harder a third and fourth time.

“please! i’m sorry simon,” you sob into the sheets as you prop yourself up on one elbow so you can reach back to rub at your sore ass. you’ve learned your lesson.

simon slaps your hand away so can he rub a soothing hand across your ass, before dipping his fingers in your sopping cunt. he asks you if you’re really sorry, or are you just saying it because you know that’s what he wants to hear. he has one hand on your back, trapping your body against the mattress. your ass is still up in the air while he’s knuckles deep in your cunt, just lazily stroking at your spongy walls, slowing driving you mad.

“i’m sorry for being a brat,” you moan, a pout forming on your lips. your ass still hurts a bit.

simon doesn’t say anything, as his fingers repeatedly brush up against that spot inside of you. a high pitched moan pours out of your mouth when he speeds up the movement of his fingers. simon just watches in amusement as you start fucking yourself on his fingers.

“si–simon!” it was too much. you were so close to cumming on his fingers. “i’m gonna—”

you’re so deep in your pleasure-induced haze, you don’t even hear simon when he chuckles lowly and says, “no you’re not.”

but you do feel the moment when his fingers leave your cunt. you let out a sob, you were so close and the bastard removed his fingers before you could even cum. seething, you roll over onto your back with a glare directed at simon. and he’s just sitting there watching you with those stupid honey brown eyes of his that you love so much.

“i said i was sorry!”

“are you really?” he coos as he strokes up your thigh, his fingers getting dangerously close to your cunt.

“yes,” you whine as you try not to press up into the hand tracing patterns across your pubic mound.

simon hums softly as he gently knocks your sticky thighs apart and teases your glistening cunt with his cock. you gasp when the tip brushes against your clit, sending a jolt through your body.

“fuckin’ hell, princess,” he groans as he feeds his cock into you, stretching you out. “cunt’s still so tight….and so wet.”

and then simon’s fucking you dumb with a snap of his hips. every jolt of pleasure you feel has you arching off the bed like you’re being possessed. he’s pulling you on his cock, telling you how pretty you look and how you’re taking him so well. you’re nothing more than a whimpering mess as you meet his thrusts.

“please,” you wail as simon’s cock continues to brush against that bundle of nerves within your body. you’re being fucked so good you don’t even know what you’re begging for.

you can feel the way simon’s fingers spreads your puffy lips apart. he’s watching himself fuck you, watching the way his cock disappears in your dripping cunt, before it reappears, glistening with your juices.

“fuck,” he moans loudly, as he shifts forward to bury his head in the crook of your neck.

you soft cries fill simon’s ears as you claw at his back, your sharp nails dragging across his skin, leaving red marks that makes him groan loudly. both of you are so far gone. simon’s moaning like a whore and saying the filthiest shit in your ears. you’re so close to teetering over the edge from his cock dragging against your slick walls. you start to beg, huffing out please please please and simon thinks it’s so funny, if the bark of laughter in your ear is anything to go by. he lets out a broken moan when your cunt squeezes him so tight it makes his hips stutter. simon catches his rhythm again, never stopping the roll of his hips as he presses even closer to you, so you’re both chest to chest. simon’s cock is buried so deep in you in this position, you feel full. you can’t stop writhing and moaning beneath him.

simon ducks his head down to press a kiss to your lips. he drags his tongue along your bottom lip, silently asking you to open up. he licks right into your mouth the second you do. you gently yank him closer by his hair, before tightening your legs around him, the heels of your feet digging into his back as you moan in his mouth. the drag of simon’s cock against your walls will surely drive you insane.

“oh, fuck,” you choke out when simon shoves one hand between you two and rubs at your clit. you start to thrash a little when the pleasure becomes overwhelming. “please let me cum, i’ll be good.”

you want simon to nut in you like he always does. you want him to fill you to the brim, so when his cum slips out, he can shove it back in your hole with his fingers.

“yeah?” simon pants in your ear. “you gonna cum on daddy’s cock?”

“please, i need it,” you beg breathlessly, almost desperately.

simon’s thrusts suddenly become more frenzied at your pleas. he loves hearing you beg. he gets off on it, really. you let out a choked cry as he grinds into you, your cunt spasming around his cock as he pushes you over the edge. you and simon both moan in unison as he spills his seed in your fucked out cunt.

when you both come down from your highs, simon warns you that the next time you pull some shit like that, he won’t let you cum at all.

“i’ll bring you close to the edge every time, then pull out. you’ll never get what you want, sweetheart.”

a/n: was gonna add some pussy licking but i forgot 😅

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x black reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #kyletogazwrites #this stressed me out a lil

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daddyricsdoll · 3 months

Text

Vanilla? ✭ Oscar Piastri

Summary: It's always the quiet ones that are the freakiest. But that wasn't what every other driver on the grid thought as they teased Oscar and you for being too innocent to know anything beyond vanilla sex. So when you guys didn't put up a fight, they figured they were right... until someone was lucky enough to see you and Oscar on the other end of the spectrum of "plain sex".

Warnings: not vanilla sex! fingering, oral (male receiving), bondage (hands tied together), spreader bar (if that even what it’s called), unprotected sex, rough because how else would you have it? Gagging and deep-throating Oscar’s huge dick 😩

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Oscar is the man who makes me wanna wake up in the morning and I love it!! I'm so obsessed with him it's making me go insane, but if I'm going insane it's fine because I'm going insane over him. Everything about him is beautiful and I wanna call him pretty and gorgeous and watch as he blushes. Then ride him and take control of him until he wants to teach me lesson and makes me pass out. (I’m just a girl) Based off of this request.

“Oscar, how would you say relationships outside of F1 have helped you grow in this sport as a driver and as a person. If they had an impact, and if not then why?” Oscar’s PR manager testing questions on him, posing as one of the many journalists trying to break Oscar’s wall that he’s been perfect at keeping up so far. He finds it amusing that they have so much interest in his life, only encouraging him to keep his words to a minimum. Well as long as you don’t come up– his cheeks immediately flush and he starts every sentence with “my girlfriend” before he looks at others and silently begs them to say something to shut him up.

“Well, everyone’s been supportive of my career. Which only makes me want to do my best, and better than that.” Keeping a straight face as he answers until he looks at you beside him then Lando with a proud grin on his face.

“Who’s everyone…? Your girlfriend?” Lando’s voice teases, like every schoolgirl talking about their friend's crush.

“I- yeah. She does a lot for me, helps me let off steam before and after races, she also-”

“Let off steam, huh? Is my Oscar making his girlfriend cum to let off steam?” Lando’s mouth wide open, making an ‘o’ shape. Both you and Oscar have mixed emotions– heat coursing through you remembering just this morning, but also shock from Lando’s unhinged question.

“You’d be surprised?” Oscar’s answer broad, but you knew. Letting Lando believe that Oscar lets you cum, when his favourite thing is edging you until tears roll down your face.

“Oscar, you probably just learnt what a clit is.” Lando having nothing better to do than tease him as his pale cheeks turn pink.

“Believe whatever makes you happy.” Oscar shutting down the conversation before he reveals too much, a little smile on his lips as he chuckles and moves his hand further up your thigh.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

It wasn’t just Lando who would have a say about you and Oscar’s sexual life, but any driver who happened to walk into the conversation at the perfect time.

“Oh yeah, Oscar you’re vanilla.” His fellow Australian, Daniel Ricciardo, says. Joining them on their walk to wherever they all had to be next.

“Well actually I think Oscar is a little more than vanilla. He’s vanilla but not vanilla.” Logan pops in too.

“No. Oscar is sooo vanilla. Like he’s too scared to choke his girlfriend because she’ll die and he’s never marked her so she knows she’s his.” Lando expresses his words with so much passion it makes Oscar roll his eyes but know exactly what Lando’s doing when their hotel rooms are beside each other and he’s invited a girl over.

“Wow. Calm down Lando, I think we learnt a little bit more from you than Oscar. You definitely need a girlfriend.” Daniel spoke the words everyone was thinking. Letting Oscar finally breathe and have all the attention over to Lando and his desires.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

“Fuck, I needed you.” Oscar groans out, thrusting himself ever deeper into your mouth. “Talking ‘bout how vanilla we are. But look at us.” The position you were in was unimaginable. You lay on your back, head on the edge of the sofa as Oscar rammed into your mouth with his fingers opening you wide and making you cum. But still, that wasn’t enough, your hands tied together and a spreading bar made sure your legs couldn’t be shut, always ready for Oscar, but with a blindfold over your eyes how would you know? Each of your moans were muffled by his cock and as one of his hands played with your clit the other toyed with your nipple.

Blood rushed to your head from this position and it filled in for the loss of his hand around your neck. Oscar pounded into you, his dick making you gag as you deepthroated him. An explosion of fireworks inside of you as he continued making you cum, a loud scream trying it’s best to flee your puffy lips, but Oscar couldn’t help but enjoy hearing you struggle to make out any coherent sounds because of his cock.

By now it was impossible to remember the amount of times he had made you release. From his mouth, fingers and dick, all you did know was that that number was only going to increase.

Each of his moves were so intense, Oscar had you spellbound. Unable to notice anything other than him. Well that was until he pounded himself as deep as he could into your mouth and then stopped. Everything went silent.

“Oh fuck! Oscar?!” Those words certainly didn’t come out of your mouth, and when you realised who did say that, oh you couldn’t have been more embarrassed, but somehow aroused. Seconds later the door finally shut, and you could only think about the uncensored view Lando had of the both of you.

“Fuck, I’ll deal with him later. But for now…you need to cum.” Pulling out of your swollen mouth and grabbing you off the couch to lay your shamelessly sinful body on the floor. Oscar doesn’t take his time, manhandling your legs so your feet are nearly inline with your head and then making your arms keep them back by going in front of the spreader bar.

Leaving your pussy so exposed and vulnerable that Oscar could do whatever he liked between those drenched folds. It was always a gamble with Oscar, sometimes he’d take his time to tease you, others he wouldn’t even give you time to catch breath. This was just as unpredictable as others, by now you would either be covered in your own tears from his edging or on the verge of passing out because you could feel him in your throat after coming in you repeatedly.

You felt less of an advantage, not even being able to lay eyes on him, so you listened to your own heavy breathing until he touched you again. Fingers going between your folds and spreading them apart with his index and ring finger. Lightly teasing you with his middle one. “Looks like you’ve had enough today huh? Or can you take one more?”

You nod your head as an answer, but it’s never enough as he asks you for words.

“Y-yes. I can take more.” You force out between breaths, in shock of how you even managed to say those words.

“Oh really? Well that’s great.” Oscar holds your pliant body up even further and then makes a swift move of ramming himself deep inside of you. Once again it pulled all of the oxygen from your lungs and the stretch from the position couldn’t be compared to the stretch from his cock. You couldn’t complain as he thrusted in again and hit your g-spot. Bringing more tears to your red eyes.

Grunts and groans slipping past his lips and making his actions such a godly sensation.

Oscar pounds himself into you with no mercy, finding pleasure in your moans and cries. You wish to hold him, dig your fingers into his shoulders and mark his back. Adorn his pale skin in love bites and make his lips swollen. Thinking about the way his body flexes with every thrust and how divine he would look from this position that you’ve been in many times but each new one has a different effect.

“What’d you think Lando’s telling them?” Oscar grips your thighs tighter–fingers certainly making bruises– keeping you in place as he vigorously rams inside of your overstimulated pussy. Never losing pattern or momentum.

“You think he’s telling them about how you took me so well? Your hands tied up? And how fucking good you looked between my legs.” Each of Oscar’s words having such an effect on you it could've been a trick of hypnotism. Your legs shaking and lips parted as you came. Oscar savoured the beautiful sounds leaving your mouth and he worked harder to fuck your high out and bring his in.

You clenched around him, forcing a moan to finally leave his lips and bless your ears. Oscar spasms and releases inside of you. Pushing himself so deep and his cum even deeper. He thrusts a few more times, easing both of you out and spreading his cum inside your walls. Oscar sits in you for a while before pulling out. “Fuck, that was so. Fucking. Good.” He starts untying you and helping you come undone from all of the restraints. Letting you lay flat on the floor as he did all the work.

“I would’ve been in you for hours if he didn’t come in. Can’t imagine what he said to them”

Oscar crawls up your body and plants a kiss on your lips.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Finally leaving Oscar’s room you both didn’t know what to expect. Well definitely not drivers surrounding a small table as Lando spoke to them all with hand actions and his face even worse.

“Y’know vanilla isn’t even that bad. But wow Piastri, I didn’t think that.” Daniel brings all the attention to you two. Every driver turned their head with a series of reactions on their faces.

“You are freaky Oscar.” Logan couldn’t hold back and somehow Fernando was there to agree with him.

“I have to tell Charles! Now I know what you two do.” Pierre smirks, making you blush and look at the ground.

“Well I guess I was wrong, but Oscar why didn’t you tell me you sneaky boy. Because then I had to see it.”

“It seemed like you wanted to join.”

“No I-”

“The way you’re speaking about Lando, it seemed like you wanted to join.” Daniel once again kind of saving Oscar from these unfortunate topics.

“What? Guys this is about Oscar and how freaky he is with his girlfriend!”

“If you want to join, just ask.” You finally speak, teasing Lando and watching the way his face changes.

“Oh you guys are so not vanilla!”

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fayes-fics · 29 days

Text

Lessons In Motion

Lessons Series Masterpost

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: An eventful carriage ride with the boys.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest, dom/sub dynamics - dom!Bridgertons sub!reader, masturbation, dirty talk, mild degradation, light spanking/slapping, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, cockwarming, exhibitionism, breast play, edging, bondage restraint, sensory deprivation (blindfold), anal sex, vaginal sex, double penetration.

Word Count: 6.3k

Authors note: Is this the threesome I should be writing? No of course not. Sorry. This was indeed inspired by the synchronised head tilt in the s3 trailer 🤷‍♀️ Part of Lessons-verse, chronologically this takes place before Lessons in Breeding. Thank you to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

You bounce nervously in your shoes, craning to see the ride you are awaiting.

You slipped out the side entrance of the music hall, eager to escape prying eyes, leaving them to exit through the front, picking up their family carriage together. Being a guest in the family box for the evening is one thing; an unattached woman leaving publicly with two of the most eligible bachelors in the country is another matter entirely—you have no desire to provoke the wagging tongues of the Ton. But that does not mean you wish for your night with them to be over, far from it.

With a whinny, a two-horse carriage rounds the corner into the quiet street a few hundred yards from the venue and comes to a halt before you. The windows are all obscured by thick, draped curtains. So much so that you hesitate, hang back under the shadow of the mature oak. Until that is, the door swings open, and a very familiar face pops out, expression bemused.

“Does my girl not wish for a carriage?” Anthony teases with an expectant, fond tone.

You giggle and rush towards the vehicle, climbing in quickly. The door slams behind you as a fist knocks upon the ceiling to indicate for the driver to move on. The carriage is dimly lit by one tiny glass lantern flame flickering, both sets of eyes are eager on you, that molten heat in your belly as you sit opposite them, both so handsome.

“Did you enjoy your evening, gentlemen?” you query, feigning innocence.

They both comedically tilt their heads in brotherly unison, matching bemused grins claiming their lips as Benedict giggles behind his fist.

“Considering where you had your hands all night, you know well we did,” he pipes up, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“Twas rather a boring recital, sir.” Your invocation of his play title makes his chest swell and his pupils dilate. “Should I not have kept myself sufficiently entertained?” He appreciates your sass, nodding with a knowing smirk.

Indeed, you were greatly entertained. But not by the singing onstage. Sitting in the Bridgerton family box, a rigid cock in each hand as you teased them mercilessly, the angle of the seating allowing you the privacy to do so unseen by other patrons. Never letting either of them climax, taking them somewhere close then backing off, each huffing quietly, a white knuckle grip on their chair arms, as your fingers were coated with pre-cum. Most entertaining indeed. At one point, Anthony had hissed how he would have you on your knees and down your throat if you prolonged the torture much longer, but you knew it to be an empty (and entirely welcomed) threat. Now, in the privacy of the carriage, you rather suspect you are about to be taught a lesson for that cheeky behaviour.

“I do believe it is time for payback, brother,” Anthony opines, voicing your exact suspicions, them exchanging their trademark glance—so much communication with no words.

“Yes, I rather suspect a lesson is in order: that which you do unto others, you should expect done unto you,” Benedict forebodes.

Your stomach ripples as he grabs your ankle and roughly pushes it out wide, a hand travelling up your leg, gathering your dress around his forearm as he does. Soon, they discover the secret you held this evening: that you wear no chemise, no stockings, no undergarments at all, in fact—just your blue silk dress and ballet-style shoes.

“You filthy little vixen,” Anthony growls as he sees a flash between your legs.

“Do not pretend this type of indecency is not exactly what you want from her, brother,” Benedict counters dryly as his hand trails up your inner thigh, your breath quickening as he reaches your apex. You cry out, staring Anthony down as Benedict's fingers plunge into your pussy, burrowing deep, leaning his head into yours. “Always so hot, wet and wanting, are you not?” he rumbles into your hair as his fingers start to rock.

“Yes sir,” you know better than to ignore a question that is asked of you. “Only for you and my lord,” you add, knowing they always want to hear it.

“That is right,” Anthony preens, fighting with the buttons of his trousers and taking his sizable cock in hand, watching you moan and squirm on Benedict's invading digits, dripping down onto his palm, the sounds he draws from your body already obscene. You have been soaked since teasing them at the recital.

“I bet even the driver can hear this tight little cunt. Our filthy beautiful girl just drenching herself like the bitch in heat she is…” Benedict remarks casually.

You love it when they call you such taboo names in play, an illicit thrill running down your spine as he smiles predatorily and curls his fingers, hooking against your pussy wall, making you gasp. It's not quite enough pressure. Your head swings to look at him, silently requesting more.

He chuckles. “What did I tell you earlier?”

“Teasing?”

He nods as you pout, sliding his lips right to your ear, his breath hot there. “Until you are a mindless and trembling creature who will do whatever we tell you to.”

You bite your lip and exhale raggedly, your belly constricting at the thought and at the sight of Anthony lazily pumping his cock, wanting to ride it so much your fingers flex upon the velour bench seat, rocking your pelvis with each stroke Benedict takes, hoping to catch a dash of friction upon your engorged clit. He tuts admonishingly when he senses what you are trying to do, curling his free hand around your inner thigh and spanking there. A stinging slap that makes you jump and mewl.

“Stop trying to come so hastily, darling girl. We decide if and when that will ever happen…” Anthony calls out from across the carriage, grabbing your leg and pulling it high and wide. He yanks off your shoe and bites your instep, not hard, but enough to make your whole body jerk, so you slide deeper onto his brother's fingers, moaning and throwing your head back, the rocking motion of the carriage somehow making it a worse tease.

“‘Tis not a long ride to either of your lodgings… surely you cannot tease me forever,” you speculate, spiralling slowly under such expert ministrations, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched, even your teeth feel on edge.

“Oh, my girl, we are not headed to either place. Oh no. We are headed to our country retreat. The ride will take the rest of the night,” Anthony crows. “Our family will be remaining in London. So it will just be the three of us… with hundreds of acres to ourselves,” he grins devilishly, still slowly pumping his cock as he speaks.

“But…” you splutter, “I have nothing with me! No dresses, no shoes...” fretting mildly even as your stomach quivers with the thought of time spent alone with your boys.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Benedict chuckles in your hair, rotating his fingers so they drag over that sensitive spot that makes you shudder. “As if we are going to let you wear anything except our jewels. You shall be naked for days.”

“If you truly object, say your word now,” Anthony states clearly. “And we shall drop you at your home.”

Benedict pauses his motions, awaiting your answer, both always respectful of your full consent. You look at them in turn, then merely shake your head fractionally, basking in their wolfish smiles. Wanting to do this with them—a new illicit adventure. The idea of days alone with both of them in a luxury country idyll is so beguiling. And a definite step forward in your dynamic as a throuple.

“Well, then, might as well tear off this dress right now; start as we mean to go on, right brother?” Benedict breezes as he withdraws his fingers from you, making you whine at the loss. But then he trails them across your decolletage, dipping his head to suckle your juices from your skin, his teeth sinking lightly into the swell of your breast, making you groan loudly and push up into his mouth.

“Agreed,” Anthony practically growls, pushing his trousers further down, cupping his balls now with his other hand.

“But my lord,” you stumble, tearing your eyes reluctantly from that tempting sight up to his face. “I need my dress to alight from this carriage when we arrive. Surely your staff should not see me naked?!" Your dissent is light, core pulsing at the mental image of them parading you naked up the front steps of a grand country house for all the gathered staff to greet your debauched arrival.

“Please,” Anthony withers, “what is a touch of nudity when they will likely find us fucking you in every way and place possible? Our darling little plaything, always so keen, are you not?”

“Yes, my lord, Always.”

Your whisper is obedient, watching him squeeze his cock more forcefully in his fist, his gaze locked between your splayed legs as Benedict yanks down your neckline roughly. The sound of fabric tearing fills the carriage, then their approving grunts as they realise you are without stays.

“Get her naked, brother,” Anthony orders brusquely.

He sets about the task with enthusiasm, your dress ripping along the seams as he deploys both large hands and tears the fine silk asunder. It is one Anthony had paid for, so you do not mourn its loss, you rather suspect he will replace it with one identical in short order.

“If I am always to be naked, then will you warm my body when I am cold, sir?” You coquette, batting your eyelashes, playing up the damsel in distress to Benedict as he pushes aside the remaining fabric from around your front.

“Always sweet girl,” Benedict promises duskily, trailing his palm down your flushed skin, pulling you in for a kiss that is all tongues and heat. It has you canting your now naked body into his, desperate for his fingers, or even better, his cock, to be inside you.

As if sensing your need, Anthony intervenes as your lips break apart, perhaps jealous at the amount of time his brother has had with you.

“Alright, enough of that. I think you are plenty prepared now. Come, my girl,” Anthony pats his thigh invitingly, “come sit on my cock.”

You make a victorious noise and slide out from around Benedict, Anthony grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face away from him.

“Hello, my darling girl,” Anthony greets, his tone like velvet, pulling you snugly against his frame, the brocade of his waistcoat tickling your spine.

Your responding greeting turns into a cry as he guides you down onto his cock, splitting you open in that way it always does, a stretch that is just the right side of discomfort, that heavy weight pressing far inside that you yearn for.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, grabbing your jaw and pulling you back into a plundering kiss, making you pliant in his arms.

“Fuck me, my lord,” you beseech when you realise he is holding your hips down with a slight force, preventing any movement.

“But we have hours,” he drawls unhurriedly, “how about you sit still and just enjoy the ride, hmmm?”

You mewl in protest; as much as the carriage ride is indeed a pleasant rocking motion, your clit is throbbing, needing friction, craving release. You attempt to coax him by squeezing his cock so he groans throatily.

“Stop that. If you defy me, I will never let you come.”

He forcefully grabs your knees and drapes your thighs on either side of his woollen trousers that are bunched around his hips, then splays his legs wide. There’s a burning stretch on your inner thighs as he now holds you obscenely open. You are powerless to do anything but sit obediently upon his cock, whining slightly as the need claws at the edges of your mind.

Across from you, Benedict watches, seemingly transfixed by the sight of you naked and pinned open, speared on Anthony's cock, whimpering as your attempts to move are quelled by those firm hands clamped on your hips. You watch as he unbuttons and takes himself in hand, just as Anthony had, his eyes hungrily raking over your body. It makes you want to climb into his lap and fuck him over and over.

“Will you fuck me, sir?” You lobby, hoping it will get a rise out of Anthony, that it will catalyse him into taking you hard, possessively.

“You know I will, sweet girl,” Benedict responds huskily. “But as my brother says, we have hours, and you will learn your lesson today…”

“I promise I have learned my lesson not to tease either of you,” you implore sincerely, hopeful for absolution, but both of them merely huff a laugh, suspecting it a hollow pledge.

You pout again but relent, leaning back into Anthony, accepting your fate. His lips graze your temple as you rest your head on his shoulder and try to get comfortable. Try to ignore the pulse in your engorged clit with every heartbeat. Try to ignore the press of his frenulum inside, a pressure you feel compelled to rub against. Try to ignore that tingle in your nipples where they pucker hard, desperate for a tongue or some rough fingers.

And that is how you stay for what feels like an eternity. Just the noises of movement and horses upon what is now a dirty track, bright moonlight seeping through the cracks in the curtains as you sit in silent submission, The rocking of the carriage meaning you must occasionally endure the jolts of his cock against your hilt, making your breath catch. Your eyes alternate between fluttering closed and opening to see Benedict idly grasping his cock, but it's too tempting a sight, so you swallow hard and close them again.

However, with your eyes closed, you see worse images dancing before you, taunting you. Flashes of them both lathing their tongues all over your skin, of you on your knees between them, a cock in your mouth and one pounding into your pussy, a loop of carnal push and pull. It makes you leak more, a trickle leaving your body and pooling at the base of Anthony’s cock, nestling in his hair there.

“I can feel how aroused you are,” Anthony purrs into your hairline, almost startling you after many minutes of quiet. “How it is taking every fibre in your being not to defy me. Let’s see how good you can really be for me. Remember, you may not move.”

That’s all the warning you get before his warm, lightly quill-calloused fingers slide over your clit, rubbing an agonisingly light, slow circle. Not enough to do anything but make you shudder and pant, needing more, tiny sparks igniting through your heavy pelvis. Fighting so hard to keep your hips still, wanting more than anything to buck up, bear down onto the hook of his fingers, frottage yourself until you come clenching around his cock so steely and hot inside you.

“Please, my lord,” you grit out, turning to bury your nose into him, huffing his spicy amber cologne, lips brushing the rasp of stubble on his strong jaw.

“I could listen to you beg all night,” Anthony confesses and there’s an edge to his voice that is dark, dangerous, unyielding.

You lament when his fingers disappear, but he rolls his hips with the motion of the carriage, his cock sliding just a fraction deeper, making you cry out, the change of angle promising so much. Your hand flies out for purchase upon something solid but instead seizes the carriage curtain, unintentionally pulling it back so the glass is revealed.

“Oh, excellent idea!” Anthony lauds. “Yes, show yourself to the world, darling girl; show what a wanton thing you are for us.”

By now, though, the busy streets of Mayfair are long behind you. You are out in the darkness past Blackheath, moving fast down the Dover road to rural Kent. If there are any prying eyes, they will only catch a glimpse of you utterly naked, seated upon a clothed Viscount.

“Open the rest, brother,” Anthony clips.

Your eyes ping to Benedict as he releases his cock and pulls open the draped fabric on either side, hooking it back so the inky blackness of night is all around you.

“Imagine being seen, my girl,” Anthony baits. “There could be a highwayman right now lurking among those trees.”

Benedict leans forward, his hand suddenly clasping the jewelled necklace draped around your throat, the one Anthony presented you with just last week. His motion pulls you upright away from Anthony, the tilt of his cock inside you catching your breath.

“They may want this darling girl,” Benedict joins in. “Will you give it to them? Or will you offer something else instead in order to keep it? A more precious jewel perhaps….” He releases your necklace and trails that hand down between your breasts, over your belly, spidering lower until he grazes your clit. “Will you allow him this? Your greatest treasure?”

You moan loudly at his expert touch, a stroke of his middle finger under the hood of your clit making your whole body quake.

“N-no sir, I would not,” you stumble. “That belongs to my lord and to you.”

“Oh, good answer,” he winks, eyes twinkling in the moonlight streaming in as his now wettened finger traces back up over your belly. “But what if that is what we wish? To watch you be fucked by a stranger? A thief in a mask? Would you then?”

“I would do whatever you and my lord want, sir,” you pledge truthfully, then inhale sharply as he grabs the back of your neck and moves in close, his lips ghosting yours as he speaks again, teasing you with an almost kiss.

“I could watch you be fucked by a dozen men and enjoy every single one. I do so love the way your eyes roll when you are being taken rough. How you always, always plead for more, greedy little one that you are.”

Your eyes flit down to see his other fist speeding up around his cock. It makes you clench around Anthony, who groans hard, the air in the carriage somehow notching hotter, tighter, like it’s a fight to breathe.

“Sir,” you murmur on his lips, “Please help me; I am in such need.”

You feel as much as see that crooked, laconic smile claims his face, his cock still in hand. “What do you want from me, darling girl? Be specific, maybe I will do it…”

“Suck my nipples,” you request boldly at his enticement as he tilts back to watch you speak. “Maybe bite them a touch? Use your wonderful fingers upon my pearl; you can surely see it is so swollen...”

You know such explicit language will work for him, and sure enough, his nostrils flare as you ask for precisely what you need, his tongue flicking out to trace around his lips.

“Brother, will you allow it?” Benedict checks, his gaze flitting briefly to the man you sit upon.

“I will,” Anthony concedes, “on one condition: do not let her come, not yet.” He grabs a fistful of your hair, making you inhale sharply, jerking you back against his body, trailing his nose over your cheek. “I do so need her desperate and crying pretty tears for me before I shall allow that.”

Benedict slides to his knees before you, between your splayed legs, and you tremble as his damp lips ghost over the valley between your breasts, nuzzling your skin, inhaling deeply, trailing the point of his nose left to your nipple. You moan loudly as he suckles you into his hot mouth, lips pursed around your puckered teet. Then he glances the edge of his front teeth over your skin, causing a shudder down your spine. His hand cups your other breast, fondling your nipple with swipes of his thumbpad, teasing, while his teeth clamp down and tug away—a beeline to your core.

You mutter a curse and thrash your head a little, settling on pressing your nose into Anthony’s neck and whimpering lightly, so much sensation coursing through you, his cock is still rigid and unrelenting inside you. Muttering as Benedict keeps feasting upon your breasts, biting, suckling, fondling, not allowing you one moment without the tormenting thrill, a quake in your thighs, an odd tingle in your arms, a pressure behind your belly that is a ball of need, wound tight like a spring.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Anthony sighs, wrapping an arm around your head, his bicep bulging against your face through his jacket. “Now you have some sense of how we felt earlier tonight…”

At that, Benedict slides his thumb over your clit, flicking in a sideways motion that has you screaming into Anthony’s skin, clawing your hands into both of their hair, grasping their scalps and making them both growl.

“My lord, sir, please….”

It's a broken, pitiful sound, teetering as you are, reality a blur, a buzz in your brain that is febrile. A tear of frustration prickles your eye at the prolonged agony of denied ecstasy. Just as you are incapable of defying them anymore and have to break, Benedict pauses, pulls back, and watches with that killer smile as you protest even louder, breasts wet with his saliva, goosebumps covering your entire body.

“She is so beautiful like this, brother,” Benedict groans, grabbing himself again and squeezing a few times as if staving off his own orgasm. “You should see it from here….” he adds as he falls back upon the opposite bench.

“I want to,” Anthony confesses, kissing your temple. “I want to see what you look like, my girl, struggling like this; I wish this damn carriage had a mirror….”

“There is one way….” Benedict shrugs, probably aiming for nonchalant but missing entirely. “She may do the same to me?”

“Do you want that, my girl? To sit upon my brother as well?”

“Yes, my lord,” you confess, always eager to gratify them both. “Will I be allowed to come if I do?”

He chuckles into your skin. “Not yet. But if you are good for him too, maybe then.”

Hope flares as Anthony closes his legs and hoists you up and off his cock, you emitting a slight lament at the loss of him as he helps you to turn around and guides you onto Benedict’s lap. Before you know it, you are once again invaded intimately, the stretch different in ways you can’t fully articulate but just as wonderful. Sliding deep, Benedict’s responding moan is hot in your ear as you settle upon him. He hooks your legs over his in the same manner Anthony did, pushing his knees wide open, perhaps even more so, and you hiss at the tugging sensation in your tendons.

“See, brother?” Benedict crows. “Look how spectacular she is…” the words are nuzzled into your temple as he drops a sighing kiss there.

“‘Tis quite the sight…” Anthony agrees lowly as he starts to unwind his cravat while sitting back to admire you. “But I feel she may need those rebellious hands restrained….”

Your belly roils as Anthony grabs your wrists, jerking them forward and binding them with the soft white silk, looping the fabrics many times before tying a tight bow that is unyielding. He doesn’t even ask for your colour, knowing such things are always a green light. What’s new is he guides your bound hands up high, then backwards, curling them behind Benedict’s head with an amused arched eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare move those arms until I say so,” Anthony warns, and all you can do is nod and bite your lip.

“Oh, excellent idea,” Benedict rhapsodises, staring fervently down the plane of your body draped naked over him.

It’s all at once similar and yet different to moments ago with Anthony: the stretch of a cock impaling you, the ache in your thighs forced so wide open, but now with the pulse in your wrists with your hands bound behind Benedict’s strong neck, your fingernails sinking into the plush ruched fabric on the wall behind.

“Watch me, my girl,” Anthony commands.

Drowsy and shaky with unmet needs, you observe as he touches himself again, his proud cock still glistening with your juices as it passes through his fist, tempting, teasing you. Attempting relief by undulating upon Benedict, but balance is more difficult now your hands are bound, instead resorting to supplicant pleas, hoping his empathetic nature will win out.

“Not yet,” he soothes through gritted teeth, but you can sense his quandary, wanting so much to rut into you, his hands flexing upon the dip of your waist.

“You believe I have learned my lesson, do you not, sir?” Your soft appeal is blatant manipulation, reluctantly looking away from Anthony to twist sideways and stare beseechingly into his hazy blue eyes, finding a storm of desire there. Your lips tingle for his kiss as he goes to answer but is interrupted.

“Stop trying to cheat my girl,” Anthony counsels tersely. While he has welcomed Benedict into your dynamic, sometimes residual jealousy rears when you appear to have a moment of connection with his brother, wanting to gain control—the upper hand.

“You heard him. So, are you going to be a very good girl for me?”

Benedict’s voice is a resonant vibration through your back, his frilly shirt tickling your spine. You would do anything for him when he asks like that. Your resounding nod is rewarded with a kiss, and his long fingers snagging around your nipples, your pussy clenching reflexively upon him as his tongue rolls over yours. It makes him stutter a growl into your mouth, which tastes like sin laced with smoky whiskey.

And so you do as asked—sitting meekly, submissively, that heavy distracting weight inside you keening quietly, throbbing between your legs as Benedict tweaks your nipples almost lazily between his paintbrush-calloused fingers, his lips on your neck, sucking gently, a sensation that is all soft, wet heat. Your hooded gaze is glued to Anthony idly stroking himself, only a fraction of movement designed to keep himself aroused, no doubt.

Minutes tick by, so you lean back into Benedict’s body as his touch softens, allowing your breathing to syncopate to his, his chest rising and falling against your back. Despite your thrumming arousal, the effect is soporific, and you find yourself growing so sleepy, eyelids too heavy…

…“Wake up, sweet girl,” Benedict’s bemused voice rings in your ear.

You startle, having no concept of how much time has passed. You are impressed when you realise he is still rock-hard inside you, your legs closer together now.

“For how long was I asleep?” You query, stifling a light yawn. A warmth blooms behind your ribs when you realise that, at some point, they unhooked your arms from behind Benedict's head, your hands resting in your lap, still bound in Anthony’s cravat.

“About a quarter hour,” Anthony chuckles. “You looked so peaceful, but we decided to rouse you to deliver the good news. We believe that you have indeed learned your lesson, sweet girl….”

“Yes, my lord, I have!” You enthuse, suddenly awake again, feeling an instant quickened throb in your clit, hoping it means they will finally take pity on you, fuck you, let you come.

“Then it is time for your reward…”

Anthony’s tone is both benevolent and filthy as he flicks open a small vial that he must have retrieved from somewhere while you were sleeping. He shuffles his trousers down his legs a little further, the smell of olives and clove swirling in the air as he pours the oily substance onto his cock.

“What is my reward, my lord?” You ask as your stomach clenches.

But you already know. There is only one reason he does this. It’s when he wants to claim your bottom, not your pussy.

“You get both of us inside you at once, darling,” he answers with a dangerous smile, and Benedict groans as again, on instinct, you clench around him in excitement.

“She likes that idea, brother,” Benedict offers sardonically from behind you.

“Use your cravat, sir, blindfold me,” you petition, twisting your head to look at him, wanting to feel as much as see tonight.

“By god, I adore you,” Benedict gruffs, his voice laden with admiration and arousal as he dives in for a quick kiss.

Then you feel him fighting off the teal silk behind you, unwinding it rapidly before settling it gently over your face, the gossamer soft fibres still warm from his neck, scented lightly of him. He ties a bow behind your head and then drops a kiss on your shoulder. Then two sets of hands assist you up off of Benedict's cock. You revel in their touch as they gently spin you and guide you backwards onto Anthony’s now bare lap, his trousers around his knees.

As the carriage rocks gently, two oiled fingers slide between your cheeks, and Anthony whispers sweetly as he swirls a finger around your bottom, extolling soft praises as he always does when he takes you here, preparing you for him.

When you murmur that you are ready, you exhale shakily as you feel that intense blunt pressure, now more familiar to you, as he breaches your tight hole, your body stretching to accommodate his oiled cock, slowly sinking into his lap as you take slow, relaxing breaths.

“Exquisite,” he stutters, his hands moving to hold your waist tightly, guiding you the last few inches until you are seated to his root—the utter fill like a sense memory. After a few moments of allowing you to adjust, Anthony changes his stance, pulling your legs open wider and shifting inside in a way that feels pleasurable and makes your hands flex in your binding.

“You like that, do you not?” you can hear the smirk in Benedict’s voice even if you can't see it, feeling his intense gaze upon your body as you raise your head to the sound of his voice and nod.

“Hands above your head, my girl,” Anthony instructs, and instantly, your hands shoot up, the silk binding on your wrists flexing as Benedict grabs your arms and hooks them behind Anthony’s head, his heat looming over you as he does so.

“Good, now are you ready for me too?” he checks, and you just know he has an arched brow, that menacing look; you can hear the pump of his cock in his fist, saliva gathering in your mouth at the very thought.

“Yes, sir.”

“You do not want gentle tonight, do you?” Benedict intuits, likely seeing the hunger writ large across your blindfolded face as he kneels on a little footrest; you can feel his hips at the perfect height, the edge of his cropped jacket snagging the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“No, sir.”

“So very different to the first time we did this,” Anthony remarks knowingly in your ear, invoking the memory of that landmark night in your burgeoning dynamic—the night you truly became a throuple.

It makes you almost wistful even in this carnal moment, that now familiar press of both their bodies, of being sandwiched between them as Benedict leans in. Although tonight, it is not warm skin upon yours, but the slight scratch of wool, the tickle of silk as they remain clothed.

“Perhaps we indulge you too much, with both of us at once…” Anthony chuckles.

“No! Let me have both..” you twist back to implore him, even though you cannot see. “I need you both so much, my lord, sir, I am aching…”

“Well, I cannot deny such a pretty appeal as that, brother,” Benedict avows, and that is all the warning you get before he guides himself into you.

You groan loudly as his tip nudges into your pussy, the stretch of two cocks always making your eyes roll, your toes scrunch hard. Anthony’s hands grasp your thighs, holding you open as Benedict slides deeper inside, their breath uneven, knowing they can likely feel the pressure of each other as much as you can. A curse slips from your lips as they both finally rest entirely within you.

“Darling girl, you always take us so well,” Benedict’s voice lauds, dark and decadent, “so magnificent.”

Your eyelids flutter hard against his cravat, bound and blindfolded, split open upon two cocks… you can think of nowhere else you would rather be.

“Please fuck me…” you entreat, feeling as if you have been pleading for hours with them, your mind scratchy, clawing, like a wild beast clambering up the sides of the carriage, wailing to be sated.

You almost howl as finally, finally, they take pity upon you. Benedict withdraws and then thrusts back into you, aided by the rocking motion as the carriage hurtles through past the fields of Kent, the journey seeming to speed up, mirroring the fevered atmosphere within.

Blindly, you seek a kiss from them both, swivelling to Anthony, then Benedict. Desperate, hot, open mouths meet as you start to set a rhythm together, the friction and fullness radiating pulses of pleasure outwards from where you are joined.

You love it when you are caged between them like this, pinned, hands tied, unable to see. Unable to do anything, indeed, but submit to their whims, entrusting your body and gratification utterly to them, to lay back and take it. Take the endless surges of pleasure, the push and pull, the drag of them both inside you as they change tempo, catching you unawares and making you moan and babble. The noises they wrench from your body are drowned out by the thrum of wheels upon dirt, by the thundering of hooves before you, all of you chasing destinations, literal and ephemeral. Windows fogging with panted breaths, the carriage air almost cloying, all three of you moaning unfettered as pleasure mounts.

“Do you think the coachmen above can hear us?” you gasp out, eyes rolling at the overwhelming sensations of both moving within you, their hips snapping roughly.

“Do you honestly care?” Anthony challenges, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he rolls under you.

“She wants them to watch, most likely,” Benedict pants, his hands a vice-like grip on your waist as he fucks into you.

When you do not respond they both huff a laugh.

“Your silence says so much,” Anthony remarks and suddenly, your hair is in his fist, the force making your back arch, sliding both of their cocks deeper, your moan unbridled. “Whose good little whore are you?” he demands hotly, a glance of his teeth upon your jaw.

“Yours,” you rasp, eyes fluttering against your blindfold, head tilted to the carriage ceiling, feeling the burn on your scalp, your nipples pebbled hard against the rough rasp of Benedict's jacket lapel.

“Then repeat it,” Benedict bites out, his mouth sucking harshly upon your shoulder, leaving his mark, a darkened patch you know he will have you look at in the mirror in the coming days.

“I’m your good little whore,” you echo breathily, for them both, the degrading words ratcheting you higher.

They both groan at your utterance, their hands becoming a more urgent hold. Fingertips grazing and tweaking your nipples, you know not whose. Teetering so close, you beg. Beg them to go faster, to touch your clit, to hold you down, be rough, do anything to make this fever upon your skin, buzzing in your mind, break over you, release you from this prolonged heightened state, leaking profusely around their cocks, slack-jawed, strung out with need.

When a hand worms between your bodies, snagging against your clit, you convulse around them, both groaning at the restriction, curse words falling from them in harsh pants as finally you reach the peak you have been seeking forever. One flick of a thumb, and you are gone.

The intensity of your orgasm is breathtaking: transported and hurtled into the skies far above, your whole pelvis contracting and rippling around both of them as they cry out as your vice-like grip. Static buzzing in your skull as they seem to sandwich into you even harder, your lungs gasping for air as your body feels rearranged, your mind floating on a sea of bliss as their movements become harsher, more desperate, you pulling them over the edge with you. Benedict withdraws suddenly, a warmth splashing upon your lower belly as Anthony growls hard under you, feeling the ripple of his cock as he releases inside your bottom.

For a few moments, it’s just panted breaths, all slumped together in a damp pile. Exchanging sated smiles as they tenderly unwrap the cravat from around your eyes and wrists, delicately kissing your skin as you rearrange. Playtime over, back to yourselves, a shared affection between that is undeniable now.

“How much longer until we reach your country home?” you ask as you curl up into their joint embrace, hands caressing your skin in soothing swirling patterns, a languorous pull in your bones now that you are finally satiated. A flickering glow behind your ribs at the idea this is just the start of something new with your boys.

“I have absolutely no clue, my darling,” Anthony confesses with a carefree bubble of laughter, “and I do not particularly care as long as you are in our arms, right brother?” he adds, tilting his head leisurely towards Benedict.

“Absolutely,” Benedict concurs, “If only all carriage rides were this stimulating…” he jests wistfully.

“They could be… if you always take me with you,” you breeze, giving him a chaste kiss.

“We shall never travel again without you,” Anthony attests over a stifled yawn, his stubble abrading your collarbone as he burrows his head into your neck and sighs contentedly.

And that is how you all finally rest, a tangled pile of limbs, your naked body warmed by their tight hold as the carriage whisks you through the countryside under a blanket of stars.

Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @kisskissshutmydoor @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies

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candy69gurl · 1 month

Text

INSUBORDINATION

PAIRING Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

SYNOPSIS The reader, a young woman of wealth, is married to Toji and consistently treats him as her servant, much to his dismay. Fed up with her behavior, Toji resolves to teach her a lesson.

WARNING non/con, brat taming, spitting, face fucking, hair pulling, spanking, face slapping, fingering, nipple play, missonary, bondage (hands tied only), cock riding, squirting, doggy style, multiple orgasms, degradation, use of vulgar words (dog, bitch, slut, whore, cum slut), humiliation, raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, face cumming), breeding kink, clit slapping & rubbing, man handling

Marrying this seemingly charming and powerful Toji Fushiguro, you believed it imparted a greater benefit upon him than it did upon yourself. His overwhelming infatuation for you was not reciprocated, and instead, you treated him more as a pet than a partner. As a young, rich woman with an air of superiority, you demanded his obedience and submission, constantly reminding him of his place. You were unaware of the brewing storm inside him, waiting to unleash its fury upon you. Little did you know, the love and adoration he had for you were a ticking time bomb about to go off. The way he was treated drove him insane, pushing him to the brink of insanity, and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Hmm, so.. Toji I would like to talk to you, my dear", your eyes never leaving your nails.

Toji glares at you, his eyes smouldering with rage and lust stored inside him. Despite his inner turmoil, he forces a smile and responds, "My lady, I am here." His voice drips with false sincerity, reflecting the pain within him. It's clear that every moment spent serving you gnaws at his soul, fueling his desire to teach you a lesson you will never forget. Yet, he can't let you sense his true intentions - not yet.

He waits patiently, his muscles tensing beneath his clothes, as he anticipates your command. His heart pounds wildly against his chest, and his mind racing with thoughts of revenge and domination. He knows that he's about to snap anytime.

"I need you to stop wasting my money on gambling", your gaze finally shifts from your nails to Toji, who's standing before you with his head bowed.

A chill runs down Toji's spine as he hears your words. Your demand has cut him deeper than any blade could, igniting a firestorm of emotions within him.

How can he possibly stop himself from doing that? It's his sole means of earning money for himself. And it's not like he constantly relies on your finances for that. But the way you phrased your money, it really struck a nerve and left him feeling utterly humiliated. He understood that you were implying he should beg you for money, but that's something he would never do.

He tries to maintain his composure, swallowing the bitter taste that filled his mouth. With a stiff nod, he replies, "As you wish, my lady. I shall cease all gambling activities and dedicate myself entirely to your needs. But I would like you to stop ordering me around"

"Excuse me? who do you think you are?", one of your eyebrows raised, utterly confused by his sudden back-talk.

Toji's eyes flash with defiance, and his voice take on a dangerous edge, "I am your husband, a man scorned and abandoned. I have given you everything I have, my love, my heart, my trust. Yet, I receive nothing in return. I am sick of being treated like a mere toy. My passion for you burns like a thousand suns, and it is time you recognized my worth!" His face contorts with rage and hurt, his entire body trembling with suppressed power. "Do not mistake my patience for weakness, for I am far from it. One day, you will learn the consequences of disregarding those who truly care for you."

Your countenance remain devoid of emotion as he uttered those words. Instead, you advance towards him, drawing nearer... and nearer... until you stand face-to-face. Despite his height advantage, you are aware of the superiority you hold.

In an instant, your hand delivers a sharp slap to his face, causing his head to jerk to the right. "How dare you talk to me like that?"

Your slap lands across Toji's cheek with a loud smack, jolting him back to reality. His eyes widen, shock etching lines onto his face. For a brief moment, he stand frozen, the sting of your hand burning a trail across his pale skin. Then, without warning, his expression twists into one of pure fury. In a single, fluid motion, he grabs your wrist and pins you on the ground.

"GET OFF ME YOU SICKO", you scream.

Toji snarls, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity. "No, little miss high-and-mighty, I decide when this ends. You've played your games, and now it's time to pay the price," he growls, his grip on your wrist tightening. He leans closer, his hot breath washing over your face as he whispers, "You thought I was weak and submissive, but you sorely underestimated me. I am a man consumed by desire and rage, and I will make you pay for your cruelty."

His other hand moves to fondle with your clothed breasts, "Coming to think of it.. I never touched.. Maybe tonight is the time .. I finally discover your secrets."

"Don't even think of it.. Move your filthy hands off me!!" your legs pushing his chest away from your body.

Toji's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "Oh, I think I've already discovered your secrets, my dear. You're just as desperate for my touch as I am for yours. You can scream all you want, but no one will come to save you. You're mine, and I will have my way with you."

His grip on your wrist intensifies and he begins to move his hand lower, towards your thigh. "You've pushed me too far, and now it's time for you to learn a lesson you'll never forget. I'll make you beg for my touch, and when I'm done, you'll be mine completely."

"I should have kept a body guard..", your eyes get teary as you start feeling vulnerable. The thing that you hated the most.

Toji's eyes flicker with a hint of victory at your admission. "Yes, perhaps you should have," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "But it's too late now. There's no one coming to save you."

His fingers trail along the edge of your clothing, teasingly close to bare skin. "I plan to make it as painful and pleasurable as possible. You'll come to cherish these moments, begging for more, even as you curse my name."

His eyes gleam with malicious intent as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Every benefit you receive carries a price; for the service I've rendered you over the years, my dear wife, I require my due compensation. I'm not interested in payments via cheque, cash, or phone apps. I seek recompense through your body."

"I will never.. ever.. submit to you .. Toji Fushiguro..", you land kick on his side, attempting to run away from his grasp, yet he remains unaffected. He does grunt as your kick connected with his side, but he doesn't release you. Instead, he smirks, his gaze heated. "You.. Keep struggling, but you're only making this worse for yourself. Give in to me, let me show you the pleasure you've denied yourself for so long."

Slowly, he slides his hand underneath your clothing, his fingertips brushing against your skin unclasping your bra, taking it off you easily. You squirm beneath him, but his grip remains firm, unwavering.

"D-dont do it ..", you try squirming again.

Toji's lips twitch into a cruel grin. "Ah, but I must. After all, I promised to teach you a lesson, and I always keep my promises." His fingers continues their relentless exploration, caressing your nipple gently before pinching it firmly.

"Feel it, wife. Feel the pleasure I can give you, even as I punish you. Let your body betray your reluctance, let it crave what you claim to despise." He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "And remember, this is all ya fault. You made me this way."

You buck beneath him, trying to escape his grasp, but his hold on you unyielding. He pushes your top up, yanking it off you, exposing your breasts.

"S-stop ..", your hands escapes his grip swiftly, trying to hide your bare chest from his monstrous gaze.

Toji's eyes roams over your exposed body hungrily, drinking in the sight of your exposedness for the first time. "Such beauty, wasted on someone like you..."

He reaches out, his finger trailing down your sternum, then moving to your neck, causing goosebumps to rise. Your hands pushing his face, gripping his hair, trying to yank him off you.. But everything fails. And you know if you try hitting him, it'll enrage him further. Your hits are nothing in comparison to the hits requried to knock this giant man down.

Toji chuckles darkly, his grip on you unbreakable. "You cannot escape me, my dear. Not tonight." His fingers dance lightly along your collarbone, tracing patterns that sent chills down your spine. "You wanted control, you craved dominance, and now you shall experience both in equal measure."

As his fingers reaches your breast, he gently slapped your hands and, cupped your breasts, squeezing slightly before letting go. His eyes sparkling with mischief as he watches you writhe under his touch. "Soon, you'll beg for more."

Refusing to yield, you remain steadfast in your refusal to submit to him. You attempt to land kicks once again, this time more haphazardly and with greater force.

Toji catches one of your legs easily, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and lust. "Keep struggling, wife. Make it harder on yourself." He responds, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze lingers on your body, taking note of every twitch and shiver.

With a swift movement, he rolls you onto your stomach, restraining your arms behind your back, squeezing your face on the ground. His veins bulged on his hands as he gripped your hair tightly, pressing your cheeks against the cold floor with force.

Toji smirked, enjoying the fight in you. He pressed his body against yours, his erection evident through his clothes. "What happened to the lioness?" he mocked. "Got defeated by a mere dog?"

He reaches for your hefty priced skirt, ripping it down, revealing your bare ass. His hand hovers over it for a moment before bringing it down, delivering a sharp slap. You cry out in surprise and pain, arching your back.

"Fuck you that dress's worth is more than yours", Toji's eyes fall on your reddened teary-face. He gazes for a while before laughing cruelly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

"Is that all you can muster, a reprimand for my actions? I thought you'd beg for mercy by now." His hand falls again, this time harder, the sting of the slap searing through your body.

"You are tough I must say" He speaks, his voice dark and heavy with emotion. His eyes flash with mischief as he prepared for his next move.

"L-let me go now", your tone somehow shifts to a plea.

He looks down at your red, angry cheeks and puffy lips, his gaze shifting to your ass, the imprints of his five fingers are distinctly visible on your skin. "Shall I?"

"YOU WILL LET ME GO BASTARD i WILL KILL YOU," you yell at him, hating the way he was treating you, as if he owns you.

Toji pulls you up by your hair, leaning closer to your face, "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet. Need to shut that big mouth,"

You forcefully expel saliva from your mouth, deliberately directing it towards his face, "Never."

Toji's face flashes with a grin as he wipes off your spit from his face and licks his finger, his grip on your hair tightening. "Nasty bitch!" he snarls. His free hand frees his erection and you gasp on seeing how big he is. Big enough to nearly kill you.

"W-what the fuck do you think you are doing", you swallowed in anticipation.

Without responding, he pulls your mouth towards his erection, rubbing the tip on your swollen lips.

Your hands reach up to squeeze his shaft, intending to hurt him. Toji winces, his eyes flashing with pain and anger. "You really don't want to die, do you?" His voice shaking with fury as he grasps your wrists, locking them on either side of his legs, his precum leaking shaft rubbing against your cheek. "This is your punishment, and you're going to take it like a good girl."

Despite your resistance, he thrusts his erection into your mouth, forcing you to take him off. You could barely take in his entire length as drool cascades down your chin and your neck swells with every push. You struggle but he remains firm, so you use your teeth, nibbling on his dick.

Toji hisses in pain and anger, releasing you. "You fucking cunt! I should've known better." He slaps you, causing you to cry out in agony. "That's for biting me!" He grabs your hair again, pulling your head toward his dick and begins to thrust roughly.

"Hnghh-", tears stream down your cheeks, smudging your flawless makeup.

Toji's eyes squint seeing you cry, his lips curling up trying to hide his laugher. "Crying? That's cute. You're crying while servicing me!" His grasp on your head tightens as he keeps fucking your throat relentlessly. "Didn't think you could handle it huh? Too bad, because this is just beginning!"

Your eyes twitching in anger, you keep making noises of struggles.

Toji's thrusts increasing in speed. "Shut up, you ungrateful whore! This is what you deserve!" He slamms into you harder, ignoring your protests.

Why is he acting like that all of a sudden? You never thought the man you married is going to treat you like this. But yes karma, you have hurt him, you made him like this. HE IS RIGHT, you deserve this.

His grip tightened on your hair, his thrusts growing more violent until you screamed, tears streaming down your face. Finally, he cums, flooding your mouth with his seed. "Swallow it. I want to see your Adam's apple moving."

You involuntary swallow his seed. Toji stares at you, his breathing ragged, his eyes fixated on the sight of you swallowing his semen. "Good dog," he sneers, wiping his shaft clean.

You wipe your mouth weakly, "I will never forgive you. You are gonna face the consequences."

Toji chuckles coldly, releasing you. "Oh, the night just started.." He picks you up walking towards your bedroom.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT.. WE ARE DONE.. I AM GOING TO FUCKING DIVORCE YOU", you throw punches on his spine, your nails scratcing his clothed back.

Ignoring your threats, Toji places you on bed, tying your hands with his XXL tshirt to the headboard. His eyes glinting with excitement. "We're far from done, darling. Now, spread your legs, or shall I do it for you?"

"You are not allowed to touch me.. TOJI FUSHIGURO!"

Toji grins wickedly," Oh yeah?", with a swift movement he pulls your panties off you. You legs hiding your core from his gaze. His eyes locked on your resistant form. " He reaches down, spreading your legs apart with force. Your protest is soon silenced by a hard slap accross your clit.

"Now Now.. Look at that," he gathers your wetness with his finger and licks it, "Taste of a bitch in heat."

You bite your lower lip from embarassment. Toji's eyes darkens with lust, his fingers running through your damp entrance, teasing your hole. "You're so wet, yet you are protesting? Ah, I love it." He smirks before inserting his finger inside you, feeling you tense. His eyes searching for your reaction.

"You are lying.. It's not possible-", you still keep on protesting.

Toji pulls his finger, "Hmm?" He raises his eyebrow at you, "Am I? Prove me wrong!" He inserts another finger, stretching you wide. You gasp, arching your back. "Mmm, see for yourself", he then pulls his fingers out. He holds his fingers near your face, covered in your essence, "See?", forcing them into your mouth making you taste yourself.

Your eyes widening, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Toji's eyes gleam triumphantly, his fingers finding their way back inside you. "Pretend all you want, but your body knows the truth." His thumb rubbed your clit, expecting a moan from you. "You want to feel my cock inside you, and let us both know the truth."

"D-do what you want.. but I will not moan."

Toji's grin never wavered as he pulled out his finger. "Stubborn till the end, aren't we?"

He adjusts his position above you, his erection poised to enter you. "Very well, but you won't be able to help yourself soon enough." Before you can react, he thrusts into you roughly, invading your core. He groans at the tightness, his pace increasing.

Your hands tugging on the restraint, eyes watering again from the invasion. He leans in, whispering in your ear, "Let me hear it, your pleasure."

"F-fuck fuck.. pull it out already.. Toji", you nearly beg him.

Toji does not pull out instead he leans back, his dick sliding inside you further hitting your womb as tears spill out of your eyes from the stretching.

"Ohh.. What a sight to behold! The mistress is crying.. Is that how you request your controller?", he slows down a little.

"Please.. Toji... pull it out already", you feel your insides getting ripped everytime he pushes himself in you.

Toji laughs darkly, "Call me master Toji"

"Bastard", you reply.

He starts thrusting, roughly and harshly. "You want to die?"

"Pls master toji .. It's tearing me," your voice shaking with pain and confused pleasure.

His thrusts slows down again, his eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. "That's right. Who owns you?"

"Y-you..", you reply, your self respect crumbled against Toji's feet.

He smiles cruelly, "Mmm... What's that? I wanted to pull out, but your walls are not allowing me to." with that he keeps slamming into you. This time gentlier than before. Your face twisting in anger and tears.

"No, no..." he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. "It's alright. Embrace your submissive nature. You'll thank me later." His thrusting intensifies, his pace accelerating. You whimper, unable to control your pleasure. "It feels good hah?"

"N-no it does not," you lie. Toji's eyes glint at your lie. 'We will see about that" as he speeds up his thrusts, pulling your nipple causing you to cry even louder.

Suddenly moan escapes from your mouth, biting your lips you hide your shift your head right avoiding eye contact with him.

"There it is!" he whispers, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Didn't you just say, you won't moannn?" his mocking evident. "That's it, let go! Enjoy it!" He rams into you, owning you fully.

Your eyes locking on his again. "You look so beautiful, when you are this vulnerable and submissive." His words, punctuated by his thrusts, your moans filling the air. "So obedient..."

Your walls tighten, your climax reaching soon. Toji's thrusts slow down as he realizes your nearness. "Not yet..." He pulls his dick out, causing you to cry out.

"I decide when you cum. Remember that." He reaches down, playing with your clit. "Beg for it."

You look at him, your mind still not wanting to give in.

"Beg for it, or I will keep doing this the whole night" He repeats, his voice firm.

He strokes his cock, your eyes widened, realizing the threat. "Please Toji, let me cum.." Your voice trembled, your body tensing.

"Please what?", he smirks biting his lips.

"P-Please master..", you pout after saying the words.

Toji smirks, placing the tip back to your entrance. "Complete the sentence," he rubs your wet, puffy clit with his tip.

"P-Please master toji let me cum", your respect for yourself almost vanished as your eyes begged for him.

"Louder" He pushes his tip inside you, painfully slow.

"PLEASE MASTER TOJI LET ME CUM.. PLEASE .. I BEG OF YOU"

Toji lets out a satisfied growl, thrusting deep. "That's more like it, my good slave." He pounds you mercilessly, your pleas for release filling the air. "Cum. For me."

Your body tenses, toes curl as you orgasm hard, walls spasming rapidly against his cock. Toji watches your orgasm unfurl, his dick pulsating inside you. "Mmm, nice." He thrusts faster, his climax approaching. "Fuck, yes. So tight.. I never imagined you felt this good." He grunts, his breath hitched, his release imminent. "Gonna fill you up. Bet you won't remain selfish anymore once you have your own baby."

Only moans come out of you as he thrusts into your oversensitive pussy. Toji finishes his thrusts, spilling himself inside you, pulling out just to see his seed drooling out of your clamping walls. "Shit.. Look at that, so dirty", he pushes his dick inside you again, watching your body shuddering.

You mutter a low appologise as your breathing starts becoming stable once again. "Oh so now ya guilty?" Toji laughs, his dick twitching inside you still, he's getting hard once again. He pulls his dick out and drags you onto his lap.

He caresses your cheek, "Do you think I can ever forgive you baby? with all these years of disrespect that you flung at me?" his other hand pats your ass. "I dont want to hear your apologies. I will divorce you just like that."

You feel as though everything is falling apart around you. It's the last thing you expected to hear from him. You know you love him, but you chose to ignore your feelings up until this point. "Pls master.. d-dont divorce me .. I love you", you lean towards him, kissing his cheek.

Toji's eyes flickered for a moment, as you kiss his cheek. "Wow.. Just an orgasm out of you, put you in your place? Perhaps.. There's only one way to change my mind", he licks his tongue wanting to push your buttons. You look at him expectantly.

Toji's eyes sparked with devious delight "Show me how much you love me, my slave".

Sighing, you take his erect cock and insert it inside of you. You begin to flex and extend your hips along his girth.

Toji watches as you ride him, his eyes never leaving you, his eyes twinkling. "Mmm, nothing sexier than a woman in need," He growls, grabbing your hips and pushing you into his hips. "Ride it harder!" He groans, moving along with your rhythm. You nod and increase your pace, bouncing harder, his veins popping on his forehead.

"Impressive, but more!" His hands move to your neck, pulling you closer. "Yes.. Open your mouth whore" He grips your throat gently, tightening his hold.

You open your mouth, and Toji spits in it, "Swallow it". Without any delay you swallow it.

Toji laughs, "How the tables turn, huh?"

You lean to kiss him, but he grabs your neck not allowing you to get closer to him. "I don't want to kiss your nasty mouth bitch"

"P-please master toji.. kiss me", you beg him, hands reaching to caress his hand on your neck.

"Hmm?" he whispers, "Why would I do that?" He tightens his grip, making it harder for you to breathe. You gasp, your eyes locking with his.

"I am sorry," you cry and pout, hips slamming against his pubis while riding him.

"Apologizing?" He loosens his grip, allowing you to breathe easier. "Now that's better." He watches you, how you are engulfing his cock with each movement.

"Still want my kiss?" He taunts, as he release his grip on your neck.

"Yes.. please.. Kiss me"

Toji captures your lips, his tongue invading your mouth. You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groans, the taste of your submission sweet. "Mmm, such a good slave." He pulls away, "Appology accepted". His mouth leans in to latch onto one of your breasts, tongue circling your nipples and his cheeks hollowing.

Unable to control yourself you squirt all over him. He grunts at your sudden tightness. "What the fuck- so tight ah.." He removes his dick from you, putting you on your knees and hands. "Pissing like a dog? Want me to piss on you too?"

"S-sorry master, I was unable to control myself", your eyes rolled from the experience, collapsing on the bed.

Toji spanks your ass, bringing you to your knees. He lines up his dick to your entrance, holding you steady. "Ya looking like a used slut." His dick slides in your entrance, stretching you again. You whine and whimper, thighs shaking from the ecounters before.

"So sensitive..", Toji scoffs.

"Please .. I am near .. fuck me harder", your voice pleading, eyes rolled, drools driping down your chin.

Toji's thrusts speed up, taking you from behind. "Such an Insatiable cum slut " He groans, his voice hoarse. "Tell me how much you want my cum inside you."

"Fill me up pls.... I am master Toji's cumdump"

Toji roars, slamming into you. "Mmm, yes. My cum dump bitch." He releases inside you, feeling you cum and contract around his dick. He pulls out, watching his seed dripping out of you. His eyes lingered over your pussy, "Maybe you deserve a reward after all."

Your whole body convulses. Toji pulls himself out, "Do you want the reward?"

"Please.. reward me master .. I am your good slave," you falter.

Toji smiles, "Very well, my pet. You're a good slave then" He licks your thighs "Mmm, I love you. But if you dare to disappoint me again..." His teeth nibbling on your clit, making you moan loudly. "You know where you stand." He coos and blows on your wetness, licking you clean. Your body trembles, his tongue exploring your folds.

Toji moans, licking your and his cum.. He suckles your clit, his tongue dancing around. A huge cum drop falls on his tongue which he thrusts inside you again.

"Such a good slave, you'll give me a healthy pup" He hums, kissing your inner thighs. Your breath hitches, your orgasm nearing.

Unable to make out anything, you keep taking the pleasure he gives you.

Toji chuckles, his pace unrelenting. "Make me feel needed, slut" He tongue flicks your clit, you shaking. "Cum for me girl" He pinches your clit, your juice flowing freely. "Ahh, so fucking delicious..."

"Gonna cum .. Love you Toji .. a-ah", you blabber. "Yes, my whore. Go ahead" He growls, licking your juice dripping on his lips. Your thighs wrap around him, cumming again. He licks your cum from his tongue, your legs trembling.

"Good girl". He kisses your neck then pulling you closer to his dick.

"Clean your mess from it" He whispers.

Toji breathes heavily, your mouth enveloping his half-hardened dick. It gets hard again, "Mmm, yes, clean it nicely" He cups your head, his shaft coats in your saliva. "Like that, slut" His hand affectionately messes your hair, your moaning muffled. "So good... God.. I should have done this a lot earlier." He watched you swallow his dickhead, your saliva running down your chin. He laughs, his breaths hitched.

You suck on his balls while he strokes his length, "You know how to make a man happy" he whispers. He pulls you by your hair rubbing his dick on your cheeks.

He leans back, hips jerking. "Mmm, shoot!", his cum splattering across your face, your tongue sticking out, trying to catch some cum drops. He smiles, wiping your face.

"Mmm, so obedient, my little cum dump" He whispers, kissing your lips. "You did great today and if you dare to mistreat me again.."

"I will put you in your place.. Like how I did today."

DIVIDERS FROM @/cafekitsune

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 6 months

Note

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

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kafkasmuses · 1 month

Text

KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons.

tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader)

a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs

thirty minutes ago.

art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you.

art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time.

“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.”

ahem.

you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression.

you blink at him, once, twice.

a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.”

it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him.

and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better.

you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“

“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.

he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint.

your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement.

maybe silence will earn points back from your coach.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

silence did not earn anything.

art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up.

the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it.

if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first.

he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?”

“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.”

art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing.

to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.”

you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back.

smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.”

he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?”

ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him.

and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

art said he forgave you, right?

ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.”

“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you.

“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind.

“whatever helps,” you remark.

“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.

once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.”

eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable.

“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?”

you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.”

“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.”

“with tennis?”

“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you.

“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds.

yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really.

“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet.

he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors.

“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before.

“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually.

“like your wife?”

“like you.”

art corrected you.

he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well.

the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe.

at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose.

“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty?

gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy.

“what?” you frown, confused.

“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing.

“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple.

“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?”

“what do you mean?”

art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“

“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours.

“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..”

“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.”

“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now.

“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?”

you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you.

when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying.

he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.”

“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin.

he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.”

“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to.

“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath.

“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness.

“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?”

“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part.

“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.”

he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks.

soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him.

he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance.

“ready?” he hushes out.

“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already.

“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more.

his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well.

sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas.

“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches.

in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm.

he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.”

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #art donaldson smut #art donaldson challengers #challengers #challengers smut #mike faist smut #mike faist challengers

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screampied · 3 months

Note

Needy reader x Sukuna? Where she's been being bratty cause he's been busy, and he needs to put her in her place? Orgasm denial until he felt the reader learned her lesson? I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE SO HOT

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ TEASE ME, PLEASE ME ! ’﹒⺡— SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

☰ warnings. fem! reader, modern au, brat taming, unprotected, ōrgasm denial/edging, doggy, dirty talk, praise, dumbification, mdni.

an. yes

you were annoyed, to say the least.

all you knew was that you wanted more, more of sukuna. yet you had to be a good girl and wait. it irritated you, the simple fact that he was on the phone. as he’s talking, holding the phone right up against his ear, you drag your feet towards him, propping yourself down right on his lap.

“tch,” he mutters, cutting off from his words before pulling you close towards him. you lean into his touch. falling back against his chest, a hand then grabs onto your thigh. “sit still,” he says, almost reading your mind. knowing you, you’d do the entire opposite, which you certainly end up doing. sukuna lowly grunts, feeling you jerk your hip right up against his sweats, specifically against his bulge.

he’s been on the phone for how many hours—you lost count. but you were aroused, just his smell was enough to get you off. to have your panties coated in nothing but your own pathetic wetness.

“yeah, ‘m listenin' yeah,” sukuna rasps, tilting his head towards the right, trying to focus back on the topic. due to you messing with him, his mind was anywhere but the current discussion at hand. knowing that made you smile, giggle aloud and all. albeit, sukuna overheard and he’s sending you straight daggers near the back of your skull. he breaks away, lowering his tone before retorting, “glad ya think this is funny. jus’ wait ‘till ‘m done with this call, little girl.”

his voice only makes you more excited between your legs, you were indeed a brat. never taking him serious…

one of the many things he found annoying about you. how you were always giving him sass and back talk, yet he also found that trait about you partially amusing.

mainly due to the fact in how he’d always be able to put you right back into your place. like today.

he clenches his jaw, feeling you grind up your ass against him. sukuna groans, getting hard from something as facile as this. he tells you one thing, and you just do the exact opposite.

“get off the phone, ‘kuna,” you’d moan, pitching your voice a tad bit - purposely making your voice loud for whoever on the other end of the line to hear. “i want you.”

“i told ya to wait,” he snarls, and you let off a gasp once he starts to bounce his thigh. propped up on his right thigh, your moans started to get a bit whiney, nails digging right into his pants leg. leaning back against his chest, you teasingly try to reach into his sweats before he smacks your hand. “don’t try me. be a good girl ‘n wait.”

“you t-take so longgg,” you’d babble, practically grinding on his leg by now. the sheer fabric ghosting against your panties felt good, but it wasn’t enough. you wanted more, you needed more. to be stretched out, stuffed entirely full, it was all you ever wanted. “fuck me, ‘kuna.”

sukuna clicks his tongue, you were already testing his patience.

speaking of patience, it was running thin. very.

“sorry, sorry. i’m here,” he grumbles, and the bouncing of his thigh only gets more intense. you moaned, feeling yourself throb before hiding your face into his neck. it felt good, but the stimulation wasn’t enough. you wanted more and he knew it too. the way your breathing patterns gradually changed. “yeah, my uh .. pet’s bothering me. keep talking.”

it seemed like his phone call lasted forever, yet that’s when you ended up cumming right on sukuna’s thigh. your legs shook violently as it was so unexpected.

it made you spasm, and you were quite loud too. it was apparent whoever was on the other line heard you. sukuna’s jaw clenched, and you throbbed once you slowly look up to see him glaring straight down at you.

“fuckin’ brat,” he grouses, and he hangs up the phone, mindlessly tossing it elsewhere. you have a near smug grin spreading on your face, but it all changes once sukuna shoves you off his lap to instead bend you flat over his desk. “spoiled little girl. told you to wait ‘n you can’t even do that?”

“s-sorry, ‘kun—”

“girl shut the fuck up ‘n bend over for me.”

you grow quiet, not even asking questions.

he found it pathetic how you were so quick to arch your back. so willing, you moaned — feeling a rough hand kiss against your ass, the sting…

it made you bite down on your lip before you hear a bit of shuffling from his sweats. right after giving your rear with a spank, he caresses it lovingly to make you feel each individual nerve.

“this what you really want, huh? for me to be mean ‘n bend you over like this, princess?” he rasps. you let off a soft moan, feeling sukuna’s sharp nails softly run against your skin.

“y-yesss.”

“dumb girl, ya weren’t supposed to answer.”

whilst you were bent over the desk, sukuna doesn’t waste any time to make his way inside of you. you wanted him so bad.

you wanted far more than just his boring thigh. just imagining his thick cock easing its way inside of you, it had your head spinning.

he had so much girth, you’re salivating at the pure image of feeling him stretch you out like he always does. holding your hips up so he could bounce you on his cock — all until you’re just stupid fit him. eyes rolled back, tongue lolled out, his ultimate favorite descriptors.

“such lazy posture, can’t even bend for me right, tch.” and he’s clearly mocking you.

mocking you with how you tried to sit up a bit but he makes you lean down further. your breathing hitched once sukuna brings his tip towards your slick, puckering entrance. he groans, watching the way how you’re trying to quickly swallow him.

it amuses him, you amuse him.

you swallow thickly, feeling him grab both of your wrists back. he holds onto them with one hand, another gripped around his length. “s-sukuuu,” you slurred out, feeling his plump tip brush up against your slit. the strings of your own mess voluntarily coating his dick just from a few love taps, it makes him insanely feral.

sukuna likes studying you like this, from behind more specifically. the way your muscles would retract. the perfect position to see your ass go back against him, the recoil.

he loved the recoil.

“want attention, i’ll give you attention, girl.”

you’re completely speechless the moment he gradually goes inside, showing somewhat of a decent courtesy at helping you adjust to him. yet once you’re all good. and …oh, he’s vigorous.

drilling his hips into you with such power, babbles run out of your mouth and your head’s nearly being shoved against the multiple scatted papers on his desk.

“mhm,” he grunts, gifting your ass with another rude spank. you were so warm from the inside, one of his favorite things to feel.

the way you gripped down on him, clamping and clamping. a cluster of nerves made your body feel like it was on cloud nine. his thrusts had you were making the most stupidest sounds, over and over. “shame. all it takes to shut ya up is to bend you over.”

“s-shut uppp, sukuna.” you whined, still having a bit of brat left within you.

he rolls his eyes, and with a sharp smack against his hips. it makes you eat your words. “never know when to quit, huh? bet me bein' this deep in you makes you soaked,” and he leans up close to you—your ass was pressed right up against him and he’s buried all the way in. a hand wraps around your neck softly, a thumb stroking the passageway of your throat before he whispers lowly into your ear. “soaked for me like some slut.”

“i’d be more wet if you knew how to f-fuck me right, suku—”

he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence, you definitely struck a nerve. although, all sukuna does is snicker. he admires your . . brattiness.

“can’t stand that nasty fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he grunts, and his pace quickens. his dick reaches everywhere to have you spasm.

you’re whimpering out his name repeatedly as if it’s some sort of mantra. until it’s the only word your brain could comprehend.

he’s ruthlessly driving his hips into you so good, it leaves your maw hanging, a bit of drool running past your lips.

it was a sight, you were a bit filthy. actually, a bit was probably nothing more than a pure understatement though.

you were practically being rammed against the wooden desk, the constant jerks and screeches the furniture sang in harmony rang throughout your ears.

“f-fuckkk, ‘kuna,” you’d whimper, feeling his cock tap right against that particular spot. it sent a bunch of nerves to coarse all throughout your veins. you were nearly limp, feeling yourself start to grow warm all over your body. “think ‘m close, ‘m gonna c-cum, sukuna.”

“i don’t let brats cum on me, little girl,” sukuna replies in a husky tone. it makes you pulse — it was pathetic, him muttering a few words in that deep voice was enough to have you soaked. “besides, ya don’t even deserve it anyway.”

the biggest pout goes against your lips, and you furrow your eyebrows as you feel his hips pivot deeper into you. the angle he’s got, it’s got you sent into a complete frenzy. his rounded tip kisses against your sweet spot numerous times before you let off a soft squeak. “y-yes, yes i do. please.”

“oh, you think you do? after the little shit you pulled?” and he sounds amused more than anything. the sudden rasp in his tone makes you wet, you’re casually bent over with the most cutest arch possible. “i beg to differ, baby. you interrupted my phone call just so i can fuck you.”

completely ignoring his comment, you whimper out a sweet, “s-sukuna, please. wanna c-cum, please.”

“awww,” he purrs, and he starts to jackhammer his cock into you. it leaves you dumbfounded, your mouth open and you’re struggling on what to register in your empty little brain. your pussy squelched as a response, squelch after squelch it started to sound more like a harmony. a lewd harmony. “you wanna c-cum?”

he mocks your stutter and you pout for probably the umpteenth time. sukuna purposely butches your voice, and with the way he rolls his hips into you—you’re captured in a trance.

his cock was so thick, dragging all throughout your walls to where you’re a babbling mess. “yes, wanna cum. please ‘kuna. ‘m c-cumming.”

“no, you’re not.” he huffs out, and you let off a whine once he prods again and against your most sensitive spots. his cock roamed everywhere, he knew just the right areas to reach, to torment, to toy with.

your mouth suddenly grew dry, being denied like that — it had your heart racing. “what you’re gonna do is, you’re gonna be a good girl ‘n wait some more.”

“but s-sukuna.”

“but- but, yeahhh,” he snickers, chuckling at the way he mimicked your whiney state. he was so mean, yet it never failed to make you drenched between your thighs nonetheless. you were hungry for more, panting and heaving all throughout. although, sukuna ends up pulling out abruptly.

you’re still catching your breath, laid flat over the desk, wriggling your ass in confusion as to why he suddenly pulled his shaft out of you. you frowned, now clenching over nothing.

“w-what happened?”

“i’ll tell ya what happened,” sukuna mutters, and he gets right up close towards you. he gets behind your ear, and you let off a moan once he brings a hand between your legs, softly stroking near your swollen pulsating entrance. “i’m finished.”

you furrow your eyebrows, yet moan once he starts to slip a finger inside of your folds — softly giving you a few sweet strokes. “h-huhh? but you didn’t-”

“i’m done,” he repeats, and the curse kisses the side of your forehead. “no brat’s gonna disrespect me. but hey, you can always be a big girl ‘n finish yourself off.”

you whined, definitely not wanting to do that at all when he was right here. you moan, uttering out a needy, “but sukuna…” only for him to turn your head towards him — leaving a sweet and sloppy kiss planted right on your lips. the second he pulls away, he smacks your ass before leaving.

“no buts, finish yourself off. come call me when you’re done being a brat, princess.”

#★vegasbaby.#sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #female reader #anime smut

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ode2rin · 28 days

Text

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is.

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.”

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.”

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

#☁️ my ode to you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #michael kaiser #blue lock fluff #first milestone event!#writing: 004

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tojikai · 11 months

Text

SUNDERED

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments

word count: 3.2k

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo intentionally runs into you when you’re buying groceries just to show you his girlfriend. The woman was your classmate from high school. At the first meeting, she was shy and tried avoiding your gaze but Satoru just had to call you and ask something about your daughter. Completely unnecessary but he’s just that much of a jerk. Once was considered an accident. But when it happened two, then three times, you already know that you have to change your shopping schedule.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo picks up his daughter from your house an hour late, rubbing on your face that he overslept because he spent “some time” with his girlfriend last night. Distasteful and disrespectful, but you let it slide cause he seems happy. You don’t want to be a killjoy, right? You were never his girlfriend, to begin with. Just someone he got pregnant from a one-night stand.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo posts pictures of his day out with his daughter online. His girlfriend carrying your kid as the three of them wear matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse headbands. You could only scroll past and continue your work to busy yourself. Maybe you should stop lurking around social media and just use your phone for important messages. Maybe you should also lose feelings for someone who never harbored genuine ones for you in the first place.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo always lets his girlfriend open the door for you when you’re picking up your daughter from his house on weekends. He leans back on the couch, watching you grab your daughter’s things, opening his arms to cuddle with his girlfriend before you even get to walk out the door. It made you feel pathetic and small but what can you do? There’s simply no place for you in that house.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo insists that you spend more time together for the sake of your daughter. You agreed to it and now, you had to sit in the back of the car with your daughter as he drives his girlfriend to work. It made you feel sick and nauseous that you were only able to spend half a day with them before you decided to go home and sleep the day away. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll find it in you to hate him.

“Mommy? Call her, love.” Gojo used a higher voice to encourage his daughter to call you. He knows that he was foul for what happened earlier. But what is he gonna do? He can’t reject his girlfriend’s request, plus it was only a ride. It’s not like she was with you for the whole day. Still, he doesn’t think it’s the reason why you left early. You might be feeling…tired. Even if it was Saturday yesterday and you have no work. You might still feel fatigued on Sunday, right?

“Mama!” The little girl mimicked pointing upstairs. Satoru sighed placing her little bag on a nearby chair as he made his way upstairs. He figured that if you’re still asleep, he could just wait for you to wake up and just look after his daughter here. You’re a single mother for 4 days a week, and on top of that, you also have work. You literally don’t have time to rest. He told himself that he needs to stop messing around just to get a reaction from you.

Reaching your room, Satoru knocked on the door three times, calling out your name when you didn’t answer. “Wait a second.” You voiced out from the other side, “I’m just gonna call my mom, can you wait for her?” You suppressed a cough at the end of the sentence but it didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. “Are you sick? I could take her back to my house, we’ll look after her until you feel better. ” The suggestion made your stomach churn. They get to play house with your kid and here you are, being miserable.

You shook your head, realizing how bitter you sounded. She wasn’t unkind in any way to your baby but something in you hurts when you think of them giving your daughter the family experience that you cannot provide. You and Satoru tried to work things out but you just can’t get on the same page. Instead of trying to be better for you and your daughter, he decided to fuck around and date someone else instead.

You wouldn’t say that your name was clean. What with a couple of threats such as finding someone who could act right. You just didn’t think that he’d really leave. It hurt but now you’re getting yourself used to the feeling. Maybe he just couldn’t act right with you. Because why is he so good with his girlfriend now? She tamed him, as he once boasted to you during a fight.

“I’m stuck with a child that I have with you, but not with you.” He pointed out, leaving a searing pain in your chest. “There’s no way I’m letting that happen.” Tears were starting to form in your eyes as the words come out of his mouth. How could he say something so cruel to you, the mother of his child? All you did was tell him that his girlfriend was getting kind of too much after she told you what to do with your child. And now he’s making you the villain.

“I just told her that—” You tried to explain, voice starting to shake. “If that’s all you did, she wouldn’t come to me crying, Y/N.” You just can’t believe that you’re fighting over this. You already have so much to think about and now this, you also have to be cautious about his girl. “She told you herself, I just didn’t want her telling me how to raise my child!”

“Of course, she wouldn’t tell me that you’re being harsh to her. Unlike you, she’s actually kind and considerate of other people’s feelings.” You looked down, letting out a strangled sob escape your throat before quickly wiping away the forming tears in your eyes as you turn away from him. Why was he never this defensive of you? He didn’t even try to fight for you when his girlfriend convinced him to take your daughter with them on a trip. Without your permission.

And now he’s talking as if you’ve been nothing but a disturbance in his relationship with her. Everything's just unfair. Yet, you just let it slide because you wanted nothing but peace for your baby. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you anymore, Satoru. You’ve said enough.” You sniffed, walking to your daughter’s room to check if the noises woke her up. Satoru was left standing there, processing all the things that he said.

He watched you disappear into the dark hallway of your apartment, shoulders shaking with your head hung low. Even if he can’t see your face, he can tell that you’re crying and it made him feel like shit. He went overboard, didn’t he? “Fuck.” He threw his keys on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. He wanted to apologize but at the same time, he wanted to prove his point. His girlfriend was only trying to help and you took it the wrong way.

At that time, Satoru thought that maybe she was right. You’re just getting kinda jealous that she could spend time with your daughter and Satoru more and now you’re being too sensitive, letting out your irritation on her. She said that it was a natural feeling for a mother to feel that way but Satoru can’t let you treat his girlfriend like shit just because of your pettiness and jealousy. You have to learn to adjust and accept that some things are gonna be the way they are because of your setup.

As for you, you felt hurt. Neglected even when you know that you’re not supposed to receive as much attention, much less protection from him. His priority is your child, but not you. You have no choice but to talk and work everything out with them for the sake of your daughter. You know that you could start dating someone of your choice but you wished that it would be that easy. You just want to focus on your daughter and if you’re gonna find someone, you want them to love her as much as you do.

You wonder what you lacked that couldn’t soften him the way he did to her. You started to think that you’re the problem and that is why you couldn’t fix him as easily as she did.

You stood up, opening the door for him seeing your two-year-old reach out to you. “Mama’s sick, love, sorry.” You covered your mouth, blinking away the heaviness in your eyes. Satoru watched you pack your daughter’s things. “If you’re gonna be busy, just tell me. I’ll just contact Mom. She can be with you for a few days, just until my cold is gone.” You murmured, counting the diapers to put in her baby bag.

You don’t want to be away from her, but letting her stay with you when you’re like this puts her at risk and that’s the last thing you want. You can’t stand seeing your daughter through pain and you’re pretty sure it’s the same for his dad. Begrudgingly, you placed the bag in front of Satoru before reaching over for her favorite toy. You smiled at how she squealed when she saw it.

“You know we’re never too busy to take care of her. Just rest, so you’ll get better soon.” You swallowed, nodding your head slowly as you thought of what else they should take. “Yeah, I’ll be picking her up.” You kept your distance from her, sitting down as you felt your head spinning a bit. “Do you...do you have medicine, though? I could get some if you want,” Satoru can tell that you’re really sick and despite his situation with you, he can’t just let you be when you’re like this. You’re still the mother of his child.

“No, it’s fine. I have some here. Just take care of her.” Your voice was hoarse and your daughter was starting to reach out for you again as if sensing that something was wrong so you urged Satoru to get going. “Be good, okay?” You waved as she watched you with her curious eyes but waved back, nonetheless. You wouldn’t admit it but you feel envious that they could be happy together with her. You’re afraid that one day she’ll prefer being with them over you.

As for your feelings for Satoru, you hated thinking or talking about it. You’re obviously in love with him, but you wouldn’t acknowledge that yourself, either. You fought too much, you hurt each other too much. Other than that, there’s no point for your feelings now that he has someone he really loves and truly cares about.

You never experienced the boyfriend-girlfriend stage with Satoru. It’s like one day, you just woke up and you’re already parents. You can’t blame him for not having real feelings for you. You do your best to be as civil to them as you can be but sometimes his girlfriend’s just out of bounds. And after a couple of painful fights with Satoru regarding her, it just became too much for you.

You’re just tired of feeling like a wedge to someone’s healthy relationship. That’s how Satoru makes you feel and you just can’t take any ache from that.

Another thing that you deny to yourself is the hope that you might fix this all. There are always what-ifs in your mind, and you would never tell Satoru about them. He’ll probably laugh at you and your threats that you’re gonna be with someone who truly makes you happy. You would never destroy his relationship just because yours didn’t work. If you have to cover your eyes, look away and pretend to be deaf every time they’re around you, you would.

You often think about what it would be like if he settled down with his girl; if they decided to get married and have a family of their own. You don’t want your daughter to feel left out. You don’t want her to feel like she doesn’t have her own family in the middle of them. You also wondered if you’d have moved on by then. You hope so. You don’t want to be this pitiful and heartbroken forever.

------------------------------

After a couple of days, you’re finally feeling well. You got up early and sent Satoru a text that you’ll be picking up your baby in a few hours. You missed her and her giggles so much. The house was clean during the past days but you very much prefer it to be messy, as long a she’s there. You’ll never mind getting up in the middle of the night or waking up extra early for her.

Arriving at Satoru’s residence, you rang the doorbell as you waited patiently for someone to open the gate for you. You were hoping that it would be your baby girl, extending her short, chubby arms to you but instead, it was Satoru’s girlfriend. “Come in, she’s still playing inside.” She smiled at you, opening the metal door wider. “Thanks, I messaged Satoru that I was coming to pick her up. Is she ready?” You asked her as you walked to their front door.

“She is, but she’s kinda fussy about it. Satoru bought her a huge playpen and she just wouldn’t get out of it. She’s enjoying a lot.” She tucked a hair behind her ear and you can’t help but feel conscious of how you look. Opening the door, you were welcomed by the sight of Satoru lying down with his daughter in the said enclosure. She was fiddling with a toy as they watched on the big screen.

Her favorite toy was at the corner, and for some reason, it left a pang in your chest.

“Sweetie, someone’s here for you.” You hated the way she phrased it but you know that she doesn’t mean for it to be offensive or rude to you. The little girl looked up with her binky in her mouth, blinking before smiling at you. “Oh, you’re already here. She wouldn’t let me out of the playpen.” Satoru explained, probably thinking that you didn’t appreciate that it had to be his girlfriend opening the door for you.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” This place always made you feel like you’re an outsider. Probably because you are and it didn’t help that they’re making you feel like it. “Mama!” She waved at you, pointing at the screen as she sat down. “That’s a nice show, love. Maybe we could just continue watching it at home?” You know that she doesn’t have a big playpen there. The screen isn’t that big, either. She suddenly lied back down, whimpering as she kicked her tiny feet. You felt like telling her that you’d work hard to buy her that too.

She doesn’t want to go home yet and that’s what you feared.

“Baby, mom’s here. She missed you.” Satoru called out but to no avail. He came to lift her up, trying to see if she was just being too lazy to get up. Her eyes were glued to the television as she sucked on her pacifier. She was too into it, pointing the show to everyone before smiling at you. Oh, how you missed that smile. “Let’s go, now.” You cooed at her, softly clapping your hands.

When you tried to reach for her as Satoru leans her close to you, she started wiggling around. “Down, Mama! Wait.” Her cute language never ceases to make your heart swell with joy despite the fact that she’s trying to get away from you. She runs away, stopping to look around before going to Satoru’s girlfriend and hugging her leg. She was in awe when she picked up your daughter.

So… she’s who your daughter’s referring to by…Mama. You could almost hear your heart shatter at the realization. Since when did she start calling her Mama?

“You don’t wanna go home yet? But Mom’s here.” She talked in her baby voice and you don’t know if you’re gonna be happy that she treats your daughter really well or jealous that she came running to her when she don’t want to do something. Satoru went up to them, leaving you standing a few meters away. You don’t like what you’re seeing aside from your daughter.

“It’s not good to ignore Mama.” Satoru tapped her nose with his finger which she cutely swatted away, eliciting a chuckle from him. “Y/N, I was thinking… maybe I could just, uh, take her home later in the day. This playpen just arrived yesterday and you know how kids are…” He laughed nervously, struggling to find a nice way to say that your daughter won’t be coming home yet.

“Yesterday, I was joking about giving her playmates and she was so excited, she was running around.” His girlfriend giggled as she shared. It was a simple story yet it was a thorn to your heart. Why does it seem like your every nightmare is coming to life? You just smiled at her, understanding that she was talking about giving your daughter siblings. Satoru was silent, but you didn’t dare look at his face. You know that it’s in their future plans and you don’t have to see him smiling about it too.

“That’s adorable..” You don’t know what else to say, so you just nodded your head slowly, blinking quickly so as to bring yourself back to reality. His place was huge compared to your apartment. The playpen looks so much more comfortable than the crib she has at your place. She has new toys and a mom and dad by her side. So, now she doesn’t want to leave. Suddenly, you can feel the weakness in your knees from when you were sick starting to come back. You cleared your throat as you straightened yourself.

“J-just take her home later. I, uh, bought something for her.” You lied, knowing that you still have to go looking for something you can buy for your lovely child. You wanted to snatch her away from Satoru’s girlfriend, her other mom, but the giggle flowing out of her lips are too precious for you to ruin; the smile on her face as she tickled her tummy was too priceless. Look at them, you told yourself as you started to feel farther and farther away from their little world. They’re a picture of a happy family.

“I’ll see you later, honey…” You whispered, giving her head a pat as she looked up at you with her big, cerulean eyes. You didn’t wait for any of them to walk you out, you just let your feet take you out of their home, not daring to look back for the fear of breaking down. Your fingers tremble along with your lips and the tiny droplets of rain felt like acid on your skin. Maybe what they say was true. We experience people differently.

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

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