#and like I know they like our third friend far more than me and like I get it but it still sucks

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?” 

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike. 

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?” 

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully. 

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“ 

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.” 

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,” 

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision. 

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,” 

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“ 

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens. 

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“ 

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?” 

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble. 

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here. 

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,” 

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head. 

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone. 

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours. 

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?” 

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal. 

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks. 

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was. 

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?” 

“Of course,” 

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone. 

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened. 

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,” 

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend. 

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin,  “is something interesting about my hands?” 

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,” 

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,” 

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?” 

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?” 

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away? 

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?” 

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids. 

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?” 

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.  

Fuck. 

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,” 

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,” 

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew. 

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek. 

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“ 

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other. 

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“ 

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?” 

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp. 

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,” 

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?” 

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,” 

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either. 

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense. 

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,” 

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,” 

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“ 

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body. 

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“ 

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash. 

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more. 

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji: 

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more? 

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so. 

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him. 

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“ 

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“ 

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“ 

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“ 

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?” 

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“ 

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?” 

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?” 

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,” 

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs. 

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?” 

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned. 

God, what the fuck. 

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,” 

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.  

“We don’t have to—“ 

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but— 

“Sounds perfect,”  he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay. 

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,” 

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes,  holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms. 

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,” 

“For?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“ 

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face. 

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips. 

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“ 

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?” 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“ 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,” 

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you. 

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.  

“I didn’t think I was either.” 

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,” 

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him. 

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!” 

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“ 

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?” 

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie. 

But you can’t. 

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“ 

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.” 

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse. 

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good. 

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you. 

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips. 

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute. 

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“ 

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” 

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed. 

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap. 

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty. 

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling. 

It was his favorite thing. 

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“ 

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“ 

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in. 

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?” 

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other. 

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties. 

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth. 

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,” 

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away. 

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it. 

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,” 

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side. 

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face. 

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head. 

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“ 

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep. 

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection. 

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.  

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him. 

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same. 

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop. 

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back. 

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did. 

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now. 

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair. 

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?” 

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?” 

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside. 

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket. 

It had been like this since that night. 

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.  

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back. 

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it. 

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him— 

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship. 

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that. 

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were? 

And now you know what you wanted to do. 

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out. 

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?” 

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth. 

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl. 

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs. 

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears. 

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow. 

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“ 

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips. 

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words? 

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to. 

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much. 

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket. 

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his. 

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“ 

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“ 

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike. 

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,” 

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“ 

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later. 

How long has it been? 

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place. 

Great. 

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him. 

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him. 

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this. 

But you weren’t made to let this break apart. 

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped. 

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?” 

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about. 

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember. 

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him. 

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,” 

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“ 

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip. 

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours. 

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?” 

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“ 

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,” 

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“ 

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“ 

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,” 

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“ 

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach. 

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“ 

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,” 

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart. 

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself. 

“I didn’t want to bother you—“ 

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say? 

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone. 

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you. 

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?” 

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence. 

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you,  “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days. 

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.  

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt. 

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new. 

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking. 

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side. 

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that. 

You were in love. 

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on. 

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself. 

And he deserved more than that. 

He deserved more than you. 

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that. 

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home. 

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks. 

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall? 

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his. 

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“ 

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion. 

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same. 

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“ 

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him? 

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“ 

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street. 

What just happened? 

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it. 

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay. 

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again. 

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks. 

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,” 

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“ 

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher. 

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.” 

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place. 

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands. 

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his. 

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his. 

And maybe things could get back to normal. 

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,” 

And you smile, “I love you too—“ 

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression. 

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“ 

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“ 

“Yuji—“ 

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name. 

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“ 

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off. 

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“ 

Fuck it. 

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji. 

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,” 

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?” 

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“ 

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“ 

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.” 

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little. 

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life. 

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.” 

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“ 

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“ 

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“ 

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed. 

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?” 

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,” 

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,” 

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again. 

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan. 

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,” 

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?” 

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head. 

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you. 

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath. 

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays. 

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.” 

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,” 

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again. 

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much. 

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release. 

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin. 

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss. 

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,” 

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“ 

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back. 

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your 

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“ 

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp. 

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides. 

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling. 

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again. 

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“ 

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,” 

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit. 

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“ 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words. 

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“ 

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,” 

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips. 

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you. 

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“ 

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“ 

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead. 

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,” 

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss. 

“And you always will.” 

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her. 

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,” 

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“ 

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“ 

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.” 

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,” 

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.” 

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

#sab [mlist] #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori fanfiction #yuji itadori fluff #yuji itadori x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji smut #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji fanfiction

[fayes-fics]

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.” 

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.” 

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic. 

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade. 

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision. 

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him. 

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction. 

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.” 

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman. 

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first. 

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now…. 

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his. 

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together. 

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly. 

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk. 

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member. 

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip. 

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!” 

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense. 

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race. 

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss. 

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside. 

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently. 

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing. 

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body. 

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever. 

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

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[pellucid-constellations]

Only in Dreams

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: Hi this is my first acotar fic idk what I'm doing. I've been reading them for years so here's a little one for fun <3 I know it's different from my usual but inspiration is a finicky creature :) Also, italics denote flashbacks.

~~

There was very little Azriel wouldn’t do for his mate. 

He had learned that early on. 

In those early days, when the bond had made itself known to only him, there was so much confusion and strife within the shadowsinger. He had known you for decades, admired you from afar, and befriended you under self-made pretenses. You were a light, a healer, too good and sweet to be anything to him other than a friend, a coworker. 

But you were also his mate. 

The air had been knocked from his lungs at the realization. 

“Is everything okay?” you had asked, sweet confusion bunching at your brows. 

And Azriel couldn’t answer, not for several long beats. 

“Az, what’s wrong? You look like Cassian after he took that weird herb Majda wanted me to test.”

Another bout of silence, this time accompanied by soft, warm hands along his cheeks. You leaned in, the sweet scent knocking him out of his stupor. As he jerked back, you only followed, blinking in surprise. 

“Azriel—” 

“I apologize,” he finally—weakly—stammered out. “I was talking with Rhys.” 

“You were talking with Rhys?” 

It hadn’t sounded much like a question, but Azriel nodded anyways, enraptured by you and your closeness. He needed to get away, to leave. You were too close. He was too weak. 

But then you giggled, and the sound was so melodic and saccharine that he found himself breathless again. He could get lost in that sound. If he was being honest with himself, he had gotten lost in that sound plenty of times before. But now… now. Gods, now you were his mate. 

As you laughed some more, teasing retorts echoing in the air, Azriel knew you had no idea. 

And, as Azriel had learned, that was fine. You didn’t need to know. Because he knew, and that was enough. 

Enough for the overwhelming devotion he felt for you to finally have substance. To finally be validated. 

You were his—everything sweet and good was his to protect. And, gods, did he want to protect you. 

You made that very difficult in the weeks after the bond had snapped for him. His instincts were in overdrive, taking note of your every move and praying to the cauldron that you were careful when he was sent on missions and you stayed back in Velaris. He had nothing to worry about when that was the case. The inner circle loved you almost as much as he did. 

But then Rhys decided you were needed. 

With an unreciprocated mating bond and a mate that cared so little for her own self-preservation, that had been Azriel’s worst nightmare. 

“Reconsider.” 

“There is nothing to reconsider, Azriel. We need a healer in Windhaven to show them that the clipping won’t be seen to fruition. And y/n just so happens to be our court healer,” Rhys carefully explained for the third time. 

“Send Majda.” 

Rhys held the bridge of his nose. “There is a reason y/n took over her post. Madja is far too old to be making those kinds of trips.” 

“Send anyone else,” Azriel rasped, a tightness to his words. 

“No. She is the best. It will only be for a few weeks and Cassian—” 

“Rhysand.” 

Rhys paused at the desperation laced within his brother’s tone. He removed the fingers attempting to abate the ache along his temple and observed Azriel’s clenched fists and restless shadows. Rhys’s lips parted in shock, his eyes blinking in quick succession. Something clicked within his gaze.

“Is she…” 

The muscle in Azriel’s jaw quivered. “Just don’t send her there. Please.” 

Rhys raised a hand to run down his jaw. “My gods, Azriel. This is…this is—does she know?” 

“No,” he replied, quick and low. 

“I understand what you’re feeling, but I can’t stop her. You know that, brother.” 

And, unfortunately, Azriel knew that. 

When you set your mind to something—when you knew you were going to help people—that was it. There would be nothing keeping you from helping those in need. Especially the Illyrian women. Azriel was pretty sure you kept a dartboard somewhere in the house with Lord Devlon’s face on it. 

He loved that about you, truly he did. But it also made you reckless.

There were plenty of instances where you burned yourself out from healing. You would come home swaying on your feet or be so depleted you couldn’t even winnow correctly. He could count on two hands the amount of times you passed out at the dinner table after work. When he thought about you doing that in Windhaven… Azriel couldn’t even stomach the thought. 

“Then order her,” Azriel gritted out. He could hear you coming. You and Cassian, bags packed, chatting down the hall about something insignificant. 

Why couldn’t he come, again? 

Right, because he would “stir up the camp” or whatever obtuse reason Rhys had given him. 

“You know that won’t go over well,” Rhys countered. 

“Neither will the entirety of Windhaven if she gets hurt.” 

Azriel’s threat fell on deaf ears as you came bounding into the room, bright and determined and smiling at him as if you weren’t leaving. 

“Here to see us off, Az?” 

That trip to Windhaven had been awful—for Azriel and for you. Rhys’s “ordering” hadn’t been effective, and neither had Cassian’s ability to pick up on context clues. As you stood, baffled at Rhys’s sudden change in plans, Cassian didn’t so much as look at Azriel’s subtle vies for assistance. Because Cassian had been just as baffled as you were. 

So, you went to Windhaven. 

And then you came home hurt. 

Not terribly, just a few cuts and a black eye that rivaled his own from the last time he trained with the Valkyries. 

Cassian explained that there had been a fight unrelated to you, but you had gotten caught up in it. He suspected it was a ploy to get hands on you, but Azriel had stopped listening to him the second you landed on the balcony with stitches on your forehead. The moment he saw your hands bandaged and your eye purple and blue. 

You had laughed about your inability to fight, knocking an injured hand into Cassian’s side as he jested that it was time for you to get into the training ring with him. Later, Azriel would agree with that sentiment. In that moment, however, unparalleled fear had coursed through his veins. Rhys was the only one ready for it. 

Cassian’s back slammed into the far wall of the house, wings splaying out against stone. Azriel’s shadows were gone as he held his brother against the wall, abandoning him in favor of wrapping around your wounds. 

Azriel thought he heard you scream. 

“You said you would protect her!” he seethed, pushing his forearm against Cassian’s throat, blue siphon blazing atop his hand.

“Azriel, stop!” Your call went unheard. Rhys stood ground in front of you, arm jutting out when you tried to get around him. 

Cassian pushed back against him, face twisted in confusion. “I did. I pulled her from that fight as soon as I could, Az. You think—” his words cut off with another shove from his brother “—you think I would have let anything happen to her on purpose?” 

Azriel growled, low and dangerous. “All I think is that my mate came back looking like that when you swore to take care of her. You swore.” 

The room went silent, stagnant. Even the shadows halted their appraisal of you as you held onto Rhys’s arm. Cassian stopped fighting. Somewhere down the hall, the rushed footsteps of some other member of the family abruptly stopped. 

“She’s your mate?” 

“Azriel—” Your whisper was lost in the lingering chaos of the room. 

The time after was a blur for Azriel. He knew he left the balcony, retreating to his room hastily after sending you a longing, apologetic glance. He knew you called after him, that you were breathless and shaking and Rhys kept holding you back… telling you to give him some time to cool off. 

He didn’t need time. He needed you, and Azriel had been positive that would never happen now. 

Half of his shadows joined him in his room, engulfing him as he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. The other half stayed with you, still worried about the pain that you had endured. It was a miracle you hadn’t sent them away. They would have listened to you if you had. They would always listen to you. 

When the door creaked, his shadows covered him even more, encasing his fear and worry and embarrassment into a shell that kept him safe. 

He was a fool. 

“Azriel?” 

He had to be imagining the sweet trill of your voice. There was no way you had come for him, not after all of that. But soon, your shoes slinked into the mess of shadows between his legs, and a bandaged hand gently guided his chin up. 

When he met your eyes, his shadows circled faster. His wings fell lower and lower against the bed, giving himself up to your gaze. 

“Azriel,” you repeated, music within the swish of dark air. “Care to explain, shadowsinger?”

The bruises on your face made his stomach turn. He went to look away, to escape this physical and mental turmoil, but you only locked your wrists and kept him there. 

It took him a moment, but he finally relented. 

“You are my mate,” he spoke, gravely and unsure—even though that was the one thing Azriel was sure of above all else. “You are my mate and you are hurt. I am sorry for my actions… if I scared you or—” 

“I wasn’t asking about the display of male violence on the balcony.” Your teasing smile made some of his shadows rest.

It also made hope swell within the deepest parts of Azriel’s wearied chest. 

You didn’t look forlorn at his offhanded declaration, nor did you look repulsed. You just looked like… you. You looked at him as you always had, and maybe that meant something. 

Maybe that was something for Azriel to hold onto. 

“How long have you known?” you asked, when he spent a moment too long admiring the upturn of your mouth. 

Azriel blinked, moving his eyes back to your own. “A while.” 

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or even angry as he was sure Feyre had all those years ago. You only sounded sad. That made it worse. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Azriel stressed, leaning forward on the bed to capture your legs between his. “I wanted to, I just—y/n, I just…” 

There was no solid explanation. You didn’t rush him as he stumbled over his words—you were patient, as you always were. You were patient and Azriel was a coward.

Determination set a line in his brow. 

“I was a coward,” he affirmed. “I didn’t want to push you away… to make you feel unsure or pressured. You are… you are everything. You have been everything to me for many years now. If I had ruined that—if I had pushed something upon you that you did not want—” 

“Has it occurred to you, Azriel, that I would very much like to be your mate?” 

Azriel paused his spiel, licking his drying lips as he searched your eyes for the lie. 

“Only when I dream.” 

You had kissed him after that, all bruised and scratched and broken, and Azriel found himself dreaming.

As he stared at you across the sitting room, surrounded by your raucous, disruptive family, Azriel dreamed again. The glow of the fire lit up the side of your face as you laughed, sending warmth up the long-accepted mating bond, and he dreamed of you in every iteration of his life. 

And he would do anything to keep that dream alive.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #azriel

[targaryenluvs]

OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray x fem!reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #dark!lucy gray x reader #dark!lucy gray baird x reader #hunger games x reader

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

one thing you love about simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. strong, steadfast, there when you need him. even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

not that you’ll tell him that.

you hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

except for simon.

which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. you don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. you've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

but losing simon? you don't think you'd ever get over that.

it's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold your tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

your call log is all simon.

some appointments here and there, but simon everywhere else.

fuck.

you hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

you don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

he answers before the third ring.

"i'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. you take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired.

“no, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. you’re only half-convinced.

"i'm sorry," you begin again. your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. you're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "i didn't know who else to call, and i lost my tram pass, and i don't have an umbrella, and — "

“dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. you ache.

"i can just walk home, i-i'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone.

“darling,” he says, a little stern. not angry, never angry. trying to focus you. “what’s wrong?”

“u-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "i waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "messaged him too, y'know. but he just. didn't show."

you think you hear simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick.

“where are you?”

there's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. you manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking.

“twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “sit there and be good and patient and i’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. you make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

you can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

he says your name gently. you take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. he's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. assessing you, worrying.

"i'm sorry," you croak out. you can't help it. it's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. he doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. his eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "you know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

you can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. he hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"this is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. you were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "you really think i'd let you stay home alone?"

his eyes are so fucking bright. it startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"i..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. his eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "i was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"as if i don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. you scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

you hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

his flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

well.

you might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. it's a you're a bit clumsy thing. simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

his bedroom is familiar as well. which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

you take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. you’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

as you pad back out to the living room, simon’s already on the couch. your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. but you’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

his balaclava is off. the last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv already ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“am i that predictable?” you mumble, a small ‘thank you’ as he hands you a bowl.

he doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

the silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

you blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. you can’t read his eyes. something hot twists in your gut.

“i-i don’t know, simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “maybe?”

he doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “depends how the date went, i suppose. doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. his gaze hasn’t changed. “why?”

his jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “you deserve better ‘n that.”

a confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “i know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

he seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. you feel sick.

dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. you bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. relationships aren’t easy. being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

you never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. you don’t deserve that kind of attention. after a while, they’ll get tired. you’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

it’s easier to be by yourself. the only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“love.” he tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. how hasn’t he tired of you yet?

a hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“what’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

you swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “no one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

frustration burns the back of your throat. isn’t it obvious? you can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. how can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? how could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“you wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. you crumble back into the couch.

“make me understand.”

heat flashes at the nape of your neck. he takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“how aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. you look at him. hesitant. scared.

the silence is loud. his frown deepens. it takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“you know i’d do anything for you, yeah?”

your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“because you do the same for me,” he continues. you doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

his touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. he slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips where the waistband of his boxers start.

you slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. firm and broad and safe.

“you apologize so much. you worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. one hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“you’re allowed to ask for help.”

you shake your head, a “no” caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“oh, love.” he cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “you have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

he lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. but his cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. you’re so tired.

his lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. you’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

#ink by bambi #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley/reader #simon riley/you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley hurt/comfort #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #ghost imagine #modern warfare imagine

[indigovigilance]

The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person. 

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard. 

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry. 

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling. 

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ivoc #this meta ended up being only about 2/3 the length of my usual metas and somehow that feels appropriate because Terry's life ended too soon #and the jarring brevity of this piece parallels that feeling of sudden unexpected loss #for me anyways I don't know about you guys #if this made your eyes even slightly moist you are obligated to reblog to help someone else feel their feels #I don’t make the rules #but them is the rules #blessed by Beelzebub

[jockbroski34]

How Things Used To Be

I wonder how long it took me to notice that there was something wrong with Nathan.  We had been best friends for years, ever since the 5th grade, and we always hung out together both in and out of school.  I was hoping things could’ve stayed like that this summer, but it seemed like fate had other plans.  Between family vacations and college prep, it seemed like he didn’t have time for me anymore.  And to make it worse, whenever he wasn’t doing that, he was hanging out with some other guys who I had never met, and he never even bothered to ask me if I wanted to come with.  I know people grow and change, but I didn’t want to see it happen to my own best friend.  On the bright side, we’re going to the same college, so I hope I can see him around.

And I did see him.  It was the third week of courses, once I was starting to get acquainted with campus life.  For once, I was actually being more social, trying to fill the gap that Nathan left.  I used this opportunity to start talking to people in my classes and I found that we had some similar interests.  I wish I could say the same for my roommate, but he mostly keeps to himself and we don’t have much in common.

Okay, back to Nathan.  I was walking back to the dorms after my last class, texting one of my classmates about the homework.  I was interrupted when I walked headfirst into another student.  I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings.  I looked up at the giant in front of me, probably 6’3”, before apologizing.

“James, is that you?”  the giant asked.  The voice sounded very familiar, yet at the same time, different.  I took a closer look at him.  “Long time no see, huh?”  I was surprised when I realized who it was.

“Nate?  Woah, what happened to you?”  I couldn’t believe that this person in front of me was my best friend.  This was not the same Nathan from three months ago during graduation.  He was always a bit taller than me, but he had to have grown at least 3 inches.  He used to wear glasses, but it seemed like he switched over to contacts.

In the warm August heat, he was wearing a tank top which revealed his newfound biceps for the whole world to see.  The tank top clung closely to his chest and I could see his newly-formed six-pack through the fabric.  He was wearing basketball shorts that were short enough that I could catch a glimpse of his thighs, which were just as big as his arms.  I never knew Nathan went to the gym, and if he did, he never told me.  But still, I couldn’t comprehend how he became so huge in just three months, which made me more curious about what he had been up to.  A backwards hat fit tightly atop his head with Greek letters on them.  Sigma Lambda Chi…  Had Nathan really joined a frat?  To be completely honest, he looked like he was cosplaying as a frat bro, a far cry from how I knew him.

“Like what you see, bro?”  James chuckled, as he flexed one of his arms.  He definitely never came across as a cocky showoff, but I was too distracted by his flexed bicep to notice.  I caught myself staring for a second too long, before feeling my face turn red hot.  Me and Nathan knew everything about each other, but there was one thing I never told him.  I was gay.  To tell you the truth, I had a crush on him, but I knew I could never tell him to preserve our friendship.  But now he looks even better, and he hasn’t made time for me at all.  Now he really felt out of my league.

“I’ve been working out a lot lately.  I’m glad you noticed.”  He still had his signature smile, but it looked out of place on his new body.  His face especially looked a lot more angular and masculine.  A visible tan glazed over his body like a fresh coat of paint.

“Daaamn!  You look great, dude!”  To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to feel talking to him again.  On one hand, I was happy to see him again, and, admittedly, a little surprised to see him like this.  On the other hand, he ditched me this whole summer to hang out with some other guys.  It felt so bittersweet.

“If there weren’t other people around, I’d let you…I mean uh, how have you been bro?  I know I’ve been busy a lot lately.  Sorry about that, dude.”  We told each other what we did over the summer, and wow, was his summer more interesting.

As we caught up, I learned more about what he has been up to.  Apparently, he joined a frat and he was hanging out with the guys there more and more.  He promised that he’d bring me to a party sometime, but I was hesitant because I’m not much of a party animal.  That lifestyle just isn’t for me.  He also said he was thinking about joining our school’s football team at the request of his roommate, which I found even more surprising because Nathan never played sports in high school.  I did track, but I was never that big into sports myself.  Our conversation was interrupted as another guy entered the scene.

“Yo, Nate!  Finally found you.  You seriously need to get better at texting me back, dude.  And who’s this dude?”  The guy was wearing the same hat as Nate, so I figured he was one of his frat bros.

“My bad, bro.  Brett, this is James.  We go way back.  James, this is Brett.  He’s my roommate.  We met over the summer and we’ve been hanging out since.”

“Alright, cool, bro,”  Brett responded, clearly impatient and indifferent towards me.  He dismissed me entirely, almost like I wasn’t worth his time.  “You still going to the gym with me or what?”

“Sorry, bro.  I just ran into him and we were catching up.”  Nathan responded.  “Hey, I gotta get going.  We should get food sometime.  Peace!”  I watched as Nathan and Brett walked away in the opposite direction of me towards the gym.  As they moved further away, I could hear Brett chastise him about something.  This is the guy that Nathan ditched me for?  I hope I’m wrong, but he seemed like kind of a dick.  I know I was jealous of him for taking up my best friend’s time, but I didn’t trust him.  As for me, I returned to the dorm to work on the assignment with my roommate.

The next time I saw Nate was that weekend, when I held up his promise to get something to eat.  I tried to ask him about it earlier in the week, but he was doing stuff at the frat all that time.  I was at least grateful that he took time out of his schedule for me for once.  He mentioned that he normally doesn’t hang out with anyone who wasn’t in the frat, almost like they were some exclusive bro clique that I was excluded from.  For once, it was good to hang out with him one-on-one without any of his frat bros getting in the way.  I expected things to be like how they were before, but I couldn’t be any more wrong.

It’s not that I disliked the new Nathan, but I felt like we didn’t have much common ground anymore.  It was like he was a completely different person.  He didn’t seem to care that much about our old interests anymore.  He didn’t have time for video games and he just wasn’t that interested in watching movies or photography anymore.  All he seemed to care about was working out all day and partying all night.  All he would talk about was some stupid stuff he or one of his bros did.

Plus, he told me he switched his major from mechanical engineering to be a personal trainer.  It seemed like he just became a total gym bro overnight.  The studious and witty Nathan that I loved kinda just seemed to be a stereotypical meathead now.  The worst part was that I knew that this was the same Nathan deep down, and he still treated me the same even if he was a lot busier.  I felt like maybe I was the problem since he was clearly still having a good time, and I wasn’t.  Why do I feel this way?

I felt my mood change as we talked.  Eventually, I figured it was time to cut off the conversation and return to the dorm, but Nathan definitely knew something was off.  He texted me later that evening, asking me if everything was alright.  To be honest, I wanted to make some lame excuse that I was feeling sick, but we’ve always been honest with each other, so I told him how I really felt.

Me: Nate, to be honest, I think I need some time away from you.  I don’t hate you or anything, but it feels like we’ve been growing apart and I feel like you’ve become a different person.  I feel like when I look at you, I don’t see the Nathan I’ve known for years, but someone else entirely.

I wanted to say more about how I felt about his new changes, but I didn’t want to escalate things.

Nathan: James, I’m sorry you feel that way about me.  I felt like we had a good time today.  I’ve grown and changed a lot recently, and I’ve realized a lot about myself, but I’m happy with who I am right now.  I know I’m spending a lot of time at the gym or with Brett or my other bros, but I still care about you deeply, bro.  You might be right though.  Hanging out with you isn’t the same as hanging with the guys at the frat.

Me: Do you honestly see yourself as just a frat boy?  You’re more than that.  You’re my best friend.  But now, you have more in common with the jocks from high school than the Nathan I knew.  It’s hard talking to you now since all you care about anymore are your gains and partying.  You’re nothing more than a meathead now.

Nathan: So that’s how you see me, bro?  The reason I had been avoiding you is because I knew that you wouldn’t like seeing me like this.  I guess I was right, bro.  But trust me, I’m happy like this.  I’m a lot more social than when I was when I was with you, and I’ve even become more in shape too.  I care about our friendship more than you can possibly imagine, but I guess this is for the best.  To be honest, I think it would be a lot of fun if you were here in the frat with me, but I know you wouldn’t say yes.

I didn’t bother responding.  I could never picture myself joining a frat.  I would never get along with his frat bro friends, especially Brett, who seemed to be the one he was closest with.  I still couldn’t believe Nate would choose him over me.  I wasn’t sure whether to feel angry, or sad, or disappointed towards him.  I felt like he was wasting his life partying when he should be studying.  To think this was the person I cared about more than anyone.  It was at this point that I figured I probably wouldn’t have my old friend back.  Or so I thought.

A couple weeks passed and I tried to move on from Nathan.  I always saw him on his story drinking and partying late into the night at the frat house or posting selfies at the gym.  He looked like he was fully embracing his new frat boy persona now.  If he didn’t still care about me, it would’ve felt like he was doing it out of spite.  As for me, I started to hang out with my classmates more and more, and there was even a guy I went on a date with.  It was a nice date and I did like the guy, but for some reason, the thought of Nathan lingered in my mind.  Even though I hated what he had become, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about him.  I couldn’t deny how much he turned me on.  Why was I still thirsting after a stupid fucking frat bro?  One afternoon, after I returned to my dorm, I received a text on my phone.  To my surprise, it was Nathan.

“Hey bro, can we talk?  There are some things I need to get off my chest.”

I didn’t know what he could possibly want with me now.  I suppose I can hear him out just so I can see what he wants.  I went over to his room further down the hall, and thankfully Brett was not here to ruin the moment.  Nate said that he was doing some preparations for some stuff at the frat.  When I asked, he didn’t specify what though.  It always feels like stuff at the frat is kept under wraps.

“Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“Even if it’s beer?”  A mischievous grin appeared on his face.  Was he seriously offering me beer?  I knew that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the dorms, but clearly that rule didn’t faze him.  Obviously he knew how to get his hands on some drinks.  To be honest, I had never drank alcohol before, but I figured this would be the easiest way to try it before I turned 21.  Plus, it might alleviate the tension between us.  Either that or make us fight like two drunkards in a bar.

“Sure, why not.”  Nate went to get two bottles for us.  I took my first sip and was disgusted by the bitter taste of the beer.

“You don’t like it?  Neither did I at first,” Nate chuckled.  “After a while, you get used to it.”  Nate turned the TV on as we chatted.  I apologized about what I said about him last time we talked, but he said it was no big deal.  I felt like I was a little too harsh on him.  It could just be the alcohol, but I found that I got along with him better than I did weeks ago.  As we chatted, my body started to tingle.  Was this how it felt like to be drunk?

“Hey, Nate.  I feel kinda weird, but not like drunk weird.  Is this normal, bro?”  I asked.  By this point, we both had two drinks each.  I didn’t mind the taste of the beer the second time.

“Nah, you’re fine bro.”  Nate responded, with a smile on his face.  Compared to me, he appeared to be much more sober.  “It happens sometimes, especially when you’re not used to it.”  I figured he knew best, since he was the one drinking and partying all the time, so I ignored this foreign feeling rushing through my body.  I felt as if my body was overheating as I felt my arms and legs throb and pulsate.  Sweat was leaking off my armpits and down my forehead.  There was part of me that knew that something was off, but it was drowned out by the alcohol.  As I took another sip, I felt my arm spasm as I accidentally spilled some beer onto my shirt.  Shit, I wasn’t expecting to do laundry later.

“Damn bro, you made a mess.  You alright?  Do you wanna change your shirt?”  Nate asked.  I nodded and he quickly went to his room to pick out something for me.  It wasn’t the first time I had to wear his clothes.  “Sorry about that, bro.  First thing I found.  Hope it fits you.”  It was a stringer tank with Sigma Lambda Chi on it.  I bet Nate looked like a walking symbol of the frat wearing that stuff.  For some reason, the idea was kinda amusing to me because it seemed so over the top.  I wondered how I would look dressed up like that.  I’d probably look really stupid.

I stripped out of my wet shirt and changed right in front of him.  I caught a whiff from my armpits, and I thought I smelled like a sweaty gym bro.  The tank appeared to be a size up and it hung loosely on me.  Still, it was better than nothing I guess.  Despite that, it had a nice familiar smell to it though.  It smelled like Nathan, but at the same time, it had a different flavor to it.  He smelled a lot more manly than I remembered.  I bet he wore it to the gym often.

Eventually, after my third drink, I went to go to the bathroom.  My body was starting to ache, like I had just done a workout with Nate earlier.  Workout…Was that what happened earlier?  …I think so?  Did we work out after class and come back to his place for some brewskis?  For some reason, the events of today felt incredibly fuzzy to me.  I was starting to forget the reason I was here in the first place.

I clumsily stumbled over my feet which looked bigger than usual.  After I took a piss, I looked at myself in the mirror.  Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I didn’t always look that big, right?  From a first glance, it looked like I was looking through one of those distorted mirrors they have at amusement parks.  I had to have been really drunk at this point.  I chuckled at the figure in front of me.  At this point, I almost looked like one of those frat bros!  I decided to flex my arms like they would, oblivious to the fact that they already grew just a little bit, before joining Nate on the couch.

“There you are, big man!”  he said as he squeezed my muscles.  I have been working out recently, I think.  “I thought you passed out in there.  Most guys don’t last that long for their first time, but you look good enough for another brewski.”

After downing our fourth drinks, the conversation took a different turn.

“Yo, James.  I knew you said you weren’t too big on the idea of joining our frat last time we chatted, but how do you feel now, having thought things over?”

I remembered our last conversation.  Honestly, I was so drunk that I didn’t remember why I turned him down in the first place.  The idea that seemed unappealing to me at the time seemed like it was perfect for me at this moment.  I didn’t even understand why I would be so reluctant to join.  I needed to join more than anything else.  I would do anything to join, even if I had to completely humiliate myself in front of my fellow bros.  At this point, nothing was too extreme for me.  The fact that Nate was in it was enough reason to join, so we could hang out more like we used to.  Plus, I could get to hang out with all my other bros and drink and party whenever we want.

“I’ve given it some thought, and yeah bro, I’ll join,”  my voice slurred as my mouth moved before my mind could.  I had committed at this point.  No backing out now.  I’m a member of Sigma Lambda Chi for life.

“Sweet, bro!”  He grabbed me on my far shoulder and pulled me close.  “I’m glad you said yes, because I have a surprise for you.  Close your eyes, bro.”

I closed my eyes as Nate went into his room to grab something.  Did I actually agree to join his frat?  I’m not sure what’s going on with me today.  When he came back, I felt Nate press on my head as his “surprise” fit tight around it.  “You can open them now.”

I realized I was wearing the same hat that Nate always wore, with his frat’s letters printed on it.  “We’re gonna be matching now, bro.  Isn’t that awesome?  I know you’re gonna want to wear it whenever and wherever.  But you’re wearing it wrong.  Let me fix it for you, dude.”  He turned the brim around so it faced my back.  As my hat turned backwards, I felt my mind fog up and any tension or brain activity screech to a halt.  I was unable to realize what I signed myself up for, unable to protest.  My conscious mind was drowned out by the alcohol and this hat was like a lock, sealing it away.  Not that I was against this, as a wave of pleasure surged through me.  I felt my mind slow down, almost as if it was stuck in molasses, as my thoughts began to simplify. It felt good though...

I would follow the example of my fellow brothers.  Look like them, think like them, act like them.  Almost like a hivemind of bros, you know, bro?  By this point, the changes were irreversible.  Nate had turned me into another frat bro just like him.

“Everything worked out as planned, bro.  You see, when you, my own best bro, told me you didn’t want to join the frat with me, I was actually really hurt.  So I talked to Brett, and had him “work his magic”, to help me do to you what he did to me.  I don’t like to lie to you, but it’s a frat secret, so now you get to know bro.  Like I said, it’s a secret, so don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it bro.  It’s all…uh…

Fuck dude, what’s the word…water under the bridge?  Huhuhu…”  I really had to think about that one.  I found it harder to articulate and use complex words, as I mainly just spoke in bro-speak.  To be honest, I wasn’t really that upset that he lied to me.  He did what he had to as a member of the frat.  I never stayed mad at one of my bros for very long.

“Now we get to be brothers for life,” he said as he gave me a big bro hug.  We clung to each other like two giant masses of muscle.  My huge biceps wrapped around his firm back as his did for me.  Afterwards, he handed me my fifth drink and we cheered to me joining Sigma Lambda Chi.  He laid down all of the rules, what everything was like, telling me about the coolest guys there, and so on.  He said he’d bring me to the frat house and introduce me to everyone tomorrow.  “They’re gonna love you for sure, bro.  I’ve got an eye for cool bros like you.”

As it got later, and we moved on to drink numero 6, I felt myself get very tired as we both passed out on his couch.  I woke up a couple hours later, and I looked out the window to see a pitch black sky.  Shit, it was almost 10 PM and I had to turn in my assignment at midnight.  But for some reason, I didn’t really care right now.  I didn’t mind turning in assignments late as long as the teacher still gave me credit.  I felt no different from the way I was a couple hours ago, just another Sigma Lambda Chi frat bro, but I liked it.  It felt right to me.  It was where I, no, where we belonged.

I looked down.  Nate’s tank hung tightly to me now.  It took me a second to notice my arms…Holy shit, they were fucking huge!  I looked awesome, bro.  As I admired my new body, Nate was still asleep, his hand on my meaty thigh.  Just above that, my dick throbbed through my pants.  Fuck, I was so horny for some reason.  Eventually, Nate slowly regained consciousness.

“I usually don’t drink this much on a school day,” Nate said, still a little hungover as he rubbed his eyes.  We sat in silence for about a minute before he spoke again.  “By the way, there was another reason I invited you over.  There’s something that’s been on my chest for a while.”

“Go ahead, bro.  I can take it,”  I responded confidently.  My voice sounded deeper and more bro-like than usual, just like him.

“Here goes, dude.  I think I like you, bro.  Not like you, but I think I like like you.  I know it’s hella gay, but I couldn’t stand to see you be so cold to me.  That’s why I had to make you a bro like me.  I’m sure you’ll love it here, bro.  And hey, if you’re not gay, that’s cool.  We can forget this shit ever happened and go back to being bros for life.”

At first, I honestly thought I was still dreaming.  First, he turned me into a frat boy, and now, he was confessing his feelings to me?  How crazier could this night get?  For all my life, I thought he was straight.  I remembered being glad when he broke up with his girlfriend two years back.  I couldn’t stand her.  When he joined Sigma Lambda Chi, I assumed he was 100% straight and that he was banging some sorority chicks every night.  To think he felt the same way I did all this time.

“Bro, I like you too.  When you stopped talking to me, I started to get kinda jealous.  I didn’t want to accept you for who you are.  But being your bro just isn’t enough for me, bro.”  I leaned in for a kiss, my inhibitions still nowhere to be found.  It was my first kiss and it was with the person I cherished most.  I felt like I was in heaven.  I didn’t really care that I was a dumb frat bro like him anymore.  I never did.  That shit was stupid anyways.  But now, Nate fixed our friendship and made us closer than ever.  I loved the taste of his lips against mine and I didn’t want it to end but eventually Nate parted our lips.

“Wanna fuck me, bro?”  he whispered in my ear.  A flirtatious smirk was plastered on his face, and one of his hands was still wrapped around my neck.  This was real.  I nodded as he took me to his bed.  I had never done this before, but I’ve seen plenty of porn, so I knew what to expect.  He laid down on his back and stripped naked.  I never felt this aroused before.  My dick even looked bigger than it used to be.  I was so pent up that I felt like I was holding this load in for months.  I guess frat bros really are as horny as they say.  I lubed up my larger cock before sticking it into Nate’s hole.

My serpent stretched out his tight hole as he had clearly not seen much action down there until now.  I pounded his ass as my dick went in and out of him.  In and out, in and out, in and out…It was a steady rhythm, my dick was like a metronome.  My hands clung to him as I held him in place, pinning him to his bed.  My hands ran all over his shoulders, broad and muscular, built like a football player’s.  We both felt absolutely euphoric as our deep, masculine moans filled the room.  The moans were loud enough that the students on the other side of the wall could easily hear them, but I didn’t care about any noise complaints as I fucked him harder and harder.  After half an hour of fucking, he both hit our orgasm at almost exactly the same time.  I ejaculated inside his tight hole, my hot, sticky seed flooding his insides as Nate came all over his abs.  At this point I was exhausted and still hungover and I basically fell on top of him on his bed.  We were both panting and out of breath.

“I knew you were a good fucker, bro.”  he whispered seductively as he kissed me.  We stayed in that position for several minutes until we heard the door open.

“Yo, Nate!  Did you do it?  How did it go?”  a voice asked, shouting loudly from the other room.  I recognized the voice as Brett’s.  He peeked into the room, witnessing the two of us cuddling together naked.  To be honest, I thought he would’ve been grossed out.  Guess I had the wrong idea about him.

“Better than expected, dude,” Nate responded.  He didn’t seem to care that we were both naked in front of his roommate and that we just got back from our trip to Pound Town.

“He looks way better this way, don’t you agree, bro?  But man, dude, now I know why you wanted him to be a pledge so bad.  I was wondering why you wouldn’t fuck any of those sexy sorority babes.  More for me, I guess.”

A week passed and by then, I joined the frat officially.  Me and Nate started dating shortly after, but none of our bros minded.  It didn’t matter if we were gay, we were still brothers.  I also learned how Nate met Brett.  He was taking a tour of the campus over the summer and he ran into Brett who was recruiting people for the frat.  Brett took a liking to him and kinda took him under his wing like some sort of mentor and they started hanging out since he only lived a town away from us.  Brett was our age, but he had more seniority and authority because his older brother Brad was very popular within the frat.  Turns out Brett and some of the upperclassmen knew how to turn guys into the ideal bros for their frat.  They wanted to bolster their numbers to make Sigma Lambda Chi the biggest and coolest frat in the state, with the biggest bros and the biggest parties, and naturally both me and Nate were chosen.  Not that either of us minded.  Nate joined the football team with Brett and some other guys in the frat, and the rest of us would go watch them play every game.  Our section of the stadium was always the loudest and rowdiest, especially when one of our bros scored a touchdown.

Apparently I grew a ton during the night that I was with Nate, but I was too drunk to notice just how massive I had become.  It must’ve been something in the beer, huhu.  I started working out with Nate and Brett, and sometimes some other bros too.  I even ended up changing my major.  I chose business because my bros said that it was the easiest shit ever and I wasn’t feeling psychology anymore.  I didn’t really feel like thinking much anymore and I found that focusing on education so much was a chore and that I was wasting my college experience.  I’d rather be partying and drinking or hanging out with the bros at the frat house, watching sports, playing video games, or playing ball outside.  I got to see why Nate grew to enjoy this lifestyle so much, and I was mad at myself for not seeing his point of view sooner.

Three years later, me and Nate are still dating and we’re set to graduate this semester.  We’re thinking about getting a place in the city not too far from campus, probably with Brett and another friend of ours to save money on rent.  We’ll probably still throw parties every weekend like we used to.  College was such a memorable experience and I wish I could live it again.  I only have Nate, Brett, and all my other bros to thank for making college awesome for me.

#jock #jock bro #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #male hypnosis #male tf #male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #dumbing down #dumb jock #dumber #frat bro #frat #frat boy #muscle transformation #muscle #mental changes #nerd to jock #gay tf #gay jock #transformation #reprogramming #dumbification #college jock #personality change

[dykeknightrises]

US

A/N: I'M BACK! This is the third and final piece of the falling series, finally making it's appereace! While I'm not super happy about it (which is probably because I feel a bit weird writing dialogue and this one has much more than the last two), I feel like this is the closing I wanted for it! I truly hope you guys enjoy it!

PART 1: FALLING

PART 2: PROMISES

Having Alexia look at you like that took your breath away. Her hazel eyes looking at you like you were the only thing in the world gave you goosebumps. It wasn’t until a frown made it’s way to her forehead that you realized she was talking to you.

“I said: ‘I was hoping we could have our usual Thursday? I have a lot that I need to say to you.’” She said, before frowning ever deeper before adding, “Where are you going? It’s Thursday.”

“D-Date. I’m going on a date right now.” You replied, cursing the stuttering at the hasher tone she used on the last sentence.

“I didn’t know you were going on a date today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to inform the team captain of such personal affairs.” You snarked back.

“That’s not what I meant and know it.”

“I don’t know, Alexia. For the past few months, we’ve only spoken as teammates. I don’t think it was wrong of me assume that this is how we were now, nothing more than teammates.”

“This is not fair, Y/N. You said we were okay.” Alexia gritted, pushing past you into your apartment.

“I thought we were too! I wasn’t the one who kept cancelling every week.” You scoffed.

“But you can’t just go in date like that!” she bit back.

“Excuse me? You know what, forget about it. Just leave, captain.”

“I can’t! I can’t let you go on that date before I tell you how I feel!” The Catalonian yelled.

“The last thing I need is to hear how much you don’t care about me!” You yell back, pushing past her and leaving her alone in your apartment.

***

The blonde’s words rang in your ears as you drove late to the date. The restaurant wasn’t very far, but you chose to drive to ground yourself. The argument with the Spaniard and the quick conversation that followed made her eyes turn glassy as she blinked to try to see the traffic better.

Trying to find the teammate that Leah set you up with was a downward spiral. Not being able to locate whoever it was, Y/N could feel the stress and the frustration leak through her cracks. A hand gripping your shoulder brought you back to the moment, making you turn and face soft brown eyes.

You could feel the warmness emanating from your former teammate as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Dressed in a high waisted pants, a very nice blouse and ready to kill, Lia Walti stood smiling at you.

“Leah outdid herself this time.” The Swiss laughed with you.

“Now a lot of things are making sense.” You agreed.

Following your friend to the table the English captain reserved for you two, it was easy to lose yourself in the conversation, as you caught up. It wasn’t easy, however, to do it completely, with a very specific person occupying such a bug part of your thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about her or are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“The second option.” You pout back.

“Well, I know why Leah set this whole thing up but, in all fairness, I’m not ready to go all in again. With how things ended between me and her, it still stings, you know? I mean, the whole summer fling was nice, but ‘real world’ wise I’m not there yet.”

“Oh, thank God. I’d hate to ghost you after this.” You joke at her, making her roll her eyes.

“Asshole!” She laughed, throwing a balled-up napkin in your direction.

With the underlining expectation of the night becoming nothing than a hang out between friends, you two relaxed considerably and dug deeper into the mess she had been in and the one you were now.

Dropping her off in her hotel after you both agreed on telling Leah the date was great so she wouldn’t set up either of you again, at least for a while, you drove back home. Talking to Lia about Alexia was very good, as she was removed enough from the situation to have convinced that maybe the last thing you yelled to the Catalonian was unfair.

With that happy though in mind, you got ready to bed, preparing yourself for an unruly night filled with Alexia, as usual.

***

Having a flat tire on your way to the Camp Nou was most certainly not a part of your plan and only served to make a bad day even worse. First you missed you alarm after only being able to sleep as the sun started peeking from the horizon. Then, you ran out of literally everything that was your usual breakfast food for Game Day. And now, a flat tire after already being late. Yay.

Leaving the car after parking and now even glancing checking where you were, an Uber arrived only a few minutes after and dropped you off on the wrong side of the stadium. Another check for bad day.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! The alarm, then the food, then the car, the Uber…” You apologized to Jona and the rest of you team, after finally making to the Locker Room.

“Uhh, don’t worry, Chica Amante!” Lucy teased.

“Oh, how do you say that in Swiss German?’ Mapí joked.

The team quickly joined in, clearly having heard details from Lucy and Keira, who Leah unquestionably gossiped to. Rolling your eyes, you started getting ready. It didn’t scape you that the only person who didn’t join in was Alexia, who had been lacing the same boot since you walked in.

“Ohh, Y/N, you can be late for game after a deliberate session of Seven Minutes in Heaven in the closest empty room!” Someone joked.

“Bonus if you don’t need all the minutes!” It was added.

As the girls kept poking fun, you could see Alexia get more and more tense, until she finally got up rather abruptly, mumbling something about needing more tape. As she closed the locker room door behind her, the glassiness in her eyes made the decision you had been struggling since the day before much easier.

After not finding the older woman in the most obvious spots, Y/N went to their spot, the little Video room for any last-minute adjustments. Alexia was sitting in the first row, right in front of the projector, as if she was waiting to watch a game tape.

The blonde had her head down, on her hands, shoulder shaking, and sobs barely muffled by her hands. Choking down her own sobs at how hurt Alexia was, Y/N made her was quickly through the room, sitting next to the Spaniard, pulling her into a hug.

“Shh… First, we get thought this, then we talk.” You whisper, cutting her protests.

With her safely tucked in your arms, you two stayed like until she was ready. Holding her for what felt like forever, Y/N felt more in peace than she had felt in the past months.

A small part of her brain kept reminding her that this was one of the most important game of their careers, but Alexia was far more important. It was almost a full hour before the Spaniard was ready, slowly untucking herself for the safe spot that hid her from the world. It was several minutes later before she even managed to look in your direction. It was even longer before she spoke.

“I’m sorry.” The blonde broke the silence, with her voice trembling and oh-so-quietly that Y/N had to strain her ears to hear it properly.

“Alexia…”

“No, I’m sorry. For everything, really. You deserve so much more than what I’ve done to you.” She whispered, before adding with a broken voice. “I-I hope the date yesterday went well.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m stupid.”

“Alexia.”

“I was scared. After Jenni, I was completely broken. Then I let myself open up and she broken me too. Hell, a part of me was still broken when you came along. In the beginning of the year, I promised myself that right now I just needed to focus in getting better, so I closed myself for any shred that could lead into something more. But then you came and made me yours without me even realizing. When I did, I got terrified. I-I was certain that you would break me too, but I couldn’t take it. Not from you.” She cried softly.

“So, you took a step back before I could do anything?”

“Yeah. I thought that if you didn’t know you couldn’t break me too.”

“Ale…”

“No, it’s okay. I can get over it, is not even your fault that I completely fucked everything up.”

“Well, I really hope you don’t. I spent almost the entire “date” yesterday talking to Lia about you, about how much I love you.” You said, caressing her jaw, getting yourself lost on her honey gaze.

“Oh…” She gasped. “But..”

“Well, we agreed on telling everyone it went well because we were not interested in doing that again, but with a stranger. Neither one of us were ready to move on.” You chuckled.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

You nodded, leaning forward, and meeting her lips. In that moment, everything was right again. Hearing her breath get caught up, her hands caressing your waist, the warmness of her skin. Everything was Alexia. You were undoubtedly hers.

Getting lost on her was far too easy. It always was. It took you every ounce of self-awareness too pull back, only to be allowed after a shred of pecks and nips. Eyes closed, breathing the same puffs of air being expelled from your heavy breathing, you felt like you were dreaming again. Too afraid to open your eyes and wake up, you remain basking in her.

“Can I have another chance? I need to make it right, to be yours and make you mine forever.” Alexia asked, hazel eyes looking through heavy hoods, as if you’re the only thing in the world.

“I don’t know if I trust you.” You whisper, feeling you vision blur though unshed tears.

“That’s okay. I want to earn it back, it’s the most important thing for me. I want your permission to work for it, but if you don’t want it, I swear to leave you alone.”

“Don’t you dare doing that.” You tell her, kissing her cheek.

You two stay there for a few more minutes before getting up, finding you way back to a very panicked locker room. Turns out that vanishing for over an hour right before a match made everyone very worried.

Making up with Alexia was easily the peak of the day but beating Lyon and kicking them out of the Champions League in a packed Camp Nou, after losing to them on the away game, with you two having the game of your lives surely made its way as a second peak of what started out as a bad day.

The next few months were spent with you two thick as thieves once more, the team back on the comfortable routine. It was the next year’s pre-season when you gave her the green flag that you trusted her, and it was exactly a few after she gave you a bar of you favourite chocolate that she asked you to be her girlfriend. It was also then that she told you that she bought all the chocolate of her favourite store.

The Sun made you feel warm, loved, cared, cozy, at home, yourself and so many more things that you weren’t quite sure that could be described as feelings. But right now, buried under and completely surrounded by everything her on their home, Y/N would vow on whatever entity that existed that Alexia the Sun itself.

#woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics

[yourfatherlucifer]

Our Aurora : Chapter 2

Poly!Ot8!Ateez x Afab/Female!Reader

Summary: Attending university with your eight boyfriends wasn’t easy, neither was sharing a mansion with them.

Warnings: MDNI, this mini series includes tons of smut, slight violence, protective ateez, poly relationship, established relationship, mentions of mxm, choking, other smut themes.

bullying and violence for this chapter.

WC: 1.5k

AU: University

Genre: Smut/fluff

Nets: @newworldnet

Tags: @deltamoon666 @watermelon2319 @justconniez @a-teez-4-exo @mingtinysworld @certifiedmoa @kittkat44 @sanhwalvr @spenceatiny18 @vtyb23 @sousydive @haebaragisworld @yourallaround-simp @therealcuppicake @ja3hwa (please make sure I can tag you in your settings)

SERIES MASTERLIST

The morning sun beamed in your eyes, you tried to move away from the direct sunlight but strong arms held you back from moving. When you opened your eyes you saw that it was Mingi holding you.

Right, he fell asleep with you after your bath last night. You turned your head to look at his sleeping face. He was at peace.

He was happier these days, happier than ever. More than he was when he had met you. Mingi was at his lowest then, his heart was aching. His brain was telling him horrible things. He was the epitome of depression and anxiety.

High school was hard, but to him, it was pure hell. Even as a big guy, he was still bullied, he was in pain. He had no one. He had no friends. You’d see him in the halls, he was cute to you. Very cute. Mingi had always worn headphones to block out the other kids.

You never liked your friend group, they were the other rich kids that sort of pulled you with them everywhere just because you were richer. However, they participated in harassing the poor boy. You wanted to stop them but didn’t know what to do.

Until one day, you were trapped in a thunderstorm outside because your ride got caught in the weather. Mingi had been rushing through the storm, clearly crying. He wasn’t watching where he was going and had slipped near you, taking you to the ground with him.

He gasped and scrambled to get off of you, his clothes were sticking to yours because of the rain. You could see the pain in his face, the panic as well. But what you noticed was the black eye. The huge swelling. It angered you. Your so-called friends went too far.

“I’m sorry!” He yelled out over the storm.

You shook your head, “Mingi, please, don’t apologize.”

He froze in his movements, “H..how do you know my name?” He felt the happiness bubbling within him. Someone knew him.

Your ride had finally pulled up, “It doesn’t matter, for now, I’m giving you a ride home,” you crawled from beneath him and pulled him up, which was hard, “Get in, please.”

He stammered over his words but followed you into the backseat, “Thank you..”

-

When you had pulled up to his home, he had realized his family wasn’t home. Typical. They always left him alone, by himself.

“Oh, um..”

You shook your head, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll just take you to my home, my parents are on vacation so I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Mingi’s heart fluttered, however he was terrified. He didn’t know if you were being genuine or if you were gonna trick him.

He sat in silence, fiddling with his ruined headphones, they looked like they were purposely ripped and broken.

“Mingi, did..did they do this to you?” Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. You just knew you’d teach those kids a lesson. They weren’t your friends. How dare they harm someone as sweet as Song Mingi? He never hurt anyone.

His head snapped to face you, “What? No. I-“

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Yeah..they did this. They always do. This is my third pair of headphones this month.” You could see the pure sorrow in his eyes.

Your fingers clenched in anger, “I see.”

When the car pulled into the mansion's front lawn, your driver stepped out of his seat and opened your door for you, “Miss, welcome home. I’ve already let the household staff know about your companion, they have fresh clothes for him.”

“Thank you, Hyunwoo.” You smiled, taking Mingi’s hand to bring him inside. He was so glad his eyes were still puffy from crying, else you would’ve seen his red face.

Never has he had someone care about him so much. He couldn’t help but fall in love. It didn’t help that he already had a crush on you.

Your staff greeted you inside, rushing to help you out of your wet clothes, “Guys, I’ve got it.” You laughed, “Just bring the fresh clothes to my room, I’m gonna get him comfortable.”

You trudged up the stairs, taking the large man with you, “Don’t worry about my staff, my parents like to spoil me too much, they have staff to take care of me when I’m alone. I’m almost 18, you’d think they know I can take care of myself.”

Mingi gave you a small smile, “It’s okay..I may not be used to this, but it’s alright.”

As you pulled him into your room with a smile, “The bathroom is over there, go ahead and get undressed, I’ll bring you fresh clothes. My staff will wash and dry those for you.”

He shyly pulled away from your hand and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stood there in confusion. Just how did he get here? With the prettiest girl in his school. He didn’t know she’d be this nice and caring, how could she hang out with such horrible people? He wondered.

You went through your closet and changed into warm pajamas, you’d had to wait to blow dry your hair since Mingi was in the bathroom.

One of your maids knocked on the door and came in, “Here you go, Miss. your companions clothes. Henry was the only one who seemed to have clothes that would possibly fit that boy.” She passed off the clothes to you.

“Thank you. You can go now.” You smiled as she left.

You knocked on the door and Mingi slowly opened the door, peeking his head out, “Thank you.” He took the clothes from you.

You could see a bit of his chest and it looked bad, there were new bruises and healing bruises.

You sighed, they must’ve pushed him over and kicked him. They were gonna pay for this. You didn’t care if Mingi would hate you for taking this into your hands. You just couldn’t stand by while they hurt someone. What if they took it too far and killed him? No, you couldn’t allow it.

He closed the door and put on his new clothes. Just a plain shirt and sweatpants.

“Would you like to stay the night, Mingi? I have several guest rooms if you’d like. I’m sure you don’t want to be alone.” You suggested with a smile from the other side of the door.

Mingi opened the door with a puppy-like smile, he was beginning to feel safe around you.

“Thank you, for everything, Y/N. You’ve been nothing but nice to me and I don’t know how to thank you.” Mingi stared down at his feet.

You stepped up to him, reaching out for his large hand, “It’s okay, there’s no need to thank me. You don’t deserve any of this.

You brought him to your bed and sat down, “Why don’t you get some rest, I’ll go make you something to eat, okay?”

He nodded with a small smile, “Okay.”

-

As days passed, the two of you got closer. He was becoming your one and only friend and you didn’t mind. He managed to avoid his bullies with you around, but one day you weren’t.

You had hurt shouts in the school's courtyard and found a crowd.

Oh no.

You could hear Mingi’s cries for help as no one did anything, they only recorded and laughed.

You were pissed. You threw your bag down and rushed into the crowd. Finding his group of bullies. All you could see was red. Your fist collided with someone’s jaw. This person was kicking Mingi.

“Fuck off of him!” You shouted.

The crowd went silent as your fist repeatedly bashed into the kids face, his nose was bleeding bad but you didn’t care. He hurt Mingi.

“Y/N, please.” Mingi cried out for you, the bullies already leaving his side to take care of you. But you weren’t having it.

You fought them off with everything you had.

Your fists were hurting, they were covered in blood but you didn’t care whose it was.

From that day forward, no one fucked with you or Mingi. The school didn’t even bother doing anything because your parents were their biggest sponsor.

On the day of your graduation, you had asked Mingi out and he was ecstatic. He was becoming a man. He vowed from the day you saved him that he wouldn’t stop at nothing to protect you.

You had kissed him on the stage and flicked everyone off, a final fuck off to the horrible school you two were leaving.

As the memory faded from your brain, you turned to look at the sleeping Mingi.

You were so glad for the day you met him. He called you his princess yet he was yours. He was the true princess.

“Y/N?” He stirred awake.

“Yes, Mingi?”

“I’m hungry, princess.” His stomach grumbled just right after his words and you both laughed.

“Then let’s go get something to eat, I’m sure the others are home and would like to eat as well.” You just knew Wooyoung would want to cook for you, especially since you were sure they all knew what happened with Hongjoong fucking you so hard.

Together, you left to go downstairs, happily and in love.

#our aurora #ateez x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #san x reader #x reader #choi san x reader #seonghwa smut #yeosang smut #mingi x reader #yeosang x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yunho smut #jongho x reader #jongho smut #hongjoong x reader

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

ur student council is so good it lives rent free in my mind!!!!! what’s a day in the life of darling like I wonder?

I'm glad you love it so much! 🖤🖤🖤

Day in The Life with the Yandere Student Council | Part 1

When you wake up from a late night of studying 

it feels like you weight your eyelids as you splash water on your face

Continuing your routine you get pretty far before you hear a knock on your single-bed dorm suite (a gift from the Student Council President)

“Hiya (Y/n) I figured I’d join you two on your walk to class, today! Happened to have a bit of extra time on my hands!”

“You just said you skipped that entire club’s morning activities for this.”

“Tomato Potato. You should know not to keep flapping that hole of yours. Especially since you’re not all that secretive, Spencer.”

“Roman.”

Spencer the Vice President of the council has become a fast friend of yours

Being as privy to the more sinister and malicious intentions of other students specifically the ones obsessed with the council

And Roman the Sergeant of Arms and arguably the most popular next to the president

A newer guest but you won’t complain because he gives you some breakfast fruit

“Uh thanks for walking me you guys and thanks for the fruit.”

“It’s cool it is our usual routine.”

“No problem, Babe! Next time you should just tell me what you’d want for breakfast I’ll make sure to keep it in the meeting room!”

It isn’t long before Roman is called over by some other students

Blowing a kiss before disappearing in the crowd

“Phew I thought he’d never leave! He’s such an extrovert I never expected he’d ever walk with us.”

“Well I’m sure being an extrovert doesn’t mean you forget all your friends. Don’t be so harsh.”

“You’ve only known him for so long. Just you wait he’ll turn into the annoying people magnet he is.”

Spencer drops you off at class

Hanging nearby until the class begins

He begrudgingly waves bye to you signing that he’ll see you for council work later

And for the next to classes things aren’t too bad 

Other than a droning lecture there’s nothing that happens that you aren’t expecting 

It’s in your third class that will change

“Sweet Pea have lunch with us!” 

“I made you lunch this time.”

It’s June the Historian and his boyfriend, Gill the Secretary 

entering the class without any concern for the professor

Of course no one said anything only watching as your protests are ignored by the duo

June will keep whining

And Gil will only respond with excitement about what he’s made

So you’ll sigh and pack your things hearing the class resume as you step out

“So? How’d that project turn out? I know you were working on it for a long time after we got off the phone.”

“I think it turned out pretty good. I’m hoping I can finally get some feedback.”

“You know they are required to give you an ‘A’ right? We made sure they did not have the option to do otherwise.”

“...I just want to try to be deserving of it...at least a little.”

“That’s so cute (Y/n)! Isn’t that cute Gill they think they need to try!”

“It is very cute.”

Begin your impromptu lunch perfectly catered to your preferences that you never shared

“Alright guys i really should go back the next class I have—”

“Will be waived, if your busy doing student council work! Come on hun, help us with our work. I promise it’ll be fun!”

“Then afterwards we can walk home together.”

“Home? Who’s home?”

“Oh Gilly that’s a great idea! We can make it a sleepover!”

“Guys!?”

Of course outnumbered and overpowered+ you end up in the student council room where you’ll happen upon Min Su the Treasurer and the illusive President Lucoa

Part 2: Is Here

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere ocs x reader #yandere drabble #yandere student council #yandere student council president #yandere student council ocs #yandere student council secretary #yanderes x reader #yanderes x gn reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader

[its-time-to-write]

ugggghhh I love your writing! your style and just voice are outstanding!

could you write something with Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) who are dating (but no one knows) and they are doing a PR thing for England or some ad campaign? And they have to do silly things and show how much they know about each other (like they have known each other since they were in school and have been friends for a while) but then Keeley catches on or something. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, but essentially it is Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) relationship, thank you! <3

✌️😗

you’re a mansion with a view

There’s an insistent knocking on the door. It’s who-the-fuck-knows o’clock Jamie has been inside all day, lights off and dealing with a wicked hangover. The pounding on the door syncs up with the pounding in his head, and he Jamie shuffles to open it so the person on the other side can shut up.

He opens it to find you, mid-knock.

“Put a shirt on, Tartt,” you say as you push past him, grocery bag in hand. Jamie looks down. He’s just in his trousers, and for once he’s grateful that it isn’t the other way around.

“Fucking hell, Killer,” he groans. “Shouldn’t you be at training?”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that he used your football nickname as opposed to your actual name. “Nope. It’s five. Training’s done for the day.”

Jamie follows you to his kitchen. Why you’re walking around like you own the place, he has no idea.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks. “And how do you know where all my stuff is?”

You tap your head. “Our houses have the same layout. I can see yours from across the street, and noticed you haven’t been out in like, a week. That’s a record for you.”

Jamie rubs his face. “Fucking hell,” he says again. “So why are you here?”

You turn around from the fridge. “Figured you haven’t had a decent meal besides vanilla vodka.” You make a face. “Disgusting. Just because you’re not playing football doesn’t mean you can neglect nutrition, Tartt.”

“I ain’t neglecting my nutrition,” he replies. “Just…” he trails off.

You smirk. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought. The great Jamie Tartt, drowning his sorrows in vanilla vodka and becoming a couch potato. You haven’t even had any women ‘round to numb the sting. That’s new.”

You flip on a light to which Jamie groans. You flip it off. “So are you going to put on a shirt, or..?”

“Killer,” Jamie says for the third time, “the fuck are you doing in my house?”

You pretend to be digging in the grocery bag so you don’t have to look at his face.

“Saw your interview,” you reply as nonchalantly as possible. “Thought you might need someone to make sure you haven’t, I don’t know, died.”

Jamie knocks his head against the wall. “Has everyone fucking seen that?” 

You shrug. “Personally, I liked it a lot better than your season of Lust Conquers All. Lot more feeling in that one interview than the whole show, if you ask me.”

“So you saw that,” Jamie comments. This is far too many words for the headache he has.

“Yup.” 

“And you’re still here.”

“Uh huh.”

Jamie is at a loss for words. Everyone else has left him because of that fucking tv show, where he acted like the worst version of himself and didn’t even fucking win.

Doesn’t make sense that you, a midfielder from some women’s FC, would be in his house pulling out real food and making sure he’s alright.

For a moment, Jamie feels bad that he can’t remember what team you play for.

He thinks that this goes beyond neighborly duties. Sure, you live across the street from him and you’ve seen each other at various events, but this is probably the first real conversation you’ve ever had. He has no idea what to make of it.

He asks, “Why do you care?” then immediately cringes at the harsh tone of his voice.

You slam the fridge door harder than you anticipate, making you both jump.

“Because,” you say, then you sigh. 

“Footballer life off the pitch sucks sometimes. I wish someone had checked on me.”

“I ain’t a footballer,” Jamie points out, vaguely remembering something about your name in some less-than-friendly headline.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, Tartt.”

—

Five months later, you’re at some random football pitch in your full kit and far more makeup than you’d wear to a match. 

Some magazine is doing some profile on different footballers, taking photos with different men and women from all kinds of teams together. You’re not sure why you, a midfielder, are here with Tartt, a striker.

You’re not complaining.

“Oi, Tartt,” you call, “how does it feel to be scored on by a girl?”

(The photographer wanted some action shots of you and Jamie playing 1 v 1.)

Jamie scoffs. “My masculinity ain’t fragile, Killer. Just lucky you didn’t break any of my bones.” He says the words carefully, as if they’re unfamiliar to his tongue and he wants to get them just right.

“You know I have a name, right?” you ask, breathing hard. You’ve dribbled the ball back to Jamie and are standing practically forehead to forehead. “Like, a real actual name that you’re allowed to use?”

Jamie grins and drops his voice to a near-whisper, “Oh I know how to use your name, love.”

You shiver, trapped in his gaze for a minute. 

The spell is broken as the photographer shouts, “Alright loves, let’s stage some of you two together.”

You both turn to jog to the sidelines, where she begins posing you. 

“Wow,” she remarks, “you two have great chemistry. Usually I have to tell you footballers to act like you like each other.”

Jamie grins and knocks his shoulder into yours. “Hear that, Killer?” he asks, “She thinks we have good chemistry.”

You roll your eyes and feign annoyance. “Be professional, Tartt.”

The photographer asks, “How long have you known each other?”

You and Jamie say, “Two years,” in perfect unison.

“My goodness,” she laughs, “you two are just in sync today! How’d you meet?” You say, “we’re neighbors,” at the same time Jamie says, “at a party.”

You both look at each other. “We met because we live across the street from each other,” you say.

Jamie shakes his head, “No, we met a week before you moved in at a party.”

“What party?” you ask. “Pretty sure I would’ve remembered meeting you.”

“Nah,” Jamie replies, “You were too busy getting sloshed with your teammates while they all hit on Keeley.” 

You scrunch your nose. “Was I sloshed?”

“Yep,” Jamie says. “Properly. It was the end of the season, so makes sense.”

“Weird,” you reply. “My first memory of you is when you tried to break into my house because you were too busy snogging this model to figure out you were on the wrong side of the street.”

“Oi, it could happen to anyone!” Jamie says defensively.

“Sure,” you laugh. “Happens to me all the time.”

You reach out to steal the football that’s tucked under Jamie’s arm, but he’s too quick for you. 

“Give it!” you say, still laughing.

He holds it above your head. “Give what?” he asks innocently. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re jumping and trying to pull his arm down to where you can reach and are almost successful when he tosses it to his other hand.

“No fair!” you cry, “You’re taller than me!”

Jamie grins. “Oh, you want the football then? Maybe try asking nicely.”

You still. “Jamie,” you begin, “could you please give me the football?”

He’s still holding it high above you as he considers. “Hm.” He pretends to think for a moment. “No.” He breaks away from you and kicks it into the goal across the field.

“You can have it now,” he says when he returns. You’re trying so hard to be mad at him, but he has that silly little grin he gets when he’s trying to make you laugh and you just can’t fake a frown.

“Screw you, Tartt,” you laugh.

Jamie raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to reply when he’s cut off by the photographer.

“You two get along really well,” she says. “I think you’d be cute together.”

You blush and Jamie says, “I fucking hope so. She’s my girlfriend. Oi, d’you want a picture of us kissing?”

“No she doesn’t,” you say.

“Yes she does,” Jamie says. “We’re fucking adorable, babe. Football’s power couple. Behind Posh and Becks, of course,” he says as an afterthought. 

“Fine,” you say, “One. Then I’m getting that football and your ass is grass, Tartt.”

Jamie grins. “Fine by me, love.”

He leans in to kiss you but you pull away at the last second, sprinting toward the football still under the goalposts. Did he really think you were going to play fair?

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[milesmolasses]

I'm gonna kill you

miles morales x reader

if you don’t know what “throwing franks” means it basically means telling someone to “suck my dick” lmao

which reminds me the setting is nyc (bk)

is this what ppl call crack? idk man

"miles I'm not playin with you right now, put my water bottle down I'm thirsty!"

miles walked around the dingy restaurant, my bottle in his hand, which was waved high in the air. "you gon have to come and get it than miss smart mouth! you keep playin with me like I can't beat you up," he joked.

miles has been my best friend ever since the middle of third grade when he switched his elementary school. i remember when he was this tiny, shy kid who sat at the back of the school basement for lunchtime since our school never had a formal lunchroom. all i wanted was to make a new friend, so i walked up to the shy new boy and ate my lunch with him. we would walk home together, play at the park together, and have cute lil playdates scheduled by our mothers; ah, yes, those were the times; up until now.

"bro, my bad, just give me my water bottle my mouth is on fire, no funny shit," i had my tongue out, breathing heavily. my mom owns this restaurant, where she cooks (insert culture) dishes for the world of Brooklyn to enjoy. this space doubled as our hang-out spot, considering i would stop by every day after school for free food. my mom had served me (insert dish) with extra spice; "try something new," they said. "it'll be delicious," they said. while yes, the food was good, the new added spices had me steaming at the ears, tongue out, huffing and puffing like a damn dog.

now you may be wondering, "who the hell told you to do this?" miles. it was always miles. he knows I don't usually stray from the usual dishes that i get every time we come here, but somehow he convinced me that trying something new would be good for me. so, i let him order on my behalf; this dude ordered me (insert cultural food)… with 3x the amount of hot sauce I usually get. leading us to now...

"'my bad' is not an apology, bozo, i need to hear you say what i want you to say," he said with the biggest smile on his face. all i did was throw a frank at him, and he chose to torment me, saying, "i was disrespectful." he wants a sorry? imma give him a damn sorry.

"ok ok I'm sorry, miles please just give me the bottle," this time, my eyebrows were furrowed and i made sure to put my acting skills to the test. miles gave me a worried look, scared that he actually went too far this time in his games. he gave me back the water bottle and came closer to me, examining my face to see if i was ok.

"yo, you good? I'm sorry i didn't know it was that deep. here you go drink this," he looked so sorry. he looked like he really regretted what he did to me, it almost made me feel bad for what i was about to say to him.

almost...

"yeah, it was that deep... deep in ya momma!" i watched as miles face slowly converted from looking worried to "what did this bitch just say to me?" i started to run out of the store as fast as i could, chugging the water down my throat with my mouth still on fire. miles was definitely faster than me, so i decided to hide somewhere, anywhere.

i turned the corner, body jerking forward so fast i almost fell face first into the concrete. i caught myself on my hands just in time as i kept my momentum and ran down the block. i looked behind me and he was literally right there in arms reach of me literally, reaching his arm out to grab me. i grabbed the door handle of an unknown store and stumbled into it.

there i could see several women and young girls look up from what ever they were doing to look at me. just as they were looking at me, miles ran in the store and came to an abrupt stop. great now even more people were staring; it was then i realized all the assortments of nail polish laid out neatly on different shelves. oh my god it was a nail salon. miles looked down at me with eyes wide open and a look on his face that screamed "oh hell nah." a lady from the front desk with a slim figure and a headwrap, came up to us and pulled us to the side.

"I'm sorry, you cant just run into this store and be rowdy. we have customers to attend to and they don't need disturbances." i looked up at miles to see him already responding to the lady with prayer hands, "I an so sorry about my friend here please forgive them, sometimes they're a bit hard to control. i think we'll be leaving now, once again, so sorry," he responded whilst dragging me by the shirt to leave the salon. once we were on the side walk again, i busted out laughing so hard, i had to hunch over and close my eyes to keep tears from falling out.

miles gave me the biggest side eye known to man as i laughed in the middle of the street, looking around for people possibly staring at us.

"i swear to god I'm gonna kill you when i get to your house."

this was fun to write lmao

I was really just writing anything that came to mind

I did this once after 7th grade in the summer with some friends so that’s what I based this on

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #milesmolasses #itsv

[kitty-tea]

Like father, like son

Welcome to the third and final part of the story!

Here’s part one and part two

(Link to masterlist)

Summary: James finally gets what he wants.

A/n: thank you to everyone who’s read the story so far! Sorry this is so long and full of filthy, smutty goodness :)

Pairing: dilf!James Potter x reader

NSFW 18+ only!

Word count: 5.4k

Tags/warnings: dilf!James Potter, super long, unprotected sex, age gap, low-key unhinged, almost-somnophilia, pet names, extremely filthy smut, NSFW, oral sex, p in v sex, teasing, reader is of age, dub-con (depends on how you look at it)

Hey, how have you been? It’s been a while since we’ve spoken to each other. I know you’ve been busy with the Auror Recruitment Programme. Dad and I are really happy for you. We both miss you very much, and it would mean a lot to me if you would come to our house for my 18th birthday. We know you’re very busy, so it’ll just be dinner with the three of us and we’ll let you leave the next morning. We’ll even let you sleep on the pull-out couch just like old times.

-Your friend, Harry

You stared at the letter in your hand that Hedwig had dropped onto your kitchen counter after you let her in. The words “we both miss you very much” stuck out to you. You were reminded of how fast time passed since Lily’s death. The first month after it happened, the three of you were a complete mess. James had gotten a letter from Professor McGonagall saying that Harry’s grades were starting to slip, and he was in danger of having to repeat sixth year on top of getting kicked off the Quidditch team (something that upset both you and James as former players for the same team) if something wasn’t done about it. With you out of school and unable to spend as much time with him, there was nothing you could do for him other than to keep sending him letters of encouragement. Luckily for him, his supportive group of friends were more than willing to help him get back to his feet and help keep him on track to graduating. You still understood that neither James nor his son would ever get over Lily’s death because you never got over your parent’s deaths. You understood each other’s pain. You’d never be that type of person to tell someone to get over a loved one’s death no matter how long ago it was.

You scribbled your response to Harry’s letter promising him that you’ll be at his house, and tied the parchment around Hedwig’s ankle before sending her off.

You sat still on your chair with a dreamy feeling inside of you. If you were a cartoon character, there would be hearts in place of your eyes. That dreamy feeling only swelled within you more by each day until it was the day for you to see James.

James felt selfish for using his son’s birthday as an excuse to see you. He was the one who brought you up during dinner, casually mentioning that you hadn’t spoken with them in a long time. He then mentioned that with Harry’s birthday coming up, it would be the perfect opportunity for you to spend time together.

That’s how he found himself answering the door at six in the evening. His heart somersaulted into his stomach at the sight of you.

“Oh, hi James.” His eyes didn’t overlook the way your cheeks turned as pink as the sunset or the same shy smile you started giving him all those years ago.

“Come in, Harry’s inside setting the table.” He stepped aside as you walked in with your overnight bag slung onto your shoulder.

James didn’t care if you caught his eyes hungrily exploring your body. Actually, he wanted you to catch him, so he could see how you’d react. Would you blush an even deeper shade of red and turn away? Or would you boldly hold his stare?

And what the hell were you wearing? You were (definitely) trying to seduce him with the tiny skirt that almost showed the plump skin of your ass and that white blouse that was high enough to show your belly button and exposed your shoulders. There was no way you were wearing a bra with the way your nipples were showing through the soft fabric, just tempting James to reach his thumb out and rub it over the hard peaks.

He then realized he couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he let his mind wander to you as he’d pleasure himself in the privacy of his own room.

He really needed to get himself together. He was not about to let his inappropriate thoughts about you slip out in front of his son.

“Happy birthday!” Your voice snapped James out of his thoughts as he saw you run over to Harry and give him a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He returned your hug. “Come on, let’s eat. Aren’t you starving?”

“I know you are.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, only to abruptly stop with a blush when your eyes did indeed catch James looking at your body, specifically at your thighs that he saw you rubbing together. “Oh… yeah, what’s for dinner?” Your voice stumbled.

“My favorite, obviously because I’m the birthday boy.” Harry said in a joking snobbish way.

Throughout dinner, James sat back during most discussions you and Harry were having, enjoying the peaceful quietness without having to worry about the chaos that had been happening in the rest of the Wizarding World.

James didn’t know or care what time it was when his eyes opened to the sight of the still darkened sky outside his bedroom window and the dry, raw feeling inside his throat. He needed water which meant he’d have to go past the living room where you were sleeping in order to get to the kitchen.

Being careful not to make too much noise as he stepped past Harry’s bedroom door, he made his way down the stairs.

If the word temptation was a person, James was sure it would be you. His eyes gravitated up your exposed legs before landing on the hem of the short, pink satin robe you were wearing, your sleeping form undisturbed by his presence.

A more sinister part of his mind was begging him to walk over to you and untie your robe. One little peek wouldn’t hurt right? It told him, but he screamed at that part of him to shut up and that Lily would’ve been furious enough to come out of her grave to give him some sort of a spiritual beating and an earful if he did something that devious to you. It was just a thought. Not everything he thought needed to be acted out.

He wasn’t married anymore. He didn’t have to feel guilty about his dirty thoughts about you, right?

James found that his previous thirst for water was replaced by something else. He sat on the armchair next to the pull-out couch as he reminded himself about what he’d been taught: that men are allowed to look but not touch. But he wanted to touch you. His fingers twitched around the armrest as he imagined tracing them along your exposed inner thighs before dipping below the hem. Would his fingers feel a warm slickness or a piece of fabric? Were you wearing any underwear at all? It was hard to tell with your legs closed.

James couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care anymore that his conscience had no control over his body as he got up from his chair and the backs of his fingers found themselves brushing a strand of hair out of your face and down your neck. He made up this pathetic excuse in his mind that he had to check your pulse to make sure you were alive.

That excuse was so pathetic that James instantly snatched his hand back and mentally scolded himself before swiftly retreating to his bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom with your toothbrush bag, you adjusted your robe. You heard sounds coming from the kitchen which you deduced was James cooking something. You were right, for you spotted him behind the island where he was balancing a mixing bowl in one hand and holding a whisk in the other as you poked your head into the kitchen. You also noticed instantly that he was shirtless. And his muscles were on full display.

Although you’ve imagined what he’d look like without a shirt countless times, nothing could compare to the real view.

“Good morning. I didn’t see you there. I’m making pancakes.” You didn’t know what sounded more delicious: the pancakes, or the sound of his raspy morning voice.

You forced yourself to move your entire body into the kitchen.

You couldn’t remember how to speak as you felt your cheeks flame up and your eyes glue itself to his abs.

“Would you like to help?” Oh, you wanted to help him with something, alright. Just not the type of help he was implying.

You nodded and James gave you a smile as you made it to the kitchen island and set your toothbrush bag down. It was more like a smirk.

“What’s so funny?” You cringed at how your voice sounded like an angry little kid.

“It was like you were hiding from me.” Your heart fluttered even more inside your chest at the sound of his laughter. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

When you hadn’t broken out of your trance, James brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright?” He asked. You weren’t paying attention to what he was saying. You were busy staring at every body part of his from his eyes down to the V-line of his abs that extended below the waistband of his sweats.

You also weren’t paying attention to how you were squeezing your legs together to soothe the ache that was starting to form there.

“Hey, relax. You’re all tensed up.” You gasped at the feeling of his cold hand on the heated skin of your bare thigh. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as you felt his thumb gently rub circles in an upwards direction.

If what James was already doing to you felt this good, you thought the pleasure he would bring to you if he touched you in other places would be beyond anything you felt in your life.

“I don’t like what you’ve been doing to me, babydoll.” James murmured into your ear, his voice making you melt. “What were you thinking? Tempting me last night in that short skirt and your tits practically on display? In front of my own son? Everyone else thinks you’re such a good girl, but I see right through you.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked in your confused and dizzy state.

James scoffed. “Even a Muggle would be able to read you. You’re just as terrible at Occlumency as you are talented at Legilimency.”

So he did know about your crush on him… the question was how long had he known?

“Oh, I’ve known for a while…” James smirked, answering your mind. “Since I was married, actually. And I’ve seen your little sex dreams. They’re even better than those cheap porno films. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“James… you’re scaring me.” Your lower lip quivered. How on earth did things escalate this fast? You were beyond horrified that he could see things in your mind that even you tried hiding from yourself. There was no going back now. No more lying to yourself that you only saw James as a father figure.

“Father figure?” James asked incredulously. “Quite frankly, I’m flabbergasted that with all the magic you have, you never once saw the things I’ve thought while I was around you. If you would’ve used Legilimency on me at all, you would’ve seen all those filthy thoughts I’ve had about you that no father should have.”

“James!” You gasped as his hand disappeared below your robe and landed on your hip bone.

You were clenching your thighs so hard that you could feel some of the stickiness from your cunt leaking onto them.

“Open your legs. I want to know how filthy my little girl is.” He whispered and you obeyed. You sucked in a breath as you felt his long index finger venture into the crease of your thigh before using it to collect your warm slick and spread it up and down your pussy. You moaned and instinctively grinded against his fingers.

“Have you always been this wet in front of me?” He whispered.

You shamefully looked down. You didn’t want to answer him, why should you when he already knew?

“Dad? Are you in there? Where’s-” You heard Harry’s voice from inside the living room.

“Yeah, she’s right here in the kitchen with me! Don’t come in yet! We’re both making a surprise breakfast for you!” James hurriedly interrupted him.

Really? You thought as you rolled your eyes. If things were to get more out of control, you’d be on your way to making a surprise baby.

You bit your lip as James slid his finger inside and curled them upwards hitting that deep spot within you that you couldn’t reach as well with your own shorter fingers. With his thumb, he rubbed tight circles around your clit, making your legs want to give out from underneath you. You didn’t know which of those two spots he was touching you felt better.

“Okay. Should I go wait in my room?” You almost forgot Harry was still there. What kind of game was James playing with you, talking to his son so casually as if he wasn’t doing something dirty with you?

“Yeah, we’ll call you over when we’re done!” James shouted. You let out an exhale as you heard Harry’s footsteps rush upstairs.

“Just look at you. My sweet, perfect little doll.” James’ eyes followed the fingers on his hand that weren’t buried in your cunt up and down your body. “Can I look at these?” He softly cupped his other hand under your breast making sure to give them a gentle squeeze.

You breathlessly nodded and tensed under his touch as he used his index finger to slide the robe off both of your shoulders. You felt your nipples harden into peaks at both the sudden air and James’ hungry gaze on them.

Your eyes slid shut as his lips left a trail of kisses that started from between your breasts and ended at the side of your neck where he started sucking on the sensitive skin. The harder James was sucking on that one area, the harder it became for you to hide your whimpers. With each pump of his fingers inside of you combined with the pleasure he was giving you on your neck, you felt your body getting closer towards the edge of something until you couldn’t hold on anymore. You couldn’t control your hips as they thrust themselves onto his hand. Your panting was shaking your body just as violently as did your orgasm.

“Oh, James.” You quietly whimpered into his ear as your hands found their way to his messy hair.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” His soft voice replied back.

“Feels so… good.” You pushed the sentence out of you as the last remaining trembles from your orgasm left your body along with James’ fingers.

“James!” You suddenly exclaimed, remembering. “Breakfast!”

“I know, I didn’t forget.” A smile broke out on his face.

He continued to look at you like you were the most perfect thing he’d seen as he helped put your robe back onto your shoulders and clean you up with a towel.

You were still blushing and avoiding eye contact with him while you were helping him in the kitchen, but that didn’t stop him from gently caressing any part of your body he could from behind you every few minutes.

You gasped every time his face would find the crook of your neck or his hands that would wrap around your waist.

Soon, James left to go knock on Harry’s bedroom door to let him know breakfast was ready while you stayed behind to get the table ready.

James came back (with a shirt on unfortunately) with Harry running like a little kid in front of him, dressed in jeans and a hoodie.

“I’m starving!” Harry shouted excitedly, eyeing his plate. You laughed at him, glad to see his energetic old self that you missed.

You and Harry mostly spent the rest of breakfast catching up some more, before he told you he’d leave soon to go to the Weasleys’ for the actual party they were throwing him where the rest of his friends would be.

James sat across from you while you sat next to Harry at the table like how it used to be.

“What happened to your neck?” You and James froze upon seeing Harry point to the bruise that was the same color as the jelly on his plate.

“I…tripped.” You promptly used your hair to cover up the area so that Harry wouldn’t have enough time to inspect it.

“You need to be more careful next time. The corners of the tables can be quite sharp.” James chided you gently as if he wasn’t the one that caused this.

“Oh. Funny how I didn’t hear you screaming earlier.” Harry shrugged. “You should put some ice on it.”

“Well you know she’s in Auror training and she’s been learning how to keep quiet.” James said with emphasis on the last two words with a sly look in your direction. He then got up to walk to the freezer.

He returned a moment later with an ice cube wrapped around a paper towel. You felt a spark where your fingers touched his as he handed it over to you, almost convincing you to put it over your reddening cheeks instead.

After the three of you had finished breakfast and Harry had disapparated out of the living room, it was you and James alone.

“Do you need me to help you wash dishes?” You asked awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I can stay here and help. I got the day off today.”

“Or you could wait for me in my bedroom.” James murmured as he sneakily slid his thumbs up your thighs. “You could help me in there.”

“Deal.” You got on your tiptoes and gave his cheek a quick kiss before departing for his bedroom.

As you came up in front of the door to James’ bedroom, your hands started to shake as you pushed it open. In all the time you spent there, this was the only room in the house you had never stepped foot in. You were starting to feel awkward, knowing this used to be Lily’s room too, and the bed that was in the middle of the room was most likely the same bed that she shared with James too.

You started to feel anxious with all these thoughts that popped in your mind like, “What if James is just using me as a distraction to help him get over Lily?” “Does James want me to replace her?” “Would I be insulting Lily’s memory if I slept with her husband on the same bed as her after everything she’s done for me?”

As for what you thought about James, you didn’t want to use him as someone to just sleep around with. You didn’t ever want to replace Lily. She was a completely different person from you. That was it. She was a person with thoughts and feelings, not some object with mass-produced replicas. You didn’t know how to answer that last question you asked yourself internally.

You walked over to the bed, taking the time to run your fingers over the soft blanket that covered the bed. You then took in the rest of the room. You watched the tree in front of the window shade the room from the full sunlight, giving the white walls and floor the illusion of a blue-ish gray undertone. You noticed that unlike the rest of the house, there was an absence of pictures. You assumed it was so that James wouldn’t be reminded of the pain of losing his wife as he was trying to go to sleep. Besides the bed, the only furniture there was were the drawers, a vanity, and a desk with a chair. The only two doors besides the entrance were what looked to be the master bathroom and the closet.

Although you and James had known each other for years, you didn’t feel right to go and snoop around his stuff. But he did snoop around your mind. Is that any different? That still wasn’t a good enough excuse for you to go through his physical stuff.

You instead elected to take a seat on the foot of the bed with your legs crossed, your mind spacing out over to the tree by the window.

“I hope someone didn’t start without me.” James’ voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was leaning on the doorframe, his glasses and side-smile leaning with him.

You shyly turned away as he took a seat next to you on the bed.

“You’re so pretty.” James said as he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “What’s wrong?”

He gently cupped your face with his other hand, turning you towards his direction. You nervously looked down to where your lips were nearly touching.

“Do you actually want to do this with me? Am I just a distraction for you?” You whispered the last sentence. You couldn’t bring yourself to mention Lily directly.

“No, Sweetheart. You’re so much better than that.” James brought one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back of it.

At that moment, James wanted you all to himself. He knew there would be consequences later if that happened. He could give you a choice to either sneak around with you behind his son’s back or go public with everyone else about your relationship and face the risk of shame. That was if you wanted it as much as he did, which he knew you did, but were you willing to give in and go that far? Would you change your mind?

And Harry? So what if he had a crush on you? You weren’t ever going to go for him anyways. James was the one who got what he wanted, not him. Not everyone gets what they want in life. Damn, he was thinking selfishly, so unlike how a father should.

No matter how happy or sad you looked, James couldn’t stop thinking of how gorgeous everything about you was, your eyes, your soft lips, the way your hair fell and framed your face, the blush on your cheeks that was as potent as the flame in his heart, it was like you were pulling him in without trying as his lips automatically found its way to yours.

As he got a taste of you, he knew he was instantly addicted. Just the taste of your lips wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hold your body close to him, so he wrapped his arm around you and grabbed one of your legs and put it over him, making you sit on his lap, facing him.

If he hadn’t required air to be alive, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to let go of you. The both of you were left panting as you got a look at each other.

“Take this off.” He pleaded, tugging at the string of your robe.

As soon as you took your satin robe off, he wasted no time in flipping you over onto your back, making your hair spill out below you and knocking the air out of you.

“I can finally have this beautiful body all to myself.” You mewled as his thumb flicked over the hardened bud on your breast.

“Aren’t you just deliciously adorable?” James let a filthy smirk grow on his face as he squeezed your breast and attached his mouth to your nipple, sucking on it. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

You started to squirm more and more under him with each lick on your nipple until you couldn’t control your whimpering.

“It’s okay, Baby. You don’t need to hold back.” James cooed.

He got up from where he was above you. He yanked his white t-shirt over his head before he pulled down his sweatpants, revealing the outline of his erection in his boxers to you.

“Do you want to feel it?” James took a hold of your smaller hand. Sitting up, you bit your lip and nodded.

“It’s so…big.” The way your voice sounded so innocent like you were discovering something fascinating only made the hardness of his erection more painful. James sucked in a breath as your hand gave him a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck, open your legs.” He commanded urgently.

When you were too distracted by studying the dimensions of his cock to respond, James took matters into his own hands by jamming both hands between your knees to pry them apart.

The sight of your glistening arousal in front of him was a reward in itself. But he couldn’t stop there.

“I already made you cum today and you’re still wet for more. You’re such a greedy little slut.” James purred deeply. “How about this? You use those pretty lips to suck me off while you touch yourself.”

Your big doe eyes only widened at him as your mouth hung open. Just that look on your face only made James want to cum even more.

“Come on, Babydoll,” He reveled in how nervous and tiny he was making you feel. “Don’t be shy. I know you touch yourself while thinking about me. And now, I’m right here.”

He took your hand off his cock. He could feel your eyes studying his movements as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, making his dick spring out in front of your face.

“Get on your knees.” He easily pulled your smaller body off the bed and onto the floor, while he took his seat where you were.

There you were, naked in front of him, on your knees, staring up at his cock, like you were worshiping it.

James could feel your hesitation as your fingers reached out over the tip.

“You wanna taste it?” James brushed his fingers through your hair, attempting to relax you. You nodded. “Why don’t you ask?”

“C-Can I taste it, please?” How could he ever deny you, especially with you asking him so innocently and politely?

“Of course.” He couldn’t take his eyes off yours as you continued looking up at him while letting his cock slip past your lips. You then reached your hand down between your legs, touching yourself just as he had instructed.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his eyes. You were there, really sucking his cock, making the dirty fantasies that had been manifesting inside him come true.

“Fuck, that’s it Baby.” James grunted as he pushed your head down on his cock. “You’re doing so well. You’re so perfect.”

When your wet tongue hit the vein on the underside, James let a string of curses erupt out of him. That seemed to encourage you to keep going as you wrapped your free hand around the base and pumped it in sync with your mouth.

A little while later, James could feel himself getting closer to cumming when his body tensed up.

“Keep going, Baby! Good job!” He kept praising you breathlessly as he stroked your cheek.

He finally felt his cum spill into your mouth as you swallowed it, some of it still spilling down your chin.

“Fuck,” James sighed as he gathered his cum that was on your chin with his thumb and pushed it into your mouth. He felt his gaze darken as you greedily sucked and licked the entire thing. “You’ve been such a good girl. Let me make it up to you.”

James pulled you off the floor and into his body, holding you close to him as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.

As you let the heat of James’ body wrap around you, he flipped you over so that you were on your back again. Glasses or no glasses, he was the most handsome man you’d seen in your life. You no longer gave a damn that he was almost old enough to be your father. Maybe you did have a type. He had made you feel like you were the most special girl in the entire world, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way.

“Hold onto me, okay? I’m going to make you feel good. Don’t you want that?” James asked as he kissed you under your jaw, making you whimper at the pleasure he was imposing on the sensitive area.

“Yeah I want your cock deep in my pussy.” James seemed surprised at the uncharacteristic filth that came out of you to which he raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck, I didn’t think you had such a filthy mouth to go with that innocent face.” James said as he brought his lips onto yours.

As he did so, you felt something against your entrance, presumably the tip of James’ cock. He wiggled around some more until he had finally coated his cock in the slickness of your walls.

“Are you alright?” James rubbed his thumb against the apple of your cheek.

You nodded as you bit your lip. You just needed a little time to adjust to him. His cock was longer and wider than anything you ever inserted into yourself. But he filled you up in the best way possible better than your fingers or even the handle of your hairbrush could.

“It feels so good James.” You were panting as you grabbed a hold of his shoulders. Another scream left you as James’ finger rubbed your clit, adding more pleasure to your cunt.

“I want you to cum for me, Beautiful.” James grunted as he continued to thrust his cock deep into you, making you whimper and moan under him.

You were now getting addicted to the full feeling of James’ cock inside you along with the stimulation on your clit. Your head was starting to feel like it was floating on clouds. In your cock-drunk state, you kept moaning James’ name and telling him how good he was making you feel, just how you did in your countless sex dreams about him.

You couldn’t believe this was real, and it was happening to you.

“James! James! Fuck! I’m so… so close.” You sobbed into his shoulder.

“I got you Baby.” He cooed.

“Feels so big and good…” You continued moaning sentences until it turned into incoherent mumbles.

The full feeling of James’ cock combined with the intense tingling on your clit had your walls squeezing around him soon. You started screaming James’ name again through your orgasm that flooded through you.

“Fucking hell!” He suddenly grabbed your hips, and looked at you as if something came over him.

He then pulled his cock out in the middle of your orgasm. He was kneeling above your spent body with his hard cock in his hand that was still coated in your juices.

With a couple strokes, you felt the warm liquid drip down onto your tits and your stomach. You were now painted with James’ cum, and he was the artist admiring his work.

Both of you took deep breaths as you looked at each other while coming down from your highs.

As soon as James had recovered, he got up and ran his hands through his messy hair. You were too tired to sit up, so you could only watch as he put on his boxers before he went into the master bathroom. You heard the water running, and not long after, James had returned with a towel in his hand.

“How do you feel?” He asked gently as he wiped the towel across where his cum was on your body.

“A little tired.” You sighed. James rubbed the towel in circular motions on your breasts, effectively massaging them. After he cleaned you up, he discarded the towel onto the nightstand.

“Come over here, Beautiful.” James opened his arms up and you rolled into his embrace. You closed your eyes as he pressed faint kisses on the back of your naked shoulder, making you shiver.

You were scared, but also excited to see what your future would look like with James.

Tags

@xcinnamonmalfoyx

#fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter #hp fic #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fanfiction #dilf x reader #smutty fanfiction #harry potter smut #smut #hp fandom #hp smut #hp marauders #dirty fanfiction #fanfiction #older man younger woman

[metallicaislife]

A Steamy Halloween

A/N: I am so bad at flirting irl and that translates into my writing I'm so sorry hahahahah I think what happens after makes up for it thoughhhh 😏

Requested by : Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut, minors dni

Word Count: 1,531

Warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, m x f pairing

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride there?” Kirk asked for the third time over the phone. 

“Yes, I’m running behind a little bit so I’ll just see you when I get there, okay? Plus, it’s not that far from my house. A short walk won’t kill me.” I said holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I applied the deep red lipstick. 

“Fine, I’ll see you there.” He finally relented. 

“See ya.” I said quickly and hung up the phone. 

I took my time with finishing touches of my costume.

I entered the party, greeting a few people. I was on a mission to find my best friend though. When my eyes landed on him, I was surprised to see he was already looking at me. I made my way over to him. 

“If you spotted me why didn’t you say anything?” I asked folding me arms. He finally snapped out of whatever spell he was under. 

“I.. uh sorry. Um, nice costume.” He said swallowing hard. Internally I smirked, I was in a short leather dress that accentuated my body perfectly, and a pair of platform heels. 

“Thanks.” I smiled showing off my fangs, tried and true sexy vampire for the win. “Are you a ghoul?” I asked. His eyes were surrounded by black paint and contoured his face to give it that hollow look. 

“Bingo.” He replied with finger guns. What a dork. My favorite dork though. 

“Anything fun going on here?” I asked, finally taking the seat next to him. 

“Not really. But it’s still early.” He shrugged. 

“You’re forgetting who’s throwing the party, my guy. If it was me there’d be games but it looks like all this is, is a costume mingle.” I huffed. 

“Wanna give it a while longer then get outta here?” He asked. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

We got up and talked with some of the other party goers. I was right though, all these people were interested in talking, no drinking games, kissing games, you know a normal party. 

About a half an hour later, my eyes met Kirk’s and I gave him the signal we concocted to give the other when we wanted to leave a situation. Kirk nodded and we met at the front door. 

We walked to his car in silence. He opened the door for me.

“Thanks.” I said sliding in and buckling up. He walked around getting in. 

“Where to?” He asked, starting his car. 

“I’m hungry, are you?” I asked as I  fidgeted with my hair.

“Yeah, the diner okay?” He offered our usual spot to eat. 

“Always.” I replied.

The diner was on the other side of town. Music played softly over the radio. Kirk has been my best friend since grade school, but sometimes it felt like he was my boyfriend except without the perks of kissing among other things. Things that I thought of more often than I would ever admit. Sometimes I flirt with him just to see his reaction. He does the same though. It’s like we’re stuck in this vicious cycle of seeing how far we can push that boundary. Feeling confident in my costume and the reaction he gave from seeing me in it I decided tonight would be a good night to push that boundary button.

“You know, if the party turned into a make out party I’d have let you kiss me.” I said. I was serious, but I kept my tone light. I looked at him, his nostrils flared but he didn’t say anything so I kept going. “I would have even let you touch me.” I said dropping my voice to sound sexy.

“You talk an awful lot for someone who won’t actually do anything.” Kirk snapped as he clenched the steering wheel. My mood soured and I quickly snapped back. 

“You’re one to talk.” 

I jolted in my seat, the seat belt tightened, not letting me go far. 

“What the hell, Kirk!” I exclaimed. 

He didn’t say anything as he pulled the car over and parked where there weren’t many cars or foot traffic. 

“Get in the back seat.” He said in a dark tone. 

“What?” I asked, looking at him. His eyes met mine, there was a fire I’d never seen before. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He warned. My eyes widened as warmth pooled low in my belly. I fumbled a bit as I unbuckled and got out of the car sliding into the back seat. My heart thrummed in anticipation. Moments later Kirk followed suit and got out of the driver's seat and entered the back. He locked us in. His demeanor broke a little and he said, “if you don’t want to do this, tell me to stop.” 

He scooted closer and I moved so I could crawl onto his lap straddling him. 

“I want you to fuck me.” I said. The fire returned in his eyes and our lips met in a deep kiss that I felt in my toes. 

Years of imagining this moment, and it was something so much more than I could have ever wished for. His hands gripped me tightly as I tangled my fingers in his hair. 

I grinded down on him feeling him begin to harden. He pulled away and started sloppily kissing my neck as I continued grinding against him. My dress was riding up and his warm palms ran up and down my thighs as he found my sweet spot and bit down. I moaned as my hands explored the planes of his chest through his shirt. I found the hem and began lifting it up and he pulled back enough to let me help him take it off. I immediately dove in kissing and nipping at his chest. His hands kneaded my ass then he began to lift me. It was a bit cramped but he managed to maneuver us so I was laying across the back seat, my feet planted on the seat knees up. My dress was bunched up to my stomach. Kirk knelt as he rubbed his hands over my legs. His pupils were blown, lips swollen. He looked hot as fuck. His hands traveled further until he was at the top of my panties. He began pulling them down and I shifted my hips up so he could take them off. He shoved them into his back pocket. He ran his fingers through my folds eliciting a moan from my throat. He slipped a finger in, then another, using his thumb to rub my clit. 

“Oh fuck… don’t stop.” I moaned. He smirked. 

“Does it feel good?” He asked.

“S’good.” I moaned louder as I got closer to my release. I squirmed as I came, a slew of curse words leaving my lips. 

“So fucking sexy.” Kirk commented. He pulled his dick out of his pants rubbing my release over it. My hooded eyes met his eyes as he moved closer. He rubbed the tip over my clit, I whined. 

“Want you in me.” I breathed out. He aligned himself with me and thrust in. He let out a groan.

“Thought about this for so long. Gonna fuck you so good you won’t get off to anyone’s cock but mine.” He said, and I believed him. The windows were fogging as he began pistoning his hips, our breathing heavy. He paused for a moment to lift my hips and resumed, I screamed as he hit my g-spot. The car shook with each thrust. I came again, my eyes rolling back. He continued dragging out my pleasure before pulling out, he fisted his dick and came on my stomach. He lowered my hips and rested his forehead on my knee. After a while in silence regaining our breath he sat up tucking himself back into his pants. 

“Stay there.” He said and got out going to the passenger door. I heard him rummage about the glovebox before coming back around to kneel between my legs. He had napkins and tenderly cleaned my stomach. 

“Thank you.” I croaked, my throat hoarse from screaming. 

He smiled and helped me sit up bringing my dress back down to cover me. I got out of the backseat and he rushed around to open the passenger door. He stopped me before I got in and kissed me, I immediately kissed him back. He pulled away, a goofy grin on his face. 

I got in and we resumed our voyage to the diner.

When we got there, Kirk opened the diner door for me, following behind and softly resting his hand on the small of my back. 

We were led to a booth and sat across from each other. I ordered fries and soda, while Kirk got a salad. 

“Do you want to go back to my place after and watch Halloween?” Kirk asked. I munched on a fry and nodded. 

“Can we watch Creature from the Black Lagoon after that?” I asked. 

“Of course.” He replied with a smile. 

We fell into comfortable conversation. Part of me wondered how the dork in front of me was the same one from 20 minutes ago that absolutely rocked my world.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

#metallica x reader #metallica #metallica imagines #metallica scenarios #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett #metallica smut #kirk hammett smut

[malum-forev]

has miscommunication for the bingo been taken? if not, can i request that one with bucky?

Hiii thank you so much for your ask! ❤️‍🔥 Here's what I came up with!

*

Miscommunication 

BrothersBestFriend!Bucky x Reader

Cold. That was the perfect word to describe Bucky. Distant came in second place, followed by calloused, mysterious, brooding and lastly, your brother’s best friend. Although you were only two years younger than your brother, Bucky always saw you as the pestering little sister. Even now when you were out of college and living in the same city as your brother and his group of friends. 

You had fixed your hair and worn a tight dress your brother would certainly not approve of but if it were up to him, you would wear a full body sack of potatoes to the club. You walked down the hallway of the apartment you shared with your brother but stopped before you got to the living room, you heard voices. You placed your back flush against the wall.

“Can you quit being an asshole? Try, for one day.” You heard Sam whisper.

“Why does she have to follow us everywhere we go?” Bucky groaned. “If I wanted that, I would have bought a dog.”

Steve shushed the brunet. “She’s one of our best friend’s sister, you can’t say that!”

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” Bucky’s words hurt, a feeling of embarrassment burned your being. You felt the edges of your eyes prickle.

“We think she’s nice.” Sam said. “She’s funny and tells us childhood secrets about our friend, like that time she told us he got caught sneaking out of a girls window and broke his arm during the fall! What more can you ask for?”

“Well I think she’s immature.” Bucky drove the knife deeper.

You brought your hand up to your mouth to muffle your gasp, the tears falling from your face. Your brothers door opened so you quickly wiped your face and gulped down your feelings. 

“Not to sound like mom but, we know you’re a girl, you don’t have to show everyone at the club.” He laughed, pointing at the short hem of the dress. “You ready to go?”

You offered your brother a smile. “I think I’m going to sit this one out, I just got my period.”

He made a disgusted face before peeking into the living room. “Hey guys, it’s just us this time.”

“Fuck.” Bucky whispered as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, knowing you’d heard every wretched word you’d said. 

--

The next weeks were filled with apologies to your brother, flaking on plans and making up late nights working. 

���Have you thought about talking to HR?” Your brother’s voice said through the speaker on your phone. “I don’t think it’s normal for your boss to make you work late again. It’s the third time this week!”

You hiked your tote bag up your shoulder. Trying to balance your takeout on one hand and your phone pressed to your ear was proving to be a difficult task. You sighed of relief as you turned the corner to your street. 

“Yeah, I should but I don’t want to get on my boss’ bad side.” You expertly lied. Of course you felt guilty lying to your brother but what else could you do? They were his friends after all and Bucky made it clear you weren’t welcome. Plus, you’d been tagging along for far too long. 

“Call me if you get off early, yeah?” He said. “We’re going to go bar hopping and you deserve a drink!”

You kept your eyes on the steps of your apartment complex as you climbed them. “Yep, I’ll let you know when I leave the office.”

“You tell them they can shove their extra hours up their ass-“ You heard Sam yell over your brother.

You chuckled as you searched through your bag for your keys, two more steps and you’ll be home- your feet bumped into another, a combat boot wearing pair of feet you recognized instantly. 

“Oh shit.” You muttered, your eyes traveling from the black boots to the tight black jeans up towards a red Henley. Ocean blue eyes looked straight into your soul. Busted. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” Your brother asked.

“Everything’s fine, I’m fine just- it’s an Excel emergency. Got to go, call you later.” You hung up quickly.

“Late night at work?” Bucky raised his eyes at you. “Excel emergency?”

“Don’t even.” You sighed as you pushed past the beefy man, unlocking your apartment. 

“May I come in?” Bucky asked, hands resting on the doorframe.

You rolled your eyes, setting all of your things down. “You’ve been here a million times, you don’t need to ask to come in.”

“I’ve been here with your brother.” He emphasized the word. “Never as your guest.”

“I wouldn’t call someone who was waiting at my door a guest.” You mumbled, eyeing the man who still hadn’t entered your apartment. “What are you? A vampire? You need to be invited in?”

“Only one way to find out.” His smile was wicked as he dragged his boot across the bottom of the door. 

You considered letting him burst into flames, maybe he was a vampire. That would be one reasonable explanation as to why he’s a dick. 

“You can come in.” You said, taking your food and setting it in front of the TV. “Only if you promise to be quiet while I watch Vanderpump Rules.”

“I never thought of you as the lying type.” Bucky closed the door behind him and watched as you started eating dinner. “You were supposed to be a good girl.”

“You’re already breaking the first and only rule I gave you.” You shushed him. 

“You have no idea how badly I want to break the rules.” Bucky muttered to himself. 

You paused your show. “You’re not going to be quiet so, why are you here?”

“Why did you lie to your brother?”

You stood up from the couch. “I asked you first.”

“I’m here because-“ Bucky ran a hand through his hair, following you into the kitchen like a lost puppy. “Because you stopped going out with us.”

A true laugh ripped through your chest. Is he serious?

His expression urged you to answer, like he didn’t know the reason for your absence.

“Do you ever make up your mind?” You snorted. “First you say I’m immature and you don’t want me near you and now, now you ask me why I’m not there.”

Bucky felt heat rise up from the back of his neck to his cheeks. There was some part of him that hoped you hadn’t heard- maybe your boss did suddenly become a raging SOB. 

“I didn’t mean it like that-“ Bucky started. 

“Please, do enlighten me as to what you meant when you said, and I quote: ‘Why does she have to follow us’ and then ‘I think she’s immature’.” You let out a dry chuckle.

Bucky’s Adams apple bobbed, trying to figure out what words he should say. But his blank expression gave you everything you needed to know.

You walked to the front door of your apartment, opening it. “Look, I don’t know who forced you to come here and apologize but it’s okay. No hard feelings, Buck. Just don’t tell my brother I didn’t have to work late and we’ll call it even.”

Bucky leant his head back and groaned. “You don’t understand.”

“And I’m done trying to understand.” You added. 

“I understand that you say no hard feelings but that’s the problem-“ Bucky walked towards you. “I want to have no feelings.”

“Bucky it’s fine. I get it, you don’t like me and don’t want to be my friend. I’m over it.” You rolled your eyes again. 

Bucky’s chest heaved, his emotions taking over his brain. He took your body and slammed it against the door, shutting it closed. Bucky’s large hands cupped your face, his once clear eyes now turned dark. 

“You don’t understand.” He whispered dragging his knuckles lightly against your cheek. “I don’t want you there because I can’t control myself whenever you’re near.”

Your throat became dry. “What? I thought you didn’t like me.”

Bucky chuckled lightly, now his finger ghosted over your lips. “Quite the opposite. I like you, I want you, I needyou. But I cannot have you.”

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

#bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barns x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes os #college au #college au!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #sebastian stan x you #marvel fanfic

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - It's 2024 & I'm talking about TayNew... really?

(They pretty much told us all to sit down and shut tf up, 'cause they got this. AND THEY DO.)

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube grey) ep 9 of 12 - I broke. In my defense, it was Monday, I needed comfort, and TayNew were right tf there. Ya know what? They are great in this show. It's a great adaptation. I might like it more than the JBL live action. You know why? Really, honestly WHY...?

That was a PHENOMENAL KISS. Those boys did Thailand fucking proud. They did fandom a solid. Thank you OGs for reminding us how it's done. I was getting used to SloppyHot. And SloppyHot has its place, but that TayNew rooftop kiss was a top tear class act. It was tender and sweet and respectful and joyful. It was eye work and breath work and years of practice. How very far BL has come while still staying so much the same. TayNew - I salute you!

(Read all about distribution issues here.)

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 12fin - we waiting, I guess? Bah.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - The recipe book thing was so damn cute and I love a claiming. YOU KNOW I LOVE A CLAIMING!

In fact, I love OffGun.

I love food based BL.

I adored seeing a reboot of "the infamous dragging". 

But I don’t love anything else about this show. Sigh.

1000 Years Old ep 1 of 12 - Finally we get our gay vampire BL from Feel Good Bangkok. Stars Shane (My Engineer) and fresh face Opal, directed by Champ (2gether). It’s kind of odd but enjoyable. A group of teen UFO seekers find a vampire instead. Opal looks a bit like a mix between Newnu + Leo (VIXX) - so cute + edge. Also, nice to see Shane again on our screens after so long. 

Finally, I like the subtle (and sometimes not subtle) presence of ghosts permeating this show. Do the friends know she's there? Do they know she's dead? Is the existence of paranormal accepted but not that of aliens? Or are the two combined? Is this lazy writing or just fun world building? Who cares! It's enjoyable.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 12fin - the nail painting bit was very cutie queers and I've not seen it done in BL before, so that was nice. For some reason captions never dropped for me on this last episode, but it didn’t really matter. Not much happened and I understood everything anyway.

Quick pitch?

From the people who brought us Unforgotten Night based on a y-novel, about a young man nursing a heartbreak who has a one-night stand, but the other boy didn't want it to end. This turned out to be a pulp that wasn’t half as good as it should have been and even less memorable, but not terrible. 5/10 DON'T BOTHER unless you're v bored

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 3 of 12 - Oh it is such a pulp: the acting is not good and the script is terrible. Of course, I’m mildly enjoying it. Very good dream kissing. There's something appealing about these main characters - I think it's the moot crushes. We rarely get to see that. These days everything feels very one sided, this... isn't.

A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV) - Khonprot, a third-year hazer of the engineering faculty, has a secret crush on Pluem, a tsundere fourth-year head hazer. Over the years, he's seen Pluem cycle through girlfriends. Recently, after a public breakup, however, Khonprot thinks maybe a boy has a chance.

I tried but I can't get into my WeTV account anymore and I'm way too lazy to figure it out. I'll catch it grey if I can, since I've rebooted the bootlegging side of my BL life for Cherry Magic anyway.

So this show may stay in this section, or I may bump it down to "it's airing but..."

If anyone is watching it, let me know if it's good?

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love For Love's Sake (Korea Weds iQIYI) 7-8fin - Ugh it was GREAT, despite some pretty telling flaws. I ended up feeling like some of the filming was amateurish (very overworked low angles - director's first feature, I assume), and the narrative is a little disjoined and on the nose, AND the subs are clumsy (which I don't expect from KBL) BUT I still loved it. (FYI - I wouldn't be so harsh on a BL for this kinda thing except one from Korea.)

Quick pitch:

This isekai-based KBL is about a man who must win a game by convincing a reserved teen outcast to fall in love with him. Of course, that teen represents himself and his own unhappiness. Like many queer narratives, this show is actually about self worth, trust, and found family, and it is VERY on the nose. But I don’t expect subtlety from my BL and I enjoyed it's truly lovely redemption arc and earnest performances. While I found the narrative a touch disjointed with overworked filming angles and poorer than average captions, this is certainly much better than early KBL in terms of consistency of tone, script, and immersion. Highly rewatchable and charming, which counts for a lot. 9/10

Trigger warning for suicide depicted.

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - Gosh, it’s so lovely. But I do just constantly want to give them both hugs. 

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Oh look, Taiwan has created yet another BL where I spend most of the time watching it grinning like an idiot. Surprise surprise. The pet name thing was fucking adorable. Also Taiwan once more proving they come by their "kings of kissing" title honestly. I mean to say. In a week of good kisses this one was just... WOW.

On the other hand, some of the underpinning themes are starting to v worry me (ownership, consent, age), and we only just got started, and I don't trust this production company so... I have concerns.

But also... YAY KISSES!

(I'm made of weak moral fiber.)

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - Like many other shows on this list. I just enjoy it the most when the two leads are on screen together. So this episode was kind of lacking because they were apart for most of it. I also am starting to agree with the tone of the plot, that maybe they ARE better off as friends not lovers. (And I'm sure I'm not supposed to want that.) Oh Japan, must you?

My Strawberry Film (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 8 - Oh it’s good. In the arthouse lane so don’t expect sweetness & light or an HEA. If there’s no cartoon aspect to a JBL, there’s usually no joy. But it is certainly good. Teens uncover some old film and a mystery around a pretty girl. The background music is wildly annoying (and rarely in the background). 

It's Done

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam, it's on YouTube. I will give it a try when I have a window of time.

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) - Gave me Luminous Solution vibes have decided not to watch.

It's Airing But...

Dead Friend Forever (Thai iQIYI) - rumors are it's interesting. I'm waiting to know how it ends.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

Next Week Looks Like This:

2/24 Unknown (Taiwan Youku) 12 eps - Older brother tough guy breadwinner looks after his sister and defacto adopted little brother. Little bother falls in love with him and is sent away after a stolen kiss. But when he comes back…

Sam Lin has a cameo so even if I wasn't already excited, I'm in. We should be on our guard though, Taiwan will occasionally go edgy, dark, and sad... this could go there.

One assumes GMMTV is filling in the BL time slot with something queer on their YT Channel after Cooking Crush ends, they gonna lose subs if they don't. But I've not been paying attention to the chatter so I don't know which of their line-up it will be. I think G4 are filming/off radar now, and Earth is in that het noona thing? Plus they gotta sort out the IP for MIx-Up and Ossen. So it won't be one of the announced adaptations. They'll hold My Golden Blood for the high season, so I think it'll be one of the lesser known lead-outs. Wandee or Only Boo maybe? But they only just started filming those. Are we getting our long awaited GL? Anything else left from 2023 that I forgot about?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Two crawling kisses from Thailand this week. Now this is a fetish I didn't know I had. Turns out, we love this one! (*waves hand in air* I speak for all of us now.)

Cooking Crush

City of Stars

Possibly the best tsundere to cinnamon roll pivot we've had in a long time.

Also the best asshole to KING pivot. Could we have a whole drama staring this character now? Please?

And finally our sunshine learning to love himself.

SIGH. what a lovely show.

And a good SMILEY kiss from a KBL.

And then some cute cuddles? Korea is spoiling me these days. I'm catching expectations now. What's next? Japan learns to kiss in their light BLs? Ha! I kill me.

(All Love for Love's Sake).

(Last week)

#love for loves sake #love for love's sake review #love supremacy zone #korean bl #bl series review #i loved it #cherry magic th #cherry magic thailand #cherry magic #live action yaoi #thai adaptation #taynew #bl kisses #thai bl #cooking crush #off gun #offgun #what the hell is happening in my tags it's like we are back in 2016 #only korea is around a kissing better #city of stars #thai bl pulp #for him the series review #dead friend forever #japanese bl #perfect propose #My Strawberry Film #Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka #AntiReset #taiwanese bl