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ohimsummer · 1 month

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TROUBLEMAKER ft. CAT! STSG AU

— cat! au (gojo + geto), afab! reader, shoko cameo, stsg cat shenanigans, crack, some explicit language, gojo is the most annoying and insufferable he’s ever been ever (/affectionate)

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ part 1! finally got around 2 finishing this :3 idk about satoru yet but suguru is a fluffy oriental shorthair in my head. no I will not debate this ♡

wc 4.2k

“They’re…cats…?”

There’s an incessant sound of scribbling on Shoko’s clipboard. Her voice is almost drowned out by a white feline’s cries for your attention. “Yup.”

The other cat, the black one—Suguru, apparently—lies content in your arms, purring into your chest as you thread through long, sleek fur. A voice nags at the back of your mind that petting him is a little peculiar, but his hair is like silk. You can’t help it.

Satoru, ever the asshole, batted away all your efforts to pet him, and is now left in his regret to wander circles around your ankles. Angry, dilated pupils never leave Geto—who remains blissfully indifferent—as Gojo paws at your feet to be rewarded even a glance.

“It’s the side effect of a cursed spirit. I’m assuming it went ‘whoosh’ and they went ‘psshhh’.” Shoko makes a shrinking motion with her hands. “And now they’re cats.”

A frown weighs down your lips at her lackluster explanation. “I don’t think I understand—”

“Anyway, it should wear off in a couple days.” Her pen swivels in your direction, eyes steady trained on her paperwork. “You gonna need my help buying supplies?”

“Huh—!” The words choke up in your throat. “Why are they coming with me?”

Shoko finally spares you a glance, an audacious look as if you asked something idiotic. “Oh, please, you really think they’d be happier staying with me? Besides, I don’t wanna do it. Duh.”

There’s also the unspoken assumption that she wants the apartment to herself for a couple days. Or to have Utahime over in peace but, ultimately, you’ll be stuck catering to this feline duo.

“God, I—, fine.”

The journey back to your place is going smoothly, save for when Gojo conveniently decides to figure-8 between your steps. Or stop in front of every sweets shop to blink his giant, round cat eyes at you over his miniature sunglasses.

“He’s so cute!,” a passing older lady stops to fawn over him. “Look at him and his little glasses, how adorable!”

And you just offer up a grin, afraid to dip a toe into this awkward small talk as if Gojo has always been this talkative, adorable kitty—knowing just yesterday he had you in a headlock over not sharing your own dessert with him. You also don’t want to be susceptible to any related teasing whenever they turn back, brushing off her comments with forced laughter as you continue onwards.

Gojo lags behind, responding to the woman with some proud cat noises before running ahead to reach your side again. Unfortunately, right on his heels is this persistent older lady.

You can hear her firing off a barrage of questions and statements: “What’s his name? Is he a Persian? I have a little gal at home that looks just like him!”

It’s a struggle not to roll your eyes. Sure, her chatter is innocent, but you don’t want to be bothered. Besides, these are not some childhood pets accompanying you on an errand—they’re two, 6-foot-tall boys in feline bodies, primed to snag onto any questionable comment you make as ammo to bully you in the future.

“His name is Gojo. Not sure of his breed. I just got him.”

Uninterested tone, closed-off body language, pace picking up—none of it seems to be enough to deter her.

“He looks so nurtured!”

Said he looks cranky and tired, legs a blur as Gojo runs to keep your pace. He growls out obvious complaints, nipping and clawing at your ankles to slow you down.

“You must be such a wonderful cat momma to him! I bet he’d make some pretty babies—“

Suguru makes a stuttered, breathy noise in your ear, an amused chuff that must be his cat version of laughter.

An incoming crosswalk threatens to leave you at the mercy of her conversation. Your eyes are trained on the mocking, red hand, the one thing that prevents you from booking it to the other side of the street.

You’re forced to slow down as you draw nearer to the heap of people awaiting the signal change.

Her “Could I get a picture of him?” sends a shudder down your spine. Perhaps jaywalking would grant you a ticket out of this.

The crossing icon switches right before you’re forced to a complete stop, and a sigh of relief escapes as you maneuver through a a confused crowd. Mutters of apology are left in your trail of dust, along with the ear-catching clamors of a white kitty.

You only peep behind you for a brief second, Suguru’s ticklish fur floating around in your nose, and you spot the lady getting swept away by the wave of ongoers. Her voice is lost beneath the sea, a camera-yielding hand flailing above unbothered heads.

Geto flicks a bushy, dark tail over your face, thoroughly getting hair on your tongue this time around. You’re about to turn and scold him before skidding to a halt right before colliding with a large, metal pole.

His white-furred partner is not so lucky, though he only makes an abrupt faceplant into the back of your lower calves. Gojo plops back on his rear, giving a low meow as he uses a paw to straighten his crooked sunglasses.

“Thanks, Suguru” you mutter, and he flicks an ear in response, continuing to guard his spot on your shoulder for the remainder of the journey. Geto is mostly silent, save for the occasional silky mew to either grab your attention or get his explorative friend in line.

Upon entrance to your apartment building, Satoru only seems to grow more unruly. He leaps onto the front desk, spitting sharp grievances as you gather him up and layer apologies to the worker behind the counter. Suguru makes sure to land a few light warning taps on his head, almost slipping off your shoulder when Gojo retaliates with his own irated slaps. The scene of you tottering into the elevator while also breaking up a literal cat fight makes for quite the show for the few people in the lobby.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands pretty full, eh?,” a man chuckles, arm held over the elevator doors so you may stumble inside.

“I don’t—stop it, you two—know what I’m gonna do with them,” you sigh, and he replies with a sympathetic head shake.

The doors ease shut, and then what should have been a short trip to your room is prolonged when Gojo decides he wants to swat at the buttons. Now, on top of stopping at floors where there are actual people waiting, you’re stuck visiting six others that he and his mischievous paws have so chosen. And also forced into more awkward interactions of people complimenting your wonderful animal caretaking skills.

“The black one is so well-behaved.,” a young brunette fawns. She raises a hand to scratch under Suguru’s chin, face falling in embarrassment when he pulls away from her. “O-oh, I’m sorry.”

You can’t tell if she’s apologizing to you or him.

A short cough disguises your giggle, and you inform her, “Ah, it’s fine, he’s just weary of other people.”

She seems reassured at your words, glancing at a wriggling Satoru in your grasp. “He doesn’t look too interested in being pet, either, haha.”

Gojo weighs heavy in your arms, and you readjust to get a better grip on him, ignoring his meows of complaint. “Yeah, he’s kind of an asshole—“mrrow!”—and he might scratch, so I’d advise against it.”

A shy grin spreads on her lips, and then the girl is exiting the lift, waving goodbye to you and the two kitties.

Upon reaching your own floor, Gojo zooms out into the hallway, vocalizations echoing in the empty corridor. Geto remains carefully seated on your shoulder, leaning onto your head and surely leaving strands of cat fur in your own hair. The white cat speeds ahead until he arrives at your door, and then immediately begins another cacophony of loud meows, seemingly in an effort to rush you.

“Satoru, be quiet!”, you whisper-shout at him from down the hall. The words are barely audible in your own ears over the sound of his impatient yells.

They only die down once your keys enter the lock, and Gojo slithers inside the second the door is cracked, Geto not far behind as he leaps from his anchor point. You roll the joint in a circle—he’s so cute as a little parrot on your shoulder, but the lack of weight is a welcome relief.

“Jeez, Suguru, you’re kinda heavy.” The obvious offense in his low ‘mrow?’ makes you giggle. “I’m gonna get changed and then I’ll make dinner after. Be right back!”

There’s a pitter patter of steps, and Gojo is sidling up next to you for your upstairs trip. He pounces onto the bed, watching as you grab a shirt (his) off a chair at your desk, and a pair of leggings from the closet. Geto resides at the top of the stairs to supervise, ready to intervene should his idiot other half start causing more trouble.

With the clothes in your hands, your next stop is the bathroom, though you halt in the vacant doorway with Gojo right on your heels.

“Ummmm…,” you scoff a laugh as blue eyes blink up at you. “Satoru, you’re not watching me change.”

He replies a conjoined, high-pitched ‘mrow-row?’, not making an effort to move. Geto strolls over and bats at his fluffy, white rear, an unamused look in his violet eyes. While Gojo turns to defend his haunches, you giggle a ‘Thanks, Suguru!’ for the second time and disappear into the bathroom, promptly ignoring the dull smack of a paw and a loud hiss as your hip bumps the door shut.

A white head snaps in your direction upon your reappearance. Gojo trots forward to greet you, bushy tail straight up in a friendly gesture. His calmer counterpart is nowhere to be found when a flash of black catches your attention, and you spot Geto balanced on the railing of your bedroom.

“Keepin’ an eye on Satoru?” You realize you’re talking to him in somewhat of a babified pet voice, but he doesn’t seem to mind, only purring happily as you scratch a finger under his chin.

Someone doesn’t like that, and your hand rapidly recoils as an angry Gojo steadies on his hind legs, shouting angry yowls and hisses and furiously slamming a paw at any part of Geto he can reach, sending the black cat plummeting off the railing and you hear him land on the level below with a loud thud.

“Satoru Gojo!” Named cat looks back at you like he didn’t just essentially push Suguru to his doom. “You’re gonna behave in my house, sir, or I’m sending you back to Shoko!” He opens his mouth to complain, but you cut off Gojo’s meow with another scolding. “Nah ah, I don’t want to hear it! Don’t start trouble or it’s to the shelter, ya hear?”

His ears flatten back, expression akin to what you can only describe as intense worry, and Gojo grants you a final, pleading meow as he stands again, front paws against your leg. You reach down to pet behind his little ears, and he leans a fuzzy head into your palm, tail swishing as the rumbling in his throat grows louder.

“You’re such a baby.”, comes your gentle coo as Satoru’s lids ease shut. “Could’ve asked for pets way better than that.”

You only reward his bad behavior for a moment. The caress of your hand stops far too soon for Gojo’s liking, and he’s right behind to follow you back down to the first floor. Geto meets you halfway, looking behind you and leaving you to continue on interrupted. There’s the sharp sound of a ‘smack!’ and a pair of tiny, blue sunglasses tumble past to land at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ah, ah! Satoru, get down!”

The guilty feline goes skedaddling off the countertops, casting Geto an envious glare as he scampers to sit right at the threshold where your kitchen meets the living room.

Your eyes narrow at him, suspicious and distrustful, before returning to your cooking under Geto’s careful examination from the marble surface. His tiny nose livens up at the savory smells wafting around the kitchen, pink tongue darting over a furry mouth as he curiously eyes the fried rice in the pan.

The delicious scent of cooked meat creeps up his nostrils, and Geto turns to eye his slice of the chicken breast you’ve so graciously blessed him with. It’s only partially nibbled on so a third of it still remains, but if Satoru had his way, both he and Suguru’s servings of the meat would have long since been given a home on his endless stomach. It’s why your gaze keeps traveling around the room. You’re keeping tabs on Gojo and his greedy whereabouts.

Speak of the devil—barely two minutes later and the snowy thief is back. His shrill meows pierce your eardrums, restless paws tracing steps between your feet, scurrying behind your couch when he almost trips you only to eventually return when your scowl has disappeared.

The air of your apartment feels happy, jubilant. It’s so serene considering these two are in the same room together. Just the sizzle of food, the background noise of the television, and Gojo’s constant yowling for any smidge of your attention—though it feels domestic in a way if you don’t think too hard on the fact that it’s Satoru. Maybe there’s also the quiet sounds of chewing whenever Geto decides he wants another bite of his chicken.

The hassle comes whenever you turn your head and Gojo makes his move, leaping onto the counter to cause havoc. His troublemaking comes in a plethora of ways, but his favorites seem to be taking a bite out of Suguru or attempting to steal whatever leftover scraps are in his sight. His sneaky plans are foiled by the black cat either wrestling him back onto the floor or meowing an alarm so that the Gods (you) may banish Satoru from the kitchen once again.

Matters are only made worse when you offer Suguru a piece of egg from your now-finished dinner, and the exiled, white cat screeches in a show of utter betrayal.

“Oh my god, Satoru.” You pluck another chunk of poultry from the skillet, kneeling to present it in your palm. “Here.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow at his dramatic feline partner, ears twisted back and dropped to flatten against his head as the tip of his black tail flicks back and forth.

Gojo pads over. His pink nose looks adorable, scrunched up as he sniffs your hand for a second or two before licking his lips, and then he snatches the cooked egg from your hand and scurries off. There’s a large sigh behind you; Geto gives you a half-lidded eye-roll from his new spot at the edge of the counter, before voicing a short ‘mroh’.

You grin at him. “He’s such a goofball, isn’t he?” ‘Mrow-ow’.

With your meal finally ready and a grumbling stomach, you curl up on the couch, bowl of oyakodon in hand. The movie playing on the tv is boring, and also halfway done so it doesn’t hold an ounce of your interest. Even so, you try not to notice the pair of blue eyes peeking at you over the coffee table.

Ignoring Satoru and his hungry gaze makes for a far more entertaining game. The tip of his bushy, white tail is visible from where you sit, swaying side to side as Gojo eyes your bowl of food.

“You’re not getting any, Satoru, you’ve already eaten most of the kitchen, today.”

‘MrraAAH!’ He lets loose a dramatic scream, squinting sky blues at you.

Gojo’s so focused on vacuuming up any possible crumbs that he doesn’t notice the black shadow creeping up behind him. It’s not until Suguru paws at his snowy-colored fur that his cerulean eyes turn towards him. They hold each other’s gaze before Geto ducks out of your sight, and soon Gojo with him. There’s a sound of scuffling, someone’s frantic meows, and then the white kitty skids into view with Geto pinning him down, both wrestling as he tries to sink teeth into Satoru’s back.

You take another nonchalant bite of food. “Get his ass, Suguru.”

Gojo’s continual wriggling finally grants him freedom from the black feline’s clutches. You watch in amusement as he flees the scene, Geto hot on his tail. Satoru goes careening around the corner of the coffee table, nails scraping your hardwood floors so he’s stuck gliding like a cartoon character before disappearing from view; Suguru takes a more parkour-ish approach, rebounding off the wall and he goes flying into his target if the following ‘thud’ and ‘MRAH!’ is of any indication.

A late-evening shopping trip wasn’t on the schedule for today, but there was an unfortunate flaw in today’s system: the call of nature for your two new kitties.

Your original plan was to get everything tomorrow. Cat food and bedding could be improvised for tonight, and Satoru was enough entertainment for he and Suguru together. One thing had slipped your mind until you found the two causing a racket atop your closed toilet—a litter box.

One quick trip later, and now you’re back home arranging their little tray, pouring the grey pebbles inside and hiding it on a mat in the corner of your living room where they could have more privacy.

“There ya go!” Your hands fall to your hips, looking proudly over your work. The two large cats stand on either side of you, glancing between you, each other, and their new bathroom. “Go on, now, don’t be shy.”

Satoru grants you an offended glare over his shades, while Suguru turns and walks away entirely, the tip of his tail flicking in annoyance.

“Hey, I went through the trouble to go out and get this thing for you two and this is how you repay me?” Satoru nips at your leg in response. “Ow! Stop that! Fine, hold it then, but you two better not do your business on my floors.”

Though they seemed adamant about not going in the litter box, you can see the idea nudging it’s way into their little heads as the urge to go grows stronger with time. You catch them sneaking glances at their designated corner, easing closer and closer to the box. Suguru sniffs at the entrance before leaving it again. Satoru apparently thinks keeping his back to it will make his need to use it go away.

“Mrooww!”, Geto voices to you, clawing at your front door.

You sigh at him. “Suguru, just use the litterbox.”

He produces a sound between a meow and a low growl, still showcasing his irritation with flat ears and a swaying tail.

“Is it too little? You two want something bigger? Or two separate litter boxes? Either way, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow because it’s late out and I’m not walking you all the way to the park for this.”

“Mroh..?”

Arms fold beneath your chest. “And you’re not going by yourself, either.”

Gojo circles your legs, letting out a low chuff. No doubt this is amusing to him. His pouty friend sighs and struts away like a stubborn child, hissing as Satoru bats at his lowered tail and leaving to hide somewhere in your room.

You move on with your nightly duties—tidying up your kitchen, putting away leftovers, keeping an eye out for the shenanigans of a white-haired feline. Maybe twenty minutes have passed, and you suddenly hear the scritch-scratch of litter being tossed around.

From the corner of your eye, you see a bundle of black whisps protruding from the entrance of the box. It’s not any of your business until you have to clean the thing out. For now, you’re just content he’s using it and not tampering with the health of his liver.

Then, through your peripherals, Gojo pops up next to the box, sitting just outside of it. He peeks inside, meowing, and jolts back as a black paw reaches out to slap him away. There’s an exchange of curious cat noises and irate yowls, before a screech echos from the litter box and you rush over to break up their impending battle.

“Satoru—,” you snatch him away, spitting out clouds of his shedding, white hair,”—give him some privacy, damn.”

You heave Gojo and his massive self up your stairs throughout another set of his meowed complaints, watch as he cranes his head at the sound of more scratching litter.

“Why are you being a pervert trying to watch him pee?”, comes your exasperated question.

He wriggles expertly in your arms, instantly escaping your grasp around his upper body and goes fleeing downstairs no doubt to harass Geto again.

It’s the end of the day. You’re over it for tonight. “GET UP HERE.”

His swift steps and the scraping of litter both halt at the tone and base of your voice.

Satoru turns his shiny, blue eyes to you, head slightly lowered in shame like a child who knows they’ve angered their mom. He turns-tail, creeping back up the stairs with cautious steps. Once he reaches your side, blacks of his eyes wide and round, he gives you a squeaked ‘mrow…?’.

Geto peeks around the corner to peer up the steps at the sudden commotion, retreating when he sees your crossed arms and the fed-up taps of your foot.

“Up the stairs. Now.” Gojo skitters past you without a second thought. “You two, Suguru, let’s go. It’s bedtime.”

A short pause, and then he comes trotting up to the second floor, tail raised straight up and he gives a flurry of bright meows as he obeys your command.

They’re both on the bed by the time you travel the remaining few steps to your bedroom. Both sit side-by-side, obedient and still and awaiting your next move.

“I’m gonna finish my routine. Don’t you two start any trouble while I’m busy, ya hear?”

A harmonized ‘mrrow!’.

“Good boys.” You clap your hands together with a grin. “Now get ready for bed.”

“Satoru, you can’t sleep there.”

While Geto has, of course, chosen a more ideal, comfier spot for bedtime near the edge of your bed, his counterpart takes a more…spacious approach. They’re both rather large cats, so him laying sprawled out on his back, smack-dab in the center in a spread-eagle is not the most suitable place for Gojo to slumber.

Your words elicit no reaction from him—not besides the flick of his ear, anyway. Geto’s tail swishes from side to side, a tell that he’s about to bop Gojo with a harsh paw to the face and a hiss. And he does just that, but it seems Gojo has caught on as he grabs hold of the furry black arm with his paws. You watch the duo wrestle as he tries to sink fangs into Geto’s shoulder. They’re like toddlers fighting over a toy, and the scene just elicits a shake of your head in defeated amusement at their childish antics.

He’s got Gojo pinned to the bed, the latter bunny-kicking his hind legs in futile efforts to shove Geto off him, before they both go tumbling onto the floor, breaking up their little quarrel. The two scurry off in opposite directions, Geto under the bed and Gojo into the open door of your bathroom. Two loud thumps. Your butt hasn’t even hit the mattress before the sound of things falling catch your ears.

“Satoru…?,” you call out, disappointment evident in your tone. A second passes before his purred 'mrrr?' and you feel Geto’s whiskers brush your bare ankles as he peeks from his hiding spot. “Did you break something in there?” More silence, and then the smallest, cutest squeak followed by a blue eye that peeks around the corner.

Walking into the bathroom, you’re not met with completely heinous results. He must’ve ricocheted off the walls to make such a mess in such few seconds. Your toothpaste and a few makeup products are spilled onto the floor, and Satoru approaches with your toothbrush carried in his teeth. Hands on your hips and a brow quirked, you just take it and make a mental note to get a new one in the morning.

“Alright.” The sound of your double claps echo off the tile. “Out. Both of you.” And off they go.

It takes a few extra minutes to clean up Gojo’s small mess, and bedtime this time around is easier when a large white cat isn’t trying to take up majority of the bed. You settle beneath the sheets, Suguru curling up on the other, unoccupied pillow this time, and Satoru so graciously plops down to lay on the curve of your back.

“Comfy now?,” you crane your neck to address the cat whose head rests at the incline of your ass. He murmurs a low meow in return, and you turn to Suguru, who’s eyes are the only thing you can see in the darkness. “And you?” The subtle sound of purring emits from his throat.

“Okay. G’night, you two.” And you are lulled off to sleep with their low, harmonious rumbling.

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis @elusivemoon @yunymphs @hellkaiserinphoenix @plutowrites @babytoshiii

#idk what tags to use for this btw #stsg au #x reader #stsg x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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pixiesfz · 13 days

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cough syrup s.c x child reader!

apart of sunshine series!

plot: you get sick right before a big game

warning: sickness, appendicitis, vomiting, this is literally my experience when I got my appendix removed (I was 6)

You hadn't been feeling good since you got home from Kindergarten, your stomach hurt and your head was pounding, you hadn't even felt the need to eat your lunch Steph made you. You had never felt like this before.

You hadn't talked a lot to your friends or on the way home which was weird since you usually told Steph about your whole day and complained about the boys in your class.

You didn't like them.

"Did Jack annoy you today?"

"Hm" you grunted and Steph just nodded and furrowed her brows, you must be tired she thought.

You ran straight to your room when you got home, Calvin following you as you both sat on a bean bag.

Calvin seemed to know you didn't feel good as he licked your arm, sitting on your lap "Hi Calvy" you sniffled as the dog looked up at you.

Usually when you felt sick you told your mum but all she and all your aunties had been talking about for the last week were the 'conti' cup which you didn't know what it meant but you knew it had to do with her soccer career.

Lara used to talk about it sometimes, but she used a different word for it.

So you stayed quiet, a tear running down your eye every so often as you played with toys in your play house.

Steph noticed your quietness at home and got worried "Sunshine?" she called out to you and you quickly rubbed your eye and turned around with a soft smile "mummy?"

"Did someone say something to you at Kindergarten?" you shook your head "nope" you hummed and turned back to your doll house.

Steph sighed before walking over to you and bending down "you okay Sunshine?" she asked and you faltered, nodding your head quickly after.

Steph knew better.

"Sunshine what did I say about lying" she looked at you sternly before you looked down to your feet "to not do it" you mumbled and she nodded "exactly".

She placed her hand on your forehead before her eyes popped open "Sunshine your head is burning, are you sick?"

You nodded "head and tummy hurts"

"Why didn't you tell me? has it been hurting since Kindergarten?" Steph asked, panic setting in

"You have cunti cup tomorrow!"

Stephs eyes grew wider "Con-ti not..." she sighed "that."

Tears started to roll down your face, not bothering to act anymore "hurts" you whined "everything hurts!"

Steph nodded quickly picking you up "What hurts the most Sunshine?" Steph asked and you pointed to the right end of your stomach

Steph nodded, blowing out air.

She never liked seeing you in pain, and you were really in pain.

"Can I touch it?" Steph asked and you wiped away your tears and nodded.

You let Steph lay you down on the couch, Calvin sitting nearby as she lightly laid her hands on your stomach

"wrong side mummy!"

Steph winced "right, sorry Sunshine" she apologized before moving to your right side, a scream leaving your lips when she applied pressure.

"Hurts" you yell and Steph wiped her forehead "I know honey, I know"

Steph stood up, panic thriving within her body, this wasn't just any stomach bug, should she call the hospital?, local doctors?, Mini?

"Your whines grew as you started to struggle to lay still "Mummy!" you cried as she left to grab her phone "Sunshine did you eat today?"

"Wasn't hungry" you grumbled, laying your hand out for Calvin, hoping he could distract you from the pain in your stomach.

Steph was quick, typing your symptoms into an app she had downloaded since she got you and winced when she saw the answer she begged it wouldn't be.

appendicitis.

Quickly she ran to your room, grabbing more comfortable clothes and a water bottle, running inside the house, lastly grabbing Calvin and putting him outside before grabbing you which you screamed at.

"Where we going?" You asked as tears rolled down your cheeks "We're seeing the doctor" (hospital, but she didn't want to freak you out) she replied and you clung onto her before she reached the car and sat you down in your seat.

She looked up to your tear covered face as she did the buckle "You will be okay Sunshine" she told you, wiping your cheeks before closing the door and running to the drivers seat.

Your whines didn't stop on the way and Steph almost started crying herself, her blood pressure dropping whenever your cries grew louder.

"I called the doctor and we get to go straight in Sunshine" she told you, her voice croaky.

You had become silent now and Steph didn't know if that was better or worse as she parked the car, running out to grab you and go to the front desk.

You had taken yourself out of reality, almost getting used to the pain as you looked around.

Must be a new doctors, you thought as Steph discussed with the lady on the chair before you were placed on an uncomfortable bed and taken to a white and blue room, some painted fishes on the side as well.

Tonight had been a long night.

A man came in with a metal circle thingy as he discussed with Steph, trying to talk to you but you were too scared.

You hadn't made a sound at all until he placed his circle on your stomach, a scream leaving your mouth as he pursed his lips and nodded.

"It's good you came now, before it burst" he informed your mum but you widened your eyes "what?" you ask

burst.

What did that mean.

Steph held your hand, squeezing it tight as the man left again, telling you he would be back quickly

"Sunshine?" Steph called for you as you turned your head, tears falling down "mummy?" you questioned, your voice breaking Steph's heart

"You're going to have a little surgery-" "Lara used to have surgeries!" You tried to get up as you yelled but Steph stopped you, you turned to her again seeing that she also had tears running down her face.

"It's not scary, trust me I've done his before, hey even Calvin's done this before" she said and you relaxed

If Calvin can do it so could you, if Lara did them, so could you.

The doctor came back in, some nurses behind him as they grabbed your bed again, wheeling to another room where the man held a plastic mask.

"Do you like chocolate y/n"?"

You nodded and Steph smiled "chocolates your favourite isn't it Sunshine" You smiled "I like chocolate Ice-cream" you said and the doctor and nurses smiled "this is just like chocolate the man said before passing Steph the mask.

"You trust me Sunshine?" she ask and you nodded, the woman putting the mask around your head as you tasted chocolate, a warm smile coming across your cheeks.

"What about your game?" You mumbled, starting to feel tired

"I'll be with you Sunshine."

When you woke up in your room you were surrounded by a lot of happy aunties with gifts in their hands.

"Did you win cunty cup?"

Steph didn't even bother correcting you this time, just happy you were feeling fine.

#woso #woso soccer #woso community #woso x reader #matildas #steph catley x reader #steph catley #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #sunshine

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azsazz · 3 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 15)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, doesn't actually happen.

Word Count: 4,008

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Masterlist]

Notes: ENJOY. Also, someone plz tell me they got tagged this time 😭

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Everything fucking hurts.

Your head is throbbing like someone is repeatedly hitting you with a hammer. You can’t even open your eyes because the dots of light in your vision are swimming in circles, and you’re pretty sure if you crack your eyes open and squint into the room you’ll surely lose the contents of your stomach, which is still mostly alcohol from last night.

You groan in agony because it’s the only thing you can do. Curling in further on yourself, you tug the covers up over your head, trying to block as much of the sun, creeping steadily in through the windows, as you can.

A deep inhale to try and ease your stomach brings along the scent of freshness; like night-chilled mist and cedar. The smell is so perfectly balanced, familiar and fresh in your aching lungs that it almost lulls you back to sleep. It’s effortlessly masculine and with another luxurious inhale, your brain connects the scent to its familiarity. It’s the same as the soap you’d used when you were forced to stay the night at the apartment next door, while Feyre and Rhysand had been having their public nudy show in your living room.

You want to snuggle into it, wallow in its comfort all day, but your mind is quickly catching up to you, running that specific thought back a second time, but slower.

It smells like the same soap you’d used when you were at Azriel’s apartment after the rainstorm.

Your eyes snap open and your body jolts into an upright position that makes your stomach roil, shoving your head down between your knees.

Fuck. You drank way too much last night.

You blink away the bleariness, the dizziness from your vision, staring down at your lap. You’re still wearing the clothes you’d ambled over to Cassian’s party in, and the fabric sticks to your skin uncomfortably. You feel like shit all around, sick from the alcohol, dirty from the night spent dancing and sweating, and you’re pretty sure your breath smells like you’d licked the floor of the local dive bar.

Another blink brings the sheets into focus, certainly ones that are not yours. These are a deep charcoal color, softer and smoother than anything you’ve ever touched. The thread count must be in the thousands. The mattress beneath your aching body feels like a cloud, and all of the effort that went into curating such a lovely bed surely shouldn’t be wasted.

You’re impressed for all of a few seconds until you lift your head and realize where you are.

Azriel’s room.

It’s easy to tell because your memories of last night slowly roll in like flipping through pages of your sketchbook.

“Look,” Cassian grunts as you stumble again and he has to put you on your feet again. He’s faring slightly better than you right now, but only because there are women to flirt with. “I know our friendship is still kind of new, but if you keep hanging all over me like this you’re going to scare away the ladies.”

You can’t help but to laugh. It feels good, so good that your chest aches with it. Your cheeks are red with drink, and Cassian hasn’t ever seen you grinning so much.

It kind of scares him.

“Where are your keys?” he continues, his hands warm on your hips where he’s trying to keep you from falling flat on your face. Maybe that last shot you’d taken together had been one too many. “Can I pat down your pockets?”

“I know you wanna feel me up, Cass,” you slur playfully, and his name sounds snake-like, with the way you drag out the S.

“Of course I do, (Y/N), any man would be stupid not to want you,” he comments but his words don’t register because the floor is slipping out from under your feet again.

“Feyre has the keys,” you hiccup. Then, “Are we on a roller coaster? The room is spinning.”

Cassian curses, poking his head out of the crowd to search for your missing roommate. She’s with Rhys, no doubt, but he doesn’t see them in the mass of bodies crowding his apartment. What he does see are a lot of disappointed, single women.

He gestures to you and then slices his hand under his chin in a cutting motion, signaling that he’s not with you, even though you’ve wilted against his chest, rubbing your cheek into the soft fabric of his shirt. Cassian watches his message land, their eyes sparkling in intrigue again, and he doesn’t care, he needs to get you somewhere safe so he can take that pretty brunette and her friend to his room.

The safest place in the apartment he knows is Azriel’s room.

“Oh my fucking Gods,” you groan, holding your head when your curse rings in your ears. Of course you’re in Azriel’s room, because you’re fated to end up in situations that will make him hate you even more.

Slowly, you shove the blankets away, slipping your legs over the edge of the bed. The good news is, you feel like you’ve slept for a hundred hours. The other good thing is that you didn’t throw up anywhere in his room that you can see, or smell.

The bad news is that you don’t know where Azriel is.

But at least he’s not currently here to witness you rising from the dead.

Blindly, you reach for you phone, patting across the table next to the bed. In the back of your throat sits a lump that you consciously work to swallow down. Later, you might regret not purging the rest of the sickness from your body, but the last place you want to do that is here, in Azriel’s room. What the fuck did you end up drinking last night? You remember the flaming shots and Cassian throwing out a partygoer who looked awfully familiar.

Then there had been Mor, who had told you all about Rhysand growing up over a few drinks. The longer Cassian had forced the two of you to talk, presumably so he could sneak off to flirt with girls while you were distracted with each other, the more Rhysand’s cousin seemed to relax. Those cutting looks had turned from pinning you to your spot to glaring at any of the girls who came up to the both of you to ask about the hosts of the party.

Mor’s stories had you seeing your roommate’s boyfriend in a different light. And the embarrassing ones were even better. Like the one time they had gone sledding down the slope of Mor’s family home in Colorado. It had been a steep incline and they’d been warned many times not to go down there, but the fresh snow had been all too tantalizing not to.

Their punishment had been to walk back up the hill to the house, and when they were small the trek felt like it was ten thousand steps high. And they had to carry their sleds behind them. Rhysand had thrown up halfway and Mor had gotten sick from the tears of laughter streaming down her face afterwards.

Cassian’s words cut through the smile trying to sluice across your face. Azriel had said something about a date. Your stomach revolts but you don’t know why. The thought of Azriel missing out on one of Cassian’s parties doesn’t seem out of character for the broody man, but going on a date? This is the first you’ve heard about Azriel doing so. You know much more than you’d like to know about his roommates’ sexual lives, but you didn’t think Azriel was even open to going out. You don’t know why you care.

You don’t.

It doesn’t sound as convincing as it may have once been.

He’s ridiculously attractive, so why wouldn’t he be going on dates? He probably has a plethora of phone numbers from girls begging to go out with him. So many that it makes your teeth grind at the thought.

Your fingers connect with your phone and your head throbs at the brightness of your screen, rivaling the sun’s rays spearing through the blinds.

And then you see the time.

“Shit,” you curse, scrambling for the shoes someone had kindly taken off for you. They’re piled at the foot of the bed.

You’re late for class.

Gods, you don’t remember the last time you drank like this. Must have been sometime last year because even with all the wine you’d consumed during your pottery painting with Feyre, Cassian, and Rhysand, you hadn’t felt this badly. This is a next level hangover.

You brace yourself when your hand lands on the doorknob to his room. There’s a lock and it’s flipped shut, so you turn it back carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when the click is quiet.

You freeze in your tracks, breath catching in your throat when you slide the door open.

Azriel is lying on the couch, his body splayed out in a long line. His shirt has risen from where he’s lifted his arm, resting it over his eyes to block the sun coming in through the windows, revealing the cut of his hips. There’s two tattoos painted on the skin that you hadn’t noticed the other night, a pair of feathered wings lining the defining muscle of his hips.

You lick your lips before realizing that in the quiet of the apartment, Azriel is fast asleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest helps give him away. That, and the fact that he’s not snarking at you or shooting daggers in your direction.

It’s your saving grace.

The coffee table shoved in front of the couch is littered with cups and rolling paper wrappers, alcohol spilled across its surface. You have no idea how the glass tabletop has survived the rowdy part unscathed, because you’re pretty sure there was one point in the night where you saw a girl standing on top of it, readying herself to fall into the crowd of people congregated in the living room.

The floor is much the same, and you feel like you’re walking a minefield as you tiptoe around questionable puddles and garbage. The stench of alcohol in the air makes your head spin, your stomach protesting and you press a hand to it, trying to comfort the ache.

You escape the apartment without waking Azriel, breathing a sigh of relief that has the remainders of your final drink swimming up your throat.

You make a run for your apartment next door, and thankfully, Feyre answers your knocking.

You don’t like the knowing look she’s wearing, but she doesn’t pester you while you make a break for the bathroom.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take you long to get ready for class.

You’d told Feyre to go on ahead without you when she had knocked softly on the door while you had your head in the toilet, but the sound still clanged through your head like a gong. She was going to get coffee with Rhysand before class and asked if you wanted anything, to which you gratefully accepted.

Even though you have plans to meet Lucien at the coffeehouse for a drink, you need something now or you’re afraid that you won’t make it through the day.

As badly as you want to go and be a hermit in bed all day, you don’t want to miss your classes. Alis is bringing in another model and grading what you come up with in class, and you don’t want to be docked points for missing out.

Your other class for the day is Art History, and you need to show up to be able to drink in as much of the different styles of art as possible.

Dressing quickly, your clothes stick to your freshly-showered skin. You shove a baseball cap over your hair because while you had the time to wash your body, your hair had been left neglected until later tonight.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you snag your sketchbook from your desk, shoving all of the loose papers hanging out the edges inside. It’s a haphazard job at best, but you’re already running too late for your liking, and you can organize them later.

Like as you wait for the Gods-awful elevator your apartment building has.

The queasiness in your stomach has gone down but the piece of toast you’d forced yourself to eat threatens to come right back up when you spot Azriel, his own backpack slung over his shoulder, waiting for the elevator.

You can still turn around and hide away, there’s definitely still time to—of course he’s turning around at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

His golden eyes glitter with amusement and you can’t shove away the shiver that slides down your spine like a paint filled brush as he trails you from head to toe.

“Sleep well?” He asks gruffly, and the sound of his voice makes your knees weak. Tripping on your next step, your sketchbook goes flying from your hands, spilling the loose papers you’d just stuffed in there everywhere.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you can hear Azriel curse in surprise, but you feel the hot mortification slicing through your body. There are sketches of his hands fluttering to the ground. Ones you had drawn while working on your last project for Alis’ class, the one where you drew Leonardo’s Study of Hands. Azriel’s had been your inspiration, and there’s sketches of them in all sorts of poses, some more promiscuous than others, and you’re completely fucking mortified.

You drop to your knees, face burning red as you scoop the papers closer to you, praying that he doesn’t see. Azriel’s already crouching down with you, helping gather some of the drawings, and the fact that this is the first time he’s ever seen any of your work is overshadowed by the fact that there’s a piece of thick drawing paper right next to his boot. It’s creased from its fall, half of it turned up at an angle. You can see the wavy lines you’d tried so hard to recreate from memory. If he picks that up and looks at it you will have to transfer schools.

“Don’t touch that,” you almost screech when his fingers close around the edge of the paper. You watch it in slow motion, the clench of his jaw, the way that his eyes flick down to his hands, marred flesh fully on display. Oh Gods, you think you might throw up all over again. He thinks you mean that you don’t want him to touch your things because of his fucking hands. Your throat tightens, heart beating so fast in your chest that you’re sure it’s going to burst through your skin. Quickly, trying to rectify yourself, you plead, “No.” Your voice cracks around the lump forming but you shove past it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Azriel’s face is tight as he stands. You scramble, collecting your papers into your arms. He towers over you, even standing, and you don’t like the flicker of muscle in his jaw because he’s clenching his teeth so hard.

You don’t like the shadows writhing through the gold of his eyes, molten with anger.

He hands out the papers he’s picked up and an apology is on the tip of your tongue. Reaching out, you’re just about to grasp them, croak out a thank you, when Azriel drops them.

You watch them flutter to the ground again. The elevator dings and the doors squeal open, but you can’t stop staring at the paper on the ground now. You swallow hard, the mortification bubbling into annoyance.

Azriel’s boots twist in your vision and he enters the elevator without another word.

Your eyes prickle but you don’t know why. The breaths you’re releasing through your nose to keep calm are harsh and shaky. Like Azriel’s hands. You need to go to class, and he can fuck off now.

You dip down and snatch the papers from the hall floor, not caring if they get crumpled in your haste. The doors of the elevator begin wheeling shut but you slip through before they can shut completely, trapping you inside with Azriel.

The tiny, metal box that grinds down the elevator shaft is filled to the brim with tension. You can feel the stiffness wafting off of Azriel’s body, though he’s leaning against the wall like he doesn’t have a care in the world, head currently buried in his phone.

Your anger emits in waves, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. What you had said came out the wrong way. You had in no way meant it in the way that you didn’t want his hands touching your work, but the way you’d seen Azriel go preternaturally still, something flash in his eyes, still makes you sick to your stomach. You want to cry, because they’re not tainted in the least. If anything, his hands are the most beautiful hands you’ve ever seen, imperfect yet so, so perfect.

Of course he had retaliated in the way that he did. You would’ve misconstrued the comment as well, but there’s an itch on your side that tells you he didn’t have to react like that, throwing your papers back to the ground. Another misunderstanding between the two of you.

You open your mouth to speak, but there’s a screeching that’s more horrible than it usually is, and the elevator is jerking to a grinding halt.

You stumble a little, and Azriel steadies you before removing his hands just as quickly. His brows are pinched and the lights in the tiny space flicker before going out completely.

“What the fuck?” You question, pitched higher because of your nerves. You’re stuck, the elevator has stopped working and you’re stuck in it with Azriel. “Oh my Gods, we’re trapped!”

Azriel grunts, punching the buttons on the door. An emergency light flickers on, casting the metal box in a low, fluorescent light. Nothing that he’s doing works, and you’re officially beginning to freak out.

You watch Azriel try to pry the doors open, but even with the bulging of his biceps he’s no match for the metal jaws of death.

Throwing a look over his shoulder, he says, “What are you standing around for, princess? Call the fire department or something.”

“Right,” you respond weakly, pulling your attention from his muscular form. The dispatch is nice about it, sending someone your way and all you have to do is stay calm and await assistance. “Thanks, “ you reply to her, hanging up the phone and turning back to Azriel. “So we wait.”

He looks like he wants to ask more questions, but he nods instead, sinking down and making himself comfortable against the wall. Looking up at you expectantly, you sigh, dropping your bag from your shoulder and collapsing to the floor across from him.

His legs are so long they nearly stretch across the entire elevator, and you can’t help but follow the path back to his eyes, glowing as he watches you. You avert your gaze as quickly as possible.

You don’t know how long it will take for the fire department to get here, so you shoot a quick text to Feyre with your predicament, letting her know that you won’t be able to make it to class and to give your coffee away. Then you send a sad emoji because you really, really needed that caffeine.

Across from you, Azriel’s phone buzzes. He reads it, and then his eyes flicker up to yours in a glare.

“Cassian seems to think that this is funny,” he says, and you don’t know why the deep timber of his voice feels like fingers brushing across your skin. “Why did you tell them?”

“I texted Feyre,” you huff defensively. Crossing your arms over your chest, you level him with your own glare. “I don’t control who she tells.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, shutting off his screen.

It’s silent for a long time. There are no sounds coming from outside of the elevator, and you wonder if anyone has even noticed that it’s trapped. The godsdamned thing takes so long to arrive at any floor that you think most patrons take the stairs now, or give in when the elevator of doom never reached their floor.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, mostly to break the silence. Azriel raises a straight brow and you flush. Sheepishly, you continue. “I didn’t mean what I said in the hall like that. I just—I didn’t want you to see my sketches.”

It’s the most you can give him without spilling the truth of exactly what the drawings were.

Azriel’s jaw works, and it looks like he’s contemplating something important, with the way he’s assessing you. Maybe he’s trying to read if you’re telling the truth, if your apology is sincere or not. The intensity of his eyes makes you want to pull your hat down over your own face to hide it from sight.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He surprises you by asking.

Your lips part in shock. “What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asks again, because he doesn't know how he can word the question any differently.

The question throws you. Azriel’s ignored your apology, and instead he’s asking what you’re doing tomorrow night? Has the elevator getting stuck somehow transported you into the Twilight Zone? Is this even really Azriel sitting here with you?

“Um…nothing?” you respond, and he quirks a brow.

“Is that a question or an answer, princess?”

“An answer. I’m doing nothing. Why?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, tipping his head back to rest against the wall, as if he’s contemplating even finishing his question. He looks ever the picture of nonchalance, but what you can’t see is the way he’s curling his fingers to stop their trembling, the rapid beating of his heart.

“I’m having an exhibition tomorrow night. Would you like to join me?”

What? You’re even more dumbfounded now than if that had been the end of the conversation. An exhibition? Tomorrow night? And he’s asking you of all people?

“Who are you and what have you done with my douchebag neighbor?” you ask, shifting in your spot.

A wry smile cracks his mouth and it makes your heart flutter. “Still here, princess.”

Your mouth twists sourly at the nickname. “Let me get this straight. You want me to go to an exhibition with you tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” Azriel nods, agreeing with the echo of his words you’ve just replayed back to him.

“Why don’t you ask your roommates to go with you?”

“They don’t know about it.”

Huh. You don’t know why Azriel wouldn’t invite Cassian or Rhysand to an exhibition he’s having. Well, you could see Cassian wreaking havoc and drinking too much champagne, but Rhys? It seems like the perfect spot for someone like him.

You mull it over, analyzing him. Azriel waits patiently as you study his eyes. The gold is bright under these lights, looking like two golden bars of sun. He’s never been easy to read, and even right now, as you’re trying with all of your might, you can’t find any flicker of anything that tells you this may be a joke.

You tut, crossing your arms over your chest to stop yourself from wringing your fingers in your lap. “Why me?”

“No one better to go with than someone I’m not trying to impress,” Azriel answers seriously. And, he has a point there. You won’t have to hold back from telling him your honest opinion of his work.

You hope that he’s terrible at art, but you have a feeling he’s anything but.

“That doesn’t give me a lot of time to find something to wear.”

His eyes flash and you wish you knew why.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

Azriel nods, and that’s that. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight, then.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r

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#midnight muse #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel au

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puddingyun · 3 months

Text

sensitive . ݁₊ ⊹ k.ys

yeo x reader

18+ mdni

: 1.6k words, childhood friends, smut, dacryphilia, handjob/blowjob :

day 6 of fff24 ♡

Yeosang had always been softer than other guys you knew. He didn't care for the ugly parts of growing up - the playground fights, the bitching and backstabbing, the grazing of knees and spraining of ankles - and instead preferred the quieter, more beautiful things. He liked playing video games by himself, watching dust motes dance in the sun, and sipping on strawberry-banana smoothies when everybody else was seeing who could down the most malt chocolate shakes without puking.

It had always been quietly presumed that he would grow out of his softness when he got older, replace his naïveté with a little harshness and sharpen the gentle parts of him. This never happened, though. When he was younger, Yeosang had been the boy who needed a kiss to his knee before a band-aid could be applied, and now that he was older he still needed a kiss to his bruises before he could forget about their dull ache. As much as some people liked to turn their noses up at those parts of him, you couldn't help but find it endearing. He was sweeter than anybody else you knew, the same way a bruised peach was sweeter than a firm one.

Even this afternoon when you'd been walking back to his place in the snow you could feel his hand holding on tight to yours each time you walked over an icy patch, scared to slip and hurt himself. Each time you glanced over at him and saw his rosy cheeks you were reminded of his clumsy caution when he was younger, tiptoeing when everybody else would run.

You could hear him in the shower from where you sat on the sofa, his soft sighs interrupting the water drumming against tile. You turned down the sound of the TV and listened to him from afar, all of his faint sounds and movements filling the apartment like a radio show playing from next door.

"I'm sleepy," was the first thing he murmured as he stepped out of the bathroom, dragging his feet along the floor on his way to the sofa. He sat down beside you with a long huff and then slowly leaned into you, his face pressing into the crook of your neck so that you could feel his breath on your skin. "Aren't you sleepy yet?"

"Only a little. I just wanted to watch TV for a while," you replied, raising a hand to run your fingers through Yeosang's hair. When your nails scratched his scalp you felt him melt into you even more, moving to wrap his arms around you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired," he mumbled, withdrawing his face from your neck to see what it was that you were watching on TV. You watched the way he blinked slowly, trying to figure out what was happening in the middle of the episode he'd just walked in on. He was sweet and fuzzy around the edges the way you'd always known him to be.

"Hey," you whispered, smoothing some of his hair out of his face. "C'mere."

He was only a little curious when he turned his head back towards you, lips parted and ready to ask what was wrong. When you leaned in and pressed a soft peck to his lips his expression quickly changed to a smile, hands holding onto your waist tightly as he chased after your lips, kissing you again and again and again until you were breathless.

"I thought you said you were tired," you teased, kissing the space between his eyebrows.

"I am, but..." he started and just as quickly trailed off, his cheeks flushed and hands wandering up beneath your top.

"But what, Yeo?" you asked, already smirking. As though on cue, Yeosang blinked twice and his eyes turned shiny with tears, glimmering in the low glow coming from the TV.

"We could kiss more," he mumbled, thumbs dragging along the skin beneath your breasts as though testing the waters. You watched, amazed as always, as his eyes remained a pool of unshed tears even as he tried to blink them away. They stayed there, not spilling or going away, and Yeosang's cheeks only turned darker the longer you went without answering.

"Okay," you replied finally, smiling at his relieved expression. You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and laid a hand on his chest. "Lay back."

Yeosang did as told, obedient and malleable as always. You placed your hands on his shoulders and your legs on either side of him so that you were pressed together, his arousal from the kisses you'd exchanged already obvious. Slowly, so slow it ached, you leaned down and kissed him again. This time his tongue swiped against your lips, hot and needy, and when you opened your mouth to let him in he groaned low in his throat.

His hands explored while your tongue licked into your mouth, pushing up your shirt only to travel back down to your hips before his blunt nails were digging into your ass, pulling you closer to him as though you weren't already as close as you could get. You took his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking and letting go with a soft nip that made Yeosang moan. When you pulled back a string of saliva connected your lips for a second before snapping and disappearing. You giggled, watching as the first tear rolled down Yeosang's temple.

"Are you okay?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. Yeosang nodded, flustered, and sniffled. You felt him grind his hips up into you, eyes fluttering shut as he did.

"Yeah. I just like you a lot," he admitted breathily. He looked beautiful, lips slick with spit and lashes wet with tears he hadn't yet shed. You leaned in and kissed along his jaw, right up to his ear, and then kissed down his neck, stopping your trail only to bite down on his skin. "Fuck-"

Yeosang's moan trailed off into a whimper as you sucked on the skin until you'd left behind a dark, splotchy hickey there, the indents of your teeth still visible around it. You glanced up at Yeosang and noticed that his temples were both wet now, glistening each time he blinked. You pressed a quick kiss there, tasting the salt of his tears on your lips, and then moved to position yourself between his legs.

"Are you going to...?" Yeosang asked quietly, his voice wobbly and his hips bucking up into nothing.

"Do you want me to?" you asked, smiling when Yeosang nodded. "Okay, baby."

He was only a little squirmy when you pulled down his sweatpants and underwear to reveal his dick, already hard and leaking precum against his tummy. You smiled, leaning in to kiss the base while you watched his expression twitch from the slightest touch.

His soft panting rose to a string of moans as you took his dick in your hand, rubbing your thumb against the frenulum and watching how more precum oozed out of him. You couldn't help but smile as you began to stroke him, each movement wetter than the last. Even now he was sweet, his cheeks wet when he lifted his head to look down at you. It was all you could do not to shove your free hand in your pants and get off to the sight of him.

"Fuck, that feels good," Yeosang moaned, thrusting up to meet your movements so that he was fucking your fist. His abs tensed with each movement and then spasmed with each little hiccup and sob that managed to escape his lips. Leaning down to suck on the head of his dick you watched him press a hand over his mouth to contain his noises, moans muffled as you flicked your tongue against the head of his dick.

"Cum whenever you want, Yeosangie," you reassured him, eyeing the hand balled into a fist at his side. With each stroke of his dick you twisted your wrist a little, watching how fat, hot tears escaped Yeosang's eyes with each blink. He threw his head back and moaned loudly, dropping his hand from his mouth to let his sounds out into the apartment. You giggled, leaning down to kiss down one of the veins that ran along his cock.

"That feels - fuck - that feels so good," he sobbed, voice strained as he fucked into your hand. "Can I really cum whenever?"

"Of course, love," you hummed, kneading at his thigh with your free hand. "Whenever you want."

This was all the permission he needed, because as soon as you put his mouth back on him he was spilling his load on your tongue, whimpering and sobbing as you sucked him off through his orgasm. Even as you lifted your head and swallowed what he'd given you he was still hiccuping, tears rolling down his cheeks like a waterfall. Except this waterfall wasn't thundering or dangerous, it was meek and sweet.

"Good?" you asked as you moved back up to kiss him once more, the taste of cum and tears and spit all mixing to create an odd but familiar flavour.

"Mhm," Yeosang sniffed. He smiled up at you. "Now I'm really tired."

"Let me go take a shower then we can get into bed," you assured him, stroking his hair out of his face to kiss his forehead.

As you stood, you glanced back at Yeosang, his face all messy with tears and his nose and cheeks pink, and felt your heart (as well as something else) throb for him.

You really did love how soft Yeosang was.

#pirateeznet #joongfryefff24 #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #he's the sweetest (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

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hyuuukais · 5 months

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-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee know x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> swearing, y/n is cheated on, references to sex/suggestive, y/n doesn't have a good relationship with her family

taglist rules -> CLOSED!

MASTERLIST

INTROS -> Y/N & CO , APT 143 , OTHER

CH 1 -> BREAKUP

CH 2 -> LONELY ST. APARTMENTS

CH 3 -> AM I IN?

CH 4 -> JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

CH 5 -> BAD BITCH ENERGY

CH 6 -> LIVE A LITTLE

CH 7 -> WORKPLACE ROMANCES

CH 8 -> EXS AND OHS

CH 9 -> IS THIS A DATE?

CH 10 -> TAKE IT SLOW

CH 11 -> NEXT STEPS

CH 12 -> FAILED ROMANTIC ESCAPADES

CH 13 -> IT'S... COMPLICATED

CH 14 -> I'M THE PROBLEM?

CH 15 -> LIKE IT USED TO BE

CH 16 -> BIG MISTAKES

CH 17 -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE

CH 18 -> LISTEN TO ME

CH 19 -> OPERATION MINJI

CH 20 -> UNWANTED MEMORIES

CH 21 -> COMFORT ME

CH 22 -> BEFORE

CH 23 -> I MISS YOU

CH 24 -> Y/N TIME

CH 25 -> MOVE IN DAY

CH 26 -> OPPORTUNITIES

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know smau #lee minho smau #skz smau #skz social media au #stray kids smau #stray kids social media au #non idol au #lee know non idol au

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animeomegas · 5 months

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The Quest for a Second Life - Part 4 - Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My! (3)

ITACHI X ALPHA!READER

Summary: This was it. The climax. Narratively and physically. You could safely say that there was potions and magic and sex, oh my. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple Naruto Characters

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Explicit n-sfw content. All alphas have penises, fyi.

A/N: It's finally December! Happy holidays everyone! Anyway, enjoy the final part of Itachi's book! I really enjoyed writing for him and his witchy goodness. I don't know if this chapter is good because I'm so tired lol. Next chapter we'll meet the second mystery omega in the second book, no spoilers yet, but I think my dearest friend @omeganronpa will have quite a difficult choice ahead~ I do like to make my gifts slightly torturous of course ;) Enjoy <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

You pulled back from Itachi and knelt at his feet, chomping at the bit to shower him in love and pleasure. You were grateful that your discarded shirt provided enough of a cushion to keep your knees from being bruised by the rock floor, although at this point, you weren’t sure there was any injury big enough to stop you.

Itachi’s feet were resting on the stone, with his calves and knees pressed together. You gently ran your hands over Itachi’s calves, up to his knees and then back down again, admiring his soft skin.

“Can you open your legs for me, pretty?” you cooed, not ceasing with your ministrations.

Itachi shivered, “I… You do it. Please.”

His desire for complete submission was certainly one of the sexiest parts of his newly discovered temperament, and one you were eager to encourage.

You placed on hand on each of his knees and then slowly drew his legs apart like you were unwrapping a gift. They parted easily, showing a great amount of flexibility in his hips, and soon he had his feet placed on the floor, one each side of the stone slab. Then, taking care to avoid any friction burns, you grabbed Itachi’s hips and dragged him closer to you, until his bare crotch was in front of your face, completely uncovered and unobscured.

The shadows created by the fire accentuated the angles of Itachi’s body, drawing your eyes in a multiple of directions at once. First to his hip bones, then to the valley of his surprisingly toned stomach, and finally, to the star of the show, his rock-hard, rosy cock that curved towards his stomach and twitched cutely as you stared at it. It was a good size, just a little smaller than average, and had a pleasant colour and presentation. All around, it was a pretty dick that suited him, and you couldn’t wait to get your mouth on it.

You glanced up and noticed that Itachi had propped himself up on his arms to watch you. When you caught his gaze, he broke eye contact bashfully. Cute.

The pliant skin of Itachi’s thighs was so soft that you had no difficulty redirecting your focus to them. Watching the skin move around your thumbs as you massaged him was hypnotising. His thighs were also surprisingly toned. Did having to walk everywhere cause this, or was this yet another nod towards his questionable childhood? It hardly seemed like Itachi had a passion for working out.

Regardless, you laid your cheek on his left thigh and gave it an affectionate nuzzle. You also left a little kiss for good measure, one that could have probably been described as chaste had it been on Itachi’s lips instead.

You had been given a blank canvas and you were going to paint it so thoroughly that the marks would stay even if this world reset.

You started at the lower part of his left thigh, kissing, teasing, and biting your way up. Every gasp and whimper that you drew from your witch inflated your confidence and spurred you on further. A hickey here, teeth marks there, kisses everywhere you could.

But then, just as you reached the crease where his thighs ended and his hips started, just as Itachi’s cock twitched in anticipation, you withdrew, starting again from the lower parts of his thigh, this time the right one.

Itachi hissed in frustration but didn’t voice a complaint.

You repeated your ministrations on the other thigh, but once again, as you reached the place Itachi wanted you the most, you withdrew.

Itachi made a little petulant noise this time.

“You’re teasing me,” he accused, the shadow of a pout on his face.

“Hmm, am I?” you teased back, scratching your fingernails over his hips and lower stomach. You laughed as he glared at you. You made to go for his cock but diverted at the last moment to press on one of the love bites.

“Stop teasing,” he said, his pout deepening.

“Oh, so demanding.” You blew some air onto his cock and watched it jump. “You don’t look like someone in a position to be making demands, ‘tachi.”

Much to your amusement, Itachi huffed, blowing some loose hair from his face.

“Itachi,” you cooed, nuzzling his thigh. “I know what’s going to get you feeling really good. Just lay back and let me give you what you need. Your job is to take it, not demand it.”

You had fallen easily and quickly into your role as a dom, the words spilling out before you could stop them. You were worried for a moment that you crossed some lines, but Itachi’s pupils expanded, and the fight bled out of him instantly. Oh… he liked it. He liked that you were in control of his pleasure, and he had just been playing a little at being the brat, not that he was particularly good at it.

You watched as Itachi pressed a shaky hand to his mouth, a healthy blush on his cheeks that was slowly creeping down his chest. Yes, you could tell he was a good boy, not a brat, and you expected no further petulance from him now that you had set your expectations for his behaviour.

Despite all your teasing though, you had no intention of making him wait. Primarily because the saliva pooling in your mouth was becoming unsustainable as every cell in your body screamed at you to take his pretty cock in your mouth and make him see stars.

Without warning, you enveloped his dick with your mouth until your lips were sealed around the base, taking him completely in one movement. Itachi let out an aborted scream, out of shock or pleasure you weren’t sure, but you hoped it was both.

“Ah, fuck, that’s—”

That was the first swear you had heard from him, which only served to remind you that you were the first person to ever use your mouth on him like this. You were the only one who got to see him like this, and that thought made you hot, even in the middle of the Winter.

You hollowed your cheeks and slowly and deliberately moved up and down. The weight of him on your tongue was satisfying and he tasted surprisingly pleasant. You swirled your tongue around the head. Itachi seized for a moment, and when you looked up at him, you saw that his jaw was hanging open.

You couldn’t smirk at him while you had his cock in your mouth, but you hoped your eyes could convey your thoughts well enough.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Itachi was muttering to himself, looking like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

You paid special attention to the largest vein that ran along the underside of his cock, using your tongue to massage and caress it. Itachi’s hips jolted, lifting towards your mouth. He let out a strangled noise, like he was trying to moan and gasp at the same time. As his hips jolted, his cock hit the back of your throat. You coughed, not expecting the sudden force, and pulled back.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?” Itachi looked mortified. He tried to sit up, presumably to check on you, but you finished clearing your throat and placed a hand on his stomach to keep him reclined.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” you said, sending him a reassuring look. “It was my fault; clearly I should have been pinning your hips down.” To make your point, you grabbed his hips in your hands and held them firmly to the stone slab. “There. Now you can’t be naughty anymore.”

Itachi made an outraged noise, “I’m not—I’m not—I’m not naughty.”

“No, not anymore.” It was hard to keep your grin supressed but teasing him was simply too much fun.

“You—”

Itachi’s words cut off as you returned to the blowjob, the argument dying on his lips. He was leaking precum steadily now, but it wasn’t nearly as bitter as you had expected. Was the more pleasant taste a feature of his very healthy diet, or a feature of living in an erotica? Perhaps both. Would the same be true for you? A hypothesis for a later time.

After a few minutes, you pulled off the omega’s now glistening dick and took to lathering the sides with your tongue to give your mouth a bit of a break. You paid extra attention to the head; Itachi seemed the most sensitive there. You used your tongue to circle it in tight loops, occasionally dipping into his slit.

“Oh my god, don’t stop, please, please, please,” Itachi babbled. He sat up and laced his fingers in your hair, still rambling incoherently. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t, I can’t, don’t stop!”

You weren’t normally a fan of your partner trying to guide your head when you were giving oral, but Itachi seemed to be less interested in guiding you, and more interested in using you as a way to stay upright, so you allowed it. You could already tell that, if you stayed in this world, Itachi would have you wrapped around his little finger. Good job he wasn’t a brat, because you didn’t have the heart to tame him.

As the blowjob continued, Itachi kept proving that he was incredibly sensitive. As you kissed up his cock, he whole body shivered, and when you were lucky enough to catch glimpses of his face, his eyes were clenched tight. Any semblance of vocal control had flown out the proverbial window, and Itachi’s cacophony of moans were echoing around the cave, filling your head from every direction. That, combined with the way his silhouette was pasted in shadows on the cave wall, made it feel like you were being entirely consumed by Itachi. You were surrounded by him and his pleasure, and it was the most invigorating feeling imaginable.

This hadn’t at all been what you imagined when you swore that today would be the day that you and Itachi would take things further, but there was something about it that made it perfect.

Itachi looked entirely wrecked at this point, making little ‘ah’ noises whenever you moved your tongue. You wondered briefly if Itachi’s sensitivity was his own trait or born from existing in an erotica. Would you also be more sensitive? You hoped so. Oh! Would you be able to stay hard for longer or recover faster? Now that would be handy.

You gave a particularly harsh suck and suddenly Itachi’s legs came up to wrap around your head, trapping you against his dick, much to your surprise. Itachi didn’t seem to notice, even as you coughed.

Without warning, Itachi plummeted into an orgasm, filling your mouth with his sweet cum. Considering his inexperience, you figured that even he hadn’t known what was happening fast enough to give you a warning.

“Hah, there’s— hngg, how, I can’t—” Itachi was coiled like a spring while he came, his stomach muscles clenching with every shot. Dutifully, you swallowed everything, trying your best to keep up.

After the final shot, Itachi suddenly went limp. He flopped backwards, returning to his original reclined position. His legs fell from their tightly gripped position on your head to lay limply on your shoulders. He was taking deep, shuddering breaths, but didn’t move or speak.

You used your new freedom to wipe your lips. Yep, this world was definitely making everything taste better, there’s no way a good diet would be enough to make it taste like that.

Carefully, you moved each of Itachi’s legs off your shoulders and placed them on the ground. Itachi made no attempt to stop you, physically or verbally.

Once you were free to stand, you went to his head end and perched on the edge of the stone slab. Itachi looked completely blissed out; his entire face was flushed, his eyes were still closed, and his breathing was still a little uneven. You doubted he’d ever had an orgasm like that, and the part of your brain controlled by your base instincts was ever so cocky about it.

“You okay?” you asked, ignoring the instincts and going with the softer impulse. You caressed his forehead lovingly, swiping away stray hairs. “That must have been a lot, huh?”

Itachi hummed in agreement, his eyes slowly fluttering open to look at you. He held your gaze for a few moments, his eyes still lidded, before they shot fully open in panic.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t warn you, and I manhandled you, and I’m so sorry, do you need some napkins, let me grab you some.” He sat up and tried to reach for the basket, but you caught his hands and held them to your chest.

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me, and I don’t need any napkins, I swallowed everything.”

There was a beat of silence before Itachi’s jaw dropped. You snorted at the scandalised look on his face. He was staring at your lips like he’d never be able to look at them the same way ever again. He looked a little faint, so you poked him on the nose to bring his attention back to the present.

“How was that?” you asked, changing the subject.

Itachi drew his legs up to his chest, “That was amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you said sincerely. You certainly didn’t doubt that he was telling the truth after his performance. “You must be tired now though, maybe we should get home.” It was hurting your heart, (and your dick), to say that, but having just had his first real sexual experience, Itachi might not be in the mindset to reciprocate.

“A little, but—” He looked down and noticed your painfully tight trousers. “Oh! You haven’t finished yet.”

You sent him a wry grin, “Believe me, I’m aware. Sucking you off was incredibly hot and all, don’t get me wrong, but I need a bit more stimulation than that to get off.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed and it was incredibly obvious what he was thinking.

“Don’t worry about me, Itachi.” He opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “We should head home before it gets dark.”

You really weren’t trying to play the martyr; that had been intense, and Itachi probably wanted a break, erotica or no. You didn’t want your first orgasm with him to be one of obligation, no matter how much your animal brain was arguing that that was better than nothing.

Itachi bit his lip, looking indecisive, but quickly his expression melted into one of determination.

“Itachi—”

“No. I want to try.” The look in his eyes was one you had seen before, mainly when he was trying to wrangle a new dinner recipe into submission, but also that one time he’d almost fought the waiter in town. It was the look of someone who wasn’t going to be easily swayed.

You hesitated, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now swap places with me. And take off your trousers.”

You did as he asked, throbbing in anticipation. The second your trousers had been discarded, Itachi stood up on his slightly shaky legs and pushed you down onto the stone bench. He then dragged your shirt into a better position for him and knelt down in between your legs.

Your legs were already spread, so Itachi placed his hands on your crotch, head tilted like his was trying to study the outline of your dick through your underwear. The whole situation reminded you of the time he’d spilt hot chocolate on you. At least this time he was aware of what he was doing.

“Itachi, you are so stunningly hot, has anyone ever told you that?”

Itachi smiled, “Only you.”

“That’s a crime, but I’m also glad I don’t have to fight off any competition. Imagine if we lived in a town; I’d be fighting suitors away from you with a stick.”

“Shut up.” Itachi’s voice was full of embarrassed amusement. “I’m trying to focus.”

“My bad.” You mimed zipping your lips, locking them, and then throwing away the key.

Itachi sighed, shaking his head, before focusing back on you. He studied you for a moment.

“I’m taking these off.” Impatiently, he tugged at the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your lips to aid him, and soon he had them off, and the fabric fell to your ankles.

Itachi had been studying you so closely that as its cloth prison was removed, your cock sprang out and thwacked Itachi directly on the cheek, an audible skin slapping noise reverberating around the cave.

“Oh!” Itachi jumped, his hands grabbing your erection automatically. Because he was so close, he had to go a little cross eyed to keep your dick in his sight.

You giggled, pushing him a little further back, just until he was sitting back on his knees. Itachi blinked up at you through his dark eye lashes, looking confused and a little upset that you’d pushed him away. He was so cute, completely out of his element and yet so sexy.

“Slow down,” you said, squishing his cheeks in your hands. Itachi shot you a glare, but the impact was lessened by his squishy cheeks. You laughed and let him go. “First, let me remove these.” You took your ankles out of your underwear and kicked it off to the side. “Now, relax. Why don’t you use your hands first, ‘tachi. Get a feel for it.”

Itachi’s look of determination returned as you gave him some instructions, and he immediately started to explore.

He ran his hands around the shaft first, wrapping you in a fist and stroking up and down. He moved slowly, occasionally looking up at you to see your reaction. He ran his fingers over the head, even tapping on your slit when a bead of precum appeared and then examining the liquid on the tip of his finger.

You were dangerously close to blowing your load all over his face and he had barely touched you. It was just so deeply erotic the way he was using you to satisfy his curiosity and learn what he was supposed to do. The innocence was enticing, but you were also going to have fun watching experience slowly overcome it. You wanted to corrupt him.

‘James, I’m developing new kinks.’

‘Congratulations, human alpha. Is it a human custom to mark such an event with a celebration?’

‘Oh, I’ll be celebrating in a moment, James, that I can promise you.’

Itachi was holding your erection in his palm, almost like he was testing the weight of it.

“It’s hot,” he said, trailing a finger down it. His eyes jumped up when he realised what he said. “I mean, warm, the temperature is high.”

You snorted, “I hope it’s also hot as in sexy. And I’m pretty sure your dick is the same temperature.”

“That’s different,” he mumbled, returning to his task with a pink glow to his face.

His bashfulness quickly disappeared once you stopped speaking. Itachi seemed to be enthralled by your dick. He was rhythmically squeezing at your knot with one hand and weighing your balls in the other. You were tempted to tell him to slow down because you were getting close, but your pride refused to admit that out loud, so you allowed him to continue.

Itachi’s hands stilled suddenly, and he bit his lip, staring down at a bead of precum that was running down the side. You were about to ask him what was wrong when he hesitantly leant in and caught the drop with a little kitten lick.

You didn’t know if it was because this was the first time you’d had his mouth on you, because you were more sensitive in erotica pocket dimensions, or because the lick had been devastatingly cute, but you swore your soul left your body.

‘James, I’m dying, this is it.’

‘You are already dead, human, please do not panic.’

Itachi hummed consideringly as he pulled away, licking at his lips a little. Whatever he found didn’t seem offensive, because he leant back in for another few gentle licks.

Take his mouth, show him your strength, cum on his face to mark him so other alphas know he’s yours. Your instincts were screaming. How could one omega drive you so wild? He was treating your dick like it was an ice lolly. You were about to cum as quickly as a teenager, so for your own ego, you decided that you were definitely more sensitive in porn dimensions.

Itachi suddenly slipped the head into his mouth and began to suck gently.

“Oh, Itachi!” you moaned, toes curling. Itachi looked up at you in shock, almost as though he had forgotten that you were attached to the dick he was worshiping. You affectionately brushed some hair from his face, drinking in the sight of Itachi’s lips stretched around your dick. “Why don’t you try to go a little further down, baby? You’re doing so well; you feel amazing.”

With a determined glint in his eyes, Itachi took a deep breath and then forced himself down until the head of your cock hit the back of his throat. Not expecting that, you almost came at the feeling of his throat spasming and massaging you as he inevitably choked.

“Woah, woah, slow down.” You pulled Itachi’s head back as he coughed. It had felt amazing, but he was clearly lacking enough experience for that to be comfortable, and you wanted this to feel good for both of you. “Deep breaths.”

As Itachi stopped coughing, you wiped some of the drool off his lips and gave him a tap on his bottom lip with your thumb.

“Easy,” you soothed. “You went too fast. You need to work up to deep throating if that’s something you’re interested in. Give yourself some time to get used to it.”

He pouted, “You’re too big.”

“Are you complaining? Because you seem unable to keep your hands and eyes, your mouth too now, off it for very long.”

“You’re also mean.”

You chuckled. Perhaps it was a little mean to tease him about his obvious fascination with your cock, but it wasn’t like you were criticising it. If anything, you loved this newfound part of Itachi. Call you an alpha knothead or whatever, but you were proud of your cock, and knowing that Itachi loved it so much was hot and ego-boosting.

“Why don’t I guide you a bit? I can help you find your limit. Here.” You gently gathered his hair into a mock ponytail and held it in your fist. With that, you should be able to move his head without hurting him. “Open your mouth and put your tongue out.”

Itachi obeyed instantly, even though his blush gave away his embarrassment. See? He was definitely a good boy at heart.

You took your cock in your free hand and rested it carefully on his tongue. Itachi blinked up at you but sat still and took it.

“Get used to the weight of it, the size, the taste, everything. Don’t put it in your mouth yet, just use your tongue.”

Itachi wiggled his tongue a little, creating a pleasant, if a bit ticklish, sensation.

“Good boy.” Itachi moaned a little saliva dribbling down his chin. You wiped it away with your thumb, marvelling at the way Itachi’s eyes started to droop as his focus returned to your dick. You had no trouble believing that he was specifically created for an erotica novel, even with the whole murder backstory thing.

‘James, if I die here, can you make sure that everyone knows that I went out getting a blowjob from the prettiest omega in existence?’

‘It is literally impossible for you to die in pocket dimensions, human. I am worried about how many times I’ve had to explain that to you. Did you lose some of your mental facilities during your untimely death?’

‘I don’t think so, but I’m definitely losing mental facilities on Itachi’s tongue.’ As you ‘spoke’, Itachi panted hot breath onto your cock and you shivered, tightening your grip on his hair instinctually, something which caused Itachi to make a little proud and pleased noise.

‘Human, while I understand those words separately, your completed sentence is nonsensical.’

You tuned James out; you had far more important things to attend to.

“’tachi, try putting it in your mouth properly now, just around the tip.” He did as you instructed, eyes glazed. “Very good, you’re doing so well.”

Itachi tried to speak, but the words were incomprehensible. You hissed at the combination of the delicious vibration and the sting of his teeth.

“Pull off if you’re going to speak, okay?” you instructed. He nodded, so you tried to pull him off so that he could say whatever he’d been trying to say, but he made a noise of discontent and pushed back against you so your dick would stay in his mouth.

Was it weird to say that his inexperience was only making this whole thing better? There was something inside you that was endlessly pleased by having this omega, who had never even touched an alpha’s dick before, worshipping yours like it was his reason for living. The idea that he was so dedicated that he couldn’t bare to take things slow was the cherry on top of an already perfectly horny scenario.

As you were lost in thought, Itachi idly suckled, more relaxed now that you had stopped trying to remove him.

“Okay, good boy, you can go a little further. Try and focus your tongue on the head and the biggest vein at the base.” His tongue wiggled around for a moment and when he found the vein, he looked up at you for praise. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep your voice steady. “That’s the one, very good. For many people, those are the most sensitive places.”

Not that you ever wanted his mouth on anyone else’s dick of course. The thought made you a bit nauseous in all honesty. You wanted to be his first and last. But if you didn’t pick him… someone else eventually would, for good this time. You felt angry just entertaining the possibility. Your upcoming choice was going to be painful if the second omega was as easy to love as Itachi. Part of you was tempted to just tell James that you’d already made your mind up, but you knew you’d forever wonder about the other book if you didn’t experience it.

Seeing that Itachi was comfortable, you guided him a couple more centimetres down, watching him closely, although the wet heat on your cock was admittedly making it hard to focus.

Too quickly, he tried to push down further, but you held his hair tight to keep him where he was.

“Take your time, Itachi, how many times do I have to say that? My dick isn’t going anywhere.”

He growled at you, but you only moaned in response as the vibrations ran straight to your lower stomach, knotting it in the best way. Itachi seemed shocked and intrigued by your reaction.

“Vibrations feel good, Itachi,” you explained, trying to mush out words when your brain was slowly turning to mush. “That’s why—” Itachi started to purr. He started to purr around your dick.

Damn, you really were going to die here. Shocked and pleasured, you let out a little cry and dropped the hold you had on Itachi’s hair. Making the most of his newfound freedom, Itachi pushed himself further down, until only an inch of your dick wasn’t in his mouth. He couldn’t seem to get any further, but he didn’t let that discourage him. He moved his head up and down with reckless abandon, purring and humming all the while.

Eventually, through your pleasured haze, you noticed that Itachi was firmly pressing the pressure point on his palm that the nosy old man in town had suggested. At least you now knew that strategy worked.

Itachi sucked and licked and kissed, moaning loudly, eyes heavily lidded, drool leaking out of the edges of his lips. The noise was obscene, bouncing off the walls of the cave and filling your head from every direction. The extra sensitivity was hurtling you rapidly towards your orgasm. You stomach felt like it was filled with molten lava. You needed to warn Itachi.

“Itachi.”

He didn’t respond. It was like his mind had emptied of all thoughts so that he could focus on your cock. It would have been much hotter if you didn’t need him to listen to you right now.

“Itachi? Come on.” You took the initiative to pull him off your cock. There was a wet pop noise as the seal he was creating with his mouth broke. Itach whined, tugging back towards your cock.

“Baby?” Itachi looked up at you, dazed. “I’m going to cum soon.”

Itachi blinked at you, swallowing a few times before he got the words out. “In my mouth?” he asked, staring up at you.

You hummed, stroking his face a little, “No, not yet. I’m going to use one of the napkins, but are you okay getting me to the edge with your tongue?”

Itachi nodded and went to return to your cock immediately. You stopped him with a hand.

“Let me grab a napkin first.” Itachi shook his head. “No? Why?”

“I want you to cum on my face,” he mumbled, nuzzling at your cock. “Please?”

Fuck. You swallowed heavily at his words and attempted, and subsequently failed, to keep your voice steady as you replied.

“If you want me to, darling.”

Itachi clearly did, because he immediately started to kiss and run his tongue all over you. While he worshipped you, you thought about how hot everything was, and how obsessed Itachi was with your cock. It took an embarrassingly short time to knock you over the edge.

“I’m cumming!”

Itachi stopped licking and sat back, closing his eyes. Quickly, you grabbed your dick and aimed it at his face. The first cum shot felt like you were firing a gun. All that tension, all that build up, the prettiest target in front of you, it wasn’t shocking that it was one of the best orgasms of your life.

The first shot hit Itachi in the cheek. He squeaked and jumped slightly, but his eyes remained closed and waiting. Perhaps you were just too horny for coherent thought, but you thought the sticky, white cum suited him.

Your stomach clenched and the second shot ripped through you, hitting Itachi just above the eye. Some clung to his long eyelashes, creating a striking contrast between the deep black and pearly white.

The third and largest shot hit Itachi in the forehead, some of it getting caught in his hair. You had expected that to be the end, and so the fourth one took you by surprise. You almost doubled over with the intensity of it.

It was then quickly followed by a fifth and sixth shot. Baffled and addled by your ongoing orgasm, it took you a few moments to realise that the porn logic must have been affecting the amount of cum you had, because this was not normal.

It continued until your stomach ached from the prolonged muscle usage, and Itachi’s face was covered in your cum. Despite your sudden exhaustion, your instincts were roaring in delight. You had claimed your omega. You had drenched him so thoroughly in your scent, in your seed, that no other alpha would dare make a claim on him. No one could threaten your bond, not when he was like this. You gazed proudly down at Itachi.

Slowly, the euphoric and instinctual haze receded, and you realised that you were leaving Itachi kneeling at your feet, covered in your cum, without even trying to help clean him up.

“Oh! Hang on! I’ll grab some napkins!” You scrambled for the basket and rifled through it until you had a couple of the napkins. Itachi didn’t move, he just knelt there at your feet. Was he okay?

You held the back of his neck to keep him steady, and delicately wiped him up, starting with his eyes, then his lips, and finishing up with the rest of his face. There wasn’t much you could do about his hair until you were home.

“Are you okay, Itachi?” His eyes flickered open, but he seemed to be having trouble focusing on your face. His scent was calm, and yet still geared towards keeping you attracted to him, and he didn’t speak, even when you prompted him to do so. You recognised the behaviour straight away; he was in subspace. You had been thinking about the way he sometimes got spacy after intense make outs, but you’d written it off because surely there was no way he was that easy to put into subspace. But here you were, looking at the evidence that proved you were wrong.

You gently stroked his neck, adjusting your intentions to be more of what he needed if he was in subspace. You were honoured that he felt safe enough with you, and you weren’t going to ruin that by upsetting him.

“You did so well, Itachi, I’m so proud of you,” you said quietly. Itachi smiled tiredly but didn’t speak. You supported him to his feet, standing yourself too. His shaky legs caused him to lean on you heavily, but eventually, with your encouragement, he found his balance. “Stay there, ‘tachi.”

You peeled the cloak off the stone slab, cringing at the wet spot. The dampness wasn’t ideal, but Itachi wouldn’t be able to get home without its warmth, so you didn’t have a choice but to wrap him up in it. Itachi sighed happily at the warmth, burying his face into the collar, and let you guide him to sit back down, light purrs escaping him.

Once he was okay, you put on your own clothes, also revelling in the artificial warmth. The fire was on its way out by this point, and you had to leave as soon as you could to get home before dark. It was unfortunate that you couldn’t let Itachi come down from his high here in the cave, but being caught in the cold and dark would at least be unfortunate and more likely disastrous.

“Are you ready, darling?” You slipped your hand into his, hoping he’d be okay to walk. Itachi nodded, allowing you to lead him out of the cave. Unfortunately, you really needed him to lead the way back, as you had only the vaguest idea of how to get back to his cottage. “Which way d—”

Itachi stumbled over a branch, and it was only your conjoined hands that stopped him from face planting on the ground. Itachi looked up at you, a confused chirp escaping him, like he was asking you how you’d let him fall when you were supposed to be keeping him safe. It tugged on your heartstrings so much that you immediately pulled him into an embrace and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m cold,” he muttered, pushing his face into your shoulder. While the cloak was charmed, without any clothes underneath, it was also probably pretty breezy.

You cooed, “I bet. Why don’t I carry you home?” You couldn’t bear to have him uncomfortable for even a second, not when you could prevent it. “That would be warmer for you, but you have to show me the way home, okay?”

Itachi nodded, looking relieved, and held out his arms. You scooped him up into a princess carry, and he looped his arms around your neck before settling his head on your shoulder.

“Let’s go home.”

…

You had arrived home just in time to avoid having to stumble through the woods in the dark, and the subsequent evening had passed by in a whirlwind of cleaning, cooking, eating and cuddling. Itachi had mostly recovered by the time you had arrived, even walking the last hour himself, but he remained mostly silent unless addressed directly, and you had to take extra care to help him navigate away from a subdrop.

In contrast, the following morning seemed to crawl by like a snail. It was the day you were supposed to be brewing the potion, but Itachi had insisted on cooking a massive breakfast that had taken him an hour to cook and just as long to eat. He maintained that he just felt like making an elaborate breakfast, but considering the significance of the day, you didn’t know if you believed him. You had a feeling that he was either stress cooking, attempting to show you how good of a mate he could be, or just trying to delay the inevitable.

At least you had managed to entertain yourself by admiring and pressing on his copious amounts of hickeys.

“Mm, if you keep doing that, the food is going to burn.” Despite his words, he arched into your touch as you pressed on a particularly large hickey on his neck.

You eyed the pots and pans on the hob, all of which were stirring themselves. “They’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about; what if you get lonely because I’m not kissing you?”

Itachi laughed, “You’re ridiculous.”

At least the long breakfast and clean up had allowed you plenty of time to tighten up the details of your backstory, ready for your memories to ‘return’. You were grateful for that last opportunity to plan, because now, having gathered all the necessary ingredients, the time had arrived to make the Amnesia Reversal Potion.

You and Itachi were sitting cross legged in the corner of bedroom that he used for experiments, meticulously cutting, grinding, and adding ingredients into his black cauldron. It was equal parts cool and overwhelming to watch potion brewing in action. If you ended up in this world, you were for sure going to learn to make as many as you could. Maybe you could convince Itachi to move slightly closer to a nearby town so that you could access supplies a little easier?

“This potion is extraordinarily simple,” Itachi remarked, dropping in the crushed Amplexus seeds. “No wait times, no stirring instructions, no temperature requirements. I’ve never seen one like it.”

“Weird.”

“Indeed. All I have to do is add the ingredients into the cauldron in the order that they’re listed in the ingredients list.”

“Isn’t it a good thing that it’s simple?”

Itachi grabbed a sprig of thyme and dropped it in, “Of course, it’s just strange.”

You watched the wooden tray empty as each ingredient was added to the potion in turn. The potion turned from brown, to pink, and then to purple at various intervals, bubbling, smoking, and spitting all at once. It seemed a little dramatic, but Itachi didn’t react as though anything was weird.

Eventually, there was only one ingredient left: Cinnamon. How weirdly mundane to be the climax of this potion making adventure.

Itachi added it and then began to stir, wrestling with the hydrophobic powder that seemed resistant to joining the potion. As he stirred, the potion gradually turned into a bright lime green. That was it then, right? That must be the potion!

But Itachi didn’t stop stirring, brows furrowed. He stared down at the cauldron like he was waiting for something more. He even picked up the recipe again to double check it.

“Is something the matter?” you asked, after the silence had stretched to uncomfortable levels.

“Look at the recipe, here.” He handed you to recipe, but you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be looking at. You send him a helpless gaze and he tapped on the sketch of the potion on the right side. “This is a sketch of the potion and it’s a shimmering gold. Our potion is green.”

You bit your lip, “Maybe it’s just artistic interpretation?”

“No, a shade or two different, fine, but a completely different colour? Our potion isn’t correct, but I’m not sure what I did wrong. I don’t even know how I could have gone wrong; it just says to add everything in order!” He plucked the recipe from your grip again and held it closer to his face, as though that would somehow solve the mystery.

It was then, as he held up the piece of paper, that you noticed something written on the back. Did the recipe continue on the other side? You had looked at this over a hundred times over the past fortnight, how could you have missed that there was something written on the back?

“Um, Itachi? Try flipping the page over.”

He hummed, confused, but did as you asked.

“Oh! You’re right! There’s one more ingredient, we must have missed it. It’s written much smaller than the other ingredients.” You silently passed him his glasses, which had been abandoned earlier once the steam from the potion had fogged them up, and he gratefully put them on.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure we can find it somew—”

The sentence died as Itachi finally read the words on the back of the page.

You watched him, anxiously. “Itachi? Is something wrong?”

Itachi’s eyes flickered back and forth between your face and the recipe. Slowly, his face grew pink and heavily flushed. He didn’t speak.

“Itachi? What does it say? Is it something bad?”

Itachi opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Giving up, he thrust the paper out to you before bashfully burying his face in his palms.

Intrigued and vaguely concerned, you read the back of the recipe.

‘100ml of the fluid of a squirting omega.’

You coughed in surprise, dropping the recipe which floated slowly to the floor. Well, that answered your earlier question; you didn’t see it earlier because it would have screwed up the pacing of the plot if you had.

The erotica pocket dimension clearly wasn’t satisfied with the sappy mutual blowjobs in the cave yesterday. It wanted you to fuck Itachi properly, and it wanted you to do it hard.

“Oh. That’s quite the final ingredient.”

Itachi hummed in agreement.

Bizarre as it was, the longer you thought about it, the hotter it became. You had to overstimulate Itachi until he squirted, then use that to make a potion? Hilarious, and deeply erotic.

‘James, who is responsible for designing pocket dimensions, and can I shake their hand?’

‘That is confidential, and they do not have hands.’

‘Well, whoever they are, they need a raise.’

‘Why do they require increased elevation?’

‘Because these are mad times we’re living in James, mad times.’

‘You are not making any sense, human. Perhaps you should turn your attention to the omega in front of you. His body is displaying signs of heightened arousal, and I believe he would like you to solve that for him.’

One glance at Itachi and his newly tented shorts proved that James was correct, so you dropped the connection. Itachi, with his hands still covering his face, didn’t seem to have noticed his own raging boner quite yet.

“Well, at least we don’t have to leave the house to get the final ingredient,” you said, mouth moving faster than your filter.

Itachi gave an embarrassed squeak, peeking at you in between his fingers. When he spoke, the words were hesitant and muffled. “That’s… um, I mean… I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” you said confidently. You figured that it wouldn’t make any sense to set this up as the erotic climax of the story if Itachi wasn’t capable of squirting. “I’ll make you squirt, trust me.”

Your brazen confidence seemed to have an effect on Itachi, who was looking progressively more flustered as he processed your words. His pupils were wide, cheeks pink, and there was a little wet spot at the tip of the tent in his shorts.

Oh yes, there was something about this situation that was getting to him, just like it was getting to you. You already knew he was submissive, of course, but perhaps your confidence in talking about his body was doing something more to him, or maybe the idea of mixing sex with magic was what was making him so hot.

Either way, you leaned right into his space, smirking. Itachi’s released a delicious scent, something submissive, something horny, something to entice you to fuck him. Who were you to deny him?

“Now, do you have anything we can use to collect liquid?”

…

You remembered, on your very first day in this world, how you studied Itachi’s living room to prove to yourself that this hole fever dream was real and find clues about the kind of life you might have here. The room looked a little different now. Itachi had levitated all the furniture against the wall and laid down a tarpaulin in the newly cleared space, creating the illusion of both more clutter and more space that the living room normally had. A large, red bucket stood innocently, front and centre by the fireplace, ready for a not so innocent purpose.

The room was bathed in an orange glow thanks to Itachi’s permanent fire magic crackling away in the fireplace. All these fires were going to give you a complex. It wouldn’t surprise you if you ended up being conditioned to pop a boner whenever you saw an open fireplace. But if you didn’t end up in this world, you were glad to know that fire would remind you of Itachi and your time here with him.

From the ceiling hung a metal bar, about 50cm in length, hanging horizontally from two sturdy pieces of wire.

“For drying flowers,” Itachi had said when you’d questioned why he had a bar in his ceiling capable of holding the weight of an adult person. His explanation didn’t really make any sense, but you had accepted it as porn logic and moved on.

Now though, there were no dried flowers in sight. Instead, from the bar, hung something much more precious. Itachi’s wrists were bound together above his head, secured to the metal bar with an old scarf you had found and swiftly repurposed. He was completely naked again, and although that always made for an enticing view, this particular moment was perhaps your favourite so far. Because your beautiful witch looked utterly wrecked.

You circled him, footsteps crinkling on the tarpaulin, and committed every inch of him to memory. He was shining, hot and sweaty from your games, with the hair that was not scraped back into his ponytail sticking to his face. His chest heaved in an attempt to beat his exertion with enough oxygen, and his hands, tied up though they were, periodically clenched themselves into fists.

Lovingly, you loosened his ponytail and then retied his hair back to include all the strands that had wiggled loose. Itachi didn’t comment on it, even as you pulled his hair away from his sweat-soaked skin. He only panted, head lolling against his extended right arm.

If you had known that overstimulating him had made him look so pretty, you wouldn’t have held out for so long.

“How many is that now, Itachi?”

“Three,” he panted, lifting his head up to look at you. “I’ve cum three times.”

“That’s right.” It had been a handjob, a blowjob, and a rimjob respectively. “Glad to see you’re still with me, for now at least.”

Itachi bit his lip; he was still embarrassed over how easily you’d put him into subspace yesterday. You used your thumb to remove his lip from his teeth and then held it there.

“You drive me crazy,” you breathed, watching his eyes dilate. “I want to take you apart just so I can build you up again. I want to see every face you make and claim every inch of your body. I want to get every artist in the world to paint you, just to find the one that can manage to even get close to your real-life beauty. I want to be the first person to touch you on the inside.”

To emphasise your point, you snaked an arm around his waist and slipped your hand down until you could slide your fingers over his hole. He was soaking wet, and after only a few seconds, you withdrew and held your dripping fingers up to the light.

“You’re so messy, Itachi,” you teased, rubbing your slick fingers together. “It’s like your hole is trying to tell me something.”

“You’re so embarrassing,” he muttered, cheeks going pink. You laughed and pulled him closer, until you were pressed right against him.

“Don’t worry, baby.” You returned your hand to his hole, but this time started applying a small amount of pressure. “Even if your mouth is too shy to admit it, I’ll give your hole what it needs.”

Your forefinger slipped in just as you finished speaking, only up to the first knuckle for now. With how wet and swollen he was, it was surprisingly easy, even for a virgin. Itachi stiffened, pulling at his restraint a little.

“You okay?”

“Fine, it just feels a little weird,” he said, squirming. “It feels bigger than I thought it would, for a finger.”

“It’s normal for it to feel a little strange at first, but I promise I can make you feel good. You’ll be squirting all over the place in no time.”

Itachi made a little embarrassed noise and dropped his head on your shoulder to hide his face. You gave him a little nuzzle, which he quickly returned. You purred so that he could feel the vibrations; you hoped that would help him relax.

“Deep breath.” You pushed the finger in to the second knuckle and then held it there. You wiggled it to help him get used to the foreign sensation. Itachi kept his head on your shoulder, where he occasionally pressed little kisses to your skin, as you worked on fingering him open.

You fucked the single finger in and out, meeting little resistance. The obscene squelching noises forced a shy whine out of Itachi, who you imagined would be fidgeting a lot more had you not secured him to the ceiling.

“You’re a natural, darling, I’m going to go up to two fingers. It might feel uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt. If it hurts, tell me immediately, okay?”

Itachi hummed in agreement but as the seconds ticked on, he seemed more and more focused on fucking himself back against your finger. He was so funny; He always got so embarrassed before and after orgasms, but the build up made him so shameless. As soon as he felt good, all those shy impulses disappeared and you were left with a completely different Itachi.

The second finger went in like a hot knife through butter. Itachi moaned, and with the hand that wasn’t fingering him, you rubbed his back in encouragement. You had originally chosen to finger him like this to give him some comfort as he entered unfamiliar territory, but you couldn’t deny that there weren’t also benefits for you, including the way you were positioned so perfectly to get his strongest, most unfiltered scent. You took a deep breath, letting Itachi’s floral scent of pleasure curl inside your lungs.

“How… How do I squirt?” Itachi asked quietly, face nuzzled into your neck. “I don’t know if I can… how does it even work?”

“I just need to find your prostate and then I can make it happen, don’t worry.” You picked up the pace, fingering him in and out, now with two fingers. He was accepting you so easily, drenching your hand in his liquid arousal.

“A prostate? What’s that?”

Your fingers paused their movements as you froze, shocked. Itachi didn’t know what the prostate was? That couldn’t be right, could it? Maybe he’d misspoken? Or you’d misunderstood? You opened your mouth to ask him to clarify, and maybe also ask if he’d ever had proper sex education as a child, but then you realised that it might ruin the mood to bring up his dysfunctional childhood or imply that he was wrong for not knowing something and inadvertently make him feel bad.

You couldn’t not ask someone though.

‘James? Do you know about this? Did Itachi ever have a proper sex education?’

‘Hmm, let me see.’ You got the distinct impression that she was flipping through pages, although you could neither hear nor see them. ‘Ah, yes. Itachi’s father presented him a book on the topic on his seventh birthday before instructing him not to have any questions.’

You rolled your eyes, of course. No wonder the poor man was confused.

“The prostate is a gland in your body that secretes the fluid part of ejaculate,” you explained, slowly starting up the fingering again before Itachi worried that he’d done something wrong. It was his terrible excuse for parents that had done something wrong after all, not him. If you stayed here, you were going to have to step in and give Sasuke the talk, because neither his parents nor older brother seemed qualified. Perhaps that was one mark against staying here… From Itachi’s sketches, you got the distinct impression that Sasuke wouldn’t neither take it well nor make it easy for you. “But it also feels very, very good. Here, let me find yours and I can show you.”

Seeing as Itachi was taking your fingers so well, you saw no issue in moving on to your next target. You crooked your fingers in search of the gland. It shouldn’t be too hard to find; it must be incredibly swollen after all the previous orgasms. Somewhere around here…

“Does it feel different to—”

Found it.

Itachi gasped hoarsely as you found it and began immediately pressing and rubbing at it. His back arched and his hips jolted as he tugged against the bar. His knees went weak for a moment and his weight dropped back to leaning against you as he gasped for air.

“That’s—That’s—” He couldn’t finish the sentence as you continued to abuse his insides. “Oh my god, oh my god, how, how, it’s so much!”

He shook against you, biting into your shoulder. His moans got louder and more desperate until he was almost screaming. You kept it up until he was leaking all down your hand, some clear drops splashing against the tarpaulin. You pulled the hand from him in a flourish and caught him as he sagged.

There. The next one would be the squirt for sure, you thought, eyeing the liquid rolling down Itachi’s legs.

Itachi was completely limp in your grip. You readjusted your hold on him to make sure that his shoulder joints weren’t too strained, and then focused on bringing him down from that high as tenderly as you could. You stroked his back, whispered sweet nothings, and held him against you as firmly as you could. Four orgasms were a lot for one evening… although with your straining underwear, you reckoned you’d rather have four than none.

Eventually, when he gathered some of his wits about him, Itachi lifted his head from your shoulder and looked you in the eye.

“What the fuck?” was the only thing that came out of his mouth. You almost snorted in surprise at his swearing. “How did that happen? That’s never happened before.”

“I told you that the prostate would feel good,” you said, pecking him on the forehead. “Now, stand up properly so I can fetch the bucket over. I can give you a sex ed talk later, because right now we have a potion ingredient to harvest.”

“Harvest?” Itachi repeated, pulling a face.

You grinned sheepishly, “Yeah, I’ll admit that sounded sexier in my head.”

Itachi giggled a little, but stood up properly, allowing you to let him go and fetch the bucket, which you placed underneath him.

“Now,” you said, wiping your hands on a nearby towel, “do you want to squirt on my fingers or on my cock?”

Itachi’s laughter died off as embarrassment overtook it. You shook your head fondly at his predictable return to bashfulness now that he’d orgasmed.

“I… don’t know.”

“Come on, Itachi, how can I know what to do if you don’t tell me what you need.” You tapped him lovingly on the cheek. You had expected him to become more relaxed at the affectionate gesture, even with the teasing, but instead his face glowed an even brighter red and he struggled to maintain eye contact with you.

What?

‘Human, those are the fingers that were just inside him, meaning he can likely smell his own slick and is embarrassed.’

‘Oh yeah! Haha, forgot about that, thanks James.’

‘You’re welcome, human.’

You withdrew that hand, and while you briefly debated sucking on those fingers to see how he’d react, you discarded that though pretty quickly; you didn’t want to give the poor omega a heart attack.

“You’re not answering my question, ‘tachi. Come on,” you goaded, “tell me how you want me to make you squirt.”

Itachi huffed, still blushing, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Fingers or cock, it’s a simple choice, my darling.”

“I want… can I… your cock, please?” he eventually whispered, looking at you through his dark lashes.

You decided to try your luck in teasing him a bit more. “Oh? And where do you want my cock?”

He squirmed, “You know where.”

“Do I?”

He huffed again, sending you a glare for all the teasing.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, pecking him on the lips. “I’ll put my cock in your greedy hole, but you need to practice your begging for next time, okay?”

He pouted, “You’re mean.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re into it.” You ran a finger up his hard cock. Four orgasms in and he was still going strong, that had to be porn logic at play. Itachi didn’t respond to your hypothesis, which you took to mean that you were right.

Regardless, now was the moment that you’d been waiting so patiently for: you were going to fuck Itachi. Properly. You quickly shed your underwear and allowed your cock to spring up, rock hard and ready for action.

All that build up, from the very first time you met him and his beautiful nipples you’d been imagining what it’d be like. And now, as he looked at you, wide eyed and waiting, you knew that it would be perfect, for both of you, there was no other option. You just had to choose the right position.

You debated briefly going behind him and slipping inside from there. It would make the most practical sense considering the way he was tied up, but something about it didn’t feel right. Itachi deserved something a little more romantic for his first time and you wanted to be able to see his reactions.

Yes, from the front felt right, but with the way he was tied, you’d have to do something a little unconventional.

Standing in front of him, you tenderly stroked his hips, one hand on each side.

“Is everything oka— Ah!”

Itachi yelped as you suddenly hooked your hands under his knees and lifted him off the ground, taking half of his weight in your arms and leaving the other half for the metal bar to hold. As carefully as you could, you shifted your hands from the back of his knees to his butt and dragged him closer until his legs were splayed around your hips.

There. This was the perfect position. You could see his reaction, you had a good angle to fuck him, and most importantly, his nipples were perfect height to kiss, which had recently become a favourite hobby of yours.

“Are you ready?” you asked, rubbing your cock against him to cover it in his slick. He was open and ready for you, you’d made sure of that, but extra lubrication never hurt.

Itachi took a fortifying breath, “I’m ready.”

“Relax.” You grinned at him before delicately slipping the head of your dick into him. Itachi gasped, his muscles clenching immediately and clamping down on you like a vice. You hissed at the warmth and tightness but remained as still as possible to give him time to adjust.

A drop of Itachi’s slick dribbled down your cock and severely tested your resolve to remain still, but you persevered.

“Does it feel alright?” you asked in a strained voice.

“It’s much bigger than your fingers.” He leant forward and looked down at the place where you were both now joined. He gulped at how much there was still left to fit inside him. “Are you sure it’s going to fit?”

“Are you in pain right now?” He shook his head. “Then it should fit just fine.”

“I trust you, it’s just… it’s so big.”

“As you’ve said, many, many times,” you teased. “What is it with you and my dick?”

“I’m ready for you to go in a bit more,” he said, pointedly ignoring your question. He could ignore it all he wanted, but you knew he was obsessed with it, and that would fuel your ego and wet dreams for the rest of your life.

You decided you were too horny to press the issue though, because this omega was telling you he wanted you inside him, and you weren’t going say no.

Balancing his weight on one hand, you used the other to rub at his sensitive dick as a distraction. Once Itachi’s eyes fell closed at the sensation, you pushed in another few inches until you were about half way inside.

His gooey walls felt like heaven, and you were stopping both for his benefit, and your own, because cumming before you’d made him squirt would be unfortunate.

“You’re beautiful, so stunning, so perfect, the best omega,” you muttered, trying to distract yourself. You leant down and licked at his right nipple as the urge to taste him again surged.

Bending down to reach said nipple had the inadvertent effect of angling your cock directly into Itachi’s prostate. He jolted, mouth dropping open.

“There, hit there again.” His voice was as urgent as the throbbing dick in between his legs. “There, right there, please!”

You did as he asked, angling your hips again. Itachi shuddered, his arousal pushing out his earlier embarrassment, just as it had on the build up to his other orgasms.

“Put the rest in, I want it in!”

“Are you sure? We should move slowly to make sure—”

“No!” Even Itachi looked shocked at how loudly he had protested the idea of fucking him slowly. “I mean, I can take it, I promise, just put it in.”

You raised an eyebrow, but when Itachi refused to waiver, you decided just to go for it. Internal tears were not sexy, so porn logic would probably protect him.

You pulled on his hips and pushed forward with yours, sliding effortlessly into the wet heat that was more than ready to welcome you.

“It’s so big! It’s stretching me out!” Itachi babbled, head falling back. “Oh my god, I can feel it, it’s inside me.”

You almost laughed; you had never met an omega that was so easy to make cock drunk. You had even heard him talking about your dick in his sleep last night. He was so perfect.

“You love my cock, don’t you baby?” Itachi nodded furiously, drooling a little. Finally, your hips hit flush against his cheeks. “There you go, baby, is that what you wanted?”

Itachi whined, still nodding. “I need it, don’t take it away.”

“I won’t, darling,” you said, cock throbbing at his words. You glanced down and what you saw almost forced your cum from you immediately. He had a tummy bulge. You could see the outline of your cock in his tummy. You felt your instincts clawing at your mind in delight, a slight tinge of something distinctly feral lining your scent. “Open your eyes, omega, I want to show you something.”

Itachi did as he was told, his heavily lidded eyes meeting yours. Several strands of hair had somehow escaped from his ponytail again and were stuck with sweat to his face. He had never looked prettier.

“Look at your tummy, darling.” Itachi’s brows furrowed, but he did as asked. He stared for a moment as though he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. To help him, you pulled out completely, only to immediately plunge back in. Itachi’s stomach flattened out and then bulged as you moved.

Itachi’s eyes snapped fully open. He jumped to look up at your face, wide eyed and shocked into silence.

“That’s my cock inside you, I’m carving out a place, so that no other cock will ever be able to satisfy you like mine. Your hole is going to ache for me now, it’s going to miss me when I’m gone, I’m making sure of it.”

Itachi was staring at the bulge like he didn’t know how to process what was happening.

“It’s a good job we live in the middle of nowhere, because I’m going to need to feed your slutty hole my cock all the time to keep it satisfied.”

All at once, Itachi’s eyes bled red like that day in town, he seized up, and his cock shot cum all over his tummy bulge. You watched, obsessed, as Itachi started to cum from your dirty talk. The bliss that overtook him was so powerful that you were worried he would tug the metal bar out of the ceiling as he spasmed and moaned. You almost forgot that you were here to make him squirt.

Almost.

Recognising that this needed to end soon because Itachi had to squirt and you couldn’t hold in your own orgasm for much longer, you grabbed his hips and set a brutal pace, fucking in and out of him with abandon.

Itachi’s moans became moaned screams as you pounded him through his orgasm, elongating it and then quickly sending him hurtling towards another one.

The position you were in was aiding your pace, as you were able to move Itachi up and down by his hips, dragging his entire weight down onto your cock, using him almost like a fleshlight.

You had never felt more single minded. You were chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon, and the only rational brain cells you had left online were fully focused on making sure you didn’t accidentally give Itachi a mating mark.

Itachi’s moan was now one long syllable, broken only by voice cracks that plagued him on every other thrust. Itachi’s walls were massaging you perfectly, flexing and fluttering in an almost wave-like motion that Itachi was definitely not capable of performing consciously; it must have been an inherent erotica trait.

You had to fuck him, you had to make him squirt, you had to cum inside him.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” Itachi babbled, tears slowly running down his face.

“’m going to cum, omega, I’m going to cum inside you, I’m so close.”

“Don’t stop,” he sobbed, pulling fruitlessly at his restraints. “Alpha, don’t stop, I think I’m going to cum. It’s so hot!”

Your knot was starting to swell, and much to your displeasure, you knew you couldn’t knot him if you wanted to properly collect his slick. You had just enough restraint left to jerk away as your knot started to catch on his tie.

Itachi thrashed as you held him over the bucket. He pulled at the scarf and kicked out with his legs. His eyes flashed red under his eyelids. Clear liquid shot out of him with force, and the sound of his ejaculate splattering in the bucket filled the room.

There was no way you’d have been able to hold back your own orgasm at such a sight, and so you followed suit, cumming a load all over Itachi’s newly softening dick, until it was completely covered, and some was dripping steadily to join his slick in the bucket.

You both fell silent in the aftermath, panting heavily. The crackle of the fire suddenly sounded louder than you had realised, and your limbs felt like they were made of lead.

You had never felt anything so intense.

‘James?’ Even your mental voice sounded tired.

‘Yes, human alpha?’

‘Picking erotica was the best choice ever.’

‘I’m glad you are satisfied.’

A laugh bubbled its way up. Satisfied indeed.

…

“It’s done,” Itachi said, stirring the newly shining gold potion. “It took a day longer than expected, but the potion is perfect.”

You peered into the cauldron, “Do I have to drink some of it?”

“No, several of the ingredients are very toxic, so please don’t drink it. I will use the potion to paint some runes on your face, which should trigger the process of retrieving your memories.” He grabbed a little paintbrush and nervously ran his fingers over the bristles. You had done your very best to convince Itachi that you weren’t going to abandon him as soon as you got your memories back, at least, not in the way he was thinking, but it was obvious that he was still deeply apprehensive.

You sat down in front of Itachi and closed your eyes, letting him paint the runes. You were weirdly nervous even though you knew the potion wasn’t going to have any effect at all. Mentally, you ran through the backstory you had crafted. MLHH, you repeated, Money, Love, Health, Happiness.

You startled as the first brush strokes hit your skin. “It tickles.”

“Sorry,” Itachi said, not sounding very sorry. His voice was tense, but you didn’t hold it against him.

It was a strange feeling, after spending over two weeks with him, knowing that you were leaving him behind, at least for the moment. It was a cocktail of emotions. You were sad to leave Itachi, excited to see the next pocket dimension, guilty about being excited… It was a lot.

You comforted yourself by reminding yourself that you could return if you wanted to. No one would force you to leave Itachi for good, that was entirely your decision. You didn’t have to leave him if you didn’t want to.

“It’s done.” You opened your eyes and saw Itachi watching you nervously. Was he waiting for something to happen? Was something supposed to happen?

‘James, is something supposed to happen with this potion? To show that it worked?’

‘Of course.’

‘What?! What’s supposed to happen? Am I supposed to glow, scream, black out? Do I need to act? What do I do?!’

‘You’re supposed to regain your memories, human alpha, have you been paying attention?’

‘…’

You took that to mean that nothing spectacular was supposed to happen, and you just pretended to suddenly gain clarity with a gasp.

“I remember everything,” you said, acting like you were processing the returned memories. “It worked!”

“What do you remember?” Itachi was nervous, clutching the paint brush tightly to his chest.

“I was hiking in those woods, but I tripped and hit my head, that’s why you found me unconscious. I had intended to leave before nightfall, but I was knocked out and got caught in the snow. I was trying to kill time on my own, as my family are away on a business trip, they’re merchants you see, and my best friend is currently travelling for a wedding.”

“You’re from a merchant family? They must want you home soon.” Itachi sounded dejected, but like he was trying to be happy for you. His fake enthusiasm hurt your soul. Thankfully, you had come up with an explanation that would allow you to stay.

“Not really, you see, I never wanted to follow in their footsteps, I always wanted to carve my own path. My family love me, they just want me to be happy, and I know I’m happy here, with you. They’ll support me no matter what. They own a big house that we can stay in any time, but here is where my heart is.”

“And you’re single?” Itachi asked, desperate hope in his voice.

“Completely and utterly single. Although… I would be honoured if you would help me change that.”

Itachi’s face split into a big grin and he threw himself into your arms.

“You want to stay?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever,” he said firmly. He beamed at you with watery eyes and leant in for a kiss.

“Forever,” you repeated, but just as his lips were about to meet yours, your vision went blurry, and faded to black.

When our eyes refocused a half second later, you found yourself back in the library, staring at James, the ghost of a kiss on your lips. You were disorientated and already missing Itachi.

“Here, human.” James touched your head and your thoughts and emotions cleared. “Until you have the time to compartmentalise, it is more convenient if I supress conflicting emotions. It would be unfortunate if you could not give the next pocket dimension your full attention.”

“Yeah, it would be,” you agreed, already feeling lighter. As much as you loved your time there with Itachi, you were looking forward to the next book too. If anything, you were even more excited because you knew that no matter what happened, you had a life you wanted with Itachi. Even if you hated this next world, you could pull as many shenanigans as you wanted, knowing you had a safe world to return to.

“We do not have time to discuss anything here. Put your hand on the second book.” You did as she asked, watching as her hand joined yours. “Welcome to the world of ‘Fifty Shades of Audacity’.”

Next chapter

#the quest for a second life #itachi #itachi uchiha #omega itachi #omega!itachi #sub itachi #sub!itachi #reader insert #gn reader #dom!reader #dom reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha!reader #alpha reader #n-sfw #itachi x reader #gender neutral reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 21 days

Text

Follow You Anywhere 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: dululand is my native country.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You lay on your side. Tense and painfully awake. Aika’s sleeping form heaps in a shadow on the floor as you feel the body behind you breathing. Hot gusts, in, out, against the nape of your neck. A light dusting that feels like a furnace’s blast.

You keep your back to Sy as you stare at the door. It’s been at least an hour since you laid down. He inched closer and closer, but gave up as you found yourself teetering on the edge.

A snort makes you wince. You brace the side of the mattress as your eyes round. The rocky rumble continues, mellow to long calm exhales. He’s snoring. He’s asleep.

You don’t move immediately. You wait it out until the noise is raucous. Even if you had any temptation to stay, you couldn't sleep through his thunderous blare. You hold your breath and slowly sit up, watching the slumbering canine on the floor.

Aika raises her head as you rise but doesn’t move further. You slip to the edge of the bed and ease down until your feet touch the rug. You stand and she puts her head down, her collar jingling noisily. You swivel to look over your shoulder. Sy sleeps with his hand on the empty space of the bed, his other arm curled under his head.

You back away, careful to tiptoe around Aika. As you get to the door, she remains as she is and so does her owner. You slip into the front room and let out your breath. You turn to face the darkness. You’re not going far. Maybe the dog senses that.

You pull a pillow against the arm of the couch and nestle atop the cushions. You can’t close your eyes. You’re too anxious. You just lay there staring at the shadows of your apartment.

Your eyelids droop little by little. Fatigue mutes your fear and your body slackens atop the couch. The noise of occasional traffic and the street drift in and lull you. You let your mind go black and descend into a shallow sleep.

You give a start as you feel yourself falling. Your head snaps up and your eyes flutter open as you squeak. You’re not falling, you’re being lifted. You blink as you look up at the silhouette of Sy’s thick beard and his body heat seeps into you.

“Huh,” you let out the confused hiccup as you squirm against him.

“What’re ya doin’ out here, sweetie?” He growls as he carries you back into the bedroom.

“I... couldn’t sleep.”

He grumbles, the only acknowledgement of your excuse. He takes you to the bed, lowering you with him as he settles on the mattress again. Aika’s on her side, sleeping and unaware. He puts you on your side and pushes his body flush to yours as he wraps his arm around your middle. He holds you close, nuzzling your crown as he sighs.

“Mmm, isn’t that better?” He purrs, “I never been so calm as I am with you, sug.”

You gulp and make yourself nod. His words come off more like a threat a suggestion that he isn’t always this calm. You've seen him toe that line, how he’s always just barely restrained. How long can that last?

“You’re so warm and cozy,” he rocks you slightly, “night, night, sweetie. Get some sleep.”

You utter a ‘good night’ in return if only to assure him of your compliance. You’re brief respite only underlines his incessant clinginess. He always has to be near, always has to know what you’re up to. You suspect that isn’t new to him, not that it matters how long he’s been watching. Days, weeks, or months, it can’t undo the present.

You close your eyes as they sting. You won’t fall back asleep, not in his arms. You’ll just lay there and wait for the few inches of freedom you get with the sunrise. It’s all you can do.

🧸

As the morning shines in, your head pounds and your body aches. You’ve been locked in Sy’s arms all night, still as you can be. You don’t want to risk waking him again. When he’s asleep, you don’t need to worry about what he might do.

Aika rouses first. She licks her paw until she’s bored then starts a restless tip tapping by the door. You figure she needs to go out but you don’t move. The click of her pclws finally disturbs the snoring behind your ear.

“Aika, give me a minute,” Sy rolls away and yawns. “Swear that dog is better than any alarm clock.”

He sits up, hunching over as he rubs his eyes. You glance at him over your shoulder as he jostles the bed. He gets up and searches out a tee shirt, pulling it on above his dark gym shorts. He tidies the stray shanks jutting out from his bear and smiles as he meets your gaze. You quickly look away.

“I’ll take her around real quick. Why don’t you get some coffee going?” He suggests.

You fall onto your back and push yourself up. You fold your arms as you make yourself look at him. You feel fractured. You’re about to break.

“Sure,” you answer with a smile.

“Good girl,” he winks and snaps his fingers at Aika.

The dog prances out ahead of him and you watch him follow. You don’t stand until you hear the front door. You rush out and find the apartment empty, heart racing as your eyes scour the place. Your keys have gone with him. The fleeting idea of locking him out fizzles away.

You pause and search for your phone. You don’t know where it went. He must’ve taken it. You return to the bedroom and grab a hoodie out of your dress. You pull it on over your pajamas and scurry back to the front door. You step into your slip-ons and slowly turn the door handle.

You inch the door inward and peek into the hall. You can’t do this anymore. You won’t play along. You should’ve done this yesterday. You chalk it up to shock. You were too surprised to think clearly but this is your chance.

You creep out into the hall and down to the door diagonal from your own. You knock, realising it might be a bit too early. You wait, swaying as you check over your shoulders. If he comes back and catches you...

You knock again as no answer comes. You try not to let the panic down you as it swells higher and higher. Finally, Blair answers the door and you look at her frantically.

“Please let me in,” you plead.

“Um, is everything okay?” She asks.

You don’t know her very well. You spoke a few times in the laundry room and exchanged tight-lipped smiles in the hallway. She looks as scared as you feel.

“Please,” you peer down the hall again, “there’s no time.”

“Alright, uh...” she backs up, “come in. Sorry, I--” she pauses to stifle a yawn, “had a late night.”

You enter her apartment and wring your hands. She closes the door and you exhale. You face her and bounce on your toe nervously.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s early, but... can I borrow your phone?” You ask.

“Sure, but what’s going on? Are you alright?”

You consider her question. You frown, “I don’t know.”

Her eyes gleam with worry and she nods. She shuffles past you and disappears into the next room. You go back to the door and twist the lock. You peer out the peep hole but can’t quite see your own door.

“Here,” Blair comes back and you spin around.

“Thanks, uh... I... just need to make a call,” you reach for the phone and look down at the screen. It's an old flip phone.

You don’t know if they’ll listen but you have to try. At least then you can say you did. You dial and put the phone to your ear.

“Emergency services, what’s your emergency?” The operator greets flatly.

“Hi, uh...” you glance up at Blair, “there’s an intruder in my apartment.”

He jaw drops and you give an awkward expression.

“Ma’am, are you in the apartment?” The voice on the other end asks.

“No, um, no, I’m at my neighbour’s but this man... he uh, he’s been following me and now he’s in my apartment. He’s been there all night and I asked him to leave but he won’t.”

“Alright, ma’am, I understand, I’ll dispatch and officer to your location. Please do not return to your apartment.”

You give your address at their request and hang up. You hand Blair her phone back and she takes it with a tremble. She clutches it to her chest.

“There’s someone in your apartment?” She asks, her voice brittle.

You nod and look around. Her place sure is cluttered. It smells like cinnamon and old paper. Books on books, shelves crammed with figurines, and boxes in stacks. It’s not dirty, just really full.

“Yeah, well, he’s coming back,” you say as you chew your thumb and turn back to the door. Once more you go to look through the peep hole.

You stay there, watching, waiting. You see Aika first. She’s off leash. She sits outside the door as Sy catches up and lets himself in. The door shuts behind him and you hold your breath. A few minutes past, what feels like years, and the door opens again.

He hollers your name and his voice shakes you through the door. You clap your hand over your mouth and keep your eye through the lens. He paces towards you then back the other way. He continues to call your name. He marches back into the apartment and slams the door behind him.

“Who is he?” Blair startles you as she stands shoulder to shoulder with you.

You back up and look at her, “I don’t know.”

“How... how does he know your name?”

You shake your head and whisper, “he found me. Online. I don’t know what to do. He just... won’t leave me alone and I can’t get him to leave.”

Her mouth opens, “oh? Wow that’s... scary.”

You nod vehemently. It’s terrifying.

“I never... I never had a man do that. Follow me... they don’t really talk to me,” she says. “I’m happy they don’t.”

Your heart knots and you move away from the door, “it’s okay if I stay until the police show up? They told me to.”

“Uh, sure, if you don’t mind...” she trails off and looks around at all her things.

“No, no, it’s okay. Thank you.”

“Do you want some green tea? My head hurts.”

🧸

The pounding on the door alerts you to the cops just outside, but they’re not at Blair’s door. They’re knocking at your apartment. You go to look through the hole as your neighbour nurses her second cup of tea. You watch one cop’s shoulder, the only part of them you can see.

The door opens but you can't see much.

“Hello, sir, we got a phone call,” one officer declares, “do you live here?”

“Yes,” Sy answers without hesitation, “I just moved in with my girlfriend.”

“Right,” the other officer says, “and where is she?”

Sy huffs, “I was just about to call. I took the dog out and when I came back, she was gone. I’m hoping she just went for some coffee but she left her phone.”

“Mmm,” one of the cops hums. “You serve?”

“How’d you know?”

“Old man’s a vet,” the other man says, “can spot them a mile away. How long ya been back?”

“A month,” Sy answers, “yeah, came home to my sweetheart and now... I’m terrified. What if something happened? Why didn’t I lock the door?”

You hear a slap and silence, “sir, please.”

“Sorry, I just, I'm so stupid.”

One of the officers sighs and there’s another deep heave. A uniformed man moves into your view and knocks on the door, shifting it in the frame. You back up and collide with something. Blair stands right behind you, silent. You look back at her as her brow furrows between concern and confusion.

“PD! Hello, we got a call from this location. Open up.”

Blair gives a hopeless grimace, “we’re gonna get in trouble.”

You cringe. “I’m sorry.”

You go to the door and unlock it. You put your head down sheepishly and open it, “hello?”

“Hello ma’am, are you the one who called?”

You peek back at Blair again. You can’t drag her into this.

“Yeah, officer, it was me,” you face him and push your shoulders back, “that man... that man doesn’t live with me. He came into my apartment and he refuses to leave. I don’t even know him--”

“Officer, that’s a lie. You can come in and check, all my stuff is here. My dog,” Sy drawls.

“Sir,” the other officer quiets him down.

The one before you crosses his arm and returns his attention to you, “isn’t nice lying on a man, especially a soldier. Whatever you’re mad about, doesn’t give you the right to call us down here. That’s obstruction.”

“I’m not lying,” you pout. “Please, sir--”

“So if I go in that apartment and look around, I won’t find his stuff in there, hm? Just yours?”

You stagger as if you’ve been struck. Is this part of his plan? Is that why he was so eager to get his stuff inside?

“He brought it with him but I swear, I never saw him before yesterday--”

“So this man, you wrote to him while he was over in the shit and now he’s back you’re playing victim? Is that right?” The officer growls, “take advantage of a man protecting his country, get some attention, and now you’re tryna throw him out? I should book you right now.”

“Officer,” Sy steps forward, “please, don’t do that. She’s just... she’s upset, you know? I promised her some things and I wasn’t entirely truthful.”

“That doesn’t give her the right,” the second officer grits.

“I know, I know, but I can sort this out. You don’t need to scare her anymore,” Sy runs his hand over his close-shaved head, “she’s my woman, I can’t let you do that.”

The officer in front of you scoffs, “good man,” he sneers in your direction, “get your head on straight and don’t be calling for your little tiffs again.”

You stand there, gutless. That was your last resort. Really, your only. You look back at Blair one last time before you go out into the hall. You turn back and meet Sy’s gaze as you walk towards him, the officers glaring at you. You don’t care about them so much as you’re scared of what he’ll do when they leave.

**I like Blair haha. I kinda made myself want to explore that character more so let me know if you’d like to see her as a reader character and I might pair her up with her own crazy guy.**

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #follow your anywhere #series #sand castle

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imtryingbuck · 6 months

Text

Divorce Came With A Price

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: it’s been 6 months since he last saw you.

Word count: 1295

Warnings: Angst, I’m sorry. Death, cancer, suicide – please don’t read if the warnings upset you.

A/N: my mum cried when she read this.

Masterlist

Part 1

It’s been 6 months since Bucky last saw you, he’s hated it. He misses you. He misses your beautiful face, the way your smile makes his heart tingle. Misses the way your eyes shines brightly when you’re talking about your hobbies and interests. Misses the feel of your soft skin under his calloused hands. He just misses the love of his life, his other half - his sweet perfect wife.

He remembers how your smile dropped as he tells you he wanted a divorce. Remembers the heartbreakingly look in your eyes as he told he’d been having an affair. That one look has haunted his dreams, his every waking moment. He can still feel the acid in his throat as he wills himself to nod as you ask that one question. Nothing more nothing less. You just wanted that one question to be answered and he couldn’t even look at you let alone answer verbally. He didn’t even know you left the house until the divorce hearing; he watched you walk away with Matt and Foggy wishing he could say something but nothing comes out. He watched as your feet falter when you see Carly. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

But It’s over now.

It’s over now and he can get you back.

It’s over now and he’s hoping and praying that you’ll understand and forgive him.

It’s over now and he’s going to move heaven and earth to have his love back in his arms.

He finds out you’ve been staying with Matt since he broke both of your hearts. How does he do this? How does he knock on the door hoping that neither one of you punches him in the face (not that he doesn’t deserve it) he just hopes you’ll listen to him.

Bucky walks into the florist to get the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers he can get.

The skies start to turn dark even with the sun shining brightly, if he didn’t know any better he’d think it was forewarning for what’s to come.

Knocking on the wooden door it’s Matt that greats him. “What? What are you doing here” if Bucky wasn’t a super soldier he’d be scared with the tone in Matts voice.

“I-um I need to see Y-Y/N. Please”

“She’s not here. She’s not here anymore” Bucky can’t understand why Matt sounds broken.

“Well um where does she live now?” He’s trying not to stumble off his words.

“No James you don’t understand” Matt looks up towards the ceiling then continues but doesn’t get the chance.

“What do you mean I don’t understand? Matt look I know you hate me for what I did to Y/N but I had a reason, I just need to see her to explain it to her. Please Matt just tell me where she lives”. He begging and pleading and it’s clear as day in the way his voice wavers.

Matt speaks in a fast manner “Get inside before Ms Jenson comes out and complains”

The apartments a mess, there’s takeaway boxes laying around, the sinks full of pots and there’s trash overflowing in the bin. The apartment looks nothing like it did 8 months prior when Y/N and himself went round for a double date with Matt and some woman he can’t remember the name of. Matt sits down and lazily waves his arm round for Bucky to sit to.

“Matt wher-“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“James she’s gone, she’s dead.” The air is cut off. The room is spinning. His world has ended. He doesn’t know what to do or say so he stares blankly at Matt waiting for the punchline of a joke that isn’t even remotely funny. Matt understands he needs to say more so he does. “That day you told her you wanted a divorce to be with your side piece she’d been at the hospital for her results. It was cancer. Terminal. She’d been told she had about 6 months to a year left. Her insurance didn’t cover her medical expenses so she stopped treatment, I told her I would pay but you know what she’s like-was like. 3 weeks ago she made me go out on a date with Karen she said she’d be fine and made me promise I’d have a good time. I got home around 11 and went to bed. The next morning, I couldn’t hear her walking around, so I went into her room, she um she’d taken pills, enough to end her life. It was too late to do anything, they said she’d been gone for 18 hours. Id only been gone for an hour” tears stream down both of the men’s faces. Matt struggles to continues “she begged me not to say anything to you, she didn’t want to get in the way of your relationship. She thought if you knew you’d change your mind and not divorce her just because she was dying. Y/N begged me James so I couldn’t I couldn’t do that to her-“ Bucky cuts him off.

“I didn’t have an affair. I swear. Hydra was after me again and I had to divorce Y/N so she wouldn’t get hurt. I told her I had an affair so she would divorce me, I knew cheating was a deal breaker so I lied. I fucking lied and she’s dead. I lied and she’s not even going to know the truth.” He tries so hard to continue but can’t his airway is closing up. He passes out.

10 years have been and gone, the pain of losing the only person he has ever loved didn’t stop not that he wants it to. Bucky wants to remember the pain.

In the 10 years that have passed he’s visits your grave every Friday, wedding anniversary, the date you two got together, the date he proposed, your birthday and on Christmas. After the fifth year Steve told him he needed to move on, and well long story short they had a fight and Bucky cried saying he couldn’t move on. In the end everyone around him understood that he would never move on from the love of his life. He sits there no matter the weather and talks to you for hours. He told you Matt and Karen were having a baby girl, then told you they named her after you. Told you all about his cat Alpine. After every visit without fail or another thought he tells you he loves you and can’t wait to see you again.

It’s been 10 years 5 months 12 days since you passed away and Bucky’s on his way to see you.

He’s on a mission that’s gone horribly wrong he’s been shot too many times. He’s so tired and Steve’s trying to get him to stay awake but it’s no use.

“Stevie p-please stop. I w-wan-t to be w-ith my Y-Y/N I need to be with h-er” Even though Bucky gasps for breaths his voice is strong enough to let Steve and the team know that this is what he wants. Steve gives him a slow nod with tears sliding down his cheeks, he clasps hands with his best friend and keeps locked tight long after Bucky takes his last breath.

He leaves the world with a smile on his face.

You stand there waiting for him and as soon as you lock eyes with him you’re running. Jumping into his arms and before he can say anything you kiss him. Hard. After you separate you tell him you know the truth. You heard him every time he would visit your grave. You tell each other how much you love one another. You take his hand and lead him into your new life.

Tags: @learisa @bruher @pattiemac1 @kentokaze @almosttoopizza @yvessaintmuerte

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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neo-nomatrix · 1 year

Text

Heart to Heart

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’ve been traveling with Henry and Sam for over a year now. Once you meet Joel and Ellie your entire world changes.

Warnings: Age gap (joel is 56 reader is 26) Spoilers for TLOU episode 5!! Angst bro.

a/n: this episode tore me apart. Italics is ASL. Bold and italics is not.

word count: 998

4 months. It had been 4 months since you laughed. Not the kind of laugh just to convince Sam that everything was gonna be okay. But an actual laugh. The kind you gasp for air, your eyes shut and your stomach and face hurt after. At some point you wish to feel that again. The unexplainable happiness that stays with you forever.

You met Joel and Ellie only a day ago. Ellie was sweet, she was innocent. Ellie was the perfect friend for Sam, she made him laugh in a way you couldn’t. It made you happy, so so happy. Joel was different. He has a deep rugged voice with a Texan accent, you remember after hearing it looking over at Henry and saying “He’s strong. He can protect us. Plus, he’s pretty hot,” earning a laugh from Henry.

You’ve finally gotten away from Kathleen; well less gotten away and more she got infected. You’ve been in an abandoned Motel for only an hour when Joel sat next to you.

“So…he’s your what? Your boyfriend?” Joel asked, his voice not sounding confident at all.

“Who? Henry? No. Wait, Sam or Henry?” You ask quickly with a slight smile.

You see Joel roll his eyes and look the other way. You also hear a laugh, his laugh.

“I got you motherfucker! I made you laugh!” You hit his arm lightly laughing with him.

“Whatever,” he tells you.

“I don’t mean to get all sappy but it’s been a while since I laughed. Like actually laughed,” You admit to Joel.

“Yeah, Yeah me too.”

“There’s a uhm, amusement park not too far from here. It’s kind of a reminder to me that it’s not all that bad here,” you mention to him, smiling to yourself.

“You’re old enough to remember amusement parks?” He asks skeptically.

“Kind of, I was 6 when the outbreak happened. Mainly remember stuff like that from movies or whatever.” You look down at your feet while saying this.

Joel stays silent but his eyes keep on you.

“Hey Joel. Look I don't care if you like us or not but please promise me you’ll keep us safe? I can’t lose anyone else.”

He leans closer to you, taking your head in his hand and placing it on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry anymore, okay? I’m gonna protect you.”

You both pause for a minute before Joel speaks up again.

“Me and Ellie, we’re going down to Wyoming to find my brother. If you wanted to go with us, you’re uhm, more than welcome to,” he says hesitantly.

“I would like that. I’d really like that. I’ll ask them about it tomorrow,” you respond smiling wildly

“Y’know, Sam really likes you. It’s been a while since I've seen him this happy,” You tell Ellie while you get them situated for bed.

“Yeah, and Joel likes you,” She says back.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“It’s true! You really don’t see the way he looks at you?” She says back, causing you to smile.

You spent the whole night snuggled up next to Joel, feeling his warm breath on your neck. He kept a steady grip on your waist almost as if he was scared you’d run while he was asleep.

You woke up to a scream. Ellie’s scream. Sun is peeking out of the window. The door beside you slams open with Sam lunging at Ellie. Ellie is trying to kick Sam off of her but it’s useless. Joel reaches for the gun but Henry is quicker. Henry points it at Joel as Ellie screams.

“Joel! Help!”

As Joel tries to reach out to Ellie Henry shoots the gun next to his foot.

You’re still in shock trying to not shake. You slowly back up onto the wall as Henry holds the gun to Joel. In an Instant Henry Moves the gun to Ellie and Sam.

BANG

The gun goes off and a splatter of blood decorates the dirty wall. Sams blood. Everyone is silent until Henry moves the gun back to Joel.

“Henry, give me the gun,” Joel commands slowly.

“What did I do?” Henry speaks up softly.

“What did I do? What did I do?,” he repeats over and over again.

He faces Sams cold, still body. The only thing moving being the pool of blood.

Your fully sat against the wall, your hand cupping your mouth holding back sobs.

You’re silent until Henry points the gun to his temple and it goes off.

BANG

For the second time in this room. For the second time in the last minute. For the second time the same gun goes off. Killing the last people you had.

A loud croaky scream, almost shriek, rips out of your mouth. You fall forward to your knees, tears now streaming down your face as you sob

NO, NO, NO. PLEASE

This can’t be happening. One minute ago both of them were alive. One minute ago you dreamt of traveling with the four of them. All of it. Gone.

Joel shovels dirt over the two bodies as you sit next to the “graves.” Tears still run down your face as Ellie places Sams writing board on the ground.

I’M SORRY

The words etched into the plastic lay there.

“C’mon,” Joel says as he reaches a hand out to you. It takes all the strength you have at the moment to get you away from the dirt, from the bodies. Joel's hand stays on your back guiding you to catch up with Ellie. You don’t look back. You’re afraid that if you look back you won’t want to look forward ever again.

It had been four months since laughing made your chest hurt. Four months since laughing made your face hurt. It wasn’t laughing that caused you this unexplainable feeling, it was the very much explainable feeling of guilt and death. And you wish you never have to feel like this ever again.

#joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us x reader #joel miller angst #TLOU #tlou x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you

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spidernuggets · 4 months

Text

Jason Todd x Reader

"I let you down"

When the Joker sent the tapes to Batman, you were forbidden to see them, and your heart shattered seeing him buried 6 feet under.

You and Jason have known each other for a good while. You were already under Batman's wing, known as Red Hawk. When you met Jason when Bruce adopted him, you two instantly clicked and were best friends ever since. And soon enough, a sense of love blossomed between the two of you.

After that, you pulled out of the crime fighting gig, knowing you weren't at your best when your love was taken from you.

A few years later, you still haven't moved on. Everything reminded you of Jason Todd.

Soon, word went around that a new anti-hero was running around gotham killing criminals. He was later identified as Red Hood.

It was then heard that Red Hood was out for Batman. You knew you couldn't go back to being a hero, but you called Dick and he assured you that they have the situation handled.

A month later, you get a call from Alfred, telling you to come to the manor quickly. You tried to decline, but Alfred said it was important, and you knew that if Alfred says it's important, then it's serious.

When you arrived, Alfred told you to meet Brice and Dick at Jason's grave. Your eyes widen, and your eyebrows furrow. Why would they need you at Jason's grave?

You rushed over, and from the distance, you can see the silhouette of Bruce and Dick standing over the freshly dug ground, staring into the hole that Jason was buried in.

You looked at them in confusion but then glanced down at jason's tomb. The casket was open.

And it was empty.

Your breath sped up, and it became uneven. You felt like you were to pass out.

"Where is he?" You whispered, not to anyone in particular. Then you turned to Bruce and Dick who still stared at the empty casket.

"BRUCE, WHERE IS HE??" You screamed, making for throat itch.

You were back at the manor in Jason's old room. It still smelled like him. You were on his bed, clutching his pillow.

"Where are you, Jason?" You cried to yourself.

You went back to your home, instructed by Bruce, with Dick staying in contact with you, updating you on their search for Jason's body.

Your phone rang.

You quickly picked it up, seeing Dick's name on the ID caller.

"He's alive," was all you processed when Dick called you. The only other thing you processed was "And he is Red Hood."

You hung up, pacing around your apartment, chewing on your lip.

Jason's Red Hood? Your Jason? And he's out for Batman?

You thought you needed a while to process. But you kept yourself locked in your room for two months. Only coming out to use the toilet and when Dick forced you out of bed to eat.

What you didn't know that soon enough, Red Hood hadn't made up with his adopted father, but they're now on a bumpy road towards reconciliation.

Jason told Dick not to tell you that they've somewhat made up. He wanted to talk to you himself. In person.

You went into your room after treating yourself to a glass of water.

You lost all senses when you saw Red Hood standing in your bedroom, staring at polaroid pictures of you two on the wall.

When he heard you come in, he turned, looked at the ground, and slowly took off his helmet.

"Hi, doll," he said. He mentally slapped himself for it, thinking he could've said something more sensitive.

You didn't say anything. You couldn't say anything. What the hell were you supposed to say?

Jason took a breath.

"I'm sorry," he said lowly.

You didn't show it, but you were confused. Why was he apologising? What was he sorry for?

"I- I wanted to come back to you. I really did. But I did things. Horrible - unforgivable things that I can't take back. I know you stand by Bruce's morals. But- But after I came from the dead and heard Joker was still alive, I- I was so angry. I was angry at him, I was angry at Bruce. I was angry at Batman. I m'm not excusing my actions. But I knew if you found out, you'd- you'd hate me. Never look at me again and only see a monster every time you think of me. I'll get better! I pro- I promise, doll. I'm not asking you to forgive me I just-"

He couldn't finish what he was saying once you burst into a sob. You dug your palms into your eyes to stop yourself from crying, but to no avail.

Seeing you cry broke his heart, and he knew he hurt you so bad. He didn't know what to do. He took a steo forward, wanting to hold you.

Did you even want to hold him? Did you even want to hold such a monster? So he stopped himself from hugging you.

He took another deep breath.

"My sweet Y/N, I- I'm so sorr-" He was interrupted once more when you threw yourself at him, arms circling around his waist.

Jason was shocked. You were hugging him? Hugging an ugly monster who became something you'd hate?.

"I missed you so much- I- I thought I'd lost you forever," you cried into his chest.

Jason slowly wrapped his arms around you, gently placing his lips at the crown of your head.

"I missed you too, sweetheart"

"I'm sorry," you whimpered.

Jason's face scrunched up and pushed you off him, bending down to make eye contact with you.

"Why the hell would you be sorry?"

You furiously wiped away any tears left from your eyes.

"I-" You choked on another sob.

"You what, sweetheart?" He asked, pushing strands of hair away from your face.

"I- I let you down," you sniffled.

Jason's eyes widened and his grip on your shoulders tightened.

"No- no, no. Why would you think you let me down? I- I'm the one who let you down! I went on a killing spree, I wanted to kill Batman!"

"I couldn't save you! If- Maybe if I had gone with Bruce to find you I could've-"

It was Jason's turn to interrupt you as he pulled you back into a tight embrace.

"You didn't let me down, doll. You could never let me down. I was going to die either way," his whispers muffled as he leaned his lips against your head as you cried.

It was true. Whether you went with Batman or not to look for Jason, the Joker still would've had him killed. Or had the both of you killed.

But he's here now. And he's making an effort to get better. That's all that matters to you.

"I love you so much," you say, your voice muffled against his chest plated armour.

"I love you too, darling," he replied.

You both stood in each other's embrace for a good while before you broke the comforting silence.

"You copied me," you said quietly.

Jason's eyebrows furrowed.

"What?"

You lifted your head, looking at him.

"I'm supposed to be Red, you stole my name," you smiled, eyes remaining bloodshot from tears.

Jason couldn't p but break into a smile at your comment as he placed a lingering kiss on your forhead.

"Red reminded me of you," he said.

You copied his smile as you both leaned into a starved, loving kiss, happy to be reunited.

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holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 4)

pariring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 4 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 3 here)

you and lando have gotten so used to each other in such a short amount of time that a few days apart feels unnatural. there are still lines you're scared to cross, but lando will do anything to prove he's not going anywhere

word count: 6.2k tags/warnings: social media au aspects, alcohol consumption

You jumped when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders as you stood outside the hotel lobby doors. Usually it was Carlos finding any reason to scare you, but when you didn’t hear his laughter following your panicked inhale, you turned around and came face to face with Lando.

“Morning,” he smiled, eyeing the suitcase at your feet. “What time’s your flight?”

You were a little surprised he didn’t call you out for leaving without saying goodbye, but you both knew you didn’t owe him that. Whatever happened last night, the kiss you shared, it wasn’t supposed to turn into anything bigger.

You glanced at your phone, “In a few hours, I’m just waiting for the uber.”

“You’re not flying with Charles?”

The question confused you, but then you remembered that Lando was probably expecting you to attend all of the races. You had only missed a few since the start of the season and Lando had gotten used to your presence over the weekends.

“I’m going to London,” you told him. “I’m not going to the next race.”

Lando’s smile dropped, his eyes widened and was in resemblance to a puppy as we waited for you to make a joke and tell him you were only kidding.

But you were being serious and when neither of you said anything for a few seconds, it sunk in for Lando that he wouldn’t see you at all this week.

“Why?” He swallowed. “I mean, at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask why?”

Lando thought he had done something.

Seeing you standing with your luggage, Lando drew his own conclusion that he had done something wrong last night. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you, maybe he shouldn’t have asked about why you didn’t date drivers, maybe he shouldn’t have put you in the position you now found yourself in.

You needed to ease his nerves, and the second you reached for his face, lightly brushing your thumb over his cheek, Lando started to think that maybe he was overreacting.

“My friend is getting married,” you answered. “Her hen party is this weekend. The wedding takes place next. And then I’m probably just going to stay in London until Silverstone because it’s the weekend after anyway.”

Lando nodded and you could see him working through the dates in his mind, wondering when he’d get to see you next. It would be almost three weeks.

But it wasn’t like he had a say in the matter. He would miss you, just like you would find yourself missing him, but you didn’t have any sort of commitment to him or the races. Lando almost felt as though he didn’t have the right to tell you that he wanted you to be there.

“Where are you staying?” He asked, instead of saying what he really wanted to say. “In London?”

“Oh I don’t know yet,” your phone chimed, letting you know the uber was nearby. “I’ll call one of my friends when I land or I’ll get an airbnb. I’ll figure it out.”

Lando was taken aback by how unprepared you were, but if you were being honest, most of your travel plans were usually booked by someone else. Charles’ assistant made sure you had a room booked and transportation sorted out when you attended the races. If you ever travelled for modelling jobs, the agency would plan ahead. This was one of the few times when you were in charge of your own trip.

And clearly, that stressed Lando out a bit.

“You’re just going to land in Heathrow and hope that someone has a spare room for you?” Lando repeated back what you had told him, but making it sound more preposterous than it actually was.

You shrugged, “I mean, yeah. Someone’s bound to. Or I’ll get an airbnb.”

“A last minute rental in the heart of London?” Again, he was wording it in a way that was making you second guess your decision. “That’s available for the next three weeks?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Lando rolled his eyes, rubbing his hand over his face. He was in very visible distress and when his sigh was loud enough for people nearby to turn and look at what was going on, you pushed on his shoulder.

“Lando, I’ll be fine,” you assured him with a laugh.

But he only shook his head and pulled out his phone, “I know somewhere you can stay. I’ll send you the address and key code and everything.”

“In London?”

“Redcliffe Square,” he clarified. You didn’t spend a lot of time in London, but you were familiar with that borough, nestled between Kensington and Chelsea, two of the most expensive areas in the entire city.

“Who’s place is it?” You asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t, don’t worry.”

“But whose place is it?” You asked again. Your phone vibrated in your hands and you glanced at the screen to see that Lando had sent you all of the information you needed to access the flat.

“A friend’s,” he glanced over your shoulder when a black SUV pulled up along the curb. “He isn’t even in London. You can use the place for the next few weeks, okay?”

You weren’t fully sold on the idea, but with your uber arriving, there wasn’t much time to argue. The look you gave Lando told him you’d think about it and that’s all he could ask for. He took the luggage from you and wheeled it to the trunk of the car.

Lando, for whatever reason, was determined to help you in any way he could. And you weren’t someone who ever needed help, but Lando did little things here and there that you hadn’t stopped to think about until now.

Like how he opened the door for you whenever he could. Taking your suitcase from you so you didn’t have to lift it. Sorting out your temporary living situation so you didn’t have to worry about it. Lando liked being able to take care of you, as much as he was allowed given the fact that you two weren’t actually together.

He shut the trunk again and returned to you, shoulders slummed as he took in a heavy breath. He looked at you as if he was trying to remember every detail of your face, seeing as he wouldn’t be able to just wait outside the Ferrari motorhome to see you or even show up outside your flat.

Lando would be heading straight to Austria, in fact he had to finish packing because he too needed to go to the airport soon.

“How am I supposed to move up your driver ranking if you’re not even watching the race?” He asked.

“That’s on you to figure out.”

“Who’s next on your list?”

“Danny Ric.”

Lando’s eye roll could not have been bigger. It didn’t help that you were also wearing an oversized shirt from Daniels’ 2022 Ric Rodeo collection, finding it to be comfortable enough for an overseas flight.

“Danny’s not even driving!” Lando exclaimed. “And the next race is at the Red Bull Ring. He’s going to be there!”

As a Daniel Ricciardo fan, you were looking forward to all of the content that would be coming up in preparation for the race. You were also looking forward to seeing what Lando had in mind to pass the reserve driver. With surpassing in points out of the question, Lando had to get creative.

“You’re smart, you’ll think of something.”

“You can’t just call me an oyster and then call me smart, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Fine, I’ll stick with oyster.”

“You little-” he clenched his teeth, cutting his words off. You could see him actively trying to mask his smile as his lips pressed together tightly.

“I have a flight to catch,” you said, taking a moment to reach for his hand. You gave his fingers a squeeze, it was supposed to be a friendly gesture but one that held more meaning than just saying goodbye.

And then Lando didn’t allow you to let go. The second he felt you pulling away, his grip tightened and he pulled you closer. Your heart started to race when his other hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t use my last 12 seconds right now?” He whispered.

You had an answer. You had about three answers, three good reasons why he shouldn’t kiss you outside the doors of the hotel. For starters, there were people that you both knew in the lobby right now and if they just looked outside they would be left with questions neither of you could answer.

Neither of you could trust employees, within Formula 1 or at the hotel, to not say anything and you didn’t need this getting back to your brothers.

But most importantly, you didn’t want to share these moments with the world.

If Lando kissed you again, you wanted to be able to get lost in it. You didn’t want to worry about prying eyes or being interrupted or the media finding out and spinning a story into something that it’s not.

“Save them,” you said quietly, feeling your heart sink deeper into your chest when he nodded and dropped his arm back to his side. He let go of your hand and reached for the door to the backseat to pull it open for you.

Lando leaned against the frame of the door, watching as you made sure you had everything that you needed for a full day of airline travel. You opened the belt bag around your waist to confirm your passport, charger and wallet was safely in there. He chuckled when it took you an extra second to find your airpods, but even if you were panicked about missing something, the way Lando looked at you was enough to ease your nerves, momentarily.

“No daisies?” He asked, referring to the bouquet he had gotten for you last night.

“I can’t bring flowers on a plane, Lando.”

He wasn’t content with that response, “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you retorted. “I guess you’ll just have to get me some more when I see you in SIlverstone.”

“Shouldn’t you be bringing me flowers? I’m the one who got a podium.”

Lando was stalling now, he didn’t want to watch you drive off. He didn’t want to go these next few weeks knowing you weren’t anywhere nearby. You would be in two completely different countries.

“Do it again and I’ll think about it,” you flashed him a smile, the last one he’d see from you in a while, before he reluctantly shut the car door.

You fought the urge to look out the back window and wave at him, just like he fought the urge to send you a text saying ‘have a safe flight’. Those little meaningful actions weren’t something either of you did and you knew that the second one of you crossed that line, it would be so much harder to return to where you were before.

——————

Two flights, three naps and eight hours of podcasts later, you landed in London. You were exhausted, starving and making a mental note to call Lando and thank him for hooking you up with a place to stay because the absolute last thing you wanted to do right now was to find somewhere to sleep.

You texted Thea, your friend who was getting married and told her you landed. She responded almost immediately asking if you wanted to grab drinks but you were ready to call it a night and assured her you’d call her tomorrow.

You were half asleep in the uber, not even caring to look out the window to make sure you were headed in the right direction. You confirmed the address that Lando sent you and closed your eyes until the driver quietly woke you up when he stopped in front of the white period building.

The flat was stunning, you could tell that much when you stepped outside. Even with the night sky casting over it, this home was elegant and not something you could ever afford.

Rolling your suitcase up to the front steps, you pulled your phone out to double check the numbers that Lando had sent you. You typed in a six-digit code and waited only a second for the mechanism to unlock. You pushed the door open and jumped when an alarm started going off.

It took you a moment to get your bearings and find the next text that shared the code to disarm the system, but when the house finally quieted down and you were certain there were no other codes you needed to enter, you let yourself relax.

The flat had high ceilings with period features throughout, including a beautiful marble fireplace in the living room, large windows that led out to a stunning garden view and a huge semi-open kitchen floor plan that you couldn’t wait to use when you weren’t tired.

You left the suitcase at the end of the hallway and flipped a light switch on. It wasn’t that you were trying to pry, but you scanned the general area for any photos or memorabilia that would hint at whose place this was.

Unfortunately for you, nothing stood out.

Except for the vase of daisies in the middle of the dining room table.

You walked over to the table, thinking that they were fake and for decor only, but the second you reached for one of the stems, you knew instantly they were real, and freshly cut.

Which meant someone had been here before you showed up.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you headed towards the fridge, thinking that if someone was staying here, there would be groceries put away. You yanked the door open and found your assumptions to be correct. There was food in there.

And by the looks of a lot of the expiry dates, this food was purchased today.

You needed answers and you needed to know if Lando was incorrect about the homeowner being away.

You wiped your eyes as you scrolled to find Lando’s contact name in your phone. There was a really good chance you were delusional and there was in fact no food in the fridge and you were hallucinating the flowers because of how exhausted you were, but it all seemed real.

Lando answered on the first ring.

“Hey,” his voice chimed through the receiver, you could practically hear his smile. “How was your flight?”

“Yeah, good,” but when your 'good' 'was cut off by a very audible yawn, you heard Lando chuckle into the phone.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you laughed as well, leaning against the counter as you eyed the flowers again. “Hey, are you sure there’s no one staying here?”

“At the flat?” You heard a bit of shuffling on his end, like he was moving to a different location to talk to you. “No, no ones there. Just you.”

“So why am I staring at a vase of freshly picked daisies and why is the fridge stocked?”

He laughed again, what you would have given to actually be with him and hear it. You weren’t even sure what country he was currently in, or if he was somewhere in an airport waiting for a layover, but you knew you would have much rather preferred he was with you in London.

Not because you had feelings for him or whatever, it was just easier to talk face to face than over the phone.

“Well,” Lando took a breath. “Daisies are your favourite flower and you need to food to survive so-”

“You did this?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I just-” you opened the fridge again. “When did you-” you picked up a head of lettuce and then opened up the drawer filled with an assortment of meat and cheese. “How did you-”

“I asked a friend to pick up some things,” Lando finally cleared things up. “Ria lives in the area, she went grocery shopping and picked up the flowers. I just didn’t want you to walk into an empty flat.”

“You’re so sweet,” you tucked the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walked back over to the flowers. Another yawn passed through your lips and Lando laughed yet again, but you didn’t want your fatigue to be the reason why you had to hang up. “I’m going to get used to seeing the flowers, you know?”

“I know,” Lando agreed. “I’ll just have to keep buying them for you.”

“Or just plant your own,” you suggested. “Have a nice shrub of them in your yard. I’m sure they can grow in Monaco.”

“I’ll think about that- oh, hang on a second, yeah?”

Before you could answer, Lando muted himself on his end. You wouldn’t have blamed him if when he came back he abruptly needed to go, he had a long travel day as well.

While you waited for his return, you grabbed your suitcase and wheeled it down the hall, on the search for a bedroom. The first door on the right was a bathroom, the one across from it was an office and it wasn’t until you reached the last door on the left did you find the master bedroom.

Flipping on the light, an abstract painting of a vintage car hanging above the bed took you by surprise. It was a bright blue painting and it stood out, not in a good way, amongst a lot of the neutral decor.

But again, there were no personal mementos.

You checked out the ensuite, making sure the hot water actually worked, before heading to the closet. The racks were lined with a variety of jackets and jumpers, you assumed belonging to a guy given the size and styles.

You really shouldn’t have been snooping, this wasn’t your flat, you were simply a guest, but the light blue hoodie called to you and you tugged on the sleeve to check out the design on the front.

“Sorry about that, had another call,” Lando’s voice made you flinch, not expecting him to come back so soon.

But your attention wasn’t on the phone call. It was on the jumper with a white logo in the top right corner, a logo that held the initials LN.

You tugged down the collar to confirm that this was in fact one of Lando’s merch items and not just fan made. LN4 was printed on the dark tag.

You cleared your throat, “Lando.”

“Yes?”

“Who’s flat am I in right now?”

A bit of silence followed by a faint hum, “Why?”

“Answer the question.”

“A friend’s.”

“Whose friend?”

Another pause and then a very hesitant and uncertain, “Yours?”

You let go of the sleeve and walked back into the bedroom, “Do you live here? Is this your flat?”

His silence was enough of an answer. You scoffed and you knew that Lando could hear your eye roll through the phone.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to stay there if I told you it was my place,” you quickly explained, his voice raising with humour before you could think about arguing with him. “I just thought the offer would scare you off because, I mean- it’s a little weird.”

“It’s very weird,” you corrected, eyes darting all over the room. He lived here. “Lando I can’t sleep in your bed.”

“I haven’t had sex in it with anyone, if you’re wondering.”

“Well I wasn’t, but thank you for clearing that up.”

Lando laughed, “Come on, Y/N. It’s better than a hotel or an airbnb or crashing on someone’s couch.”

But you still weren’t sure how you felt now that you knew this was Lando’s place. He might not have lived here full time, you were fully aware of his home in Monaco, but this was his flat. He handed over the keys to one of his homes like it was nothing, like the thought of you staying anywhere else was absurd.

You had visited Milan dozens of times and Pierre never once suggested that you stay at his place. Carlos was the same, never thinking of offering up his home if he knew you were travelling to Madrid.

You were friends with both of those guys, Pierre was on thin ice, but regardless, you considered them to be the two drivers you knew the most, that you were the closest to.

And Lando texted you his address in seconds, not giving you any other option.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the palm of your hand curving over the luxurious duvet. If you closed your eyes and fell backwards on top of the mattress, you’d be out in seconds.

“Hey,” Lando’s tone grew quiet, knowing he had lost you for a moment as you got sucked into your own thoughts. “Have I dropped down the driver ranking again?”

“No, you idiot,” you rubbed the corner of your eye. “I’m just thinking about how this is definitely a bit weird, but also really sweet and if Charles knew where I was staying right now, he’d run you off the track next race.”

“I can handle Charles,” there was a false arrogance to him. Driver Charles was a lot different compared to Older Brother Charles. “Just enjoy these next few weeks, okay? I know it’ll be a little boring without me there to annoy you, but try, yeah?”

“I’m going to rack up your electricity bill,” you decided, a devious sort of smile playing on your lips. You glanced towards his closet, “I’m also going to burn all of your merch.”

Lando sighed loudly, “You know what, I’ll pick my battles. This isn’t one of them.”

“So you don’t care if I set all of your LN4 hoodies to flames?”

“Well you don’t wear them anywhere so you might as well.”

“You’ve never asked me to,” you pointed out, but then couldn’t remember if that was actually true or not. There might have been a time when he offered you a hoodie or a shirt and you probably rolled your eyes at the mere thought of putting it on because that would mean you couldn’t rep DR3.

“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Lando scoffed. “You wear Danny’s merch.”

“Well yeah I love him.”

Lando grumbled quietly into the receiver, something about Daniel not even driving, followed by a few more seconds of loud rustling. He started saying something else but his voice was muffled so you only assumed he had pulled the phone away from his face to talk to someone nearby.

This time when he came back, his tone shifted.

“Hey, so I-”

“Have to catch your flight?” You asked, trying not to let the disappointment seep through into your words.

“Yeah it appears so,” Lando sounded just about as annoyed as you felt.

You didn’t want to draw out this goodbye, “Good luck this weekend.”

“Thank you, I’ll, uh- I’ll talk to you later, I guess?” He sounded unsure. “I mean, I won’t call you because you’ll be asleep but yeah I’ll text you or you can text me if you want, but you don’t-”

“Lando,” you cut off his nonsensical rambling. He hummed and you could just picture his wide eyes and boyish features in your mind. “I’ll talk to you later. Have a safe flight."

ynleclerc

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 14,302 others

ynleclerc thea's getting married and we're about to make it everyone's problem

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theaa_coleman i love you !!!

carlossainz55 when are you getting married

ynleclerc is this a proposal? carlossainz55 you wish

userrnorris i would give anything to see lando or carlos as her date to the wedding PLEASE

smooth_operator55 wait this explains why she wasn't at the race this weekend!!

paddockgf oh phew i thought it was bc charles banned her from hanging around w the drivers💀💀

You told Lando you’d talk to him later but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

You didn’t text him when you woke up, being bombarded with calls from your friends and he didn’t call you when he landed, exhausted himself from his travel days.

And then the week went on.

The Hen party for Thea was chaotic. You were drunk for nearly 48 hours and hungover for the next 24. You didn’t leave Lando’s flat for a few days, needing to recuperate and it wasn’t until Tuesday afternoon did you finally feel like yourself again.

You wanted to watch the races live, but your weekend was packed so you weren’t able to actually see what happened until days later when you curled up on the couch and turned on F1TV.

Just like you expected, a lot of Daniel Ricciardo content at the Red Bull Ring, but even his presence wasn’t enough to distract you from a certain McLaren driver.

Lando ended up qualifying eighth, not his best but also not his worst. If you had watched live there would have been a sort of obligation to text him saying ‘good job’ but you also weren’t sure if that was something you could do. It wasn’t as though you wanted to text Carlos and congratulate him on his P4 starting position.

The race, for better or for worse, was a pretty dull one. No major incidents, nothing that caused you any concern. Charles started from fifth and worked his way up to a third place podium. Carlos started fourth and stayed there. And somewhere during those 71 laps, Lando dropped back through the grid and finished eleventh, unable to claim any points for that weekend.

Again, if you had watched it live you might have even called him. You might have said he still had a good weekend and that it could have been worse, but you were watching it two, almost three, days later.

The worst part was you had been so disconnected from the outside world these last few days that you weren’t even aware of the driver standings until right now. You had stayed off Instagram except to share a few photos and aside from that, your phone died a lot throughout the chaos that was this weekend.

You didn’t see anything. You didn’t see Lando’s race results. You didn’t see his post-race interviews where he sounded defeated over the lack of pace from the McLaren. You didn’t see the tweets from fans saying that Lando was missing his good luck charm (you).

There was a lot you missed, but there was also a lot you were completely oblivious to.

You didn’t know that Lando thought about calling you after the race because he knew that hearing your voice would make his day a little better after that run. You weren’t aware that Lando paced back and forth in his hotel room, asking himself if you really were his good luck charm. And you didn’t know he changed his flights so he could leave Austria early and head to the next country the race was being hosted in.

Which just so happened to be England.

He told his team it was because he wanted to visit some family before the race weekend. There was a decent sized gap between the Austrian Grand Prix and Silverstone, so no one thought anything of it, and it wasn’t necessarily a lie, he would go see his family, but it just wasn’t the whole truth.

So he landed in London Wednesday night.

It had been over a week now since you two last talked and it wasn’t that you were ignoring him, you just didn’t know what to say.

Days had passed since the race and you just assumed it was too late to say anything about it. Would he have even wanted a pity ‘hey I still think you did pretty good’ sort of text? He knew you weren’t planning on watching the race live, so that kind of message held the risk of sounding insincere.

And Lando hadn’t reached out either, assuming you were enjoying your time with your friends, which you were. But you missed his voice, you missed his laugh, you missed talking to him.

But there would be no calls or texts exchanged for the rest of the week.

Again, you didn’t know what to say and then all of a sudden it was Saturday, Thea’s wedding and then you really weren’t on your phone. You were at the brides’ beck and call since dawn, you needed to be there to take the champagne away when she tried to pour another glass before noon.

If you had been on your phone, you would have noticed Lando posted a handful of photos on his story and on his photography account, showcasing that he was in London. After spending the last few days with friends and family in nearby towns, he arrived in the city.

And he wanted you to know it.

He didn’t want to come across as needy or annoying and come straight out tell you he was in London, so he teased the city on his social media, hoping that you’d see it and call or text him. It was an immature move, but Lando wasn’t sure where the two of you stood so it was all he could come up with.

But of course you had no idea what Lando’s whereabouts were. Your priority was the bride and then after the wedding, your priority was getting drunk with your friends at the reception.

Lando was the last thing on your mind.

Until he grew impatient that you hadn't reached out, so he was left with no choice but to leave a comment on your most recent instagram post.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 18,204 others

ynleclerc need my friends to stop getting married, im tired of crying in pretty dresses (so much love for you 2 tho)

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theaa_coleman i love you i love you thank you for holding my tissues all day

charles_leclerc congrats to the happy couple !!

arthur_leclerc always the bridesmaid never the bride?

yn/leclerc im 21 leave me alone

landonorris orange suits you

Orange suits you.

Was that him telling you that you looked good in orange or was he being sly and using orange as a euphemism and he was in fact saying that he suited you? Or maybe this was him hinting at wanting to see you in the McLaren garage or maybe Lando didn’t think before leaving that comment and it was unintentionally causing you to spin out.

It didn’t help that you were drunk and to you, the room seemed to quite literally be spinning. Was it actually? You could be easily convinced it was.

As you sat on the bench outside of the hall, your heeled foot tapped against the carpeted floor. God your feet were killing you. This dress had rough seams that made your skin feel like it was on fire. Your earrings kept getting stuck on your hair but none of that was bothering you as much as Lando’s comment was.

What the fuck did it mean?

You don’t talk for a week and a half and that’s the first thing he says?

You blinked a few times as you focused on his name on the app, clicking it to lead to his own profile and then clicking his photo to see what he had been up to within the last 24 hours.

It took you a second to piece together the photos you were looking at, but that fucker was in London.

He was in London and he didn’t tell you? You’re staying at his flat. What was going to happen? You’d go back there after the wedding ended and run into him just sitting on the couch?

Next thing you knew, you were calling him.

You lost count of how many rings you heard before he finally answered.

“Hey,” he sounded arrogant, like he was expecting your call. Or maybe you were just reading into it because you didn’t know what was going on and you had one too many shots with the bridal party and Lando said that orange suited you.

“Orange.”

He laughed, “Excuse me?”

You didn’t mean to say that out loud. Your intention was to call and ask if he was in London but for some reason you couldn’t get his comment out of your mind, so you rolled with it.

“You think orange suits me?”

He paused. Or maybe he didn’t. The seconds were blurring together and you didn’t have a good concept of time.

“You’re drunk.”

Did you sound drunk? You didn’t think you sounded drunk. You diverted the conversation.

“You’re in London.”

“Are we just stating the obvious?”

“Why did you-” you hiccuped, you definitely sounded a little drunk now. A breath passed your lips as you regained a coherent thought. “You think orange suits me?”

“I do,” there was no hesitancy on his part. “I think you look beautiful in anything, but orange is definitely your colour.”

That’s all it took. A few words, a simple compliment, his smile that could be heard through the phone, and your heart was sinking into your chest. You missed him, you missed his voice. A week and a half wasn’t even that long but it was also driving you insane.

“I didn’t-” you inhaled a breath as your words jumbled together.

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t watch the race live and you also wanted to apologise for not saying good job and you were still stuck on the fact that he was in London so the next sentence out your mouth wasn’t understandable in the slightest.

“I didn’t mean to say sorry, in the-” you dragged your hand over your face, trying to think of a word. “In the race, you were- you did last weekend.”

Lando’s laughter was music to your fucking ears. When something was really funny he always inhaled as he laughed and with it came a sort of squeal that was terribly contagious and you found yourself wanting to laugh along, even if you didn’t know what was funny.

Like right now, you didn’t know why he was laughing but you were laughing with him. Was it something you said? You couldn’t even remember what you said.

When you both finally caught your breath after a minute, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying what was on the forefront of your mind.

“I think I miss you.”

“You think?” Lando repeated. “I know I miss you.”

He missed you.

“Where are you tonight?”

The question wasn’t properly worded, but Lando pieced together what you were asking. Him being able to understand drunk you was weirdly attractive. You didn’t want it to be a recurring thing, but you loved that he wasn’t asking you to repeat yourself or making you feel bad for not making any sense.

“I’m staying at a friend's place, I didn’t want to bother you at the flat.”

“What if I want you to bother me?”

Lando cleared his throat, “Then I’d get in my car right now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Get in your car…” you sat up a bit straighter, glancing towards the room where the reception was taking place. You had spent all day with everyone in there and now there was only one person you wanted to see, “...and come pick me up.”

You could hear the sound of car keys being thrown and caught, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Send me your location.”

And you did, accidentally hanging up on him in the process. Lando sent a string of laughing emojis before telling you he’d be there in about fifteen minutes.

That was enough time for you to chug a few glasses of water and find the bridge and groom to say goodbye. Thea tried to pour another shot down your throat but if anymore alcohol entered your system, you’d start making some really questionable decisions.

She was content with a hug when you lied and said you would puke on her dress. You wished them well and told them to be safe on their honeymoon. Next you found a few other members of the wedding party and said bye to them before grabbing your clutch and making your way to the front doors of the venue.

Just in time for Lando to pull up in a sleek black McLaren.

You were so captivated by him just getting out of the car that you froze in place, your heels scraping against the cobblestone beneath you. He wasn’t in a Quadrant sweater, surprisingly, instead opting for a white t-shirt and a pair of dark grey sweats.

There was already something about a man in grey sweats that had you, and many people, forgetting how to breathe. But Lando in that attire was otherworldly. He looked so good but it was well past midnight so you didn’t how know it was possible for someone to look that good.

You weren’t even sure how you looked. There was a strong chance your eye makeup was smudged and your face was oily after having product seep into your pores all day. One of the straps of the dress slipped from your shoulder and you quickly adjusted it as Lando approached you, taking in your appearance like he was breathing in fresh air for the first time in months.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he smiled. He raised his eyebrows when your knee buckled slightly, an indicator that you were in fact drunk but you played it off like nothing happened. “Did you have fun?”

You nodded, looking very uncharacteristically childlike, “I want to go home.”

You didn’t mean for the word home to slip out. You knew Lando’s place wasn’t home, you were only staying there for a few weeks and then you’d be travelling again.

But even without him there, you felt so comfortable in that flat. You loved cozying up in the bed, you liked having the open kitchen to experiment with, you liked knowing that Lando wanted you there.

So no, it wasn’t home, but it was close enough for the time being and that wasn’t something you could often say, especially with your schedule consisting of trip after trip, hotel after hotel.

Lando reached for your hand. Hearing you refer to his flat as home, even in your drunken state, had his heart skipping a beat. He knew you didn’t mean it, he knew you just wanted to leave the party, but it meant more to him than you’d ever realise. This was something he would hold onto for as long as you’d allow him to.

“Okay Little Leclerc, let's get you home.”

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crypticreid · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY TWO

October 6 -- Phone Sex

masterlist

author's note: first of all, I've been so overwhelmed with the amount of support I've received so far on my first post. Truly, it means the world to me, so thank you! 💖💖💖Also, I've started a tag list for kinktober. If you would like to be added, please reply to one of my posts or message me!

summary: after injuring yourself, you've been forced to stay home from a case and you miss Spencer more than you'd like to admit. Lucky for you, he's missing you just as much.

warnings: female reader, masturbation, guided masturbation, horny ramblings, a little bit of spencer dominance, dirty talk

word count: 2.8k

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Your apartment was spotlessly clean. You’d spent almost the whole day organizing and scrubbing and even rearranging furniture. You hadn’t been able to sit still all day, distracted and bored at the same time.

While on the last case a few days ago, you had sprained your ankle pretty bad. At least bad enough that Hotch had basically forced you to take a few days of leave. You argued that you could work the current case from the office with Garcia, but he’d simply leveled his ‘this isn’t up for discussion’ look at you, and you shut your mouth. Reid had offered to drive you home and then spent the entire night pampering you and not even letting you lift a finger. Then he had to leave for this case, and you were alone. Which had been okay while your ankle throbbed, but now your ankle was perfectly fine, and you were dying being stuck at home.

You were restless, but nothing you did helped. And now you’re frustrated.

You bite down on your bottom lip as you try to think of literally anything else you can do to keep your mind busy. Your eyes fall onto the clock hanging on the wall, and you notice that it’s almost midnight.

There’s barely a slim chance that he’ll pick up, but you grab your cell phone anyway and call Spencer. It rings for several seconds until his automated voicemail picks up. A sigh falls from your lips.

“Hey, Spencer. It’s me. I know you’re busy. I just – I just miss you.” You sigh again and feel slightly annoyed at how pitiful you sound. But it’s true.

It’s been hard to sleep since he’s gone, both because you’ve realized you spend too much time worrying about him and because the bed feels so empty without his long limbs taking up an unfair amount of space. You miss laying on the couch with your feet tucked under his thigh as you both read in comfortable quietness. And you hate how empty your apartment feels without him here. “Anyway, stay safe. And I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.”

You hang up the phone and slump onto the couch with a groan. After a few minutes of trying to read, you give up and decide to take a shower and head to bed. You toss your cell phone onto your bed as you take off your clothes and grab a towel. In the bathroom, you turn on the shower, and as you wait for the water to warm up, you glance at the mirror.

You see your naked body, the body that Spencer spends so much time worshiping. Your hands graze up your thighs, remembering how his hands grab onto them when he holds you pressed against his mouth as his tongue brings you to orgasm after orgasm. You continue your journey upwards across your stomach where he presses kisses and murmurs how much he loves you, to your breasts where he licks and nips and takes your nipple in between his teeth.

A warmth begins to gather low in your belly, and you feel the beginning twinges of need in your core. Quickly, you blink away the images of Spencer and drop your hands to the cool counter of the sink. You take a few deep breaths as you lean against the counter.

In the shower, you can’t help it when your hands caress your skin, paying special attention to your breasts. You moan out loud alone and realize why you’ve been so restless today. There’s a slight blush coloring your cheeks at the understanding. You rush through the rest of your shower and dry off with the towel so you can throw back the comforter of your bed and settle into the freshly cleaned sheets.

You start to rub your thighs, massaging and focusing on the sensation against your skin. With your eyes closed, an image of Spencer emerges, leaning over you, touching you. No, now he’s lying next to you, he’s breathing against your neck right after he kisses below your ear, and his hands leave your thighs and travel across your stomach. Just the fingertips, almost tickling, raising the anticipation, and he smiles when you take a sharp intake of breath before he reaches your breasts. Your hands are smaller than his, so it isn’t exactly the same sense of pleasure, but it works for now.

If he was here, Spencer would be kissing your neck, so gingerly, and then he’d laugh lightly against your skin when you’d squirm impatiently. But since he isn’t here, you don’t have to tease. Release was only a few minutes away. Your fingers gather the wetness at your core and glide upward toward your clit.

Instantly, you sigh at the contact and begin leisurely circles on the sensitive bud as your imaginary Spencer looks into your eyes. He would lean down to kiss your lips, just as slowly as his fingers moved on you, his tongue teasing your lips, but never giving himself over to you fully. Not yet. You moan his name and speed up your fingers.

The pleasure rises deep within you, your hips moving in tandem with your fingers, and you apply just a little more pressure. Another sharp intake of breath, and you can tell you’re close.

Your phone rings. You freeze your motions, unaware of your surroundings for a split second, but then you force your eyes open and scramble off the bed. The ringtone is somewhere in the room, but you can’t remember where you left your phone.

The phone rings incessantly as though it’s mocking you as you feverishly search for it. When you pull the comforter off the bed harshly, a loud clang on the floor confirms the phone’s location. You grab it and answer breathlessly, “hello.”

“Why are you out of breath?” Spencer asks on the other end, a thousand or so miles away.

You press a hand to your sweaty forehead and then push sticky strands of hair off of it. “Oh, I was in the shower, and I heard the phone ringing in the bedroom.” You lie even though Spencer is a genius profiler and would most likely see right through it. But the idea of admitting to him that you were touching yourself to the thought of him made your stomach do somersaults.

There is a small pause before he replies, “I’m sorry for interrupting your shower.”

“I was done. It’s fine.” You chew on your bottom lip.

“Oh, good. I got your message.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you.” You sit on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t apologize. It was nice to hear your voice.” His words make your heart flutter. “I miss you.”

You sigh, “I miss you too,” and lie back horizontal across the bed, your feet dangling off the edge.

“I’ll be home tomorrow. We wrapped up the case about an hour ago, but there’s a bad thunderstorm, and flights were grounded.” You picture him alone in a hotel room holding his cellphone up to his ear, his long body across the bed.

“How was the case?”

“I’d rather talk about you. How was your day?”

You turn on your side so you can fiddle with the top sheet that was left askew by all of your frantic movements earlier. “Nothing exciting.”

“And how’s your ankle?”

“Perfectly fine. Not even sore.”

“I’ll see about that. Don’t think I won’t take a look at it tomorrow.”

“You’re not a medical doctor, Spencer.” You roll your eyes with a small smile playing on your lips. He laughs lightly.

There is a soft silence between the two of you for a few moments. It isn’t awkward but comforting. Almost as if he’s lying beside you and the two of you are simply resting in the presence of each other. “What were you really doing before I called?” He inquires.

You smile. He’s too smart for his own good. “Exercising,” you quip.

“The kind of exercise that requires your hand between your legs.”

“Spencer!” You gasp.

He laughs again, and you wish he was next to you because you’d kiss the laugh off his lips. “Am I wrong?”

“How did you know?”

“I’m a profiler.”

“No, really tell me,” you demand. Profiling isn’t a magic trick, and Spencer isn’t a psychic.

“I guessed.” You roll your eyes because you can see his face in your mind, the sly almost smug smile and the eyes full of amusement.

“Bullshit.”

“No, truly. I figured you missed me just as much as I missed you.” His voice lowers to almost a whisper, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “That you’ve been thinking about me just as much as I’ve been thinking about you.”

“You’ve been thinking about me?” You murmur.

“I can’t get you out of my head. It’s quite distracting, to be completely honest.”

“Me? Distracting the brilliant Dr. Reid?” You ask innocently.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” His voice has taken on that husky tone that sends wet heat straight to your core.

“Tell me.” You repeat your earlier demand, your hand rubbing mindless patterns across your skin.

“I’m hard just from hearing your voice. It’s taking everything in me to not to unbuckle my pants and fuck into my hand like I’d fuck into you.”

You can’t help but bite your lip at his words because it’s rare for him to curse like that. “Do it.”

“Only if you do it too. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you touch yourself and make yourself come just from my voice.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, your hand traveling lower.

He hums low and deep in the back of his throat. “You’re already doing it aren’t you, sweetheart? Couldn’t even wait for me to undo my belt. Needed it that bad, didn’t you?”

“I need it.”

You’re about to reach your aching center when he makes a quick tutting sound. “Don’t touch yourself yet.” You instantly pull your hand away. “Go get your earbuds and connect them to your phone. I want to be right in your ear, and I want both of your hands free.”

You comply quickly, putting in your earbuds and then laying back down on your bed. You set your phone beside you. “I’m ready.”

“Are you? What are you ready for?” He teases. He wants you to vocalize exactly what you want even though it makes you blush or maybe because it makes you blush. He wants it despite not being here to see it.

“To touch myself.”

“And?”

“To make myself come from just your voice.”

“Good…” he starts, but you have one more thing to add.

“And I want to hear you come too, baby.”

In the distance, you can hear the clanking of his belt as he undoes it and the shuffling of him taking off his pants. “I’ll do anything for you.” You settle into the bed, anticipation buzzing across your skin. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Close your eyes and just focus on my voice and your breathing. Take a deep breath for me. And let it go, just like that. Where do you need me most, sweetheart?”

“Everywhere.” You answer instantly.

“No, baby, I know, but focus for me. Where is that ache? Where do you need me to touch you?”

You take a deep breath. “My breasts.” Your entire body is aching with want, but your breasts are desperate to be touched.

“I want so badly to touch you, I wish I was there. I want to put your breasts in my hands. Do that for me, please.” You do as he asks, kneading your breasts. “Open your mouth, baby, and take one of your fingers and get it wet. Now play with your nipple, tease it, circle it.”

You moan as you tease yourself. “Yes. I want to hear you, tell me how good it feels. Show me how much you miss me.”

“I need you, Spencer.” You groan as you lightly pinch your nipple.

“I know, I know. I need you too.” On the other end of the phone, you can hear the sounds of him touching himself, slowly. He’s teasing himself just as much as he’s teasing you. “When I get home to you, I’m going to show you just how much I need you. I’m going to make you come with my fingers. With my tongue. Over and over again. And then I’ll finally give you my cock, just when you think you’ve had enough. And I’ll make you come one more time on my cock. Is that what you want, baby?”

Your back arches off the bed, still playing with your breasts and nipples. “Yes, oh my god. I want it so bad.”

“How bad, honey? Tell me, is your pussy dripping for me? ‘Cause you need me that bad.”

Your dominant hand moves to your core, and you feel how soaked you are. “Yes. Yes. I need you. I’m so wet.”

“Touch your clit, baby. Slow, do it slow for me at first. You know, just like I would.”

Even though your eyes are already closed, you squeeze them closed tighter when you make contact with your clit. It’s practically throbbing and you exhale a sharp breath. “Oh my god, Spencer. I can’t. I need –”

“Slow, yes you can. Take a deep breath, focus on my voice.”

An uncontrolled moan escapes your throat, but you do as he says. You concentrate on his breaths over the phone, and you match yours to his. Then you match the rhythm of your hand to the sound of his as he ruts into his hand. You listen to his grunts and whimpers, both of you racing toward a needed release.

He lets out a guttural sound. “Do you feel empty? Do you need to be filled?”

“So bad, so bad.”

“I’d fill you so good if I was there.” He groans, and you hear him lose his rhythm for a second as his hips falter. “Slip one of your fingers in. But with your other hand. I need you to keep rubbing that beautiful clit.”

As you slowly push one finger into you, he continues to ramble. “I wish I was there to taste you. You taste so good, baby. I love how gorgeous you look when I’ve got my mouth on you. The way you grind your clit against my tongue because you’re so needy. So desperate to come.”

Your finger pumps faster into you, the need and pleasure climbing higher within you as you buck your hips in time with the movement of your hands. You’re breathless, but you tell Spencer, “I’m so desperate.”

“I know you are.” He groans. “Do you know how bad I need it too? Can you add another finger for me, baby? Fill yourself even more.” You clench against your two fingers. He’s panting into the phone, and you can picture the way his hair would be stuck to his forehead as he pounded into you, completely lost in the feeling of you squeezing him.

“I’m gonna come, baby.” You gasp out. You feel like you have no control over your body as though Spencer was completely in control even though it’s your fingers frantically stroking.

“Are you? Are you going to make yourself come all over your fingers?”

“Yes, I have to. I –”

“Yeah, you do. You’re doing so well. I need to hear you come. I need to hear you be so good for me. Coming all over your fingers, all by yourself. But you’re thinking of me aren’t you?”

“Yes… yes. Always.”

“I can make you come so hard even when I’m not there. And you’re going to make a mess, a beautiful, perfect mess as you finish.” You moan loudly. “That’s it. Just like that.” He’s groaning and muttering, and you know he’s close too. “I wish I was coming in you, feeling you clench around me. And I’d rub that needy clit of yours, your nails would be scratching against my skin because you just can’t help yourself. Please come, baby. I need it.”

You come with his name on your lips, your body clenches and shakes, and you listen closely to his climax. He lets out a shaky breath after a few moments. “I love you.” He says, and you hate that you can’t kiss him.

“I love you too.” Your breathing slowly returns to normal.

“Are you okay?” He checks in with you, and you smile as you roll onto your side and settle deeper into the bed, suddenly very tired.

“I’m great. Are you?” You yawn.

“Yes. Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“Come home soon.”

“I’m coming home to you as soon as I possibly can. I can’t be apart from you like this.”

“Neither can I. Talk to me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx

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