#i hope all of you know i appreciate you very much despite how slow and quiet i've been ooc! i'm working on that but still uvu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminjamms · 6 months

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sex therapy :: 21. daddy toji

chapter tags/warnings: **can be read as a stand-alone!** daddy toji, in every sense of the word. toji also calls himself daddy. unprotected sex. creampies. megumi is down the hall! masturbation. exhibitionism. toji likes that it’s his cousin’s wife that he’s fucking. infidelity/adultery. possessiveness. sexual frustration. degradation. praising. pet names (‘princess’ and ‘sweetheart’). manipulative undertones. family drama. strong language.

word count: 3.6k

notes: tattooed dr. fushiguro can only be a gentleman for so long when it's his little cousin's wifey around. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

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“Why don’t you give daddy a show?”

Nothing could make you feel more exposed than this very moment on Toji Fushiguro’s bathroom counter—your bosom heaving from irregular breaths, your arms holding up your body, and your legs spreading across the granite surface so that you could offer up a good view. So that you could put your naked self on display.

Just for him. Just for your sex therapist.

Just for Dr. Fushiguro.

You gulped while pressing your back against the cold ceramic walls, hoping for some relief from your impending humiliation. “E-Excuse me?”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Toji crooned, and the pet name had your heart skipping a beat. Lazily, he dragged a lone finger from your stomach to your center, prodding right at your soaking entrance despite your efforts to shrink away. “Don’t be shy. I’m just your therapist. Let me see what you’ve learned.”

With much endearment, he watched you writhe. Being in the spotlight scared you, but he knew you would hate to disappoint.

At the very least, you should demonstrate some appreciation.

“Like what?” you asked, voice barely above a squeak.

“Well,” and amusement riddled his grin, “show daddy what he had taught you, baby.”

And goodness did all this daddy talk really turn you on. Toji could see how your figure tensed at the words, how you clenched around nothing from sheer need. (Did you think he would not notice?)

“Please,” you sighed, poorly hiding how your breath hitched. “Please don’t call yourself that.”

“Call myself what?”

Obviously a rhetorical question, yet Toji loved the bafflement on your ditzy face nevertheless.

“You know…‘daddy,’” you murmured, uncomfortable to the point you were staring at the floor as you spoke. “Because as someone who loves my dad, and hearing this from someone who actually is a dad, I find the name…disturbing.”

Disturbing but also hot, and Toji could tell.

“Don’t lie, princess. You like when I call myself that,” he chuckled. Pinching at your waist, he chortled in that same giddy manner whenever he felt particularly amused. “So, who’s going to be daddy’s obedient little girl?”

He noticed that you were doing that thing again whenever you were a little nervous: pursing your lips into a quivering pout and twisting at the meaningless rings on your fourth digit. Too loyal for your own good. Maybe that was what Naoya really loved about you, enough to keep you as his cute little trophy wife.

Swallowing loudly, in the end, you responded, “Me.”

Using one uneven breath to center yourself, your hands steadily grazed over your hips and your thighs before your dear fingers rested above your clit. Nothing could beat the embarrassment from how you flinched at your own contact.

Here went nothing.

Timidly, you drew your middlemost fingers through your folds and circled the digits around your entrance. The opening was warm, sensitive, and utterly soaked. The slick that had slipped past those puffy lips allowed you to push one, and then two fingers inside as your back arched gently at the stimulation.

A dull pleasure started to thrum in your body especially as you brought your ample juices back in using slow, deliberate motions.

To much frustration, your dainty digits couldn’t quite stroke that special spot within you with much expertise. Why wasn’t Toji helping? You wanted him to help. But, if you didn’t think too hard, you could lose yourself in the sensuality of your ministrations and imagine Toji’s fingers curling inside you instead. His fingers were larger and thicker and longer, after all.

While Toji’s true emotions had always been as mystifying as the man himself, never had that troubled you more than now. Those steely green eyes had been staring at you for what felt like hours now.

Did he like what he saw? Did he want more?

The people pleaser within you was just looking for a reaction—any reaction—to validate the hard and honest work you were putting in.

“Good kitty,” he complimented suddenly, as though he had been reading you like an open book all along. He did not realize since when, but he had begun stroking his cock through his pants.

How could he not? You had been listening so well, and his free hand reached down to rub tight circles at your puffy clit.

“Toji!” you shrieked immediately, body caving in.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he commanded, dipping his index and middle fingers in as well, his thumb still drawing tight movements at your precious button.

His fingers slid against yours, aided by the thick coat of arousal that lubricated the movements, and his dick twitched from excitement, a situation exacerbated when he relished in the way you angled your hips to accommodate all four fingers plunging into your sopping cunt.

“Don’t stop working on yourself.”

“I won’t,” you struggled to whimper.

“This is nice, isn’t it? When someone else is touching you, too.” His statement was softened by the same tone he liked to use when playing that ‘friendly neighborhood sex therapist’ role. “Your fingers are delicate, but they can’t reach all the places mine can, can they?”

“No, they can’t,” you breathed out in helpless agreement, shaking pathetically at the combined ministrations. “Everything feels better when you are the one finger fucking me.”

Toji hummed deeply in satisfaction. “I know, princess.”

He lowered his head to press his lips into your jaw, but the subtle softness in his searing kisses convinced you to tilt your head gently and bring your unoccupied hand up to run up his hard triceps and dig into the jet-black ink peeking from his sleeves.

In response, Toji sank his teeth into your skin every so often, eliciting your squeals.

Painful. Yes, this was painful.

But more than painful, the gush that flooded your veins was fucking phenomenal.

“What’s wrong?” Toji asked innocently, biting harder as your nails pressed visible crescent marks into his tattoos. “I only want to taste you,” and he soothed the sore spots by licking the assaulted areas, just to repeat the process on another target.

Pussy feeling empty but needy, you shifted on the countertop in order to grind desperately against your therapist’s clothed crotch.

“Please,” you mewled, now begging for Toji’s attention rather than cowering away. “Please fuck me.”

Funny.

Just an hour ago, you were bawling about your loser husband. Naoya Zenin this. Naoya Zenin that. Well, duh. Of course, his baby cousin was an asshole partner.

Now, here you were, pleading for Toji Fushiguro’s cock?

Toji rewarded your change of heart with a deep kiss pressed on your lips, a gesture that you passionately reciprocated. Even as he devoured your mouth like a starved man, your tongue fought like a maniac into his mouth, satisfied sighs slipping from your lips to his.

Only when there was an unexpected slam coming from Megumi’s door did you two pull away, faces only centimeters apart and connected by an almost translucent string of saliva.

Toji panted, watching your chest rise and fall from similarly irregular breathing.

If nothing else stopped him, he would be falling onto his knees right now from how dazed you appeared: face flushed, lips parted, and lids heavy.

But both he and you had one concern in mind right now.

Megumi.

Given the sound earlier, Toji awaited footsteps from the younger Fushiguro.

Was he grabbing a midnight snack from the kitchen downstairs? Was he planning to pace the halls to alleviate stress?

Or worse yet, was he heading to the bathroom?

If his son really did walk into this scene, discovering what his father was doing to his sweet and pretty guest several doors away, Toji would be speechless because the idea was purely mortifying.

Also a little sexy.

But anyway.

“I’m sure he just closed and locked his door for the evening,” Toji deduced when the boy’s footsteps never came.

Immediately, your shoulders slumped with ensuing relief.

“Thank goodness,” you sighed, still tense and high-strung. “We don’t want Megumi to hear us,” you pointed out, completely oblivious to how loud you had been when merely kissing. “Let’s wait for him to sleep first. I don’t want us to get caught.”

The way you cared this much was adorable.

“Why would we have to wait, though?” Toji pointed out, and his tongue swiped over his scar. “I can be quiet. But the real question is: can you be quiet?”

At first, you were stunned and silent.

But after a long while, you gulped and your neck bobbed noticeably. "Yeah. I…can be quiet, too.”

“Good girl," and at that, Toji flashed a quick and lascivious grin. “Then, why don’t we test that out?”

Not waiting for your reply, he grabbed the collar of his white shirt and dragged the top off his shoulders.

His movements were slow, just so he could catch your marveling reaction as he revealed his bare torso, but the fabric had been too fitting and tight for his body anyway.

As soon as he pulled his shirt over his head and off his body, your eyes locked on his body to admire his brawny and toned physique. But more stunningly was how Toji Fushiguro was a mural of tattoos, intricate artworks that had been carefully selected and embedded into his torso—stylized letters, entwined violets, and hyper-realistic scenery. What demanded the most attention, though, was a prominent phoenix that covered his right chest, emerging victorious from a plume of smoke and ashes, its feathers spanning into his shoulder and back.

Easily, you were enchanted. You didn't have a chance to view his tattoos before. But Toji himself had always been enchanting.

“Come closer,” the man commanded, tone low and gravelly. He dragged his waistband down until his hardened dick sprang free with great force. His cock was swollen and red and violently angry, precum beading at the tip after he had long neglected himself from his release. "I’ve missed you."

You shifted forward on the countertop.

“Then do anything to me.”

Just to test you, he experimented a little, pinching your nipples with the knuckles of his fingers and smiling like a mad dog when you squeaked. "Anything?"

"Yes," you breathed out, nodding and back arching into his touch.

Obviously, you were too lost in arousal to comprehend the power placed into your tattooed therapist's hands, and Toji silently wished that Naoya Zenin could hear his wife begging for someone else like this.

He patted your cheek and cooed.

So silly, so cock drunk, so desperate.

That was what you were, and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

You reached between your legs to grab at his dick, lining the tip up to your entrance as Toji groaned from the contact.

"How are you so wet for me?” he hissed, gritting his teeth hard.

“Please, please, come on—” After a long bout of negligence, you had become incredibly whiny and desperate, seeking attention and affection like never before. “I’m too turned on. Just…please ruin me.”

Toji had been close to bursting already, but an intense flash stifled him when your words registered as music to his ears, his large hands helping you swipe his dick between your folds slowly. Teasing them both.

He had been well lubricated from the precum that slipped from the head, his massive cock so hard from the anticipation that awaited such that he could feel electricity buzzing at his fingertips. All because he couldn't handle himself when you begged for him like this. Yet, Toji resolved to fuck you with everything he had—for as long as he could, anyway—and slipped himself gradually into your warm and moist heat.

Shudders.

All that filled the room were shudders.

Toji’s eyes darkened as he pressed through the tight resistance, your muscles squeezing around his length. He had to will every fiber within him to not lose himself. He was this close to falling apart, unraveling. Because holy shit, were you fucking tight.

Beneath him, you suppressed a whimper.

“Damn,” you sputtered, abandoning any remaining hesitation and clenching around him. Compared to his pathetic cousin, your therapist was not small by any means. "You feel so good inside of me, Toji."

Ah, hell.

He needed to get you to relax. He could barely move and, if your walls squeezed him any harder, he might just be hurled over the edge and cum all over your thighs, staining your freshly showered body.

“Oh,” he managed to hum in contentment, closing his eyes momentarily so that he could shut down all other senses except for one. His arms wobbled a little, his hands digging hard into your sides as his hips moved slowly—very, very slowly—out before going back in again.

At the languid thrusts, your head fell back and your hips lifted upon instinct, one hand pressed against the counter for stability as the other skimmed over his tattoos. He's so hot. You're so hot. He makes you feel so hot.

Toji growled again when your fingers brushed against the inked phoenix's wings, gliding over his pectoral muscle. He loved being touched like this and only wanted you to examine him more, rewarding you with movements wholly deep and stimulating.

As moans flowed freely from your mouth, Toji would tell you to shut up. After all, Megumi dwelled only a few doors away and must not be forgotten. But how could Toji bring himself to hush the sweet sounds that you sang?

“Yes, just like that,” you whined at some point, fingers clawing into his chest. “Fuck. Fuck, Toji.”

He raised a disapproving brow. “Just Toji?”

“Fuck, daddy.”

And Toji lost his fucking mind.

Since when did you talk like this? Pretty princess with a potty mouth. Who would’ve thought? It was sexy. So goddamn sexy.

"You’re incredible,” he found himself saying.

Toji had never been harder than he was at this moment, his cock like a fucking titanium rod as his listless movements degraded into an onslaught, throbbing and twitching as he replayed your dirty words in his head.

He felt extraordinarily horny, aroused, and invigorated.

Meanwhile, you looked like a fucking fairy—his fucking fairy, to be clear: features glowing golden under the ambient lights, pupils dilated and blown out wide, skin glistening from both water and sweat.

Long ago, Toji figured that you had given up in your attempts to get away from him, the sole struggle from your body being how your walls involuntarily twitched and tensed amidst the storm of pleasure and pain he had brewing within your core.

If only Toji had more hands. That way, he could simultaneously pull at your hair, wrap his fingers around your neck, and swat at your bouncing tits.

In a moment like this, he hated having to choose and grabbed your legs in the end, moving them from the counter to his shoulders. Toji could now go even deeper, and boy, did this new angle  have you seeing stars.

“Oh, goodness,” you blubbered, coughing and drooling and panting. “Oh, that feels so good.”

“I know,” Toji said arrogantly.

Lucky for you, he was a mature man who could hold his load. Other boys didn’t know shit. If they were in his current position, they would have busted their nuts long ago, too impulsive and easily excited to exert much self-control.

Toji, on the other hand, knew how to dig his fat cock into your cervix over and over, brushing that one special spot within you along the way. To make you scream. To keep you addicted. To take his cousin’s wife at his mercy.

The room filled with sounds that resulted from skin contacting skin—squelches and wet smacks—and you were left loud and messy, feeling so good that you could not think straight. 

“Shit, you’re so good to me. Can’t get enough of this pussy,” he grunted, hand pulling back before connecting with the meat of your ass with one loud  slap.

You cried out, fighting back tears that welled from the pain. “That… hurts!”

“But my kitten loves being roughened up, no?” he taunted, licking at his scar again as he observed you: love bites littered over your neck, nipples perked into pebbles, skin marked and slightly bruised.

“I,” several huffs in between, “I can’t take this for much longer. I’m so close. I think I’m going to—”

“Only if you tell me who owns you.”

His words made you whine, and the therapist took great pleasure in the way you contorted. The demand had taken you by surprise because Toji had never denied you the right to your pleasure before. In fact, he had always been the type to coax you to cum, telling you to cream all over him instead.

Tonight, however, he wanted to set things straight. For a while, he had been thinking that he ought to buy you a collar just so you would remember who you actually belonged to—who really taught you what sex feels like—and heat tore through his skin again from the fantasy.

Admittedly, Toji was a tad bit possessive.

But he needed to drill into your head that you were not Sukuna’s or Choso’s or Geto’s.

And most certainly, not Naoya Zenin’s.

“Well?” He was fully aware of what was happening and taking true delight in your futile struggle, knowing exactly what you needed but wanting you to obey him first. Snaking an arm around your body, he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and purred, “Who knows how to fuck you right?”

“Toji Fushiguro does,” you chanted, lacing your fingers with his, your body in sheer pain from need. “Guys my age could never.”

Which was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Then cum for me, baby.”

So, you did.

His permission sent you vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as your orgasm ripped through.

Your lips parted. Your cheeks hollowed. Your arms wavered.

Despite everything, you continued begging for his cock harder, faster, just like that. At some point, the hand once tangled with your therapist’s now slotted into your mouth to muffle any exclamations of pleasure as the waves continued to ripple fiercely through your body. Throwing your head back against the wall, you could dully feel your teeth puncture the skin between your thumb and pointer finger. Yet, that didn’t bother you, didn’t even hurt, and only served to add to your masochistic satisfaction as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him.

“What a good girl.”

Toji was remorseless as he continued his abuse, the tendons of his hands and arms flexing from the effort needed to keep your lower body still, the tattoos on his wrists appearing pitch black under the glimmer of your juices. The wetness that spilled from you was so abundant, dripping down onto the floor. With any luck, once this was all over, you would have left a mess such that Toji would be forced to assign Megumi to bathroom cleaning duty in the morning.

"I'm gonna cum inside you, baby," was what he managed to say just as his gut suddenly tensed. He couldn't even control it. Without further warning, thick ropes of semen shot from him and into your womb. He grunted loudly, lurid fantasies dissipating as his mind went blank from his climax, his own groan hardly recognizable from how guttural his voice had become.

“Give me all your cum, daddy,” you wailed as you came again, pussy tightening impossibly on his cock and practically massaging every single drop out of him.

Toji was not done, he didn’t want to be done.

Despite his blurred vision and terse jaw, Toji wanted to give you every ounce that he was worth. He gritted his teeth as he fucked up into you, pace irregular and sloppy. He made sure to push every possible milliliter of his seed deep into your stomach, the rest of his load spilling against his balls.

His cock was far too sensitive and overstimulated, but he felt  so goddamn good that he wanted to keep going and going until he was completely spent with nothing more to give.

“Fuck,” he choked, on the brink of tears.

Toji had to take a moment to recover fully, keeping his eyes closed while his chest heaved from the sheer exertion of his orgasm. His breathing was deep, wet, and haggard, and he was blistering hot even without clothes on. His slicked-back hair was soaked with sweat and hung limply in front of his flushed face. As he slumped over, he sensed a new pain in his shoulder, and he guessed that he must have strained something without noticing. Cum inevitably dribbled from your hole as he pulled out, splattering on the floor and mixing with your juices earlier.

He strode toward the bathroom closet, grabbing additional towels.

After wrapping them around you and himself, Toji brought you close to his frame and directed you into his bedroom diagonally across the hall. The rest of the night was quiet, especially since you both were consumed by exhaustion and post-coital haze. You rolled onto his canopied bed without sound, Toji lying next to you and pulling you snugly against his chest. After ensuring that you were okay, he kissed the sweet temple by your forehead and the bruises on your collar, smiling softly when you hummed in response.

He could hardly recall the last time he had felt so warm and so content, wanting nothing more than to cling onto this moment for as long as he could. In the back of his head, his conscience scolded him harshly. He still owed you plenty of explanations. For how he had been hiding his family, his relationships, and his original motive in using you to help him get back at his enemies.

Yet, as he pushed aside these intrusive thoughts and murmured to you ‘Goodnight,’ one thing became clear:

Toji Fushiguro was far too selfish to let you go.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my first time writing smut that comprehensively includes Toji’s POV. While we have always gotten Y/N's POV in sex, I wanted to include Toji's perspective so that we could get into his psyche a little since he's battling his own demons as well.

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russellsppttemplates · 1 month

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It's just the beggining (Oscar Piastri)

Oscar hasn't done or said anything, so you're taking matters into your own hands

Note: english is not my first language. It's my first Oscar piece and I'm nervous posting this, but hopefully you enjoy it! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions reader's grandparents' health issues, mentions the situation with McLaren and Daniel, insomnia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey, Y/N!", James called you once he saw you walk by his classroom, "hey", you greeted back, adjusting your books on your arms.

"There is a new kid, I'm sure you know, Oscar Piastri his name is, and apparently he's staying the long weekend too, like you", he trailed off, not knowing if he was stepping further than he should.

"Yes, I am staying, it's okay to talk about it", you gave him tight lipped smile, "well, I was hoping you'd keep him company - he's a bit shy, but he's very fun to be around and the teacher also thought it would be good since you're both staying", he reasoned as you nodded.

You had to stay back because your grandparents didn't live in England, and because of their old age and problems that naturally arose with that, your parents had to fly out and spend sometime with them, meaning you didn't have anyone back home, so you stayed. As for Oscar, you found out that he was staying back because his family was in Melbourne.

"At first, I just had online schooling, but it got trickier to manage and my dad needed to go back to work so I had to stay back", he explained when you asked him why he was there, "and I hope I can focus on racing, but you already know that", he scoffed softly.

"I don't think I do, I'm sorry", you narrowed your eyes, genuinely unaware of what he was talking about.

After he told you all about his career until that moment, as well as his hopes and dreams, he chuckled, "you really didn't know?", he wondered.

"I didn't! The girls said something about you moving here but I didn't listen much, I'm not that into gossip and my memory is like Dory's, I can never keep up with the latest who likes who and who flirted with what's his face", you earnestly replied.

For the first time since he arrived at the school, he felt like he could really trust someone and he could hope for new friendships on this side of the world.

You were there for his final race in F4, clapping at him on the podium, and even F3 and F2 despite your university deadlines, always making sure you could support him in every way you could.

"Hey, Osc", you said over the phone, setting your pen down the desk and swivelling in the chair. You wanted to get as much knowledge and experience as possible, so you applied to do a internship in a physiotherapy clinic near your apartment during the summer.

"Hey, Y/N, how are you doing?", he asked as you could notice the antsyness on his voice.

"I'm good, it's a bit of a slow day here, my supervisor said I could read up on a few articles", you mused, "is everything okay?", you asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight", he began, "you can come to my flat if that's okay, I'll order something in since I can't be trusted in the kitchen", he suggested.

"Fine by me, I'd like that, sounds really nice", you smiled, "I'll see you soon, then", you added, not wanting to dwell much on the fact that he didn't answer your question.

When you left the clinic, you walked to Oscar's place since the sun had graced you for the day and it was still nice to be out. Knocking on the door, you waited for him to open it, "I'm still in my scrubs as I didn't see the need to change", you said as you walked inside, hugging Oscar after dropping your backpack on the floor.

"Hey, you look nice, don't worry about it", he smiled as he led you to the living room, "I had to go and get the take out myself, but it's still warm", he said as you sat at the dining table.

"Now can you tell me if there's something wrong?", you wondered as you poured some of the wine he kept for you at his place on your glass.

"I have something to tell you actually", he played with his glass while he fought the smile on his lips, "this weekend I finally had some conversations with McLaren", he began.

"McLaren?", you asked as you served yourself of the food in front of you, taking some bimi brocoli and then some of the warm noodles.

"Yes, McLaren. We finally spoke about contracts and, this morning, I signed the official driver contract for next season", he stated as if he was saying that the sun had been out today.

"You did what? Since when has this been in the works?", you gasped, dropping the kitchen utensils and looking at him intently, "you're driving for McLaren next season?", he nodded, "like, driving on track? Oh my Goodness, Oscar! That's amazing!", you got up and hugged him, "why didn't you lead with that?", you pinched the nape of his neck playfully as you kept the tears from falling from your eyes. This was his dream and he was getting to live it as early as the end of the year when pre season preparations began.

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone", he shrugged his shoulders.

"But how? This is huge, Oscar!", you smiled, your teeth showing and eyes squinting with how high your cheeks rose.

"There were a lot of conversations about it, specially the last few weeks", Oscar explained, "they still want to keep it quiet", he warned.

"So you're driving alongside Lando?", you wondered. You only followed motorsport and the Formula series because of your bestfriend, so the assumption you made was based on what you had seen and read.

"Yes, hence why they want to keep it quiet, I've only told you and my family", he mentioned, "my manager knows that, obviously, but I really need you to keep quiet about it", he smiled.

"Absolutely, don't worry!", you assured, "this is so amazing Oscar! You're going to drive in Formula One! Aren't you amazed?", you beamed.

"I put in the work too, you know?", he dramatically feigned offense as you hugged him tighter, "this is your dream, Osc", you cooed, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you swayed you both around, "I'm so proud of you", you hiccuped, holding his head close to your lips so you could kiss his forehead.

"Let's eat, this is getting cold", your best friend urged as the situation for more intimate and brought you closer and closer to the thing he had been avoiding for nearly a year.

The feelings he had been arbouring for you weren't just friendship. How could he keep himself from being in love with you? You had been there with him and for him when he was alone in a new country, being the other shy kid that spent the long weekend im boarding school, and since then you had been attached by the hip. You were kind, caring, intelligent, beautiful inside and outside and anyone would be a fool to not see why Oscar felt the way he did about you.

"I'm just going to a training camp, Y/N, I do these every year!", Oscar reasoned as you groaned.

"Who am I going to complain to about university? Or how noisy my neighbours are? I'm going to die of boredom", you stated, "when you come back, I will have ceased to exist because of boredom and lack of attention", you exaggeratedly threw yourself on your sofa.

"You won't, silly", he chuckled, pulling you up since his trainer was picking him up soon, "you're going to go out and enjoy yourself, okay? You'll barely notice I'm gone", he tried as you helped him with his suitcases down to the door.

"I'll miss you", you muttered as you hugged him, "enjoy your training camp!", you smiled as you pulled away, waving at him before you made your way to your place.

Getting on with the project you had to hand in at the end of the week, you got it all through to the end, leaving time to proofread later.

You clicked on the folder where you kept your photos and videos, looking through them and reliving all of the memories you had in there.

Most of them had Oscar somehow, wether it was a screen grab from one of your FaceTime calls when he was at races, picnics in the park and lazy days at your place.

You had to admit it, for your sake and Oscar's sake as your friendship was on the line. At first you thought it was just the fact that a boy seemed to want to spend time with you, so you put it to that. Recently, however, things changed perspective and you felt stronger feelings and emotions when you thought about him.

You loved spending time with him and cherished every single hour he chose to spend with you whenever he didn't have racing related duties. Every time he hugged you, you clung just a little longer to feel hia body against yours and his arms enveloping you.

Whenever someone approached you in the rare times you went out clubbing with your friends, "I have a boyfriend" became more a wish and a need rather than some made up excuse to get guys to leave you alone.

So, to sum it up, you either had an honest conversation with him or continued to dwell on feelings you couldn't keep to yourself.

"Y/N just sent me a picture of her notes, can you believe they ask them to know all of that?", he showed his trainer Kim while they had lunch after a strenuous workout.

"I had to learn most of that, too", he said nonchalantly, not necessarily diminishing your competences and intelligence but letting Oscar know that maybe his infatuation with you had a source elsewhere.

"Y/N is very smart, I'm sure she'll do really well - oh, she sent me a picture, she's all dressed up!", he said as he inspected the mirror picture. He assumed it was a requirement for your presentation, as you usually preferred comfy attire, since you had a pair of trousers and a shirt, some small heels on your feet and your bright smile that left him feeling butterflies in his stomach every single time, "she looks gorgeous", he said as he texted you the same words along with wishes of good luck.

"Something you'd like to say?", Oscar quesioned when he felt Kim's eyes on him as he put the phone back on the table, screen down.

"I'm just here wondering why you're not together", the trainer offered simply after he wiped his mouth on the napkin.

"No, we are not together, at least not yet", he mused. The thought had crossed his mind, admitting how he felt about you before the season began. If everything went belly up and you didn't feel the same and didn't see him that way, he would occupy his time and channel all of his energy into racing; if you did feel the same, he would have been worrying for nothing and would have a extra spring up his step for his first season in Formula One.

"Good to know you're working on it", Kim waved his fork at Oscar, "now we need to finish this and we'll do some recovery stretches", he announced as Oscar groaned, prolonging his meal as long as he could.

Today, Oscar was coming back from Lanzarote and you couldn't wait to speak to him. Lately, it all dawned on you.

It happened a couple of nights ago, a slight insomnia episode keeping you up when you thought about what things would be like from now on. Oscar would travel a lot more, and he would be in a much public role compared to his previous one. It would seem stupid to other people, but a lot more people would know him, and you were sure they would fall in love with him. How could they not? Hence why you wanted to quit those thoughts while you were ahead of them.

I'm on the cab to your place, it should take another 10 minutes and Can't wait to see you, Oscar texted you just as you finished tidying your living room.

You missed him dearly, so when you threw yourself into his arms, you didn't let go as he kicked his suitcases into your apartment while still holding close to him, "I kind of need to get my backpack off my back, and I can't do that if I don't set you somewhere - only for a bit at the very least", Oscar suggested after trying to balance you against his body with one arm but he didn't feel safe enough to let you go without you falling.

Reluctantly, you got back down, feet back on the floor as he discarded his backpack before he tapped your hip twice, "up again, I want a proper hug", he mumbled as you jumped back, his hands protectively holding your thighs up as he nuzzled his face on your neck, "I need you so, so much", he sighed.

"I missed you too", you replied back, "and I don't ever want to miss you like this when I don't know how to feel about you", you forwarded. Now or never, you thought as you jumped out of his hold and faced him.

"I missed you like I have never missed you before, not even when you go a visit your family or when you went away for triple headers - and I've been trying to understand why and I finally realised what it was. I like you, more than friends like eachother - for Goodness' sake, I'm in love with you", you chuckled nervously as you admitted it out loud to him, "and everyone else will love you too - I just know it -, so soon enough you won't be my Osc anymore and I couldn't not tell you. People - and these gorgeous girls all over the world - are going to like you so much and I won't be able to compete with them, so I'm just telling you how I feel. You can leave if you want or we'll just stay here in silence of that works too, but I needed to admit my feelings", you let out in one go.

Oscar smiled, a big teeth and gums showing smile as his eyes crinkled at your words, "I'm not leaving, and we are not going to be silent - at least immediately - because I want to tell you how I feel", he began, "I'm in love with you too; I have been for about two years and only realised it a year ago, and I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be able to kiss you, to hug you, to take you with me wherever possible, to sleep next to you, to argue with you, I want all of it. With you", he said, hand cupping your cheek as his eyes asked for consent to kiss your lips.

It was as you dreamed it would be, soft, gentle and caring, lips moving in sync as you held him by his waist, pulling him closer to you.

"I thought I was loosing you to the whole F1 fandom", you chuckled, looking up at him once you pulled away.

"Of course you won't, you're my best girl", he winked, "this is just the beggining for us", he added as he pulled you to cuddle on the sofa, sharing his stories of the past days as you revelled in the feeling of being in his arms.

#oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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deathbxnny · 11 days

Note

hello!! platonic sunday, aventurine and gallagher with a teen!reader who is like nene kusanagi?

Hello Anon!! Thank you for the request, and I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Platonic relationships, teen reader, mentions of social anxiety, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

》AVENTURINE

Aventurine doesn't mind your shyness, nor your inability to talk to most people who aren't him or other people you know. He understands it and tries his best not to push you into doing anything you don't want to, ofcourse.

However, this doesn't mean that he won't help you get out of your shell slowly over time. Not that it would be hard to sometimes have to make you socialize whenever he was out on business with you dragged along as always. He'll do most of the talking though, so that he doesn't stress you out too much. He knows that the spotlight can be too harsh at times.

He adores your bluntness alot and even more that you care for him, despite how sharp your words sometimes can be. In a way, he finds himself lucky, knowing that you only open up to him in this way, which helps him over time open up to you as well. It makes him respect and appreciate you alot.

》SUNDAY

He understands your unwillingness to socialize completely, and luckily for you, there is no need for it with him. You most likely stay in his dreamscape estate anyway for your own safety and so most of your days are spent in peaceful solitude, other than the few times Robin or Sunday come to speak and dote on you.

He still makes you join him in some meetings, however, as he views it as important for you to learn his way of work. He knows that you don't like it and are too shy to actually speak with strangers properly, which is why he'll let you leave alot earlier, it he sees your social battery draining.

Your bluntness is one Sunday enjoys and appreciates alot because he knows you care deeply for him and his sister, yet simply have a very direct way of showing it. It's also like a breath of fresh air, from all the fake emotions and facades he has to put on daily.

》GALLAGHER

He may understand your shyness and reservations towards strangers, but that doesn't mean he'll let you off easy. Quite the contrary, in fact, as he'll definitely make you socialize in the best way he knows how, and that is by making you help him out in the bar. You can call him cruel for it, but he wants to toughen you up a little before the dark world outside does it.

You mainly just take orders and hand patrons their drinks, which eventually makes you start talking to them. It was a slow and even somewhat agonizing process for you, but eventually, you found yourself actually holding full conversations with them.

Your bluntness paired with your deep care for people made you a perfect little helper around the bar, as you became a favorite amongst the patrons to speak to and laugh with. Gallagher would watch you with a proud smirk from the back of the bar as he practically patted himself on the back with a happy nod.

I hope this was okay, Anon, and thank you again for the request!!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr gallagher #hsr gallagher x reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr aventurine x reader #sunday hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader #gallagher x reader

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mrsjavierpena · 4 months

Text

not (un)expected | part 1

javier peña x f!secretary!reader

summary: Javier has one, only one very strict policy: to not ever fuck a co-worker; specially if that co-worker is his own secretary. but you make it such a hard promise to keep

chapter warnings: narcos' spoilers, smut, grinding, unprotected p in v, kind of exhibitionism, (light?) angst, a lot of cursing (its javier pena), kinda slow burn/slow start, unspecified age gap, work dynamics, reader has no name/descripition (but has hair long enough to pull), no use of 'y/n'

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language, i've done my best with grammar but there will be mistakes (fuck prepositions i hate them), so pls overlook those

wordcount: 7k

an: this is part one of a two part story; feel free to reblog and leave your comment. im so happy with the reception of this fic, its my first time posting something here, thank you guys so much for the support - also, if you want to be tagged in part two (really don't know when is coming out) just lmk in the comments.

hope you enjoy!

Javier was known for being an asshole.

Everyone in the office called him that; not to his face, of course, since he was the boss, but he knew, and honestly? He kind of did it on purpose. Being sent back to Colombia to be the CIA puppy didn't in fact thrilled him, but he also wasn't there to make friends. A little bit later than one month into his new position and Javier had already changed secretaries twice. Just by being himself.

The first one was a kind old lady that liked to talk a little bit too much for Javi's taste - which was none. To be fair, he tried to handle her. He listened to her talking of her yougest child finishing college, but she asked him if maybe he could get him a job at the deparment - what in the actual fuck? -, she felt the need to tell him that her older one and his wife were trying to have a baby - he wondered what gave her the impression he wanted to know that her son was fucking someone raw. She just wouldn't shut up. She left not much after a month, at his first snap - took him too long, to be honest.

The last one was a young man fresh out of the academy, who thanked him for the opportunity every time he saw him - which, since he was just outside his office, was pretty often. Despite how thankful he was for the job, he wasn't very interested in working, at least not as he was to flirting with another secretary in the floor below. But that wasn't the worst part, the kid had no idea what he was supposed to do and would go ask Javier for help for every task given to him - he swore he was shaking everytime. Javi didn't care that he was young and was learning, he didn't receive enough to raise a child at work. Didn't last a week.

Javier had headaches just by the thought of who would be sent next. With his current luck, it could be his ex-fiancée. He definitely didn't expect you knocking on his office door and introducing yourself as his new secretary. He was speechless for a moment; you were the combo of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life with a killing black pencil skirt, so tight it showed all your curves. You gave him a firm handshake and asked if he needed anything from you, and, when he denied, that was it. You went to your desk; didn't ask him questions, didn't tell him your whole life, didn't thank him for an opportunity he didn't give you, just went to do your work.

For a while, Javier was glad that you didn't give him any trouble, but that was until you quickly learned his habits. As soon as he arrived the office, you would receive him with a polite smile, a cup of black coffee and his schedule for the day. When he dove into files and forgot he was a person, you would bring him his lunch and wouldn't leave until he had at least a bite - as if he was a kid, what an absurd -, you would sense when he was stressed and would excuse yourself into his office with coffee and a pack of cigarettes and leave without saying a word.

He hated how much he appreciated that - even worse, how he liked that. It didn't take long for him to want to fuck you, to become obssessed with you. And it wasn't just him, he could see every other men in the department - single or not - turn their neck as they watched you pass by. But it was not just that you were hot, you were nice too; he would watch you from his office - not in a creepy way, though, he just didn't have anything much better to do - and you would distribute smiles and polite greetings to every soul that passed your desk, people would constantly stop by to small talk with you and you would let them be for five minutes or so before politely dismiss them to go back to work. Every fucking body there adored you.

Things had always been very professional between you both. Javi held back his flirty instinct and you- well, you didn't even seem interested in him at all. That was untill a very stressfull friday with Stechner giving him shit again. He left the building straigh to the bar, ready to drown himself on whiskey and find a quick fuck for the night, not expecting at all to find you aparently doing the same. Javier considered just ignoring you and go sitting with one of the women that turned their heads in his direction as soon as he entered, but something inside of him made him take the few steps to the bar and get the stool beside where you sat.

You almost spilled your drink when he approached.

"Sorry" you coughed "Wasn't expecting to see you here"

Your body language told him that you weren't comfortable with him there, he saw your backs getting as straight as when you were at work, and immediately regretted joining you.

"Well, that makes it two of us" he raised his hand to order his drink "What's the occasion?" he points to your drink with his chin.

Your grip on your glass seemed to tighten and you took one very long sip before answering dryly "I could ask you the same"

"Work" he raised his brows "It's always work"

"Did something happen after I left?" you pinched your brows.

"No, no, just people giving me shit"

"Oh, I see..." you sighed and silence fell between you.

"So..."

"Well..." you both started talking together and laughed akwardly.

"You go" you said.

"Am I bothering you? Cause I didn't mean to, I can sit somewhere else" he didn't even know why he was asking, he should've just said goodbye and left. He was already standing when your hand found his arm.

You sighed heavily "No, not at all, I'm sorry I gave that impression, sir" you seemed genuine, that's why he sat back "I'm just stressed"

Sir. Why were you calling him sir in a bar?

"Do you want to talk about it? If there's something bothering you we can discuss it and sol-"

"It's not work related" you were quick to interrupt "Work is, honestly, the simplest part of my life right now"

"Things must be pretty bad then, 'cause I see the amount of papers on your desk everyday" that made you chucke "The offer still stands, if you want to"

You took a big breath before dropping the bomb "Broke up with my boyfriend"

Now that was a new territory. He knew absolutly nothing about your life besides you moving to Colombia from the United States; he didn't know anything from your life back there, not your family, friends, definitely not about your boyfriend; and now, somehow, knowing you didn't have one anymore made it even harder for him not to want you.

"What happened?"

"Well, actually, it seems like we had already broken up a while ago and he just forgot to send the memo" you drank your whole half glass all at once ", since he was fucking every pussy that crossed his fucking way"

He was stunned. One thing about Javier was that he was never to deny any woman; honestly, he found every body attractive and apreciatted every woman that gave herself to him. He couldn't say he had a type, but you, with what he saw with your clothes on? He would fuck you every minute of everyday he could. It was absurd to believe someone would give up on you.

"Damn!" he couldn't help but say loudly, making your eyes go wide as if just then realising what you had just said.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you this. I apologise, sir"

"You don't- don't apologise" he almost raised his hand to touch you, but stopped himself before "How did you find out?" you looked at him with raised brows "If you don't mind me asking"

"One of my friends called me last night and told me. She saw him at a bar with two women" you laughed, but there was no humor to be found.

"And you were still smiling at everyone at work today" he was impressed.

You smirked at him "Don't let my personal life mix with work, sir"

"Smart woman" he nods "We for sure have a reason to drink, then" waving his hand to the barman "Let me buy you one"

You don't even bother to refuse.

After three more glasses of what he found out was tequila, your shoulders were much more relaxed and so was your tongue. He found out that you and your ex had been dating for six years when you got the opportunity of job and had to move; two months had passed already.

"And you know what the worst part is?" your laugh is dry "I don't even feel bad because my heart is broken or any shit like that, it's just that is so fucking humiliating" you groaned with your hands on your face "I'm from a small town, you know, by now every soul there knows what he's been doing"

He had to laugh "That's what you're worried about?" you looked at him with false ofense.

"It's my honor we're talking about here!" he laughed even more "It's silly, I know..." you sigh shakly as you take another sip of your drink "But it is humbiling, being cheated on"

"I can't fucking believe anyone could ever cheat on you" he thought. At least he thought he did, but by the way you were looking at him - pinched brows and a curious look in your face, he had to have said it out loud "I mean, only shitty people cheat on nice people. Only shitty people cheat, that's it."

You nodded after a few seconds of silence "You're right, sir"

"You should stop calling me sir"

"I don't think so"

"Why not? We're already half drunk together at a shitty bar"

"Because you're still my boss"

Without any response to that, he looks at you. Really looks at you. Your eyes glassy from the alcohol, red puffy lips looking more appealing than ever... It would have been so easy to just lean in and kiss you. When his eyes came back to yours, it almost seemed like they were on his lips too, that you were leaning in too, that you desired him as much as he desired you and... Then it was not there anymore. Suddenly, you seemed farther than ever, backs as streight as always and eyes avoiding his.

"I should go home"

He agreed. He put you on a cab. He wished you a goodnight.

Then went back to the bar to find someone to not spend the night alone.

The next Monday, though, you seemed even more professional than ever. Wouldn't be around him more than the necessary, wouldn't look him in the eyes and it fucking bothered him.

"Yes, sir?" you entered his office after he called your name.

He sighs as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering to your skirt pressing against your tights "How are you?"

"I'm fine" you hesitated "Why do you ask? Is something wrong?"

"Lying to me, 's all" your eyes went wide "Listen, last night-"

Your nostrils flared, your hands clenching into fists; you took a deep breath before interrupting him "I am fine"

"Ok, then" he raised his hands in defensiveness "It's just that last night-"

"Last night I was drunk!" you passed your hands through your face "I said things I shouldn't have and I am embarressed and would very much appreciate if we pretended that it never happened"

Javier was silent for a moment. He understandood your apprehension, but damn if he wasn't dismayed by it.

"Alright, 'm sorry I brought it up. But just to let you know, you don't have anything to be embarressed for, you have my word that I wouldn't hold any if that against you and..." and it was nice to talk to you "Yeah, don't worry about that"

You looked at him for a few seconds before nodding "You need anything else, sir?"

Many things, yeah. For starters, you calling him by his name; second, being able to have a casual conversation with you when alcohol isn't envolved and third, your fucking clothes off because he got embarrassingly hard just by looking at you. But instead, he only denied and you left before any other word could leave his mouth.

Javi knew it was for the best. Fucking you would be no good - well, he'd bet it would be hot as shit, but too much trouble for a one night stand. He had a whole city to fool around with, to be focused in someone from his work place, his own secretary, was nonsense. You never even gave him any hint you wanted him, if anything, the actual opposite; you told him yourself last night, personal life away from work.

Javi made sure to remember all that.

➫

He didn't keep those thoughts for long, though.

A few days later, you met at a bar once again. A better one this time and with half of the office joined. It was Feistl's birthday and he invited the whole department for drinks. Nobody could hide their surprise when Javi aproached them; usually, he wouldn't attend this type of gathering, in his rarely free times, he better prefered the company of a good whiskey and a woman, and his colleagues knew that. His employee had invited him just to be polite and that was clear, but he knew you were going to be there, Javi just wanted one more opportunity to prove to himself that you didn't feel the same way he did, that he didn't have the same effect on you that you had on him. Once that prooved, he could move on. So he was there on a mission, trying to be the most discrete he could as he watched you from afar.

The two of you seemed to be the reflexion of each other from across the table, tense bodies and drinks in hand, the only difference being you talking with your colleagues and him not making the effort. To his defense, people weren't trying to talk to him either. Honestly, Javier kind of felt like it wasn't just that they were surprised to see him there, it felt like they didn't want him there at all by some looks he was receiving.

He was okay with that, he guessed, he would much rather analyse your behavior outside work. You didn't seem to change much, honestly; maybe your smile were a little bit more genuine, but the conversations were pretty much the same he heard you have back in the office and it could have been the larger amount of alcohol in your system that night, yeah, but you seemed more relaxed alone with him.

After half an hour there, Javi couldn't bring himself to talk to you, you seemed too interested in a conversation about the new coffee pot in the scullery with another secretary. He was getting frustrated, in another times he would interrupt the other woman and flirt with you effortlessly; it probably had to do with the environment, you were surronded by co-workers, or maybe he was losing his touch - it was almost like he was too afraid to make the move.

Javi decided to leave soon after one hour there. He congratulated Feistl for his birthday, said goodbye to whoever recognized his leaving, paid his bill and passed through the door.

"Hey" he turned around at the sound of your voice, seeing you walking towards him "Are you ok?"

He ran his hand over his chin "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know" you shrugged "you kind of ran out of the bar"

"'S fine, you should go back inside" Javi pointed at the entrace with his chin.

You tilt your head to the side "I don't really believe you"

"I'm not asking you to" he crossed his arms "And, what, you wanna talk now? You've been quiet at work all week"

"We're not at work, though, are we?" you were quick to answer.

Javi looked you up and down "No, we're not"

"You know" you took a few steps forward ", it's not like they don't like you, they are just kind of scared of you"

Were you watching him too? Why would you say that? How would you notice?

He furrowed his eyebrows "Scared of me? Why?"

You looked at him with yours raised "You know how you act at work, don't you?"

Javi sighed and looked away. He did act like an asshole at work, it didn't seem to bother you, though. Your gazes met again as silence fell between the two of you and he decided to take the few steps left to get you as close as you never got before.

"Are you scared of me?"

You kept your eyes locked as you answered "No. You're not as bad as you think you are" you licked your lips "At least not with me"

The air thickend between the two of you, the only sound being the noises of a night in Colombia. There was no way you were not feeling that too, the way your bodies seemed to linger to each other's direction. He's sure he's not imagining the way your breath heaved, how your chest expansed, the brightness in your eyes.

No, that was real, he was not mistaking it.

A voice broke the tension, you taking a few steps back to a safe distant from him. You both looked in the direction of the sound: a woman was calling you, the same woman you talked all night, at the entrance of the bar, a few feet away from where the both of you stood.

"Maybe if you went back there and paid the next round..." he swore he saw expectancy in your eyes.

"Maybe another time" you nodded; you both knew it wouldn't happen.

You looked at him one last time before walking away "Good night, sir"

Javi nodded even though you weren't looking anymore and his eyes followed the sweet swing of your hips as you made your way back to the bar. He could hear the woman asking what it was about:

"Nothing" you answered.

He would disagree.

➫

Javier was in a terrible, terrible mood. Things weren't going how he thought they would go, not even close to it. Feistl got a good lead about the Rodriguez brothers, one worth following, and he could do nothing about it; had to look to his subordinate and say no to his face. In the beggining, Javi had plans on reediming himself by catching Los Pepes, making amends with the city and it's people by arresting those who he felt like helped to ascend. He felt like a failure, and by the look on Feistl face, he thought so too. To worsen everything, as if it could get any, he had a huge, massive amount of piles to go through.

He lifted his eyes from the paper for the first time in hours when you knocked at the door. He knew your shift had ended a couple of hours ago, but you decided to finish the paperwork of the day so it wouldn't affect his own work the next morning, even though you couldn't have finished it on time because of the extra work put over you. It was something he frequently saw you doing, leaving much later than the others.

"I am leaving, sir. Is there something I could do for you?"

He scratched his chin and sighed heavily "Well, if you could make this fucking paperwork disappear I would built a statue of you"

You exiled a short laugh "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir"

"No, it's not" he reclined on his chair and looked at your body on the frame for a few seconds "Have a goodnight"

You nodded and left. He stood up to get a drink right after, hearing some noises outside that must have been you grabing your stuff. You were probably the last person on the floor besides him, and soon enough he would be alone, like he had been for so many nights, working until late, only able to go home to shower and come back. It wasn't much trouble, though, it's not like he could sleep even if he had the time.

A soft knock on the door surprised him, glass and bottle on each hand.

"Sorry to bother again" you said with only your head in the room after he told you to come in "But do you want help?"

He looked at you, at the pile and then at you again "You wanna help me with that?" you nodded "Why?"

"Nothing better to do" you shruged.

He should've said no. Should've told you to go home and have some rest.

He should have, yes.

"Have a sit" he pointed to the couch with the piles of papers he's been on for the last three hours.

You closed the door behind you and something on his skin tingled. You had never been this alone.

"Want a drink?" you didn't hesitate in accepting, as if waiting for him to offer.

Javier poured you one too and handed you the glass, something you thanked him for as you took a sip and he sitted beside you. You two stayed in silence reading, the only sound being the papers as you tossed them around.

"Can I give you an unasked opinion, sir?"

He almost laughed at that "Go ahead"

"You're separating these by topics, I see" he nodded "Taking one paper at the time and seeing what they are and then doing them separetly " he nodded again "I think it would be quicker if we made piles by the specific topics you have"

"You mean..."

"I mean" suddenly you stood up from the couch and knelt on the floor. Fortunally you didn't see his eyes going wide as you took a pile in your hands and put it beside you "You have a huge office, you should put the files on display and organize them better" you looked at him while taking the other piles "You helping?"

He smirked and hushed to help you. He liked this side of you; more relaxed, kind of bossy, tongue more loose... It was a shame you only showed him when there was alcohol running through your system.

"This, if you don't mind me saying, is how I organize the piles on your desk when I bring them to you, but you seem to prefer the hardest way"

Fuck, he was getting hard.

It was nuts. Absolutly nuts. What the fuck was happening, what effect was that you had on him? You did nothing but say a few dirty words without intention. Completely. Nuts.

"I do prefer the hard way" came out of his mouth before he could control it. If you didn't notice the double meaning or chose to ignore it, he didn't know "But I never noticed, no" he sighed "Honestly, I don't even know how it got to this point"

The paperwork, somehow, did accumulate, even though all he did of his life was working.

"I understand, I can see how you get lost in work" your focus was on the papers and you didn't seem to notice how he shifted on his place on the floor, trying to hide the beggining of an erection.

With your efficiency and new way of working, one hour and a half later and almost the whole paperwork gone, you're on your third glass and him on his fourth. He's used to drinking whiskey, but it was still alcohol, and it was making his skin buzz. You had already took off your blazer - his own gone hours ago - , wearing a thin blouse with a very modest neckline; your legs were crossed, making your skirt move up a little, and he was going crazy with just the tiny amount of skin you were showing.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead" you didn't even move your eyes from the paper.

"Why didn't you go home?"

You don't talk for a few seconds and he took the opportunity to stare "There's nothing waiting for me at home"

That got him thinking about your moving there. To go from a small town in the countryside to a city like Bogotá, not knowing a soul; you had acquaintances, yes, but he saw you that day at the bar, they surely were people you liked to be with, but were not friends of yours. Javi had been there, too, actually, if he would be honest with himself, he was still in the same situation. When he moved to Medellín, he had those people he could go out with and grab a drink after work, but that was all; at least until Steve came into the picture, the person he never thought he would befriend with, the only real friend he'd had in years.

"Yeah, I kind of get that" your eyes meet "Work until late for a reason"

"I guess we both need to get a life, then" you smirked.

"Cheers to that" he raised his glass to you, you did the same until it clicked with his "So, life... How is yours going?" he tried to act nonchalant by moving his eyes on the paper in his hand "With that ex-boyfriend thing and all"

Your laugh was low "Don't do that"

"Do what?" he raised his eyes again to find yours still on him.

You tilted your head to the side "Don't go down that road when we're like this"

"Like what?" he caught the exact moment your eyes fell to his lips, so he casually wet them with his tongue. If he wasn't so absorbed by the thickness in the air, he would have laughed at the way your eyes shut and your head fell back to rest on the couch.

"Drunk and... Not thinking straight"

Javi raised his eyebrows "I like the winding thoughts I'm having, though"

"Yeah" the look you gave him made him shiver.

Without breaking eye contact, Javi belted down his drink to gain courage and slowly moved his body until you were pressed side by side, giving you time to get your space again if you wanted to.

"This fine?" his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

You nodded.

"What if I wanted to kiss you right now?" he rested one forearm on the couch to lean his face closer to yours.

You gulped as you stared into his eyes "Then I think you should do it before we-"

He didn't give you the time to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. Your lips were soft, he could taste the whiskey on your tongue as well with the gums you would chew all day. His right hand went straight to your jawline to lead the kiss. It was not a lulled kiss, neither a gentle one, Javier was ruthless, taking out on your lips all the built up tension from the last few months. He couldn't believe it was finally happening. You were quick to follow his pace, your fingers grasping his shirt and pulling him even closer. The first moan you let out get Javi even more eagered, his hand passing down your body to grab your ass. You took advantage of his action and, before he knew, you were climbing up his lap, knees on each side of his torso, and once you were fully sitted on his lap, you both couldn't contain a moan. At that point, your skirt barely covered half your ass; because of that, he figured that you wouldn't mind his hands slowly rubbing up your tights until they reached the fabric and rolled it up your waist.

Javi parted your mouths to take a good look at you on his lap, his eyes wandered from your heavy eyelids, your lips puffy and red from the kisses, your blouse-covered chest raising and falling as fast as his until they got to the black thong you were wearing and he couldn't help but moan "Oh, fuck me"

"You like them?" your mouth came down his neck to give him wet kisses.

"How wouldn't I?" he held you by the nape of the neck and brought your mouths together again "I've wanted this for so long"

You released some kind of laughter "I know"

"Oh, do you?" he raised his brows.

"You're not exactly subtle for an agent" you murmured between kisses.

He snorts "Well, thanks for the insight"

Javi couldn't resist the urge to touch you through the tiny piece of fabric and you moaned at the pressure at your clitoris, but he moaned too at the wetness he found.

Javi didn't ask you how long you had wanted him, you were grinding on his lap at that moment and that was all that mattered. But he wished you had said it, that you had desired him as much as he had desired you, that all this time he had been imagining this moment, you were imagining it too.

"Fuck baby, you are so wet already" his tongue licked a stripe on your neck "All this for me?"

You answer was muffled by a moan; it seemed positive, but before he could confirm you were linking your mouths again in a searing kiss.

You started moving your hips on his erection and you both moaned at the pressure. Suddenly, his torso is being pushed down to the ground, chests pressed against each other, your fingers tangled his hair and pushed and he fucking whimpered.

Jesus Christ, he was in heaven and was not even inside of you yet.

You grinded furiously against him and he found it absolutly beautiful how you were using him to pleasure yourself and was not embarressed to do so. So. Fucking. Hot.

He felt like he was coming in any second.

"Fuck, you keep doing that and will have me cumming on my fucking pants, bebita"

"Oh, say it again!"

"What? That I'm within seconds to cumming?"

You moaned loudly at that "No- I mean, that too, that's hot, but- oh fuck"

"Bebita?" he felt you shiver at the pet name and chuckled "You like that, huh?"

You grabbed the nape of his neck and lowered your head to crush your lips to his again, tongues fighting heatedly. Javi started to feel that heat boiling at the bottom of his stomach, his hips grinded against yours and the pressure were just perfect; by the sounds you were making, you were as close as he was. Javi reached for you ass and grabbed it with both of his hands and squeezed, adding even more pressure to the grindness. At last, he sucked the pulse in your neck and you started to shake above him; that combined with the sweet noises that came out of you, he was gone.

You collapse on top of him, fingers unconsciously running through his hair; his members were sore and he was so tired and satisfied that he could sleep right there. The both fo you took deep breaths while your head rested on the gap of his neck and his on the floor.

"I can't remember the last time I did this" he was the first to break the silence.

"I actually do this everyday to my pillow" you mumbered humurously and he moaned.

"Shit, you're gonna be the death of me" his hand ran up and down from your ass to your backs, loving the feeling of your curves.

You raised your head to find his eyes and the moment was gone. You both realizing what you just had done, the before contentedness in him that was mirrowed in your eyes then turning into panic.

"Shit" you clumsly stood up. You put your skirt down as quickly as you could.

"It's getting late" it was already late when you came to his office "I should go" you should stay, he wanted to say.

But instead he only nodded. He knew it was for the best. He shouldn't have let it come this far.

You quickly get your stuff and wishes him a goodnight. His eyes don't leave you until you pass through the door, yours, though, don't meet him once.

He stayed there on the floor, cum staining his pants, and even though he was fully clothed, the room had never felt colder.

➫

The next day was pure craziness. After you left his office, Javi went home, took a shower and lied in bed thinking of what had just happened between the two of you and what would happen from then on until he had to come back to work. Before he could even get to his office, you intercepted him with a cup of coffee and the news of a surprise and excruciating slow meeting with the ambassador, which led to another one with the CIA and then the atrocious combination of them both together. By the time Javi was freed from hell, everybody else were already leaving; due to your situation, he thaught that would be your case too, so he was surprised to see you still on your desk.

"I was waiting to see if you would need something else from me before I left" was your answer to the question on his face.

"I think I'm heading home too, actually" after a day like that, he felt like maybe he could even get some sleep.

He had work to do, yeah, and usually it didn't matter to him if his mind wasnt in the right place - it rarely was anyways -, but he knew nothing productive would result from working in that state. Javi also wanted to talk to you; he had so many thing in his mind, what he thought about during that whole previous night: he wanted you. So bad he didn't even know how to express it, so much he let himself cum in his pants just to get the little you were wailing to give to him. And he was concerned about what your reaction to that would be, because it was obvious that you wanted him too, but your actions showed him that you didn't want to want him. All those thoughts were consuming him, but it would have to wait for another day, he didn't think that was the right time, not at work. Maybe he could invite you for drinks and talk things through or-

"I was wondering if we could talk, too" you interrupt his thoughts "About yesterday"

If Javi wasn't a trained professional, he probably would've had his mouth opened in absolut shock. It was like you read his mind.

"Of course" you both looked around the department, the couple people remaining already preparing to leave. Still, he opened his office door and nodded for you to come in.

You were flustered, nervous even. Javi didn't know what to expect from that talk, he wished you would cave in to your needs and fuck him already, but he felt like you wouldn't be easy on him. Honestly, he couldn't read you.

The both of you stood akwardly in the middle of the room, door closed behind you. He waited patiantly for you to start talking, for you to take the lead of the conversation.

"So" you sighed "I wanted to apologise"

His face contorted in a deep frown "What for? You have nothing to apologise"

"I do, yes" you shook your head "It was completely irresponsible and unprofessional and we shouldn't have done that"

If you said you were embarressed last time, about the things you had said on the bar, Javi didn't know what you could possibly be feeling at that moment: your face was getting red, your eyes wouldn't meet his, your hands squeezed each other in your front; he kind of felt bad he was the cause of your discomfort.

"You didn't do anything by yourself"

"I jumped on you like a crazy-ass-horny woman!" over your shoulder, you look outside to see if there was anyone to witness your voice raising; there wasn't.

Javi could barely contain the smirk forcing itself upon his mouth at the memory of you riding him in that very same floor, just a few steps from where you stood. He really couldn't contain the beggining of an erection, though.

"And I loved that" you looked at him as if he was crazy for saying it "I did!" he took a few steps in your direction "And honestly, if anyone should be blamed it's me, I'm the boss, aren't I? The authority in the room or some shit like that"

The way you look at him said that you agreed, that he should be blamed too, should've had more self control, but you didn't say it and that made him smile, the way you still tried to keep your composure at work.

You sighed "Still, it wasn't right and I'm sorry"

"I'm not" he took another step towards you.

"It's not the point, sir"

"I don't think you are that sorry either" your brows raised in surprise "And fucking quit calling me 'sir' now, there's just us in here" another step.

"I'm just-" you shrugged "I'm trying to be professional, that's all"

"Baby we're a little too late for that now"

"Jesus Christ" you pinched the bridge of your nose, he could feel the frustration exhaling from you "You don't like to make things easy, do you?"

"What's the fun in that?" the joke landed flat "I have a proposal"

That got your attention "I don't think I like where this is going"

"Well, that's the thing" he took one more step "I think you do. You fucking grinded on me on this floor until we both came. You want me. What are you so afraid of?"

"You're my fucking boss!" your exasperation made him want to laugh and scream out of frustration at the same time "I like this job, I want to keep it"

"I would never put your job in risk"

"You can't be sure" it was true, Javi barely had a say in anything, but he would do anything in his power for you not to lose your job, especially because of him "And even if this" you pointed between the two of you "didn't make me lose it, it would be living hell if people found out"

"I can be discreet"

You crossed your arms "You're not taking me seriously"

"I am, I promise that I am" he really was "I just- You gave me a taste of what it would look like and now I'm starving for more" he scratched his chin, a little embarressed he let that slip out "I would do anything to have you for one night, we don't have to take work to the bedroom"

"Oh" you snorted "there's a bedroom in the scene now?"

"What?" he raised his brows "You thought I was fucking you in my office?" you went silent "You fucking did"

Javi is no romantic man, he thought about fucking you in every place possible, in the bathroom there, against the nearest wall, but when truly thinking about taking you, it would always be in a bedroom, somewhere you both would be able to take your time.

"Do you fantasize about it?" a step closer "Do you touch yourself thinking about me?" your eyes wouldn't meet his, so he carefully took your chin and angled your head until they did "Where?"

You gulped "Where what?"

"Where did you imagine?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Your desk"

"Fucking dirty woman" he smirked "I'm gonna fuck you on my desk, bebita" he took you by the waist, colliding your body to his "And on my couch" his nose traveled from your cheek to your neck "On the fucking window so eveyone can see how pretty you will look with my cock deep inside of you"

"Shit" your voice broke, breathless.

"Do you want it? Huh? To be full of my cock?" you nodded "I want words"

"Yes" you puffed.

"Yes what?"

You looked at him with a defiant look "Yes, sir"

He had to laugh "You are the worst"

His lips collided with yours with so much fierceness he was surprised they didn't start bleeding. His hands were all over your body, your breasts, your back, your ass. You pulled his hair with both hands and he moaned. Javi wanted you so bad it hurt. He decided to be bold and lifted you skirt to your waist, then placed you sitted on the edge of his desk, each of your legs on each side of his hips, pushing everything that was on your way to the floor, paying no attention to anything that wasn't you.

"I hate how you kiss me" you mumbled frustrated between kisses and he pinched his brows.

"You have a very distinct way to hate things"

"You just do it so well" your hands covered his cheeks "Makes me want to do this everyday"

Javi couldn't help but to smirk "I don't see why we can't"

"Yes, you do"

"All I see is a gorgeous woman with tasteful lips" he reached your covered mound and passed a finger through your folds, making you moan loudly ", wet lips" he smirked "telling me she wants to kiss me foverer"

You snorted "I didn't say that"

"That's what I heard"

"You are so cocky" you rolled your eyes.

"Damn right I am" Javi pressed his erection to your thigh.

"Yeah, I felt it yesterday" your hands went to unbuckle his belt, quickly reaching for his cock through his underwear and pumping him a couple of times "You're big, sir"

Javi moaned and threw his head back, enjoying the feeling, barely believing it was finally happening. You put down every piece of cloth in your way to his thighs, put your own panties to the side and started to guide him to your entrance.

"You think is gonna be that easy?" he murmured in your ear, dodging his dick to press on your clit instead, making you moan at the contact, but also groan out of frustration.

"After all this time, it should be"

"You know what I want to hear, baby" he peppered kisses on your neck while still grinding his dick from your clit to your entrance, you were so wet he knew you would have no difficulty to take him.

"Put this thing inside of me, already" you tried to move your hips to get more friction, frustration consuming you.

Even though Javi had a purpose of you to stop calling him 'sir', he could barely hold himself from sliping inside of you, so that's what he did. Your moan as he slowly made space for him inside of you will forever be in his mind. Javi cursed under his breath as your walls squeezed him and he had to take a moment to absorb the feeling. So warm, so wet, so tight, he was in heaven. But you were impatiant.

"Please, move"

"Say my name and I will"

"Why are you so attached to this?" you pinched your brows.

He did the same "Why are you so against saying it?"

You licked a stripe on his neck "To piss you off"

"That's okay" he smirked "You don't have to say it, I'm gonna make you scream it" he held your legs and roughly pushed inside expecting to hit your special place; by the way you gasped and grabbed him, he got it just right "Found it"

Javi ran his nose through your neck and your skin bristled "You're so sensitive here, aren't you, bebita?"

"I'm starting to think that you make me sensitive everywhere"

He laughed and stopped his movements again "Now that's a confession"

"What can I say?" you huffed "It seems like you make my mind go blank when you have your huge dick inside of me and won't. fucking. move"

He laughed and started to slowly take it out just to push it in again at the same speed.

"You're gonna fucking kill me" you whined "Please, faster"

"Are you needy, baby?" he licked your neck "I can feel you squeeze me. You're desperate for my cock, huh?"

"Yes"

"Yes, what?

"Yes, sir"

He increased the speed and you moaned louder "Unbelievable" his hips were reletless and he felt you getting tighter and tighter "You're almost there, aren't you, baby?" you couldn't speak, mouth half opened and nails digging into the skin of his arm "You like it rough, don't you?"

Then he stopped.

"What the fuck?" your voice is hoarsed.

"I'm fucking you slow, baby, is that a crime?" his smile was smudge

"You're evil" you whined, hips moving to find relief.

"I am evil? Who are you to talk about evil? You're fucking teasing me here, bebita. That's so wrong" he started to move slowly again "Just say my name and I'll let you cum"

You nodded your head no.

"Say it"

"No"

"Fucking say. It." he changed the angle to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you and pulled your hair until your back arched.

"Oh my God, Javi!" you screamed as you came hard on his dick, eyes closed tight, mouth opened and body tremblimg.

His name coming out of your mouth was like music to Javi's ears, and hearing it for the first time fomented something insane inside of him. He licked his thumb and pressed it hard against your clit, your eyes widened in surprise and he got a strangled sound out of your mouth as you came again, your body violently shaking under his hands.

"Oh shit, that's it, baby. You're fucking milking me. Shit, shit, shit."

His name was now floating through your lips like a hymn, and he loved to hear it.

"I'm gonna cum"

His words seemed to wake you from your trance "On my mouth"

"Shit" he steped away and out of you and one second later you were on the floor, knelt before him. You grabbed his dick with one hand, put the tip in your mouth and that's all it took for him to cum the hardest he had in his life. You sucked it, greedy until he had nothing more to give you "Let me see it, baby" he asked with a hoarsed voice, asking you to open your mouth, showing that you had swalloed it all "Fucking dirty woman"

You smirked and rested your forehead on his thigh, exausted.

"Come 'ere" he took your hand on his and got you to your feet, holding you against him by your waist "Can you walk?"

"I think I can learn how to do it again, yeah" he chuckled.

Javi lowered your skirt before sitting you on his desk again "How are you getting home?" he asked quietly as he slowly buttoned up your blouse, trying not to startle you and have you running away again.

"I'm taking a cab" you more gently than not stopped his fingers to continue the work yourself.

"Let me take you home" he fished your panties from the floor and put it in his pocked as he wore his pants again

"You don't have to"

"I know I don't. But I'm kind of worried if you will be capable to support yourself for enough time to call a cab after I fucked you this good"

You released the louder chuckle he had ever heard you give as you stood up "You're the absolute worst, Javier."

He started to get hard to the sound of his name on your lips.

"See? Perfectly stable" one of your eyebrows was raised and all he wanted to do was to kiss your attitude away.

"I guess I'll have to fuck you harder next time, then"

"I guess"

You both went quiet as you made your way out of the building and to his car, you only speaking to give him instructions to get to your place.

"There will be a next time, right?" he spoke as you left the car.

How silly of him to think that fucking you once would be enough, would make all the consuming desire go away, if something, it only made him want you more.

You took your time to look at him, as if staring directly to his soul and gave him a small smile.

"Good night, Javi"

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devourers-of-god · 2 months

Note

Hello again! As I understand it, applications are still open aha... I hope I haven't tormented you (sorry, I'm just wildly delighted with your work, and there are too many ideas in my head)

In general... it seems to me that it is quite difficult for Sally to open up to people, despite the fact that he is a very kind boy. It seems to me that he may be shocked by excessive tactility and emotionality

So, what about an overly active f!reader who likes to hold hands with friends, and hugs at a meeting, and kisses on the cheeks (sorry, this is literally me, and at the same time all my friends are not particularly tactile, aha ...). I was thinking that the reader might like Sal... how do you think he would react? And yes, it can be either fan fiction or headcannons, whatever you want aha. I will read everything with pleasure!!!

HI!! thank you SO much for the compliments, you are the sweetest! You are SO right about Sal D: ANS ALSO you do not torment me !!!! the requests are slow these days and im sooo happy you're taking the time to ask me stuff !I will do a one shot for this lololsorry this took a while to write, I had exams, school and work :P BUTTT I got my drivers licence LOLLL okep thanks for your request!!! and if you ever have more ideas, it will be my pleasure to try and portray your ideas with my writing!

SAL X OVERLY AFFECTIONATE READER

Warnings: None, fluff ? u guys are not dating lololol

Type: Oneshot

Oneshot -

Everyone described you with few words; bubbly, a social butterfly and VERY affectionate. You were not shy to pour your heart out to someone when needed, but you also were the first one to help a friend in need.

You always thought that being this touchy and nice to people was just common manners, until you be friended Sal Fisher.

Sal Fisher was an interesting individual, his everyday life was affected by years of torment explained by his flashbacks. He wasted a lot of his youth because Sal was isolating himself, not talking to anyone, not even his father. Even though his ''beloved'' father wasn't trying to help him to begin with. Though, this caused the young boy to develop an awkwardness to someone's touch and Sally could not properly explain to someone how he felt, he couldn't quite put words on his true feelings. Being touched, brushed or even just the thought of all this, made Sal feel something he couldn't even express. Sal was hollow, basically a shell of a human.

You luckily moved to Nockfell, the infamous town that your family wanted to move in so bad. You and your family landed in the Addison's apartments, there you met the tall Larry Jonhson. It was easy to get along with this guy anyway, you found yourself very lucky that day because the metalhead introduced you to Sal Fisher. You two will eventually end up together, but you don't know that yet.

For you, it was love at first sight. You Immediately complimented the way Sal presented himself. Basically showering him with compliments, especially his mask and hair. It wasn't your fault that you're this friendly, its the usual y/n. Sal Fisher felt almost claustrophobic by your gestures, weirdly appreciated that. You were not aware but this boy is secretly craving compliments, being this lonely for this long had affected the poor boy.

As the weeks passed, you and the blue haired boy hung out often, which made you delighted. You two were eating lunch together while the others had an art project to complete. Mr. Fisher and you were discussing when suddenly Sal made you laugh, your reflexes got the best of you and pushed him gently. Sal smiled to himself as his face turned crimson. ''God you are so funny, you need to stop my cheeks are hurting!!'' You confessed as you chuckled lightly. ''Pretty sure my name is Sal ,y/n'' your crush responded. You punched his shoulder gently, just as a way of saying to shut it. You knew that Sal was not introduced properly to your love language, but luckily you asked his closest friends about all of this. They approved to you that the masked boy isn't disturbed by it. It motivated you to not hide your true self, since your upcoming boyfriend is fond of it.

In an instant, the bell rang. You got up quickly and held Sal's hand to make sure he's following. You didn't want to lose him in the crowded halls right? Or did you just want an excuse to hold his hand? Sal figured this out but never told you.

Arrived to his locker, you were so happy that day and your nature took over suddenly, you peeked a small kiss on the cheek of Sal's prosthetic. '' See ya Sal! Goodluck with your math test-'' You yelled out as you escaped. You were proud of yourself too, you really liked Sal and the only way to show it is with affection and physical touch. You could not believe you actually did that. The next class felt like it was the longest ever, the school system was seperating you from your future lover.

Meanwhile, Sal's train of thoughts was going faster than usual. He froze in place for a good 5 minutes with his face hotter than when he had the flu. He thought to himself that you might like him, but Sal reasoned himself after saying that you probably do that to everyone. He wasn't so special, he thought. Normally, affecting gestures are not welcome for Sal Fisher, but you stood out. He actually felt great in your embrace. Even though he's not quick enough to hug back sometimes, he melts every time.

''Man I know you like her, you don't even let us touch you dude.'' Larry said after Sal reported everything of today. Sal closed his locker door a bit louder than he should've.

''Fuck off Larry. She's just different I guess.'' Sal retorted, what's left of his face turned a tint of pink, ballet pink to be exact. Sal thought to himself that he was pleased that the school day finally ended, they could finally go home and play som- Sal's thoughts were cut off by you hugging Sal as a way of greeting. He felt his legs soften beneath him. Sal's heart skipped various beats. '' Hi Sal!! Oh hi Larry! What are you guys up to after school?'' You smiled wildly as you got closer to Sal, which made him shiver. Larry started to smirk in a more of an evil way ''Oh I'm actually busy tonight but I know that Sal wanted to hang out with you y/n'' Sal bumped into him ''accidentally''.

Your cheeks flushed as you looked away ''I would love to! My parents are picking me up today so- text me okay?'' You ended your sentence with a small wink directed to Sal. You quickly left to go in your guardian's car. Suddenly you didn't feel like walking like everyone else, you were so happy you skipped your way to the car. Sal's jaw was hanging since Larry opened his ''dumb mouth'' as Sal would say.

''Youre welcome my man!'' Larry chuckled.

'' Get lost.''

HELLO!! hope you liked it :) I don't know why, im less satisfied with this.. if there's anything you guys think I should add please feel free to share your thoughts with me!! Per usual, stay safe and MY REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!!!! its currently almost 1 am lawd goodnight friends :) P-S: we're almost at 150 followers!!!!!! very exciting :DDDD thank you!!

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onismdaydream · 2 months

Text

sweet like candy (ft. satoru gojo)

tags: mdni. 18+. afab reader. slight sub gojo. handjob. slight bondage (restricted wrists). pet names. makeshift gag (underwear). reader is kinda mean. not proofread.

notes: happy valentine's day?? idk this was a dumb thought that got longer than i expected! i also didnt feel like going through and editing lol hope you like it anyways :3 reblogs/comments are very much appreciated!

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

it's funny, really, how quickly satoru gojo folds underneath you.

he loves to be an asshole, thrives on the attention it gets him. he's never been one to keep his mouth shut and everyone knows it. so sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

he doesn't mind, not one bit, when you make him sit on a chair and bind his wrists behind the back. it's not the best knot but it'll suffice — especially if he knows what's good for him. there's that smug little smirk that often makes its home on satoru's pretty face.

"what's this, angel? do i get a prize?" still so cocky... you'll have to fix that. your hands gently slide up his abdomen, starting from his firm stomach and resting at his pecs. his shirt rises with the movement and you can feel the way his body tenses slightly as his breath hitches. if it was anyone else, they might not have noticed it, but you did. despite the way he parades around, he's all bark and no bite. he crumbles as soon as you so much as lay a finger on him.

you hum softly, a dismissive sound. "something like that." sliding his shirt the rest on the way up so it sits above his collarbone, your fingers graze over his sensitive nipples, already beginning to harden from the cool air and your touch.

"should've stripped me first," satoru breathes out a chuckle. "gonna be hard to do when i'm tied up."

you don't respond, instead you keep your gaze on his exposed skin. there's faint red scratches that contrast nicely with his pale complexion — a reminder of the previous night. your nails had dug into his chest as you rode him, little crescent moons that morphed into long and narrow wounds when satoru desperately bucked his hips further into you.

"c'mon, baby," the white haired sorcerer looks up at you with that ridiculously pretty smile, something akin to mischief sparkling in his equally ridiculously pretty eyes. "don't make me wait."

you flatten your hands on his chest, squeezing the firm muscles of his pecs. if gojo was watching your expression, he might've kept his mouth shut.

"like what you see?"

"i'd like it better if it was quieter," you retort, your gaze flicking up and catching his own. satoru's face falters for a moment — his eyes widening and smile dropping — from the unexpected words, but he quickly recovers. he loved playing this game as much as you did.

"aw, don't be like that. you know you love me." that shit-eating grin makes its way to his lips, his perfect teeth catching the low light of the room.

one of your hands reaches down, palming at the bulge in his sweatpants, the other one resting on his waist. he was half hard already. though satoru's pretty much always hard at a moment's notice when it came to you. a low and quiet groan leaves the back of his throat, your palm putting much appreciated pressure on him. "mm, i suppose i do."

even with the layer of fabric in between his cock and your hand, you could feel it kick and throb as you touched him, soft noises of pleasuring slipping past his lips.

"yeahhh," satoru sighs, his head falling back as you pull him out and finally get your hands on him. "just like that, baby."

you knew satoru like no other, knew him like the back of your own hand. he didn't have to guide you on what to do because you were already doing it. drooling on his cock and mixing your saliva with his precum for makeshift lube to make the glide of your fist even better, stroking him nice and slow, using just the right amount of pressure so that it teeters on painful — you picked these things up naturally as you spent more and more time with gojo.

but that meant that he was constantly babbling, too. equal amounts of praise and curses, satoru could never shut his mouth.

"fuuuck, angel, no one's as good as you. always feels so fuckin' good." his hips buck up when your thumb teases over his slit, smearing more of his pearly precum around his sensitive tip.

he's vaguely aware of when you slip your other hand underneath your skirt, but he's too caught up in the feeling of your hot tongue licking up the underside of his shaft, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. "shit, baby."

too caught up to realize that you're not touching yourself, instead, you're sliding off your underwear. and the next time he opens his mouth, you take the opportunity to shove them on his tongue. gojo's eyes shoot open, piercing blue focusing on your smirking face.

"you talk too much," you say simply, pushing the soft panties further in his mouth, making him gag, the sound muffled. not giving him time to adjust, your pace on his cock picks up, your strokes becoming tougher and sloppier.

satoru whines around the fabric, his own drool pooling at the corners of his lips as he's forced to taste and smell you. it's intoxicating, really. he should feel dirty and gross as your used panties sit on top of his tongue, but he doesn't. it's almost as if his head is buried in your cunt, the sweet and distinct arousal that is undeniably you suffocating his senses. not quite as strong and certainly not as good as actually having his head between your thighs, but almost.

he can feel the knot in his stomach getting tighter, your lips around his tip and hands on his shaft working him closer and closer to the edge, until he finally falls.

you pull away from his cock, letting the ropes of cum hit against his flexing stomach, mixing with the faint trail of white hair. his cock kicks as you work him through his orgasm, a stifled cry emanating from the sorcerer.

your panties are absolutely and thoroughly soaked when you remove them from satoru's mouth. he opens and closes his jaw a few times, stretching it out and regaining feeling in the area.

"could'a told me to stop talking," he grumbles, though his lips quirk up just the slightest amount. he's not ready to admit it — yet, at least — but he enjoyed that a lot more than he thought.

you laugh softly, a stark contrast to how you were just mere moments ago. "where's the fun in that, toru?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #perce.doc #.jjkai

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yan-lorkai · 9 months

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Good evening! If it’s alright, could you please write some pomefiore boys with a sick reader fluff? I just love how you have portrayed them so far in your work. Thank you!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: anon lmao-- you send this the day I caught the flu, at the time I laughing and coughing at the same time at the coincidence. I'm better now so that means I'm finally finished writing this, hope you like it! ;3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, described symptoms of flu, potions, can be seen as platonic or romantic. Reblogs are appreciated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Oh, Trickster, if only he could take you in his arms and drown you in his love to heal you, he would without a second thought. First he would look at you with heart in his green eyes, memorizing every feature and line of your face, holding you in his gloved hands and stroking your cheeks. And then, if he could, Rook would lie down beside you and let his hands run up your sides, down your back, down the base of your neck to cup the back of your head, guiding your head to lay down on his chest. Unfortunately he cannot risk getting sick, he has to take care of you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Sweat bathed your skin as you shivered and breathed heavily through your mouth, letting out gusts of air spiraling out of sight. You were so weak, with a stuffy nose and a fever that never seemed to cease. And Rook is almost happy to be the one taking care of you in this fragile state of yours, your teary eyes squinting to be able to see him through the tears. You didn't even seem to know what was real or not, delirious with fever, dreams emerging with reality and you not able to tell the difference.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Rook is very observant and he knows what to do and how to act as you exhibit your symptoms, supporting you every step of the way to recovery. Rook whispers words of comfort, efficiently working to ease whatever pain you were feeling as he spoke to you, even though he knew you didn't hear him. He knows that you will at least feel that there is someone there taking care of you. Being a great hunter, he is able to prepare a strong medicine with some herbs that heal you in a few hours and also gave you some soft food and lots of water.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When you recover Rook expects compensation in the form of kisses and your company, he's just so needy for your attention. You're his beloved prey, after all.

⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You are like a doll to him, one for him to love and care for, and he is so careful with you, bordering on condescending with the way he demands that you stay in bed and rest while he asks Rook to bring you a hot, nutritious meal. Vil stays by your side the whole time you are sick, reading to you, telling you silly stories or just talking to keep you entertained and comfortable, despite being a little possessive of you he really cares for you a lot and he wants you to get well soon. How else could he kiss your cheek?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Vil almost feels sorry for you, so helpless and fragile, so dependent on him, he would feel sorry if this wasn't your punishment for wanting to spend time with your little friends and away from the safety offered by your queen. And he loves every second he can taking care of you, wiping the sweat off your brow and helping you sit up so you can drink your medicine and the potion that is fully intended to cure you, sure, don't doubt it and drink every last drop.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Seconds become minutes and minutes become hours, your recovery is slow. But at least the cough and fever are gone after the medicine and the potion you drank, your throat still itches and your nose still runs, but you are slowly getting better by listening to Vil's voice and taking the time to rest.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You might not realize it until after you're healthy, but the potion you've drunk certainly takes its toll. You become closer to Vil, preferring his presence to your friends and being away from him becomes agonizing - almost as if you're under a spell. But it's certainly not that bad, is it? His company is much nicer than those nasty potatoes.

⠀⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel is easy to despair. Should he give you water? But what if you want to eat first, or worse, what if you don't want to eat? Reluctantly he asks Vil and Rook what to do in this situation and follows their advice to the letter, making sure you are medicated and have a box of tissues by your side, he also brings a bucket in case you feel like throwing up but are too weak to get up.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel holds your hand, rubbing his thumb against your warm skin as he tells you about his day and the silly things that happened, the things he would do with you if you weren't sick. He has to resist the temptation to climb into your bed and lie down next to you to comfort you when you have a coughing and sneezing fit, rubbing your back gently and humming a little song as he helps you lie down, fluffing your pillows.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He knows a great recipe and while you sleep, Epel spends time in the kitchen cooking. He hopes the food is good, he hopes it works for you like it worked for him when he was sick and he was a kid. It's a recipe his grandmother came up with and one that works extremely well, it smells good, it tastes good, and as soon as you wake up he offers you spoonful after spoonful of food, even if you refuse. He will take care of you, whether you like it or not.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When you get better, Epel wants you to go on errands with him. He requires some approach after taking care of you, he wants to hear your voice and the things you have to say.

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nicoline1998enilocin · 6 months

Text

Flufftober Day 19 | We’ll always protect you

Pairing | Fiancé!Steve Rogers x Fiancée!Avenger!Female!Reader

Word count | 1.9K

Summary | It has always been Steve's dream to become a Dad, and suddenly, that opportunity seems closer than he could ever have envisioned. When a little girl is abandoned in front of the Avengers Compound, he can't help but take an immediate liking to her, and he feels the urge to keep her safe no matter what.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Swearing, angst: Child abandonment (they’re left at the Compound), mention of infertility, mentions/descriptions of anxiety. Hurt/comfort.

Prompt(s) | 19. Keeping someone safe | @flufftober

A/n | I've been thinking of writing something like this for a while, and I'm happy I've finally got a chance to do it! I hope you will all enjoy this one. Writing was quite a challenge, but I hope I could do this topic at least a bit of justice.

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @cafekitsune | GIF credit to the owner

Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

It is a beautiful spring day, and you and your fiancé, Steve, are on a run through New York together. In all fairness, he keeps his pace lower just so he can keep up with you, and he usually runs some more on a treadmill afterward, but the quality time together is always excellent.

"Can we... just for a... I need to stop," you pant as you slow your pace and come to a complete stop shortly after. Steve can't help but smile as he sees your bright red face from running, sweat dripping everywhere, and your hair a whole mess.

And still, despite all that, he can't keep his hands off you as he pulls you close for a much-needed kiss. Who needs air when you have a delicious super soldier who has to touch you constantly?

"It's not fair that I'm all sweaty, and you didn't even get a tinge of color on your cheeks from our run…" you say with a pout, though you're still thankful he wants to come along with you, even if it's just for some company.

He swiftly kisses your pout away with a sweet, tender kiss that has the butterflies in your stomach fly harder than usual.

"I can think of a good way to break a sweat when we're back, though," he says with a glint of mischief, and you already like where this is going.

"We better head back then, right?" you say after taking off, and Steve follows immediately until he matches your pace again. The last 2 miles went by in a blur, and before you know it, you're back at the Compound.

You're about to open the door when Steve suddenly stops, as his super soldier hearing is picking something up. He hears a faint cry somewhere and can't let it go, so he excuses himself.

When he rounds the corner and walks towards the garage of the Compound, the crying gets more significant, and that's when he sees it.

There's a baby wrapped in a thick bundle of blankets with a note tucked between the blankets on their belly, and they're crying uncontrollably. Steve can feel his heart breaking as he crouches to pick them up.

Before you can even ask what's going on, Steve's holding the baby close to his chest while rocking them back and forth slowly.

You gently get the note out of the blankets, and when you read it, your heart shatters into a million pieces. As you fight against the tears, you tell Steve what's on the card, though it's hard to do that and fight against your tears simultaneously.

Please, take good care of her because I can't do it; I'm sorry. She deserves a life I can't provide her, though I hope you can. Her name is Isabella, and she was born on October 12, 2023.

"Steve, she's only a week old! How can someone do this to her?!" you ask as you let the tears flow, and Steve is fighting against them as well, though he tries to be strong for the both of you.

"Let's bring her to Dr. Cho first to check her over, and after, we'll see what we have to do next, okay?" Steve says softly, and little Isabella has calmed down immensely, even falling asleep in Steve's arms.

"I just… I don't fucking get it!" You say as you let your anger take the best of you, and you immediately regret it as you wake up Isabella, who starts wailing.

"Sshhh, it's okay, Babygirl, you're safe with us. We'll always protect you," Steve shushes her, but you can't believe someone would do this to such a perfect human being.

After you've found out that you're infertile, it hits even closer to home, and you have to remove yourself from the situation before you do anything you'll regret later on.

"I- I can't, Steve. You take her, and I'm going to shower," you say without looking at him, knowing that if you do that, you will lash out at him even though none of this is either of your faults.

Steve takes little Isabella to the medbay in the meantime to have her looked over by Dr. Cho, and after some careful examinations, she has been deemed fully healthy, apart from a bit of malnourishment.

"I will give you a list of basics you need to get for her since she obviously won't be breastfeeding, but I also need to contact Child Protective Services, Captain Rogers," Dr. Cho explains, and Steve nods in understanding.

"I get it; I just hope they don't take her away from us. I don't think we'd be able to get through that, especially not with everything she's gone through," Steve says, referencing your infertility.

As it turns out, though, neither of you needed to worry about Isabella being taken away from the two of you.

Today is the last visit of the social worker before they decide if she can stay with the pair of you, and you've been anxious and walking on eggshells around everybody for about a week now.

"Munchkin, can you come here for a few seconds?" Steve asks, but you're too nervous, still pacing the room. You've changed your outfit three times and styled your hair just as many times.

The anxiety is taking over your mind and making Isabella nervous, too, but you haven't noticed that. Steve most definitely has, however, and he can't take it anymore.

"Okay, if you don't want to listen, I'm going to take matters into my own hands," he says as he walks over to you, pulling you into his chest, and you just let yourself melt into his touch as his strong arms hold you close to him.

"We're going to be okay; I know we will be. You heard what the lady said; we have nothing to be worried about because she has never seen two people who are more cut out to be parents than us," Steve says, and you can't help but let the tears flow, your hands fisted the back of his shirt.

"I just- We're so close, Steve! I can't lose her now... She's such a perfect little girl and deserves the life we can provide her. And- and I love her so much, it's like she's my daughter that I brought into this world," you say between sniffles.

"I know, Munchkin, but I have all the faith in the world that she can stay with us," Steve reassures you with lots of kisses. When there's a sudden knock on the door, you get snapped out of it and rush to the bathroom to fix your make-up.

Steve picks up Isabella, who is wearing a white playsuit with red hearts all over it and looks adorable. The social worker is ready to go immediately when he opens the door.

"Come on in; Y/N will be joining us in a few minutes," Steve says, and he offers her a drink, which she happily agrees to.

"Hi, I'm so sorry I wasn't here to greet you!" you say as you sit in front of the social worker, taking Isabella from Steve and giving her a bottle you prepared before walking into the living room.

"She's perfect, isn't she? And that little suit she's wearing makes you fall in love with her instantly," she says with a big smile, and you couldn't agree more.

Steve comes back soon after and sits down next to you, his arm laid over the back of the couch so he can still touch you.

"Well, I suppose I shall start with the good news first. I have had a few meetings with a judge, you two, of course, and one other social worker on this case to see if she can stay with the two of you, and I can officially congratulate the two of you! If you still want to, you can adopt little Isabella," she says, and you look over at Steve, tears streaming down both of your faces.

"Are- Are you sure?" you ask, and after one more confirmation, you let yourself sag against the back of the couch, still mindful of Isabella, who is happily drinking away.

A few weeks later, all three of you are at the courthouse to sign the adoption papers, and from that moment on, you're the proud parents of your little girl, Isabella Rogers.

When all three of you arrive back at the Avengers Compound, you are surprised by a small get-together Tony has planned for Isabella and the fact that you are finally having the family that you have dreamt of.

Everyone is taking their turns to cuddle with Isabella until it is time for her to get a bottle, and this time, Steve has taken to the task, so Tony has pulled you apart for a minute.

"How're you feeling?" Tony asks as you're standing in the kitchen, the get-together still happening in the living room. You're glad Tony is also taking the time to look after you; you love how he is just like your second Dad.

"Relieved, mostly, but I suppose it is also a double feeling. I know, and I'm delighted that she's ours, that she is part of our family now, but it also stings a little bit that she's not biologically mine, you know?" you say with a sigh, tears prickling behind your eyes.

"The one thing I wanted more than anything is to become a Mom, and even though I achieved that goal, it almost feels like I've cheated life or something," you say, and Tony pulls you in for a big hug, letting the tears stream freely.

You don't need him to say anything, and it's as if he can sense it because he holds you close while you let out your tears. Steve has come to check up on you, but once he sees you're with Tony, he kisses your head before returning to the party. He knows you're in good hands.

When you've finally calmed down, Tony says something that warms your heart.

"Listen to me, okay? You're the best mother Isabella could have ever wished for, and this is the universe's way of telling you that you should have been her Mom all along. She was born to end up with the two of you, and there's nowhere else she should be right now," he says, his hand placed on your cheek, his thumb rubbing reassuringly over your cheekbone.

"Thank you so much, Tony. It means the world to hear you say that. And thank you for being by our sides through everything; I will never be able to repay you for everything you did but know that I am deeply thankful for you, and I love you more than you'll ever know," you say, and after one more big hug, you two go back to the party.

"I love you, Steve, and I'm happy that our little family is finally complete," you say before giving him a soft, slow kiss that takes your breath away.

"I have to say, I know life has its ways for everything, but I can't say I would have wanted our family to get together any other way," he says before pulling you into his side.

You look at Tony cooing at the little girl, and he looks up at you to give you one more wink, which warms your heart. You would do it all over again if it meant that you would get to live your dream, and it felt like your heart was overflowing.

"I love you, Munchkin," Steve whispers, and you let a big smile escape your lips. You can't stop looking at your daughter; your heart is filled with love.

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sbdskate · 1 year

Text

Laws of Attraction (Part 3) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, NSFW for a hot sec

Word Count: 2,604

A/N: It’s been a while! I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, work/life took over. Thank you everyone who read Parts 1 and 2, and thank you for your patience. I realize there is likely going to be a part 4, and given the ~significant~ break I apologize for the cliff hanger. Friendly reminder that this is still new to me, so I appreciate any and all feedback both positive and constructive. Enjoy!

You were thankful for the two-week break, again hoping the distance would subdue your growing crush. Much to your dismay, you had inceptioned yourself. The seed of physical attraction developed into more despite every attempt to nip it in the bud. To make matters worse, he texted you twice a day every day while you were away: one work related and one miscellaneous – a cute dog he saw cross the street, a yummy meal he had, a song he thought you might like, other general statements of opinion. Eventually the latter turned into plans for the U.S. grand prix. You didn’t quite understand his fascination with the whole cowboy americana aesthetic, perhaps because you grew up in the states so you were disillusioned to it. But it made him happy which you found endearing. He had asked for your input when he was undecided on which boots to get, and excitedly texted you pictures of an American flag bomber jacket and ostentatious belt buckles. You shot him with a few pleasant but short responses, whatever sparks joy or love that journey for you. Two days before press day though, you received a message that made you question your entire career path.

DR: Can I bring a horse to press day? You blinked a few times at your phone.

Y/N: To clarify, you want me to research FiA rules to see if you can bring a horse to the paddock and I will get paid for that time?

DR: Yes [insert horse emoji]

You swore this would be your last celebrity client. You couldn’t believe you went to law school for this.

Y/N: Yes, you can bring a horse. It just needs a badge pass like any other guest which you would need to submit 24 hrs in advance.

DR: What if you don’t know the horse’s name?

Y/N: Press day is in two days and you don’t actually have a horse?

This was by far the strangest client interaction you had ever had. First you were in disbelief from the initial question, and now here you were less than an hour later incredulous that your client didn’t actually have a horse lined up for his arrival to the circuit in forty-eight hours. Oh how the turn tables.

DR: Well I just thought of the idea, so no.

Y/N: It’s a horse, Daniel. I’m pretty sure you can just make up a name, it’s not like it’s going to perjure itself.

So when you got there for press day in your pink suit, prepared for meetings with other teams to discuss reserve seats, it took everything in your power to keep a straight face as Daniel strode in on Horsey McHorseface, with handler and country singer in tow. As a human being with a soul, it was objectively hilarious and you loved that he gave zero fucks, understanding that this very well may be his farewell tour. As his attorney though, you wished he had gone something for a little more subtle. He tipped his cowboy hat and winked as he passed you. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, but your body was on fire. The whole stunt was absurdly corny, it shouldn’t have done anything for you and yet you were undeniably turned on.

You went about your respective days, yours’ filled with back-to-back team meetings. You should have been laser focused, but you struggled to maintain your composure as you fought off visions of Daniel’s mustache adorned face between your legs. You reconnected at the end of the day so the two of you could debrief to discuss your findings. You kept your eyes on your notes in the hopes that avoiding his gaze would keep fantasies of you riding him like a show pony at bay. Flashbacks of the gentle roll of his hips on the horse threatened your demeanor, but you pushed through. Thankful to have made it through the exchange with your dignity mostly intact, you made your way towards the door when you thought the meeting had ended. However, you realized Daniel wasn’t moving.

You waited in the doorway, turning to face him. “Are you coming?”

He paused. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

You closed the door again, thinking he had more questions about Red Bull or Mercedes. “You can ask me anything. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath. “…Do you want to come to the race on Sunday?”

You chuckled, assuming he was simply nervous about the race. “You know I come to all your races, it’s good facetime with the other teams.” You gave him a reassuring smile. Could you sense nerves?

“I know! Which is great. But I meant… as a guest. I thought maybe you could leave the work at home for a day. Consider it a thank you for all your hard work.”

“Oh.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mind went through every worst case scenario, trying to think of an out. You drew a blank.

“Oh what the heck. Twist my arm, I suppose I could swing it.” You did your best to suppress your eagerness, despite feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He grinned, but not before your phone rang. “Ah shoot it’s Joe. I gotta go, but I’ll see you Sunday!”

You passed Lando on your way out who suggestively wriggled his eyebrows at you, seeing both you and Daniel with dumb smiles plastered on your faces. You jokingly flipped him off as you continued your conversation with your boss.

You decided to leave the suits at home since you technically weren’t in client meetings. The Texas heat was oppressive – you wanted to be comfortable but not scandalous. You didn’t think the denim short/cowboy boot combo would be appropriate, and it really wasn’t your thing anyways. Instead you settled on a flowy yellow midi sundress. You stared at your work tote longer than you should have. Rarely did you go anywhere without it, you were paid handsomely in part because you were available 24/7. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed a small crossbody bag instead.

You made your way over to Daniel when you arrived at the paddock. He looked concerned as his eyes traveled over the crowds.

“Everything ok?”

“Oh, I was just looking for my lawyer, not sure if you’ve seen her. She’s about yay-tall, wearing a stuffy suit.”

You wrinkled your nose at his jab at your casual outfit, you lightly shoved him. “Very funny. I know it’s shocking but I do own and wear other clothes when I’m not working.”

“I wasn’t aware you didn’t work,” he jested.

“If we’re being technical about it…I can still get emails on my phone.”

In the midst of a comfortable chuckle, his hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked you to where you would be watching the race. You felt electricity course through you at the soft touch. You debated on whether to remove it, but decided it was an innocent enough gesture.

You both stopped when you got to Lando and his girlfriend. Realizing who you would be enjoying the day with, the optics of all of this began to dawn on you. It was too late to back out now.

“Well, this is where I leave you. You two behave yourselves.”

“No promises!” Luisinha called after the boys. You gave Daniel a small smile and wave as they walked away, your confidence shrinking. Luisinha, a literal model, was even more stunning in person. Internalized insecurities you thought you moved past long ago made themselves comfortable in your mind. You were proud of the person you had grown into, inside and out. You were all about women supporting women and you knew you shouldn’t compare yourself to her, nor did you have any reason to. All the same, you felt small and insignificant next to her. It also made you realize even if you were not his lawyer, there was no way in a million years you had a shot with The Daniel Riccardo, charming world renown Formula 1 driver who had his choice of any woman on the planet.

It was a humbling realization, which ultimately boded well for you. In setting your delusions aside, you resolved to have a lovely day of racing with hopefully a new friend and nothing more. You felt a calm rush over you and relished in the freedom that came without the weight of expectations.

You turned to Luisinha with a warm grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

Unfortunately, the good company did not translate to a good race. You were happy for Lando who placed a strong 6th, but with all the hype leading up to it, Daniel had only finished 16th. You heart broke for him as you waited by while he gave his post race interviews, his signature smile notably absent. He excused himself after the last interview, and you silently followed him. When you caught up, you found him sitting on the floor in quiet corridor, his back against the wall and his head in his hands. Saying nothing, you sat down next to him. The two of you remained like that for a while, a quiet understanding silently exchanged.

Eventually you check the time. The beginning of the weekend had held the promise of potential, with big plans to hit the town to match. But in a death by a thousand cuts, today’s race delt a final blow to the driver’s confidence. You were sure at this point a party of any kind was the last thing Daniel wanted. You cautiously broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about the race. We don’t have to do anything you’re not up for.”

He briefly hesitated, but weakly smiled for the first time since that morning. “Are you joking? I’m not passing up a chance to go out in my favorite city. I can rally, promise.”

You gave him a knowing glance, understanding he was putting on a brave face. What for, you couldn’t tell.

“Well, you have six hours left of work-free y/n. I’m at your disposal.”

“What happens in six hours?”

“I turn into a pumpkin,” you quipped. You bumped shoulders and smiled. With that, he stood up first and offered his hand to pull you to your feet. Without letting go, he started walking.

“Excuse me, where are we going?”

He chimed back with a line you had heard before: “I know a place.”

You ended up in a dive bar with some of the other drivers and their significant others. It was the first time you had met a lot of the others aside from Lando. Perhaps it was because they weren’t your clients, but you found yourself somewhat starstruck. It’s not that you hadn’t seen them around the paddock, but it felt like the first time you were truly brushing elbows with them. You were sure Lewis couldn’t have such flawless skin up close, nor could Carlos’ hair be so voluptuous, yet there they were in the flesh right next to you. You needed a drink to loosen up, and the McLaren crew had had a rough day. Coming in hot, you ordered a round of pickle back shots.

Luisinha was equally fascinated and disgusted. “What is this again? And why are there two? And why is one… green?”

“First you do the shot of whiskey, and then you chase it with a shot of pickle juice. The pickle juice neutralizes the burn from the whiskey and it has electrolytes so it’s kind of healthy!” She hesitantly sniffed the pickle juice and grimaced. You laughed, “Don’t ask questions, just drink. You’ll love it!”

A few more shots and beers later, your inhibitions had dissipated and you were dancing sloppily with Luisinha, feeling the base from the live band through the soles of your shoes. Work, for the first time in months, was the furthest thing from your mind. As you twirled and jumped and sang off key to your heart’s content, you failed to notice the familiar presence of your client approaching.

“Is it ok if I join? I come bearing gifts,” Daniel asked as he shimmied his way into your circle, handing out another round of beers. You can’t help the ear-to-ear smile that makes its way to your face.

“Come dance with us!” you shout over the sound of the bar. Luisinha raises an eyebrow. You both got along swimmingly during the race, and in that time you had clearly conveyed to her that you were Daniel’s lawyer and nothing more. “I’d get on that if I were you,” she teased at the time. You had laughed it off and dismissed it immediately. But seeing the two of you now with your rosy cheeks and lazy smiles, she was fully invested in stirring the pot.

The night’s debauchery continued, Luisinha secretly observing your exchanges. So when Lando tried talking to Daniel about race things, she not-so-discreetly intercepted.

“Honey, why don’t we go grab some more drinks?” Lando, clearly confused, was not picking up what she was putting down.

“What? But I just got us another rou-“

“Pleeeaaase, I’m so thirsty I need some water!” At this point she simply grabbed his wrist and dragged him away, but not before throwing a wink in your direction.

In your drunken stupor, you weren’t exactly picking up what she was putting down either. All you knew was that you were having a blast. So you decided to keep dancing with Daniel, ignorant to the fact that the crowd had begun to thin. It started with the two of you attempting and failing miserably at line dancing. Which led to you trying to teach him square dancing that you learned in the fifth grade. You lost track of how many times you stepped on each other’s feet and between fits of laughter, you didn’t realize how your hands were comfortably intertwined or the distance between your bodies decreasing.

He spun you away and back in. As you twirled into him a final time, your chests crashed into each other and your hand landed on his shoulder while his found its way to your waist. It was only in that moment with your faces inches apart that you became suddenly aware of your proximity. Feeling his breath tickle your face, you felt like your heart was going to beat its way out of your chest. Your gaze lowers to his plump lips then back to his eyes, counting the freckles. Your laughter slowed, unsure of what was so funny a minute ago.

You broke eye contact to look at the hand resting on his shoulder. What happened next felt like an eternity, but likely only lasted a few seconds. In one moment, you were relishing the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch and the warmth emanating from him, taking note of the rise and fall of your chests in unison, your pulse extending to the furthest reaches of your fingertips. Then, in a quick turn for the worst, your eyes fell to your wrist. According to your watch, you should’ve turned into a pumpkin two hours ago. The haze of the day and the bar and the alcohol lifted, reality quickly setting back in. In a sobering moment, you met his eyes again desperately trying to telecommunicate what you couldn’t put into words. Was he aware of the delicate bubble you two had created for yourselves? Did he realize how fragile it was? Did he know it just burst?

You stepped away from him. “I’m sorry,” was all you could muster before you turned and left.

#daniel ricciardo #dr3 #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #danny ric #f1 x reader #dr3 x reader #f1 x oc #f1 #reader x dr3 #reader x f1 #slow burn #lawyered #formula one fanfiction #laws of attraction

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nyanashima · 1 year

Text

The Brothers Crying & How to Comfort Them

“I love all the OM! boys! I just want the best for them *crushes them in my fist*”

Hope this wasn’t too repetitive! I tried to write it so it could be platonic or romantic, depending on your preference.

Thanks to @avatarofcuriousity for the concept and help with the bros <3

Content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, angst lol

Lucifer

You already know. It takes a lot for this dude to cry.

If Lucifer cries around you, that’s how you know he’s in it for the long haul. It takes an ASTOUNDING amount of trust for him to even consider being that vulnerable around you. If he cries in your presence, or even seeks comfort from you, he’s saying he trusts you with his whole soul. The Avatar of Pride doesn’t give that to just anybody.

He’s one of those lucky folks that can, for the most part, blink back their tears.

When he does cry, it’s as if he’s still trying to hide it. He’s not overly loud, and mainly sniffles. He already has to be in extreme distress to cry in the first place, but if he’s on the higher end of that, he lets out quiet, breathy sobs.

His cheeks and nose redden slightly; it’s a heartbreaking version of that blush you know and love.

He doesn’t often hug you on his own. He either starts crying while you’re already in his arms, or keeps to himself.

How to comfort him: Wrap your arms around him and card your fingers through his hair. He appreciates head kisses, if you’re comfortable giving them. Don’t soothe him verbally, though– despite the good intentions behind them, any words of affirmation only remind him of his vulnerability.

Mammon

Also ashamed of crying. After centuries of being mocked whenever you get upset, who wouldn’t be?

Pretty good at hiding it. He can mostly hold back his tears, but sometimes the dam breaks and they fall against his will. At that point, he tries to subtly wipe them and make an Irish exit

When he’s trying to cover it up, you can see how his breathing changes— it quickens, then gets really slow, deep and deliberate once he takes notice. So even if he seems fine, the dramatic rise and fall of his chest gives it away to those close to him.

If he lets himself cry around you, that’s a huge sign of trust. Very much like Lucifer in that regard.

Holds you like you’ll vanish if he lets go. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, squeezing his eyes shut and nearly crushing you in his arms. He sniffles, but more out of instinct than actual need.

Mammon has a lot of pent-up emotions, so it all comes tumbling out when he finally releases them. He whimpers and cries into your shoulder, only letting go when he’s mostly calmed down.

How to comfort him: Murmur sweet nothings into his ear. Reassure him. Rub his back softly, and remind him that you’ll be there until he feels okay again.

Levi

Doesn’t need to cry as much as his brothers, if only because he cries over anime and manga regularly.

Tears start rolling down his cheeks before he realizes what’s wrong. By time he notices that he’s crying, it’s too late to hide it.

Levi’s sobs are quiet, but audible from the next room over. He tries to muffle them or hold them in as best he can.

Curls up on himself when he’s upset. Feeling small makes him feel safe, and he’s too afraid to hug anyone— especially you. He doesn’t think you’d want to touch him, or even be around him when he's like this.

He’s insecure about how much his face reddens while crying, so he tries to hide it behind his arms or hands.

How to comfort him: Hold him, rub his back, put your chin on his shoulder, and have a box of tissues within reach. You can trace patterns or draw things on his back to distract him. Once he’s starting to calm down, he’ll try and guess what you’re drawing. Press a kiss to his head or shoulder, if you feel comfortable doing so. He’ll short circuit and maybe cry harder, but at least those tears are happy ones. Baby steps.

Satan

After doing it for so long, Satan finds it easy to disconnect from the outside world.

So yes, he does shed a few tears over his novels, but crying for himself is another thing.

Satan has to hold intense emotions back for every waking moment. When he finally lets go, there’s a lot to process.

He almost drapes himself over you, gripping the back of your shirt ’til his knuckles are white. His face presses into your nape. Loud, powerful sobs wrack his frame hard enough to make him retch.

How to comfort him: Pull him close, or into your lap, if possible. Cup the back of his head and press kisses to wherever you can reach. Rub his back, or run your hand up and down his sides. Do whatever you can to show your love, because this is likely the first time he’s ever felt taken care of.

Asmo

Finally, at least one brother has a kind of healthy relationship with his emotions.

He doesn’t announce it, but he cries regularly in the shower. Stress is bad for the skin, y’know? It’s best to get it out when you need to.

And of course he’s a pretty crier. Rosy cheeks, sniffles, soft whimpers, the works.

Possibly the only brother who seeks you out for comfort before breaking down. He knocks timidly on your door, a small voice asking to be let in. Once he’s on your bed and in your arms, he breathes out a shaky sigh. The tears start falling from there.

Asmo will bring a box of Kleenex with him. He doesn’t want to get tears on your clothes, but they also dry out his skin and that simply isn’t an option.

How to comfort him: Asmo likes soft comfort. Cradle him in your arms, pet his hair, hold his hand. Tracing hearts on his back helps him cheer up once he realizes what you’re doing. If you’re feeling bold, cup his face and wipe a tear with your thumb— that’ll earn you a smile and a sniffly “Ooh, I didn’t know you were such a romantic, MC~.”

Beel

Not usually a crier. He tears up at movies, but doesn’t cry for real life stuff… in the moment.

After a long day, when everyone’s gone to sleep, Beel lies in bed and gets it all out at once. Staring at the ceiling, he sniffles and whines as he tries to keep quiet. He doesn't really have anywhere else to go, but he doesn't want to wake Belphie. (Belphie senses something’s wrong and wakes up anyway, don’t worry. He’s always there to take care of him.)

When he stops holding back, he weeps freely, but his cries are still soft and breathy.

Doesn’t really look for comfort because he knows his brothers are also going through a lot. Beel wants to be strong for them. He doesn’t want to be a burden.

How to comfort him: Sit in his lap and let him bury his face in your shoulder. He’s aware of his strength, and still treats you like glass, but his hold is firm. He grips your shirt really tightly. Reassure him in a soft voice. Play with his hair, rub or draw patterns on his back, trace his tattoos, give him little kisses if you feel like it. He may be big, but he’s delicate. Please be tender with him.

Belphie

Like Satan, Belphie also disconnects from the outside world.

He's an angry crier, but other than that, you don't get much out of him.

When he's really upset, though, it all comes pouring out. Belphegor rarely cries, but damn, is he good at it.

As he comes to befriend you, the memory of your murder gets more and more nauseating. During naps with you, his mind occasionally drags him back to that moment.

He wakes up, pillow already soaked with tears, and sees you next to him. He throws his arms around you, his clutch desperate and suffocating ironic lmao. Belphie howls, his breathing ragged as he pulls you as close as physically possible. He chokes and stumbles on apology after apology, begging you not to leave.

How to comfort him: Hold him tightly and pet his hair. Rub his back. Remind him over and over that it’s okay, I’m alright, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.

#you can tell which are my favs lol #obey me #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #levi obey me #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #asmo obey me #asmodeus obey me #beel obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphie obey me #belphegor obey me #angst #hurt/comfort #obey me headcanons

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its-all-stardust · 7 months

Text

Head Above Water

Matt Murcock/GN!Reader

3.9k

Summary: A month after Thanos turns half of all life to dust with the snap of his fingers, you find a man sitting on a bench in the rain, alone.

Notes: This is my first fic here, and to be honest, I'm testing the waters a little bit with it lol. I hope to write more fics for Matt and other characters in the future! My ask box is open and feedback is appreciated ❤️

Thunder claps in the distance, and you know the rain is only going to get heavier. Part of you doesn’t mind, despite the already-soaked legs of your jeans. Your small umbrella barely covers your shoulders, the occasional drip hitting you when you let it tilt the wrong way in your daze. You meant to get a new one ages ago, especially when the fabric started lifting away from the metal. But you never got around to it.

And now, you don’t care.

It’s been a month since the world ended. A month since you lost your sister.

A month since half the world—or half the universe, if what the news report you barely listened to is true—turned to dust.

And fuck, do you hope Lizzie turned to dust. Hope that she didn’t go down with the plane as it crashed in the middle of some town, engulfing everything in a fiery blaze.

You hope she turned to dust. You think about her last moments often.

Would she have been terrified if she noticed her limbs fading away before she ceased to exist? Or would she have been confused? Was she awake when it happened, or was she asleep?

Did she cry when the plane started to plummet?

Dust or fire, either way, she’s gone.

The rain feels nice, in a way. A chilling reminder that the world stopped and still stops. The streets are practically empty with so many people gone and the natural dislike of being caught out in a storm.

But it never feels like enough.

The world stopped, but it didn’t end.

Someone walks by on the other side of the street.

A month.

It’s only been a month, and you and everyone else are expected to live as if the worst tragedy in history hadn’t just happened.

You can’t go back to work. You were supposed to. But your days are consumed by grief after losing the only person you loved. How can you go back, pretend that it never happened, that you’re fine?

You’re not fine.

You don’t think you’ll ever be fine.

You don’t have a job anymore.

Your foot catches on something, sending you stumbling and pulling you out of your dark reverie. Rain spills down your back as your umbrella tilts forward. You don’t know what you tripped over, nor do you care very much. You adjust your umbrella and try to take another step forward, but stop when you send a cane clattering down the sidewalk.

The sight of it makes you pause, confused. Your state of mind slows any thoughts that aren’t of Lizzie. It takes a moment to realize you’ve stopped next to a bench.

A bench with a man sitting on it.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly say. The cane must belong to him.

You’re still not used to how empty the streets of New York City feel and have grown used to the lack of people running about, no longer needing to carefully avoid hitting others or having someone slam into you with abandon. You haven’t needed to avoid being in someone’s way for what feels like an eternity.

It’s been a month.

Shaking away the cloud of thought, you reach down, pick up the cane, and turn to the man, who hasn’t said a word since you ripped it away from him.

Holding it out, you wait for the man to take it, but he doesn’t move. Then you notice his dark glasses and what type of cane you’re holding.

The man is blind.

“Uh…” you start, stumbling over what to say. “Here’s your cane. Sorry.”

Like a statue coming to life, the man finally moves. Reaching for his cane, you set it in his hand.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, settling back into the bench.

You should leave. You’ve done your due diligence and given the man back his cane, but your feet don’t want to move.

The man is soaking wet, dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He had no jacket or umbrella of his own. His hair is plastered to his head, and raindrops collect on the lenses of his glasses briefly before falling. He looks like a mess. You’re not one to judge because you looked much the same over the past month.

Looking past him, you see the church.

“You uh…need help getting inside? It’s a little wet out here,” you finish awkwardly. You have no idea if he even believes in God enough to want to go inside, if he just came from it, or if this is just the first bench he found. Whichever it is, you don’t like the idea of him sitting out in the rain with not even a jacket to keep the rain off, especially not with a storm coming.

More thunder nearly drowns out the man’s answer: a short, simple “No.”

But still, you stand there in front of him, watching water drip down through his dark hair and land on his cheek.

“Here,” you say suddenly, mind made up. “Take this.”

The man looks confused, the first expression you’ve seen on his face. But he doesn’t say anything, just holds out his free hand, where you place the handle of your umbrella.

“What’s this?” he finally asks.

“An umbrella,” you say and start to turn away.

“Don’t you need it?” the man calls after you.

You pause and turn back. “Not anymore.”

Despite his frown, the man goes quiet and settles the umbrella against his shoulder, the rain now no longer able to reach his face. Water still drips down his hair as you turn to leave, walking a little faster to get back to your apartment before you end up like the man outside the church.

It’s still raining the next day, but it does nothing to stop you from going on your daily depression walk.

You couldn’t stay curled up on the floor of your apartment any longer, so you’ve taken to spending the day wandering the city streets, lost in thought, trying to wear yourself out so you can sleep at night.

You’re berating yourself today, one of the iterations of thoughts you cycle through these days.

How can you walk miles throughout the city for days on end but can’t make yourself go to work? You lost your job, and the landlord—the new landlord, after the old one turned to dust, is bound to catch on that your rent payment is late. You don’t think you can get evicted during a state of emergency, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

The world ended. Your world ended. You shouldn’t be expected to have picked up the pieces and moved on like everyone else.

The world never stopped turning, though. Part of you knows you can’t keep doing this forever—avoiding life and praying everything goes back to normal. It won’t, not with Lizzie dead. But if you don’t, you’re sure you’ll find some way to join your sister in whatever afterlife she ended up in.

Your foot knocks against something, and you stop. You wandered too close to a bench where someone sits, making you walk right into a cane extended into your path.

Not thinking much of it, you’re about to step around it when you recognize the man on the bench. You’re at the church again, and the same man as yesterday sits outside. Without the umbrella you gave him.

You’re afraid he’s been here since yesterday without moving, but you see that the t-shirt and sweats he’s wearing today are black as opposed to the gray he had on when you first saw him.

You can’t help but be a little annoyed that the man appears to have lost your umbrella. But as you stare at him, at the blank expression on his face, and the defeated slump of his shoulders, it reminds you of yourself. If you didn’t despise wearing soaking wet clothes, you’d likely be without an umbrella, too.

You want to help, but you’re not particularly inclined to give him another umbrella for him to lose, not since you just bought this one on the way home yesterday.

So you sigh and, unsure if the man even knows you’re there, sit next to him on his right side, immediately soaking the seat of your pants on the wet bench. Shifting your umbrella to cover both you and the man, you sit back and wait.

Silence surrounds you for long enough to congratulate yourself on buying a larger umbrella. Your right side, and presumably the man’s left, is being hit by the rain, but it’s doing a decent job of covering two people not pressed close together.

“What…are you doing?” the man finally asks, either just noticing your presence or deciding to acknowledge it. His voice cracks, making you wonder when he last spoke and how long he’s been in the rain.

“Waiting for the rain to stop,” you tell him as if it were obvious. You adjust your grip on the handle to rest it against your arm. You could be here for a while and want to be as comfortable as possible.

“...why?”

“You lost my umbrella,” you say, looking at him. “At least, I assume you did since you don’t have it, and I don’t want you to get wet. Well, any wetter than you already are.” You finish awkwardly.

A look of realization comes over the man’s face. He recognizes you now.

“I…forgot it,” he says simply, and you wonder if that’s true. Maybe he wandered out into the city without it on purpose, hoping the rain would either cleanse him or punish him.

You know the feeling well.

Silence descends again. So far, the rain hasn’t shown any signs of stopping, nor has the man seemed uncomfortable with your presence.

Then he shivers. Maybe you’ll bring him a jacket tomorrow if he’s still here. If you find one his size, which you can only guess at.

Next, the man’s hands start fidgeting with his cane, the most movement you’ve seen from him during your brief interactions.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

The man scoffs, a bitter smile on his face. “No.”

His voice shakes, and you watch as he swallows and clenches his jaw. You’re familiar with the reaction. You’ve done it a lot over the past month when you want to avoid crying in front of others.

You look away from his face and down to his hands. He’s clutching his cane in a white-knuckle grip with both hands, and it’s a wonder he doesn’t snap the thing in two.

Something comes over you then, and you don’t know if you should do it or if it’s even a good idea. But you give in to temptation, sitting up to reach over with your right hand and place it on the man’s clenched fists.

“Neither am I,” you say softly, pressure starting to build in the back of your throat.

The man freezes, and you’re afraid you’ve overstepped, crossed a line with this stranger that you had no business crossing.

You’re about to pull away when he shifts, one of his hands turning to grasp yours, clutching it like a lifeline.

Neither of you speaks, both trying to breathe through the wave of emotion welling up inside you.

Connecting like this with someone is…nice. Practically everyone around you lost someone because of the attack, but this is the first time you don’t feel alone in your grief.

You don’t know how long you sit like that, but you’re disappointed when you notice the rain finally stopped. Letting go of the man’s hand, you move your umbrella off to the side and close it.

You’re unsure where to go from here, what the next step is now that you’ve held hands with and found comfort in a stranger.

Glancing over at the man, you see his hand is still open as if waiting for you to take it again. You hesitate briefly before giving him your name.

It’s almost as if he comes alive then, taking a deep breath like it’s his first taste of air. He shifts, turning to face you.

“I’m Matt,” he says.

“Matt,” you repeat, a small smile on your lips. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Matt kept sitting on the bench outside Clinton Church. He’d been doing it since the day everyone died. First Karen and Foggy turned to dust in front of him. Then, when his head cleared enough, he went to the orphanage to look for Maggie.

She was gone, too.

And so he sits outside the church, going back to his apartment when he needs to. But he always returns. Matt doesn’t go inside, doesn’t pray. He’s just numb and doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

Then, one day, you appeared and gave him an umbrella.

And you kept coming back.

A week in, though the two of you barely spoke, Matt asked why you did. You tensed and hesitated long enough that Matt was about to try to take the question back when you quietly admitted, “I like sitting with you.”

He froze, not knowing how to react. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the thought that you enjoyed his silent company never occurred to him. It was an odd thing for Matt to hear.

The fallout with his friends was only just recovering after his disappearing act. He had just learned to truly let the people who cared about him in. And with everyone suddenly gone, the idea that a stranger wanted to be around Matt was shocking.

Uncomfortable with the feeling welling up in his chest, Matt changed the topic.

“Do you always walk this way?” He’s mostly out of it while losing himself outside the church, but even so, he didn’t remember someone walking by every day at the same time like clockwork.

“I only just started this way,” you explained with a shrug. “Needed to change up my route.”

You went silent, and Matt could feel the melancholy pouring out of you.

He didn’t ask why. He could guess well enough why you’d be sad about changing a familiar walking route or why you never seemed to be going anywhere in particular. Instead, he stayed silent, thinking about how he liked sitting with you, too, and how warmth still radiated on his skin from when you held his hand.

As the days went on, you and Matt slowly started talking more, carefully avoiding mentions of friends or family. You started sitting with him for longer, and Matt began to expect you at 2:14 every day and looked forward to your warmth at his side.

But it’s 2:22, and you’re not here. Matt listens for your heartbeat, the sound of your footsteps on the concrete, but there’s no trace of you. He fidgets with his phone, having it repeat the time as if it’ll go back or make you appear. Ever since that first day, you were never late, and something in his chest—which he refuses to believe is his heart—constricts at the thought that something happened to you.

He wants to believe that you simply changed your route again. That maybe you were tired of him, didn’t want to be around him, and just didn’t know how to tell him. But Matt remembers how quiet you were yesterday. How your silence reminded him not of the unfamiliarity of a stranger but of a sadness barely held in check. Your breath hitched, and you let out a small gasp before cutting your visit short and leaving with a strained smile pulling at the corners of your mouth and a promise to see him tomorrow.

But you’re not here.

Matt’s conflicted. Should he try to find you? Does he have any right to? What would you think of him if he did? Should he stay and wait, see if you show up late? Wait until tomorrow before truly worrying?

Something is wrong.

The thought won’t leave him. What started as a scratch has turned into claws digging into his gut, trying to pull him forward toward—

Where would he even look for you?

Matt stops a few feet away from the bench. He hadn’t realized he had even started moving.

Where would he look for you? He doesn’t know where you live or the route you take. Finding you would be nearly impossible.

Except he hears the faintest trace of your voice. He’s familiar with the cadence, matching perfectly with the one in his memory.

Matt follows without a thought, crossing into the street and forcing someone to slam on their breaks to avoid hitting him with their car. He tries not to run, instead staying at a fast-paced walk. You don’t sound like you’re hurt. In fact, you’re…humming?

Matt forces himself to stop. The tune sounds familiar, but in his panic, he can’t quite place it before you stop.

Maybe…maybe you are fine, and you just… didn’t want to see him anymore, unable to find the same comfort in him that he found in you. His stomach sours at the thought, his face twisted at the small pain in his chest.

And then he hears something else.

“I miss you.”

Your voice is so quiet, and Matt is so far away he almost misses it. The pain in his chest eases, but now he’s less sure about what to do.

You’re clearly unharmed, but Matt remembers what you said to each other that second day.

Neither of you are okay.

And you wouldn’t have kept coming back for days if you hadn’t found some sort of stability, some familiarity in him.

Matt keeps walking. You’ve stopped talking, but he has a decent idea where you are. He doesn’t think you moved, either. If you do, Matt’s sure he’ll be able to follow you easily, especially now that he’s caught your heartbeat.

Within minutes, he finds you sitting on some other bench, hunched forward, holding something in your hands. There’s saline in the air around you. You’ve been crying. There aren’t any tears on your cheeks now, but he can tell your eyelids are swollen from earlier.

Matt stands there, taking you in, unsure if he should approach or walk by and hope you’ll say something. He licks his lips and starts forward, decided. When he gets close enough to the bench, Matt taps the end with his cane before sliding it along the ground to hit your foot.

Startled, you jerk your feet back as he says, “Sorry, is this seat taken?”

“Matt?” you ask, confused when you see him standing next to you. “You…left your bench.”

“I…did.” He was in such a rush to find you that he hadn’t considered that you would find it strange for him to be somewhere else.

“Why?”

Matt flounders for a moment, unable to tell you the truth, before repeating something you said to him. “I needed to change my bench.”

You nod in understanding, believing he could no longer sit somewhere that held so many memories—the reason you had to change your route.

You slide down the bench. “Sit.”

The usual silence falls between you as Matt takes the spot next to you, but he isn’t comfortable in it this time. You’re staring at the thing in your hands and chewing your lip. Matt shifts in his seat, unable to maintain his usual stillness. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t come up with a plan.

“Do you like this place?” you ask suddenly.

“The…city?” Now it’s Matt’s turn to be confused.

You laugh lightly. “The bakery.” You tilt your head back to gesture. “Behind us,” you say when you remember he can’t see.

Matt has been so focused on you that he blocked everything else out. Now, as he takes in the space around him, the scent of all sorts of baked goods wafting over him from the building only feet away. He doesn’t even need his heightened sense for it. It’s a bit of a wonder, he thinks, that it’s still open.

“I’ve never actually been here,” he admits. “Have you?” As soon as he says it, he realizes that the thing in your hands is a cupcake and that you’ve just come from the bakery yourself.

“Yeah,” you say softly, focusing intently on the desert. “It’s my sister’s favorite place. Was her favorite.”

With those words, you start crying. For the first time, you cross the unspoken line between you to not talk about whoever you lost. You both avoided the topic not to create a barrier or to keep from knowing too much about each other but because it was too hard. Your tears are evidence. But even still, you told him.

Matt is shocked but won’t stop you if you are ready to take that step.

“What’s her name?” he asks gently, careful not to pry too deeply. When your breath hitches, he reaches out, fingers brushing your forearm.

“Elizabeth. Lizzie. She was my best friend.” Raising a hand, you wipe your face. “It’s her birthday.”

Matt lets out a breath, practically feeling your pain. No wonder you’re so upset, why you left yesterday.

“Here,” you say suddenly before Matt can speak. “It’s a cupcake.”

“Isn’t it for her? Shouldn’t you eat it?” he asks, yet reaches for it anyway. You wince as you set the cupcake in his hand.

“I actually hate red velvet. It was always her favorite flavor. Uh…I heard it’s good, though,” you awkwardly assure, making Matt let out a soft chuckle.

“We’ll find out.” Matt starts peeling the wrapper off but doesn’t take a bite. Instead, he sits there, wondering if he should share with you what he lost. If he even can.

But he wants to try.

“When I was a kid,” he starts slowly, finding the words and prying them out from that place in his heart where he locked them away.

“I lost my dad and grew up in the orphanage just behind the church we sit at.”

You stay silent, letting Matt speak, giving him your rapt attention. It seems you’re just as shocked that he’s sharing with you.

“I didn’t really have anyone growing up. And then I met Foggy while I was in college. And Karen a couple of years ago. And then, a few months ago, I…found my mother in that very church. Maggie.” A fond smile finds its way onto Matt’s face. He hasn’t said any of their names in so long. It feels good.

But it quickly falls.

“They’re gone now,” he finishes. He doesn’t need to explain how.

You reach out, taking Matt’s free hand in your own and intertwining your fingers. He feels the warmth radiating from you, driving away the permanent chill in his bones.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her,” you say.

“I know I won’t stop wishing they were still here.” Matt feels tears starting to well up in his eyes. But his hands are full, and he can’t wipe away the tear that slips down his cheek.

“Do you want to be friends, Matt?” you ask, a spark of hope filling you, making a small smile appear on your face.

The two of you weren’t yet friends, despite how much time you spent together on the bench. You never shared enough, never talked enough for it to happen.

Matt nods and squeezes your hand.

“I’d like that.”

And unbeknownst to the other, you both think that now that you’ve met, you’ll be able to get through the rest of this life together and, perhaps, be happy.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #x reader

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ineffabildaddy · 5 months

Text

Please Touch Me - a Crowley POV poem

just a quick one that was languishing in my brain and didn't want to be there anymore. hope you enjoy<3 be warned, explicit content ahead!

read my aziraphale pov poem on tumblr here or on ao3 here

Please touch me.

Touch me to show me we are, above all and despite everything, comrades.

Tap my shoulder with fingers as light as a feather when you greet me. Capture my hand in a fleeting yet firm shake. Clap me on the back in laidback acclamation.

Please touch me, and when you do, be not afraid.

Let the gentle grip that graces my bicep when we erupt into laughter linger. Resist from shrinking away when the fine hairs on the back of your hand brush mine. Refrain from apologising if your knee bumps against my shin at the dinner table.

Please touch me to communicate with the world around us.

Lay a steady hand on my heaving chest in the throng of a tipsy crowd, just for a second. Remain still and upright before your guest when I perch on the edge of your chair and nestle the curve of my waist into your shoulder.

Please touch me, and let your touch soothe me.

Blink as you bring your face to meet mine so your eyelashes stroke my skin. Gift me the ghost of a kiss on my forehead before bedtime. Hook your forefinger over my pinky the moment my mask of serenity begins to peel.

Use your touch to discover me.

Brush your thumb along my jawbone. Push your palm into the concave of my lower back. Trace your finger along the veins on my shivering arms.

Collide into me with the velocity of a shooting star, graze my bottom lip with your front teeth, and urge your questing tongue into my welcoming mouth.

Use your touch to disarm me.

When you kiss me, hold me not by the hand, but by the wrist. Instead of offering me your lap, present me with your right thigh. Do not caress the back of my neck; curl your fingers around my throat.

Use your touch to enfeeble me.

Press the tip of your cock to the curve of my stomach. Traverse the inside of my leg with the pad of one finger, and halt just as I begin to tremble. Make my cunt need you so much it weeps unrelentingly for you, and let it.

Grant me the right to prove I can take you.

Order me to beg on my knees and shove your dick in my mouth before I can even try. Allow the peak of your length to commune with the back of my throat in reverence and tranquility. Coax my cum-covered tongue past my half-open lips and make me show you.

Demonstrate to me that we are still comrades, even when I am unravelling for you faster than a spool of thread.

Fuck me so silently that we begin to converse without words. Fuck me so leisurely that I know you're showing me mercy - not because I can't take it faster, but because this indulgent slowness allows me to truly get lost in you. Fuck me so deep that you are no longer touching me, you are me.

I'm a dog who twitches with anticipation as his master walks by, hope so strong that he cannot contain it. Taking what I can get, never exhausted of waiting.

So treat me how you wish. I'll never deny you; I might even implore you, but I'll be good. I promise.

Just please touch me.

hope you liked it! any feedback you have and any inclination to reblog is very much appreciated<3

tagging the usual suspects (love u all) @celestialcrowley @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @sad-chaos-goblin @ineffable-rohese @iammyownproblematicfave @bowtiepastabitch @crowleyslvt @dancingcrowley @quoththemaiden @sentientsky

it is also on ao3 here:

#good omens #poetry #fanfic #sexy stuff #ineffabildaddy

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frequent-demisexual-distress · 1 year

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Bowser x Reader - Expectations

You might not expect it on your first look at the massive koopa, but you’d come to find that he was quite a gentleman. Bowser was, after all, a monarch and ruled his own nation - sure, he may have ruled it primarily as a warlord, but the point still stands. For example, despite his size, whenever he was in your presence, he walked smoothly. It was evident that he took great care to ease his rumbling gait into something more slow and steady for you - the last thing he ever wanted was to frighten you, and he always did his utmost to cater to your comfort.

However, when you told him that you wanted children of your own, suffice it to say he lacked composure.

He was flabbergasted, first. He just stared at you, unblinking for a moment, as you brushed your hair in your, now shared, bedroom vanity. “I know it’s a lot to ask - and believe me, I love Junior with all of my heart and consider him my child as much as he’s yours,” You reaffirm to him with a tired smile and somewhat defeated sigh, turning slightly to face him. “It’s just, I’ve always wanted to have the full parental experience with a child of my own, too!”

He’s silent, and you notice that he’s standing now, and his gaze has shifted away from you, locked on the floor ahead of your shared bed. Your weak smile falters and you try to will away the feeling of shame bringing heat to your face, looking away from him again. You had been afraid to bring it up - not because you feared him, but because you never wanted to make him feel that he or Junior weren’t enough for you. You had simply been hit hard with those parental pangs as of late, and they didn’t seem to cease on their own as they used to - and, presumptuous though it may have been, part of you had dared to hope that he’d feel the same way, or at least been happy that you wanted that experience with him.

His hard, contemplative stare into nothing did little to comfort you; you knew he wasn’t acting maliciously, though. Open expression was something that he took very seriously, and he was meticulous in his choice of words and actions (you knew that this was in part due to your relationship, and in part due to his very problematic past “relationship” with the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom). He was thinking hard and trying his best to choose an appropriate response that would be honest and direct while still being caring - something you did truly appreciate about him. Still, the anticipation could be very difficult.

Finally, as you sit on your side of the oversized bed and carefully extend a hand to rest on one of his, he looks at you; it’s clear that he’s troubled, though with what part specifically you can’t be sure. “Y/N..” He began, voice low and tone soft, though never lacking it’s signature reverb, “I.. Do you think I could be a good father?”

You almost gasp aloud at his question, and at how quickly his expression shifts into one of shame and anxiety. He pulls his hand away and begins fidgeting with his claws - scraping them against one another seemed to be a method of self-soothing for him; whether he preferred the sensation or the almost blade-like sound more, you weren’t sure.

“King Bowser Koopa!” You start, voice concerned and half-chastising. You stand up on your bed, wobbling slightly (only to be steadied by massive but considerate hands).”You already are a good father! You are Junior’s world!” you exclaim, running a hand through his hair and stroking the scales of his large head soothingly, “We both love you more than anything - but if you don’t believe me, just ask Kamek! Even his uptight shell can tell what an amazing father you are!”

His eyes close and he exhales slowly, leaning into your touch and gently pulling you closer. “Thank you.. I just.. I remember my own childhood - my own father,” He explains quietly, his voice sharp with bitterness at a burden that no one should have to bear, especially a child. You press a feather-light kiss to his snout, prompting him to look up at you again. You nod, and he returns it, accepting your silent invitation to continue. “I think the only thing I’ve ever feared is becoming half as bad a parent as he was,” He finally mumbles out, eyes flitting to yours, searching for something behind your beautiful irises.

You climb into his lap, taking him quite by surprise, before hugging his large chest as tightly as you could. “My sweet Bowser - you’re already twice the father he could have ever dreamed of being, just by being you,” You say, voice radiating a much needed warmth of comfort through the cold-blooded king’s heart. “And if you ever doubt that, you take one look at the happy, healthy prince that you single-handedly raised for so long,” You continue, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze, “If we never had a child of our own, I would be still be more than content just to be your partner, and to be in Junior’s life.”

He blinks furiously, big bulbous tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes, but before he can raise a fist to rub them away, you raise a smaller hand to gently wipe them away as they begin to slide down his cheek. Instead, he uses that larger hand to hold your own close to his cheek, offering him some stability as quiet sobs choke their way out of his throat. Crying was still hard for him, but he had come so far in the time that you’d been together; you couldn’t be more proud of him.

You were just about to suggest that the two of you cuddle for a while when your bedroom door crashes open - the culprit being none other than your stepson; he looked so much like his father, except when he cried, at least at home, he did little to hide it. You coo quietly at him and extend your arms, still in your husband’s lap, encouraging the sobbing boy to join you.

“Junior, baby, what’s wrong?” you ask, making sure to cradle his spiky shell carefully while you wiped at his tears; grateful for you taking the lead, you observe your partner wiping his eyes hastily before clearing his throat.

“I-I had a ni-ightmare,” the smaller terrapin forces out, hiccuping through his words. “No-no one was he-ere, an-and I was being chased by-y monsters!”

You frown and offer him quiet comforts, petting his head and rubbing his shell, when you feel your husband’s large arms squeezing the both of you firmly. “I’m sorry, Junior,” He rumbles, voice confident but caring, “But that’s the thing with nightmares - they aren’t real. Y/N and I would never ever let any monsters chase you. If they did, we’d never let you face them alone.”

The boy nods and, still fighting hiccups, asks how many monsters his dad had beaten up before - and you smile wide, fighting a giggle as Bowser easily slips into a grand persona who had apparently slain too many monsters to count, telling his son any number of questionable but entertaining and impressive tales. Now and then the boy would look to you, asking if it were true or looking for some form of affirmation, and of course you gave it each time, even adding some details to the stories now and again.

Watching your husband stumble and quickly improvise to add in your contributions was amusing enough on it’s own, but when his son falls asleep in the both of your arms, watching how hesitant he is to move at all is almost even more entertaining.

Eventually, you’re able to get him to lay back and prop your stepson in the middle of the bed. You turn out the lights and kiss both of their foreheads before climbing onto your side of the large bed. As you close your eyes, and slowly feel yourself slipping into sleep, you hear the unmistakable chur from your husband’s chest and a quiet promise in his deep voice, “I think we should give Junior a sibling, my dear Y/N - whether we adopt or conceive somehow, I swear that I’ll meet your expectations.”

It seemed he thought you asleep, so it made sense that he’d stiffen when you responded quietly, “You already have, my love.”

#bowser x reader #bowser #king koopa #super mario bros movie #super mario #super mario bros #x reader #x Y/N #self insert #fan #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #fiction

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grottylittlefox · 10 months

Text

How could I ever forget you? Chapter 10

Sebastian Sallow/Professor Sallow × f!MC / reader

Slow burn/fluff/angst, aged up characters 18-mid 20s

Somehow it had taken until your final day at Hogwarts to finally show Sebastian how you felt, and by then it was too late. Years pass and your distance grows stronger, despite your many efforts for him. A surprise encounter at a new job could change things forever. Finding each other once again at the very place you first met, Hogwarts.

Chapter 1: "I guess this is it"

Chapter 2: "Oh how I missed you"

Chapter 3: "Goodbye, Sebastian"

Chapter 4: " think it's time you move on"

Chapter 5: "Professor Sallow?"

Chapter 6: "Welcome Home"

Chapter 7: "You're my good luck charm"

Chapter 8: "I'm more of a butterfly person"

Chapter 9: “What have you become?”

Chapter 10: “I have something for you”

Halloween was but days away, and the castle was surrounded by a sea of autumn leaves. It hardly felt possible that you'd already been back at Hogwarts for two whole months, and only now was Sebastian no longer treating you like a stranger.

Your trips to his classes were finally becoming more pleasant, not only because of him, but his students too. After witnessing you defeat him in a duel the students respected you, the moth comments had at last come to an end. That in particular was a relief, as each time somebody brought it up in class, Sebastian had to be reminded of what it seemed you truly feared.

Your relationship was absolutely improving, he no longer seemed to be a shell of the person you used to know. That old Sebastian charm was coming back, little by little. You often made small talk after class, of course it wasn't perfect, but it was something. You always found yourself trying to get that smile out of him, even just for split second, and it paid off every time. Things had just been different since the day Ostara left for the league. You wondered if that awkward conversation you'd walked in on had anything to do with Sebastian's sudden change in mood, or if you were just being hopeful. Ostara seemed like a nice girl, you knew it was wrong to prey on the downfall of her relationship, that would be downright selfish. But you couldn't help it, your heart screamed for Sebastian to be yours.

~~~

It was late evening, past students bedtime, and you'd volunteered to help cover the castle with seasonal decorations. It was something you'd always appreciated as a student, but not put all that much thought into. You'd just assumed it was all magic, which was true of course. But somebody had to put it there, and that person was now you.

Professor Garlick stood beside you in the great hall, counting the pumpkins she'd grown. As with your wand you levitated them one by one into the starry ceiling.

"Which one is yours?" She asked, looking at the remaining pumpkins placed along the table. The professor had delivered a pumpkin to each and every member of faculty to carve for the ceiling display.

"This one," you pointed to your pumpkin, you'd gone for a classic design, nothing too fancy. However you did opt to include glasses, to give it some individuality. You lifted the pumpkin into the air with your wand and guided it to the perfect spot.

You both inspected the rest of the pumpkins, it was quite hilarious to see the personalities of the carver shine through. A few jumped out to you, especially the one with its tongue sticking out and smoke pouring out of its eyes.

"Who made that?" You asked walking over to it.

"Professor Sharp, it's quite amazing isn't it?" Professor Garlick gleamed.

You wowed in agreement, walking along to the next pumpkin that stood beside it. This pumpkin was rather a mess, especially placed next to such an outstanding contender.

"Professor Sharps really does outshine the rest, especially next to.. that. It's positively goofy." You laughed.

"Yes," Professor Garlick chuckled. "That one would be Professor Sallows."

You and the professor locked eyes, holding in a giggle. How was it possible for somebody with such skill to lack in the pumpkin carving department? You felt a little guilty, but it was completely ridiculous to you.

Coincidentally, the carver himself burst into the room within seconds, pacing towards you.

"Nice pumpkin!" You spat out in a giggle.

He was completely taken aback, almost a little wounded by the remark. But that was before he saw the competition.

"I can't be good at everything, that wouldn't be fair now, would it?" He teased in an aid to save himself.

"I suppose not," you smiled, lifting his pumpkin above you, and placing it right next to yours.

"I wanted to ask you something,"

"Yes?"

You were completely and utterly terrified.

"Ominis is visiting Hogsmeade tomorrow, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for a butterbeer? If you're not busy that is. I figured you'd want to see him. I wanted to invite Anne too-" he paused, looking at his feet. "But she's not doing so well.."

"Sebastian, I'd love too," you said through a gentle smile. "I'm sorry to hear about Anne, I'd always be willing to make the trip down to Feldcroft for her, you know that."

Sebastian had mentioned in passing that during your time apart, he had managed to somewhat repair his relationship with his sister, but he had spared you the details. You wouldn't dare ask for them, you'd seen how far he would go for her and it quite honestly scared you. It was far too touchy a subject for the both of you.

Sebastian smiled. "So I'll see you tomorrow evening, at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Absolutely."

~~~

Despite the chill in the air, the atmosphere in Hogsmeade was incredibly cheerful this time of year. Pumpkins and wreaths covered each and every storefront, while piles of auburn leaves were swept into the little lanes and corners. You felt them crunch beneath your feet as you stepped towards the Three Broomsticks, Sebastian's old scarf wrapped around your neck.

Ominis and Sebastian were already sat waiting for you as you entered. The sound of the door closing behind you had interrupted their conversation.

"Is that the guest of honour?" Ominis smiled as you sat down opposite him.

"Indeed it is," Sebastian replied, sitting beside you.

"Thank you for joining us, MC." Ominis said, before taking a sip of his drink. "I'm thrilled to see the two of you are friends once more."

Friends? You really hoped that label wasn't a bit too much for Sebastian. You knew things were certainly improving between you, but he had said himself that he didn't expect you to be friends.

"So am I," Sebastian chimed in, turning to you with a gentle smile. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

You nodded, completely bubbling up inside. Sebastian stood up before disappearing into the pub, leaving you and Ominis some time alone.

"I'm glad you took my advice, about moving on."

The warm buttery feeling Sebastian had left you with quickly turned sickly. You hadn't moved on, but you were not going to let Ominis know that.

"Ostara and Sebastian are a good match," he continued. "I'm sure Sebastian has a very comfortable future ahead of him."

"Really? How so?"

"I've known Ostara since I was a child. Her family are rather chummy with mine. Purebloods of course, but with a lot of power, if you know what I mean. Let's just say Sebastian will be living with certain luxuries."

"Purebloods, power? Ostara certainly didn't strike me as the type..." you questioned.

"Oh, she isn't. That's why we always got on so well. Her father was absolutely enraged that she wasn't a Slytherin. Strange man, dabbles in all sorts of questionable magic."

"What about the rest of her family, her mother?" You asked, extremely intrigued. You couldn't help yourself, this was the family Sebastian was soon to be a part of, you worried about him.

"Her brothers are absolutely awful, I will certainly be avoiding them at the wedding. Her mother was a healer, her father too at one point I believe, before he lost the plot. I don't really know much else. Besides, a family doesn't make a person."

"Of course, you're right Ominis, I know that from you."

"I would never set up our precious Sebastian with someone awful, MC," he teased.

Your stomach dropped. Ominis... he set them up? Why would he do such a thing? He always knew there was something between the both of you. You had no right too, but you felt betrayed.

"What do you mean, you set them up?"

"It was never meant to be this. I knew Sebastian was interested in Quidditch, and I happened to know a professional. I got him to the try-outs through Ostara, the rest was not my doing. MC, why do you ask all of this, you have moved on haven't you?"

"I-" you began, before you were cut off by a butterbeer appearing in front of you. "Sebastian-" you looked to him sitting down beside you again, voice shaking.

"What did I miss?" He said with a smile.

"Oh nothing of importance, just catching up," replied Ominis, holding his drink to his lips.

Thankfully, the subject of Ostara did not come up again. The three of you chatted for hours about all sorts, about almost everything but her. It seemed that Sebastian didn't want to talk about it, but that worked for you. You'd heard enough.

A cuckoo clock chimed across the pub, it was midnight.

"It's officially Halloween!" You smiled. "Have a magical Samhain, you two."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, don't get him started MC," Ominis said with his head in his hands, sending Sebastian into a fit of laughter.

"Is Salazar Slytherin in the room with us?" Sebastian teased, looking around the room in an attempt to mock Ominis.

It was an ongoing joke each year at Hogwarts between the two of them. Wizards believed the veil between worlds to be the thinnest each Samhain, meaning ancestors coming to visit the the realm of the living. Of course Sebastian found it most amusing to imagine the great wizard spending the evening with him and Ominis, his disapproving descendant.

"It's late, I should probably get going," you said, still chuckling at Sebastian's antics.

"I'll walk with you," Sebastian insisted, standing up and grabbing your coat.

You said your goodbyes, and the two of you made your way back to Hogwarts under the starry night sky. It was a clear evening. The air was crisp and silent, aside from the gentle hoots of owls flying overhead.

As you left Hogsmeade, you walked upon the view of the castle. You'd seen it hundreds of time before, but on this particular Halloween night, it was absolutely breathtaking.

"I can't believe this is my life, that that beautiful sight, is my home." You sighed, staring out onto the picture before you.

"How did I get so lucky," Sebastian agreed with a whisper. You turned to him, you wanted to take him in, to see the wander in his eyes as they reflected the castle lights.

He was looking right at you.

Your head turned back to the castle in an instant, your thoughts buzzing. The way he looked at you, why?

A shudder shook through your bones, as you felt a gentle touch across the back of your fingers. So light and airy, as his hand brushed against yours. You took a sharp breath at the sprinkle of tiny affection, your stomach doing flips. He was so close, yet there still seemed to be a wall built around him.

You began to walk again, reminiscing on your favourite memories of the castle, recalling all of the little things you did together.

"Remember the time you kept putting things in Leanders potion behind his back?" You giggled. "I will never forget the look on Sharps face after it covered the room in pink dust."

Sebastian laughed. "He deserved it, although I do pity Sharp now, being a teacher. If any of my students did that I don't know what I'd do, I'd probably respect it honestly," he chuckled.

"Sebastian, you're an incredible Professor," you paused. "I don't know what happened with Quidditch, but I truly think this might be your calling."

Sebastian walked with you in silence for a moment, not quite knowing what to say.

"There's something I've been needing to ask you about, but I haven't really had the right moment," you said as you stepped inside the castle, still walking beside him.

"Go on," he raised an eyebrow, holding his breath.

"The letter, I... I never opened it. I wasn't in a good place. Sebastian I'm so sorry. I don't know what your question was, so my answer wasn't no.."

His faced turned completely white, as if his soul had left his body.

"Sebastian, what was the question?"

He took a deep breath, and turned his eyes to the ground.

"It... it doesn't matter, really," he looked back up at you with a smile. "I promise, just forget about the whole thing."

You opened your mouth to reply, before your surroundings became aware to you. The dim lights, the sweet smell of bread....

"Sebastian... where are we?" Your lips crept into a smile, completely flabbergasted.

You were stood outside the Hufflepuff common room. It seemed that you'd gotten so lost in each other you'd forgotten you were no longer students. Sebastian always walked you back to your common room all those years ago, and that very same path had remained prominent not only in your mind, but his too.

You fell into each other, collapsing into giggles at how ridiculous it was. Sebastian held your shoulders, shushing you to calm down.

"Come with me," he grinned. "I have something for you."

Following him to the faculty tower, you continued to hold in your giggles. Perhaps it was truly as funny as it seemed, or it was the drinks setting in. You soon found yourself stood outside his bedroom door, heart bashing inside your chest. He lead you in and turned to his desk.

Where was this going? Your mind was racing, you were in Sebastian's room.

"I wanted to give you this-" he turned back to you, holding something up. It was the parchment. "I found it in the undercroft, it's the messenger I tried to make for you- us, back then. I finally cracked it, it works," he beamed, handing it to you. "I was thinking you could get more use out of it, to talk to Natty, perhaps."

A grin grew upon your face, as looked down at the parchment in your hands. You separated the two pieces, and handed one back to him.

"You should have this, why not use it the way it was intended?" The idea of being able to send him little secret messages was beyond exciting. So forbidden.

He smiled back to you and turned to his desk again. "There is one more thing.." he turned back, an envelope in hand.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. He slowly approached you, a shadow moving in the darkness. His hand reached out to you, lowering just below your chin.

His fingers gently caressed your skin, as he picked up the necklace that hung from your neck, holding the ring he gave you all those years ago. He stepped even closer, not letting go of the delicate chain balancing on his fingers, pulling you together. You held your breath, unable to speak, unable to think. There was only him.

"You-," he whispered, his breath warming your face, lips inches apart from yours. The smell of alcohol on his breath so close you could taste it. "You still have this?" His eyes moved from the ring, now fixated on yours.

Shivers ran through your skin, your breath shaking against him.

"I-" you whispered, your fingers gently pulling the envelope from his. "I should go-"

You turned away towards the door in a panic. You couldn't go through with this, as much as you wanted too.

Sebastian stepped back, the picture of guilt across his face as he looked to the floorboards, rubbing the back of his neck.

You stepped out of the room, breathless and flustered.

"Thank you Sebastian, for tonight."

A smile exchanged, as the door closed behind you.

Turning your back to the door, you attempted to return to reality, looking at the envelope in your hands. Would this finally be an explanation, regarding the question? Or something entirely different?

You slid the letter out of the paper, taking a deep breath. The moment of truth.

A wedding invitation.

Chapter 11

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic

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