#not to say the cast was entirely on point tonight

[darknight3904]

All Yours, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴅ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ. ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ.

ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʜɪᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, ɴᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ.

ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

Coriolanus has never been the easiest person to understand. His mind was always racing and it kept you on your toes. Even now as he fretted over his appearance in the mirror you could tell his mind was thinking of a million things beyond whether or not his tie fit him correctly.

"For what it's worth, I think you look perfect." You say, sipping at your drink, you had been ready for nearly twenty minutes while Coriolanus was still figuring out what tie matched his pants best.

"I'm sure you do but this isn't just any party, I'm campaigning tonight and everything must be perfect." He says adjusting his hair even though it already sat perfectly styled atop his head.

It was Coriolanus' 23rd birthday and instead of celebrating like you usually did, you were both spending it at a party full of people who might help him reach the presidency by the beginning of next year. You approach him and wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"It will be." You assure, pressing a kiss to his exposed neck where his makeup artist did a wonderful job at covering the marks you had left behind last night.

"If all goes well tonight, you might just become the first lady of Panem one day." He smiles at you through the mirror

"Does that mean we're getting married?" You laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the idea of being with him forever

"Maybe..." Coriolanus says suddenly avoiding your eyes as his face reddens under your gaze.

You giggle at your boyfriend's flustered face, despite how grown up he had become in the past few years he was still the same boy you met at the academy all those years ago who just wanted his own bowl of fruit to gobble down.

"You definitely wanna marry me, Coryo!" You say almost as if you had discovered a secret of his.

"Well if you're not interested I can always find another." He jests, finally tying his tie.

"Oh please, I'm the only one who could ever tolerate you." You smile as he spins around to face you and rests his hands on your hips

"That you are, darling, that you are." He smiles and presses a chaste kiss to your lips

Coriolanus is sure you are his favorite person in the entire world. From the way you'd laugh at his jokes to the way your nose whistled when you slept, he loved it all. Even now as the two of you had long abandoned your teenage years and stepped into adulthood, he knew he didn't want to lose you. His interactions with Lucy Gray and his time in District 12 had only solidified how he wanted you to stay close to him. He watches as you cross the room to slip into a pair of pretty high heels, he loved the way your dress sat on your body, it was perfectly fitted and he wondered what designer had been able to craft it so perfectly.

He looked back at the mirror and pretended to fiddle with his outfit again even though he knew he looked perfect. Instead, his eyes cast to the small table next to the mirror where a collection of photos sat you and him over the past five years. His favorite though was the one that was taken at your 17th birthday party. He remembered how warm it had been, and at one point someone had filled a bucket of water and tossed at you. He had expected you to cry out and push everyone out of your home but instead, he was met with your laughter and thus a water fight had begun. The picture of the two of you had been taken not even twenty minutes later, both of you were drenched but happy and you had linked your arms together right before the picture was taken. Sometimes he wished to go back to those moments, to relieve the last bits of his boyhood even though it meant going back to that decrepit building he once lived in and the taste of cabbage a constant on his tongue.

"Thinking about the past?" You ask from across the room.

"Thinking about how ugly we look here." He says picking up the photo

"Nonsense, we're adorable in that. If I remember correctly that was taken a few weeks before you tripped me in my room trying to slow dance and then you gave me the kiss of a lifetime." You smile

"I didn't trip you, you tripped me with your bad dancing." He laughed, returning the photo to its proper place among the others.

"Whatever you say, Coryo." You smiled, he could tell you didn't believe one word that came from his mouth about the tripping incident.

These parties were always a bit tedious for you. You enjoyed seeing Coriolanus happy among Capitol elites and you loved the lavish dresses you got to wear but sometimes it became overwhelming. The sheer amount of reporters that were always at these things is what drove you crazy. Coriolanus ate the attention up and answered all their questions about how he'd change Panem for the better but you were usually left answering questions about what your dress was made of or what your relationship was with Coriolanus. He often assured you that once he won the presidency he'd have more control over what was asked and that you'd never have to answer another dress question again. You hoped he won as soon as possible, it was tiring pretending this line of questioning was interesting.

"Is that real gold on your sleeves?"

"Is that ring on your finger an engagement ring?"

"Who did your hair for the evening?"

"Are you going to have the future president's children?"

"Did you seduce Coriolanus Snow for power in the Capitol?"

"How many toes do you have?"

God you wished they'd all shut up, or at least get better questions. Even just something as small as your involvement with your father's company would've been better than this. You ignored whatever trash was coming from their mouths and held on to Coriolanus' arm like he was going to disappear and end up back in District 12 again.

You remembered that day very well, after Coriolanus' tribute had won he had just disappeared despite promising to walk you home after the games had ended. When he didn't show up for graduation either, you found yourself outside Tigris and Grandma'am's new residence looking for answers. Tigris had told you what happened with him and that girl, Lucy Gray, how he cheated with rat poison and a handkerchief of his father's. At first, you had been distraught that he was sent off to District 12, stuck there for twenty years as some peacekeeping grunt, you'd be an ugly middle-aged woman by the time he got back! You had been in the pits of despair about your relationship with him but all it took was one terrifying meeting with Dr. Gaul to change your attitude. Once she revealed that Coriolanus would be back in the Capitol soon, and she was simply testing his dedication to the games, you relaxed. While Dr. Gaul might not have all her marbles you knew she wasn't lying, and sure enough, your Coriolanus returned to you in a matter of weeks.

However, he returned to you differently though. Sure, his head was shaved like all Peacekeepers and the curls you loved to play with were gone, but his attitude had also changed. Perhaps it was that Songbird he never wanted to speak of even now. You could never quite place what happened between Coriolanus and her, all that mattered to you was that he had assured you it wasn't romantic. Just shared ambitions to both win something. In her case her life and in his the Plinth Prize, not that that went well for her since she had disappeared shortly after she went home. You weren't quite sure what to make of Lucy Gray, the mysterious Songbird who had enchanted all of Panem just five years ago. You had only spoken to her once and it was just to compliment her singing during her interview. She hadn't exactly impressed you with her in that moment but she must have impressed Coriolanus at some point if he was willing to break rules for her.

Or perhaps his change was due to whatever training Peacekeepers went through and the death of Sejanus that had rocked the entire Capitol when he was revealed as a traitor, you knew Coriolanus had been close to him. Of course, despite all his changes and attitude adjustments, he never applied them to you. So, here you stayed by his side, happy that he still loved you the same. Soft touches and sweet words remained constant as the two of you aged and explored the advantages of adulthood. One of your favorite things about being 23 was moving out of your family's home and into the penthouse Coriolanus had chosen for the two of you. Waking up next to Coriolanus each day and seeing how he looked before his eyes fluttered open had to be your favorite part of the days you spent together. Brushing his hair from his eyes and counting the freckles that just barely brushed his pale skin was something you did daily until his pretty blue eyes met yours again. Once he did wake though, it was hard to get him to stay in bed with you. His peaceful state was always replaced with a man who was always working towards something, ambition was always fueling him.

You didn't mind his rough exterior that emerged each morning though, Coriolanus was cold and hard on everyone but you. Perhaps it was your shared childhood memories and teenage romance that prevented him from treating you coldly like he did poor Tigris but you weren't sure. One thing you did know was that the boy you grew up with was gone and a man stood in his place, brooding and cold to everyone but you.

"I'm going to get us a drink and then if you want we can dance." He whispered in your ear

"Can you get me that fizzy lemon drink they usually serve?" You ask

"Of course, I'll bring you some of those hors d'oeuvres you like with the cheese as well."

And then, he was gone from your side moving expertly through the crowd. That dazzling blonde hair accompanied by the broadest shoulders you've ever seen on a man disappeared among the throngs of people craning their necks to get a better look at the future president and his pretty face.

"A true marvel isn't he?" a voice to your right said

You turned to be met by none other than Lucky Flickerman, a drink in one hand and a young child's hand grasped in the other.

"I'm not interested in doing an interview, Lucky. If you want information on Coryo you can ask him yourself." You say, ready to walk away from the Capitol's favorite news anchor turned Hunger Games host.

"Coryo...what an interesting nickname, a bit childish for a man who might watch over us all soon. No matter, I would however absolutely love to report on you one day and maybe even that big business you're the heiress of, but I'm actually talking to you for this little one tonight." Lucky smiles motioning to the boy who you guessed was his son. "He was admiring that stunning dress of yours and I thought he might want to see it up close and personal."

For once you didn't mind being asked about your clothes as you crouched down to the little boy's height, he couldn't be more than 5 or 6.

"You have a good eye, would you like to feel the fabric? The designer I met with made it wonderfully soft." You smile, thinking of how Tigris had gushed over the blood-red fabric that would perfectly match Coriolanus' suit with you just weeks ago.

The boy reaches his hand out and brushes it along expensive fabric and a smile grows on his face.

"What's your name?" You ask

"Caesar." He says "I just turned 6 last week."

"Well, Caesar, six is a marvelous age to be, you can do all sorts of things at six. In fact, when I turned six I learned to ride a bicycle for the first time, I did however scrape my knees half a million times. I even still have a few scars on my knees would you like to see them?." You smile at him and he nods.

"Lucky Flickerman, I thought I told your producers that you weren't allowed to bother her with your idiotic questions the way the other reporters do. You clearly don't value your job, if you did you would have listened to my words." Coriolanus' voice suddenly fills your ears as you quickly right yourself, remembering how he once told you you'd have to start holding yourself with more decorum at these events. 'No more acting like a stupid teenager' had been his exact words one night when you were eating dinner together in your shared room.

"It's fine, his son wanted to say hello." You smile down at Caesar, take your lemon drink, and pop some of the food Coriolanus brought with him into your mouth. You sincerely hoped that you weren't about to witness Lucky being fired by the newest mastermind behind The Hunger Games and future the president.

From the corner of your eye, you see Coriolanus cast an intimidating look down at the boy and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs and force him to apologize to the poor child who was now cowering behind his father's stylish pant leg.

"I'll see you later, Lucky. We are going to go dancing now." Coriolanus says setting your barely sipped drink and food on a tray of a passing server before whisking you away.

"You're bad with children, Coryo." You say as he leads you towards the dance floor.

"And you're bad at reading people, darling." He says, ignoring the way you pouted at your loss of lemon drink and cheese-sprinkled food.

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused

"Lucky just wanted to get you to answer questions about me," Coriolanus says as he leads you in a dance, the both of you had gotten exceptionally better since your failure at 17 in your childhood bedroom.

"Oh." You say, a bit sad that he wasn't genuinely interested in you, just another dumb reporter who wanted news on Coriolanus' next move. It was amazing how Coriolanus always knew what others were thinking and how to approach a situation best.

"It's alright, just ignore him next time," Coriolanus says, gently squeezing your waist as a form of reassurance.

You nod and rest your head on his shoulder as you spin around the dance floor, suddenly wishing you were tangled up in bed with him rather than dancing in heels that were pinching your toes.

"Can I confess something to you?" Coriolanus whispers, his lips tickling your ear.

"Of course, always " You reply honestly

"I hate seeing you interacting with them." He says in a low voice.

"Them?" You ask

"These people. Seeing them ask you questions about your dress or hair, makes me want to toss them into the arena and watch one of Gaul's mutts rip them apart. I hate the way they look at you like you're a piece of meat attached to my side." He says, possessiveness lacing his tone.

"Oh...well I'm sure they don't all think that way." You try to reason, hoping that he wasn't right about this read on others.

"I doubt it. Look at that one by the fountain in the blue jacket." He says nodding to his right.

You glance over to the fountain and see an old man with a fluffy white beard and white hair to match. He seemed to be carefully watching you and Coriolanus spinning on the dancefloor but you weren't quite sure.

"I'm positive he's standing there imagining what it'd look like if this pretty dress was on the floor and you were on top of him," Coriolanus whispers, knowing it'll have you blushing in his arms.

"Coryo..." You say, trying to keep your composure as he presses his body to yours while you wonder if he's truly right and the old man across the pretty courtyard is truly ogling you.

"Too bad I'm the only one who will ever know what that looks like." He says a certain arrogance in his voice you can't quite place.

"Stop it." You scold, trying to hide the fact that your face is as red as your dress.

"Why? I can't wait to get back to our bedroom tonight and bring what's in my head to life." Coriolanus laughs, his voice was husky in your ears and making you weak in the knees.

"You're so embarrassing, Coryo." You say into his chest, avoiding that sharp gaze he had. How could someone act so well-composed but also have the dirty mind of a perverted teenage boy?

Coriolanus stops leading your dance and hooks a finger under your chin so you're looking up at him again. Sharp blue eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul looked at you, full of passion and want.

"My heart burns for you, darling, as it always has. You're mine, my perfect girl, all mine." He promises before swooping in to deliver what might qualify as the most monumental kiss in all of history.

A certain warmness spreads across your body as he kisses you in public for the first time. It's moments like this with your Coriolanus make your heart swell, these moments remind you that the little boy with the golden curls you met when you were just twelve lives on, just in a different way. You know the teenager you once ate cabbage soup and bread with sweet jam watches over you as you kiss his 23-year-old self, you know he's smiling at where the two of you are now. You're sure that the same boy who once spun you around your childhood bedroom to your favorite slow song is still here with you now, even if he rarely shows his face. Coriolanus Snow is always watching over you, every version of him envelopes you tonight as he shows the world who you are to him.

Your head spins and your lungs burn as you hear a few whoops and cheers from onlookers while others whisper about how Coriolanus' hands are wandering all over your body. You're sure the way he's kissing you is going to end up on some Capitol news reel tomorrow morning but you can't find the heart to care. Somewhere in his chest, you feel Coriolanus let out a deep groan when you run your hands through his hair ruining the way it was perfectly styled for the evening. You gasp when his teeth nip at your bottom lip and pull away, a gasp for air leaving your now surely swollen lips.

"All yours, Coryo." You assure him and lean in for another kiss.

You smile as he kisses back and couldn't care less about what the world around you thinks, you had your Coryo, the boy who you grew up with and ate cabbage together in his decrepit home, the same boy who danced with you despite his own lack of skill. You were with your Coriolanus, the man who was going to carry Panem into a new age of glory.

Part Three

Series Masterlist

Read the Teaser here

So I uh sorta ended up abandoning fluffy Coryo thoughts from part one and went with the reader's pov of him at 23, I hope that's okay with all of you. He still loves you though don't worry, it's just in his own Coryo way. His own magically manipulative Coryo way. I was initially going to make this part during the 10th Hunger Games but then I thought, wouldn't it be interesting to see how he interacts with reader post Lucy Gray considering how much she changes his ideals. To make things clear, every moment with Lucy Gray and Coryo has occurred and the reader is unaware of pretty much all of it here, obviously since she's so goo goo gah gah over him.

If you'd like more of my writings about Coryo and you, my fic Blank Space might be the read for you, it also has a part two that is available now You can read them both here. (Yes it's based on the Taylor Swift song)

Taglist:

@bl0ndelilac

@lucygreene

@lwqfhp

@belle643

@fantasylovestoryme

@alana4610

@threeinchminimum

@dangelnleif

@hannaeditzs

@1950schick

@ennycutie

@janelongxox

@ajs-222

@or-was-it-just-a-dream

@notlilyyyy

@nicksolemnlyswears

@diannana

@ashrsworld

@lokidala

@clintsupremacy

@brilliantreid

@badassbitch-21

@steppingonshatteredglass

@405rry @folklorde24

@eir964

@charlesswife

@fangirling-galore

#the hunger games #fanfic #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #rachel zegler #coriolanus snow fluff #sejanus plinth #thg #tbosas #coriolanus snow x fem!reader

[themidnightcrimson]

skirt ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda gets a little too handsy during a small party.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, severely gay ogling, reader being a fuckin simp

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve had unfortunately complained to Tony that the parties he always held in his huge, modern, techno mansion were not intimate enough. Tony, always ready to take complaints from Steve with a cheeky attitude, passed the message along to Pepper who decided to truly make something cozier for everyone.

Tony’s parties were pretty much bi-weekly at this point, every other Friday night. The team almost always showed up in entirety, and the regularity of it was becoming sentimental to some of you. Even Tony was starting to plan them: “You guys gotta try this whiskey. I’ll bring it next Friday” or “I swear, Cap, I’m gonna put you in a suit on Friday and shoot you up to Mars.” It was cute.

Tonight, instead of drinking and playing poker around Tony’s in-house bar room, Pepper had set up something beautiful outside. You’d arrived at the party with Nat, stepping through the back patio of Tony’ mansion and seeing something set up in his backyard. Tied between two trees was a large white screen, and several yards in front of it was a projector mounted onto the roof of the patio, pointed right towards the screen.

In front of the screen, on the lush, freshly-trimmed grass yard, was a whole bunch of pillowy chairs with blankets cast over them, set up like little cots. To the side of the arena was a little hot dog stand that also had a big red and golden popcorn machine currently popping popcorn attached to its hip, as well as a large futuristic-looking cooler full of ice and bottled drinks. There was even an attachment on the front of the hot dog stand with an array of candy bars.

Strung above the entire arena were strings of fairy lights going in every direction, tied between trees and the railing of the patio porch. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but they were already turned on, providing cute little lights above the cozy scene. It was the homiest thing you’d ever seen at Tony’s home.

“My god,” Nat remarked as she looked around, looking as shocked as you. “It looks like Tony’s planning on proposing to all of us at the same time tonight.”

“I would say yes,” Banner said, coming up beside you and gawking up at the lights. He ran down the steps of the patio and towards one of the fluffy chairs made of pillow, throwing himself down on it and squishing it to the ground. You could hear his sigh of comfort from the patio.

“Do you guys like it?” Pepper asked, coming out of the house. “There’s more food and snacks inside if you guys want anything that’s not out there.”

“I feel like I’m experiencing my first American sleepover,” Nat said, turning to Pepper. “It’s great, really!”

It was cute seeing Nat get so excited like that. Steve showed up behind Pepper and had the same reaction as everyone else, even tearing up a little bit. When Tony reluctantly entered the patio, Steve gave him a slap on the shoulder. “This is really great, Tony. Really great.”

Tony tightly smiled and quickly went back into the house to avoid any more sentiment.

Since the few of you were the first to arrive, you all stayed on the porch and made conversation while waiting for everyone else to show up. It was a chilly spring night, the wind picking up and every once in a while catching the black skirt you were wearing. It was that annoying time of year, of course, where you would have been sweating during the day but now you were shivering at night. You wished you had worn pants instead of a skirt. You didn’t know you’d be thanking yourself later for the opposite.

You had been discreetly waiting for someone the entire time. As more people lingered through the back door into the backyard, you nervously glanced at each figure and hoped it’d be the one you wanted it to be, but it never was.

And then you knew. You didn’t see her, or hear her name, or any other evidence that she was there other than the fact that the pit in your stomach grew and there was a tingling sensation across your nerve endings. The witch always had that affect on you. You didn’t know if it was a spell or something, or maybe you were just acting like a crush-stricken schoolgirl, but you had a habit of always knowing when Wanda entered a room.

Surely enough, through the tinted windows lining the back porch, you could see a flash of red hair making its way towards the back door, that smile you had memorized greeting people as she stepped between them. A shiver crawled its way up your lower spine as the door opened and that face stepped through, the one you’ve been dreaming about, the one that haunts you, the one that twists your stomach into knots when you see it because it makes you think of all the times you’ve touched yourself with that face in mind.

Wanda stepped onto the porch, her hair in wavy locks down her shoulders. She was wearing a soft, light pink sweater that probably looked like off-white to everyone else in the dusk light, but you paid enough attention to know it was pink. It matched the gentle pink in her cheeks, and in her lips…

You and Wanda’s…”situation” was only just blossoming. After months and months of tense friendship and subtle flirting, you’d finally broken the ice when you’d shared a drunken makeout session at one of the parties. You found Wanda to be much bolder than you’d expected her to be, but it invigorated you so. She knew how to keep you on the edge but give you enough to keep you satisfied. She hadn’t fucked you yet, though she’s gotten close. You’ve felt her mouth, and her thigh, but she hadn’t touched you with her hands yet. Her hands.

It was embarrassing when Nat had to snap you out of it. You’d been staring at Wanda since she’d entered the backyard space and got caught up in a conversation with someone else on her way to greet you. You weren’t even sure if she’d seen you yet, but with how sly the witch was, you were sure she was fully aware of everything.

“Hey, you’ve got a little drool there,” Nat said, motioning to her own chin while looking at yours. You blushed and rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and turning your back on Wanda. Even though she still hadn’t looked at you, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into your back.

“Shut up,” you whispered, crossing your arms and shivering slightly in the cold.

Like clockwork, you suddenly felt a warm arm wrap itself around your shoulders. God, you even recognized her touch now.

Looking up, you saw Wanda appear beside you, her arm slung over your shoulder and pulling you into her gently. You felt the softness of her sweater and her hair against your arm as you were overcome with her cologne. It was sweet but deep, and it made you melt every time you smelled it because it reminded you of all your moments with her.

Wanda smiled down at you, and you half-expected her to lean down for a kiss, but she didn’t. You weren’t public yet, though Nat knew the extent of it, and everyone else had just assumed. They all thought that if you weren’t fucking, it was at least obvious that Wanda wanted to, and no one would dare get in the way of that. This was all without your knowledge, of course, because you were innocent and naïve and thought that no one had any clue about it except for Nat. That was one thing that Wanda liked about you.

“Hey there,” Wanda smoothly said in almost a whisper. Every time you get close to her for the first time, you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again. Her sparkling green eyes, soft lips turned in a self-assured smile, structured cheekbones, her cute little nose. It all made you swoon like a schoolgirl.

“Hi,” you squeaked, feeling your face get hot all over.

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, obviously picking up on your little squeak. She gave a little space between you for a moment to let her eyes rake down over your figure. They landed at your hips, and her smile faded, turning almost crooked for a moment before she licked her lips and pursed them. “Hmmmm,” she hummed, pulling you into her again, a little tighter now. “You look so fucking good,” she hissed, leaning down towards your ear. You felt her breath fan against your ear, and then her lips grazed it, before she turned away, stiffening as if trying to hold something in. You watched her jaw flex, the muscles straining in her swan neck as she inhaled deeply.

You weren’t sure what exactly was going through the witch’s mind, but your body was burning all over. It almost pained you how you always had such a physical reaction to Wanda.

Wanda did not let go of you. Even as she lingered around the patio, even as people came up and made conversation, she kept you under her arm like her own pet bunny. You felt safe like that, tucked into Wanda, letting her lead the conversations while you just leaned against her soft sweater and inhaled her sweet perfume. The duality of Wanda’s gentle physique but domineering nature made your head dizzy.

Wanda was like a bee to honey to you for the entire time that you and everyone else waited for the party’s population to be dense enough to start a movie on the large projector screen. Finally, once the sun had set and only left an orange streak at the bottom of the sky, Tony came back out onto the patio and, fully equipped in his suit, stuck his hands out to the side and levitated up towards the projector. Halting mid-air, the face of the suit flipped away to reveal Tony’s face.

“Greetings and welcome to the lamest party Tony Stark has ever thrown,” Tony announced, earning several laughs throughout the small crowd of people before flipping the projector on and flying away.

Light illuminated onto the screen, and an old black-and-white Hollywood movie began playing on the screen. People made their way over to the little cots set out on the lawn, while some stayed on the patio pretending to be the adult part of the crowd.

“Want some snacks?” Wanda whispered in your ear, to which you gave a dumb nod, too focused on the way her hand slid down to your waist and gripped it.

Wanda led you over the little hot dog stand that shone like a beacon in the darkening lawn, apart from the light from the movie. You were about to tell Wanda that you wanted popcorn and Skittles, but she somehow beat you to it. “A bag of popcorn and some Skittles,” she told the guy behind the stand. Nodding, he began to load up a bag of buttery popcorn as you looked up at Wanda in confusion to how she knew what you wanted.

Mind-reading can be useful in many ways, kitten.

You thought Wanda had spoken, since you had heard her voice, but her lips didn’t even move and her voice sounded like it was behind you. Your eyes widened in realization that Wanda was using mind-reading on you for the first time—though it actually was about the hundredth time that she’d pried in on your cerebral. It was the telepathic communication that was happening for the first time, but she thought your confusion on the terms was cute.

“Thanks,” Wanda told the guy as he handed you the warm bag of popcorn. She took a bag of Skittles and two bottles of soda and placed her hand on your lower back, her warm palm ushering you towards a cot in front of the screen.

She decided to choose one a little off to the side, spaced out more from any others. It was a double, basically a large pillow in the shape of a chair that could hold two people.

“This is so fun!” you exclaimed, hopping down on the cot and sighing at how soft it was, understanding now why Banner was so relaxed when he had jumped onto one. There was even a little basket beside the chair that held a large, fluffy blanket folded up. Pepper had truly gone all out.

Wanda plopped down beside you, her warm body instantly melting into yours as her weight into the pillowy chair dipped you down closer to her. The redistribution of weight had moved you in a way that your skirt hiked up your legs.

Wanda’s eyes flickered to your skirt, her pupils swarming. You blushed and pulled your skirt down to cover yourself, discreetly watching Wanda blink and force herself to look away. She leaned back in the chair, snaking her arm behind you and curling it around your waist, which only deepened the blush on your cheeks.

Reaching towards your lap, Wanda took a piece of popcorn from the bag you held between your legs and popped it into her mouth. You took a piece and moved it towards your mouth, but suddenly her hand stopped you.

“Nuh uh,” she said quietly, taking the popcorn from between your fingers. “Let me do it.”

You froze, staring at her face that was so close. It was illuminated by the projection on the screen, her green eyes darker than usual.

“Open your mouth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips. There was a hunger in her eyes as she watched you hesitate before slowly opening your lips, your heart beating twice faster in your chest. Wanda brought the popcorn to your mouth, letting your tongue take it. You were surprised when, as you felt the texture of the popcorn on your tongue and the butter flooded your taste buds, the tips of Wanda’s fingers lingered in your mouth. As you attempted to close your lips, they only closed around her fingers, tasting the extra salt left behind on them. Your face grew red and hot as you watched Wanda smirk, pushing her fingers in just a miniscule bit further, her own lips parting in infatuation as she watched your lips suction around her fingers.

“Good girl,” she whispered, slowly dragging her fingers out of your mouth.

As if nothing happened, as if you weren’t sitting there blushing and sweating and feeling the space between your legs get warm, she went back to simply eating the popcorn and staring up at the screen.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stop staring at this blasted woman who just teased you so easily and tried to focus on the movie.

Wanda’s handsy-ness wasn’t too extreme during the first half of the movie. It was only her arm around your waist, her hand rubbing your back sensually, her fingers softly combing through your hair and pulling on it hard once or twice just to get a squeak out of you, to which she pressed a discreet kiss to your neck. It was like she was just playing with you. It was like she was just playing with her food.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when there was no sight of any sunlight in the dark night sky, that Wanda strengthened her moves on you.

Under the pretty fairy lights, as everyone else started to calm down and really settle into the movie, a chilly night breeze sewed itself through the air. It flittered over your exposed legs, causing you to shiver. Wanda, who’d been trying not to ogle your thighs all night, couldn’t help but see the goosebumps on your tender skin.

“You cold?” she asked in a soft, sweet tone. When you nodded, she reached over to the basket and brought out the large, thick blanket, draping it over the both of your laps. The warm, soft blanket was such a relief to your cold legs, and with Wanda’s body also available to you as a heater, you felt so cozy and safe.

Then Wanda’s hand reached under the blanket and rested on your thigh, her palm curving around it. The action made you stiffen, your skin growing exponentially warmer where her hand touched. The intimacy of the action sent shimmers through you, and you tried to beat back the little smile on your face.

Wanda, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk. She was more purposeful than you gave her credit for, but again, your naivety was what fueled her to see just how much she could get away with.

You were trying your hardest to ignore her hand on your thigh until it suddenly shifted upwards, pushing your skirt up with it. You gasped quietly. Her hand was all the way up your thigh now, gripping your flesh firmly. Her fingers were wrapped into the inner most tender part of your thigh, pressing into the soft skin there.

The heat between your legs amplified with how close Wanda was to it. You couldn’t help but nervously glance around, afraid that somehow someone had seen her hand grab your thigh under the thick blankets. Luckily, no one was looking. The closest person to you was Nat, but she was watching the film with her head tilted and arms crossed, obviously trying to analyze it like she did with most films.

“Wanda,” you whispered, glancing up at her to see that she was already staring at you darkly.

“What, princess?” she asked innocently.

The name struck you like a bullet of white hot fire in the pit of your stomach. She watched you seriously, a smirk twitching the corners of her lips, as she tightened her grip on your thigh. It stung a little, her fingertips digging so hard into that sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, that you almost squeaked.

“If you want to make noises for me, then do it, babygirl,” she lilted, and you almost gasped when her hand slipped fully under your skirt. You squirmed a little, but she looked at you threateningly. “Don’t move.”

Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around again, feeling that for sure someone was looking this time. No one was.

No one will see, detka.

Wanda’s voice was in your head again. You sharply turned to look at her, but she was staring at the screen now.

Suddenly, you felt something under the covers spreading your thighs open. You hadn’t even realized you’d been squeezing them together, but as you looked down at the blanket, you saw a hint of red glaring through it as your legs spread themselves wide open. She was using magic to open you up for her. Out of impulse, you tried to slam them shut, but her magic held you there, the red glare dissipating so as to not draw attention to what was happening beneath the blanket.

Be still.

You bit your lip as you felt Wanda’s hand cup you under your skirt, her palm pressing into your fabric-covered core. Your breath quivered out of both nervousness and pleasure when she found your clit through your panties and slowly rubbed it.

I can feel how wet you are through your panties, princess. Her voice was even husky in your head.

You tried to keep still as Wanda rubbed your sensitive nub, looking around again to see that still no one was looking at you. But the fact that anyone could look over at the wrong moment, see part of Wanda’s arm stretched towards your lap under the blanket, seeing shapes inappropriately moving under the fabric, instilled a sense of fear into you that seemed to propel your desire.

Good girl, just keep being still for me. I know how bad you’ve been wanting this. You’ve dreamed so much of my fingers.

God, how did she know? Had she been spying on you?

Her fingers dipped down your fabric-covered slit, tickling there for a moment and feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. You were soaking by now, you could feel it, and it only got worse when Wanda started to push your panties to the side.

You started to open your mouth to tell her no, that she shouldn’t do that in front of everyone at a party, that anyone could look over and see and that it’d be so embarrassing, but her voice was quick to reprimand you.

So what if someone sees? I’ll let anyone know that you’re all mine.

With that, her fingers successfully slipped under the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties and met your soaking cunt. You heard Wanda let out a tense breath as she seeped her fingers through your sopping folds, her jaw flexing again.

You’re so fucking wet, babygirl. Her voice growled within your head, dizzying you.

You glanced around nervously, almost thinking someone was looking at you, but finding that no one was still. You felt so nervous about it, so paranoid, but your feverishness was mostly just from Wanda’s fingers rubbing your bare clit now, moving your wetness all around.

I’ve been wanting to feel your pretty cunt for so long. You just had to wear this slutty little skirt tonight, hmm?

Heat burned throughout you as Wanda’s fingers moved towards your entrance, circling it. You stiffened a little, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. You had to force yourself to not gyrate against her hand, to not turn to her and beg for her to just do it, to not moan out loud. It was especially hard not to do the last thing when Wanda’s fingers thrusted inside you.

“Oh—” you started, until Wanda’s magic snapped your mouth shut. Wanda went completely still, freezing completely. You took a blushing, nervous glance around and nearly died when your eyes made contact with Nat’s eyes.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Nat was staring at you while Wanda’s fingers were inside you for the first time. You were looking her in the eye while your walls clenched around Wanda. You wanted to set yourself on fire.

Fortunately, Nat only gave a casual little head nod and a smile and then turned back to the movie. You knew Nat well enough to know that she wasn’t just pretending that she didn’t see anything. Luckily for you, she really had not noticed anything unusual other than your usual awkwardness around Wanda.

Close call, princess. You almost got found out for being a slut for me.

Taking a shaky breath, your hand crawled around until it found Wanda’s knee under the blanket and gripped it for dear life as she started thrusting her fingers inside you. You tried not to whine at the stretch—it’d been a while for you.

You’re so fucking tight, baby. Wanda’s voice was breathy in your head.

You threw your head back a little as Wanda’s fingers pumped in and out of you, and you could even hear the faint wet sounds coming from under the blanket. It made you feel so dirty, getting fingered like that in front of everyone, and being so wet for it, too.

I knew you were such a slut for me. What if I rip the blanket off right now, hmm? Expose you for spreading your legs for me even in public like a whore?

Gritting your teeth together, you felt Wanda’s two fingers hitting a sweet spot inside you. It was so hard to not buck your hips, to not squirm or moan or do anything but etch claw marks into Wanda’s knee.

And then you felt a more noticeable stretch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt Wanda force a third finger into you. This time you couldn’t help it. You threw your head to the side and buried it in Wanda’s chest, letting out a mix between a quiet moan and a sigh that luckily was muffled by Wanda’s sweater. Keeping as still as possible, you inhaled Wanda’s perfume and scratched the fuck out of her knee as she pumped three fingers inside your cunt at an agonizingly slow speed. You knew she would’ve fucked you a lot harder if it weren’t for the sake of being discreet.

“Wanda,” you murmured into her chest, feeling the valley of her breasts from beneath her sweater cushioning your face. “Wanda, I’m close.”

Her fingers were hitting so deep inside you. They were so long, and she was curling them, and she was hitting your sweet spot deep inside, and you could feel your juices dripping down yourself.

Hold it. She commanded.

You didn’t even realize it, but you clamped your teeth around a chunk of her sweater, biting down hard on the thick cable-knit fabric as the woman’s fingers plundered you at a steady pace. You didn’t even know if anyone was looking at you now, and you didn’t even care because your body was starting to tremble as you struggled to not cum all over her fingers.

Finally, when you begged again, she acquiesced with Cum for me, princess.

It took all of your power to not moan out loud as you orgasmed with Wanda’s fingers lodged deep inside you, your walls spasming around them and your hips trembling. She nuzzled her nose against the top of your head and hissed when you bit down on her sweater again and accidentally bit into her breast. She held you still with her spare arm, her fingers deep in you, as you came down from the blinding high.

“That’s it,” she whispered into your hair. “Good girl, just breathe.” You were breathing very hard to make up for not being able to moan. “You were such a good, quiet girl for me, angel.” The praise landed over you like soft kisses until you realized she was also pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

It didn’t help that, when you had finally calmed down and Wanda pulled her shiny fingers out of you, she popped them into her mouth and sucked off all of your cum. You blushed and dug your face into her chest again, this time purposefully biting her breast which made her hiss again and then giggle evilly.

Luckily, no one had seen you get fingered by Wanda, at least not to your knowledge. Nothing had ever come out of it, at least, except that Tony spread a rumor that you had peed yourself during the party because when you stood up from the chair at the end of the night, there was a wet spot right under where you had been sitting.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #lesbian #marvel #lgbt #wanda maximoff x f!reader

[poshmina]

A Tale of Two*Very Sensitive* Wings

Azriel X !Fem Reader

Warnings: (18+ Mature) wingplay, size kink, light angst, getting caught

Word Count: 5k+

Background: You are a long lost Archeron half-sister and your dad sends a message asking if your sisters will provide you with refuge. They oblige, bringing you back to the night court to reside with them and the rest of the inner circle. The story begins after A Court of Mist and Fury when Nesta lets slip to you at dinner that Azriel thinks he’s your mate. At first, this shocks you, as you are still human and are not accustomed to the traditions of the Fae. However, as time goes on you’ve begun to feel drawn to him. You spend your time in the Night Court learning healing practices, since you have no magical power and cannot fight with the rest of them. You’ve been staying in the House of Wind with Azriel, and though you see him often and want to get closer to him, he is always quiet and withdrawn, leaving you confused wondering how someone so distant could be your mate?

The floor of the House of Wind shudders as an Illyrian male lands on the balcony. You look up from where you’d been sitting at the table, enjoying dinner, and watch his shadow cross the balcony. You can’t make out his face in the darkness, but you know who it is anyhow. 

Azriel crosses the threshold of the doorway into the dining room, his long wings tucked against his back. He hardly casts you a passing glance as he breaches the room, shadows swirling around him, seemingly not in the mood to chat tonight. You’ve gotten used to the quiet, brooding demeanor of your housemate, and usually you don’t press. Except tonight there’s blood on his face, in his hair, and on his clothes. As he walks, pieces flake off and scatter across the floor, meaning it’s been there long enough to dry. Meaning he likely left his wounds untreated the entire flight here, meaning he risked passing out mid flight and tumbling to his death due to blood loss.

You shove your chair out from behind you and stand, the sound echoing across the hall. “How long have you been bleeding?”

He doesn’t pause, or even look over his shoulder to address you. “It’s not mine.”

By this point, he’s halfway across the room, apparently planning to head to his quarters without having someone check his wounds. That’s when you notice it, a myriad of tears across his wings as if he’d been struck with arrows and then yanked them back out. The blood on his wings is most definitely his own. 

“Azriel!” It comes out as a mix between a shout and a plea. You can tell yourself you don’t really care about him, that you would harass anyone until they got treated, except this is more than medical obligation. You’re beginning to care for him.

He stops in his tracks, but doesn’t look over his shoulder. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he insists. 

You cross the room towards him. “Clearly you’re not! There are holes in your wings. You’re so covered in blood there’s no way even you could tell if there were wounds hidden beneath. You have to get treated!”

He lets out an irritated sigh and finally turns to face you. “Y/N, you don’t have to involve yourself in this. It’s none of your business.”

Gods, you can’t believe him. “You made it my business when you came in tracking blood across the house. Either go see a healer, or let me take a look.”

You don’t know why you’re so insistent. He could be fine. He’s been alive for hundreds of years and surely knows his physical limits. Except you’re so tired of him keeping you at arm's length, so tired of his closed off, brooding attitude. 

He hesitates, jaw clenched, but doesn’t agree. 

“Just let me help you,” you plead. 

For a moment, you think you see behind his mask, the cold exterior he keeps up around you. You think he’s going to say yes.

Instead he draws further on himself and pushes you further away. “I’m fine, Y/N. Worry about yourself.” He turns to disappear down the hallway, but doesn’t get two steps before you’re walking after him. You don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re sick of his games. Sick of waiting and wondering if he’ll ever make a move. If he even likes you. Every feeling you bottled up from the past few months comes to a head, tumbling out of you.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, exasperated. 

He wheels around to face you, unable to mask the surprise on his face, “What?”

“I said what is wrong with you! You’re always irritated, or distant, or avoidant. You actively avoid me even though I’ve done nothing but be kind to you. You act like I’m a thorn in your side even though I have every right to be here in this house with you.” You jab a finger towards the floor to solidify your point. “Do you think I asked to be here? To be taken from my home and thrust into this strange kingdom, with your strange Fae traditions, where everyone is older, and faster and stronger than me?” He blinks, stunned into silence by your sudden outburst.

“Do you think I asked to have you as my mate?”

Immediately, you wish you could take it back. You hadn’t meant for that to come out at all, let alone in such an accusatory tone. Really, you don’t mind the thought of him as your mate. That is, if you could explore the bond together. If he would quit shoving you away. 

His shadows flare, and the scowl you've become so accustomed to returns. “Who told you that?”

“I—” You fumble over your words, “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

He takes a step closer, and all of the sudden you get a very real sense of his height as he towers over you. “Doesn’t matter, you already did. Now who told you?”

You reel to find something to distract him, not wanting to put the blame on Nesta. Your relationship with your new sister is so new and fragile, you can’t drive a wench in it. “I deserved to know Azriel. It’s not like you were going to tell me.”

His gaze flickers, and you swear you see a flash of pain in those eyes. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

The sting of rejection pangs sharp in your chest. He didn’t want you to find out this way, or he didn’t want you to find out at all? All these months avoiding you, acting like he wants nothing more than for you to poof out of his life and return where you came from. You tried to ignore the fear, tried to push it away, but now the reality crashes over you. Your mate doesn’t want you at all. 

“Well now I know and I don’t expect anything from you.” You jab a finger towards his chest. “I know I’m human and I’m weak and you didn’t ask for me either. But it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me.” You take a shuddering breath, and a weight seems to fall off your shoulder with all of those words out. You realize you’ve moved closer to him and take a step back.

“Nicer,” he repeats, watching you intently. 

“Yes,” you huff. “We don’t have to be anything more than acquaintances. Housemates, even. But you don’t have to be such a dick.” You cross your arms and level him a stare.

He sighs, shaking head in disbelief. “Fine. What exactly does this relationship of acquaintance entail?” One of his wings shudders behind him, and from the wince on his face you can tell it wasn’t on purpose. You look at it pointedly. 

“Letting me help you would be a start.”

There’s a final moment of hesitation, drawn out long enough that you think he might actually turn you away. Except then he shakes his head, and as if it physically pains him to do so, says, “As you wish.” Without another word he turns down the hall to head to his rooms. You take a moment of pause, wondering if you pushed too far. The male in front of you is not just any man, he’s a centuries old Illyrian warrior with power beyond your comprehension. Any relationship with him could be dangerous, acquaintance or no. 

But he turns back to you. “You coming?” And for some reason you can’t help but follow.

—

“Fuck.” He shudders beneath your hands. The blood was not, in fact, entirely his opponents. He had two gashes, one across his abdomen and the other along his bicep. Although his fae blood was already beginning to heal them, you insisted he let you stitch them up in order to avoid scarring. 

You thread the needle through his skin and finish the final stitch, clipping the string you used to sew him up and sitting back to admire your handiwork. You may not have magic, but you quickly excelled in the healing arts. 

“All done,” you tell him. He lifts his head from where it had been bowed against his arms and inspects your work. If he’s impressed or not, you can’t tell. He shows nothing on his face, not even a hint of pain from the wounds still remaining on his wings. 

“Now for your wings,” you shift to stand behind him, biting your lip as you try to decide a course of action. Wings can’t be stitched up, they have to heal naturally, and take longer than most ailments to close. The best you can offer is to apply a numbing salve to curb the pain for now. You’re about to tell him that when he says—

“I can handle it.”

You knit your eyebrows. “I’m already here. You won’t be able to reach behind you. If I don’t numb them you’ll be in serious pain all night.”

Put so plainly you’re unsure how he could refuse. He does anyhow. “I don’t need numbing salve. You’ve done plenty, thank you.” And just like that he dismisses you. Except now that he’s washed the blood from his skin you can see just how pale he is, and with the pain he won’t be able to get a lick of sleep, slowing the healing process altogether. 

You prop a hand on your hip. “As your healing professional I would strongly advise against that.” You don’t understand his reluctance, and every time he says no to help, it only makes you want to push further. 

He looks up at you, and for the first time in maybe forever, one side of his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Healing professional, huh?” 

You shrug. “The closest you have to one, at least.”

He tilts his head back and mutters a prayer to the Mother. “You’re not going to leave until I let you do this, will you?”

“It’s unlikely.”

He gives an exasperated sigh, then leans over the desk he’d been sitting at, baring his wings to you. “Make it quick.” His voice is muffled by the cradle of his arms. You can’t help but smirk at the success. Progress. This is progress.

A few minutes later the house has summoned a jar of numbing salve for you and you are standing over him, preparing to begin your work. 

“This may sting for a moment, but once it settles it will fade.” He grunts in response. “I’ll be gentle,” you add. You scoop a generous portion out of the jar, warming it between your fingers before applying it. You decide to start at the outskirts where the tears are thinner and not as gruesome. Hovering a hand over his wing, you pause for a moment before gingerly spreading the salve on him. He tenses immediately, hissing through his teeth before relaxing as it settles in.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Fine.” His tone is clipped. 

Taking that as permission, you continue along the edges of his wings, applying and waiting for him to adjust before moving to the next. As far as cooperation goes, he is the ideal patient. He doesn’t so much as shift a muscle while you work, and remains deadly silent. If it weren’t for his fists resting on the table clenched to the point his knuckles are white, you would think it was painless. 

Once you finish the outer ring of his wings, you pause. “I’m going to tackle the deeper ones now. Do you need a break?”

“Don’t bother.” His voice comes out muffled, and you notice one of his hands has disappeared into the space between his arms where his head is caged. He’s likely biting at his finger to distract from the pain. 

“Would you like something to bite on?”

 For a moment there’s no response, then his hand returns into sight on the desk. “I’m fine, Y/N. Please continue.” He says as if you’re a nagging insect buzzing at his ear rather than the only person trying to help him. 

With a huff, you dip your fingers into the jar again, and begin to spread the salve near the base of his wings. This time, you aren’t quite so gentle. 

He lets out a strangled sound beneath you, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Immediately, you feel guilty, and start to take more care with the application, massaging slow, deliberate circles into the muscles of his wings. You can feel the muscles around the tears shudder and relax as you go. He curses beneath your hands. 

You’ve almost reached the last, and nastiest, of his wounds when he abruptly shoves his chair backwards and stands, causing you to lose your balance. You nearly fall on your ass before catching yourself on the desk. 

“That’s enough,” he nearly shouts at the same time you say, “What the fuck, Azriel?” His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he glares down at you. He distinctly seems to angle his body away from you.

“I wasn’t finished,” you argue.

He looks up at the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “You’ve done plenty.” Instinctively, your eyes fall to his stomach to double check the work you’d done earlier. Instead, your eyes snag on something a few inches lower.

Your eyes widen as you take in the obvious bulge straining against his leathers. 

Oh.

One of the first things you’d learned about treating the Fae is that wings are very sensitive. They are to be handled with the utmost care, their delicate construction requiring practiced healing applications. However, in all your training, nobody had deigned to mention sensitive goes hand in hand with pleasurable. 

His eyes flare as you look back up at him, cheeks heating. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words don’t come. He merely continues to stare at you with that heated gaze. 

“I should go,” the words come out of you in a frenzied rush. He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree either. “I just— I didn’t realize,” now that you’ve started, you can hardly stop yourself. “This is all so new to me. I wouldn’t have if I’d known—”

“Now you know.” If he means it to be harsh, it doesn’t come out that way, but rather like a plea.

“I should go,” you say again, but can hardly move a muscle. With him standing there and looking at you like that, with the distance between you so small. You feel as if you're drowning, and he is the current pulling you further under. 

You let out a small gasp as you feel a featherlight touch on your cheek. One of his shadows has crept across the room, and whether he intended it or not, is caressing you gently. Instinctively, you lean into it.

A few paces away, you watch his lips part as he watches you. He doesn’t recall his shadow. Instead, it inches closer, brushing across your lips. You don’t dare move, you don’t dare breathe. 

“Azriel,” you whisper. 

In a moment he’s upon you. The shadow dissipates, replaced by his hands cupping your face, his hips pushing you backwards until you're pressed against the desk. He kisses you with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his lips moving desperately against yours. You let out a whimper as he guides your lips apart, running his tongue across your own. 

With every ounce of self control you have left, you manage to shove him away for a moment. 

“I thought you hated me. I thought you didn’t want me as your mate.” You search his eyes for answers, for the cold, closed off man you’d known up until now.

“Hate you?” He tips his head back and laughs humorlessly. “If hating you means thinking about you every waking moment. If hating you means desperately wishing you’d appear outside my doorway every night. If hating you means not being able to even think about you without—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “If that’s what it means then sure, Y/N, I hate you.”

Your mind reels trying to process what he’s telling you. “You sure as hell acted like it.”

A flash of regret crosses through his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I wanted to give you time to adjust.”

Faintly, you remember what had happened when Lucien had sprung the mating bond on a newly transformed Elain. She can hardly stand to be in the same room as him, let alone pursue a relationship. 

In a moment of boldness, you reach down and palm him through his leathers, watching as his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “Consider me adjusted.” You yank him back down to you, crashing his lips against yours. He meets you with the same intensity, tongue and lips and teeth clashing in a heavenly dance. His hand slides up to your throat as he kisses you, holding gently. It’s only when you pull away to gasp for air when you realize his shadows are floating around you, cradling you both. 

Your lips part in wonder. It’s beautiful, but you hardly get the chance to tell him so before he lifts you up on the desk and resumes the contact. His kisses stray from the side of your mouth, to your jaw and neck. He takes your ear between his teeth and tugs lightly, sending shivers of pleasure through you. His hand cups your breast, and when the attention of his mouth lowers to your collarbones, you lean back to shuck your shirt off. He palms your breast greedily, reaching behind you to undo your bra clasp before taking a moment to stare. You feel your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze, and have the urge to cover yourself again.

“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect Y/N,” he mutters before lowering his mouth to your nipple and closing his mouth upon it, sucking and swirling in a way that makes you arch into him. He gives your other breast equal attention until you're moaning and panting beneath him. 

He retreats to relive himself of his armor. If there’s any remaining pain in his wings, he doesn’t show it. He steps close and positions himself between your legs, peering down at you. You reach out a hesitant hand and hover it over the tip of his wing. He watches your movements with rapt attention, nearly holding his breath with anticipation. 

You brush a featherlight touch along the crest of his wings, and that touch alone is enough to cause him to shudder and groan under his breath. You can’t imagine how he stood still for so long earlier. 

You reach down and tug at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. He obliges, tossing it aside, returning his attention to you. You take him in slowly, dragging a hand down the hard line of his abs, tracing his tattoos with your finger. He waits patiently, letting you have your fill. Unable to help yourself, you glance down at his hardness again, breath faltering as you take in exactly how big he is. From a distance, it seemed reasonable, but from this close…

He reaches out a hand to cup your face, peering into your eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

Without a moment's hesitation, you say. “Yes. I want this Azriel. I want you.”

You watch relief flash in his eyes before he resumes his movements. His hands go to your waistband, and he unbuttons your pants before leaning in to whisper, “Lift your hips for me, “Y/N.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself so he can slide your pants over your hips and cast them aside. He repeats this motion with your underwear, baring you completely to him. And before you can even consider what’s to come next, he lowers himself to his knees in front of the desk, bringing his face directly in line with where you need him most. He places one long lick from your entrance to your crest, drawing a ragged gasp from you, then pulls away. 

“Y/N.”

“Yes?” Your mind spins, because as he’s talking, his mouth is hovering over you and you can feel his breath as he speaks. 

He dips a finger between your folds, dragging it up to circle your clit. “I’m gonna get you ready now so you can take me comfortably, alright?”

You hardly register what he’s saying, because his finger is moving fervently against you and you can already feel that coil of pleasure within you. You give a short nod in response. 

Then, as quickly as it came, the pressure on your clit is gone. You look down to see him peering up at you, waiting for an answer. What did he say again?

He must sense you drawing a blank, because he smirks and repeats himself. “I need you to be good and do as I say so you can take me fully. Okay, Y/N?” 

“Oh… Yes. Okay,” you nod fervently. It’s then you realize exactly what he’s saying to you. You heard rumors around the inner circle that Azriel had the biggest… wingspan… but you never imagined anything close to this.

Satisfied with your answer, he resumes again, lowering his mouth to take the place of his finger. He circles his tongue around your clit, then sucks gently. You’re already seeing stars when you feel his finger at his entrance and he slowly slides it into you. 

You moan and arch off the desk, hands flying to his head to tangle in his hair. You chance a glance down at him, and the sight of him kneeling before you, wings looming over his shoulders, eyes dark with lust, almost sends you over the edge then and there. 

He begins to pump into you slowly, curling every so often to hit a spot that makes you writhe and moan. You’re just at the crest of your orgasm when he adds another finger. You hadn’t expected it, and the new sensation causes your hips to jerk as you gasp in pleasure. 

“Azriel I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Hold on a little longer for me, Y/N.”

You curse, trying to dampen the pleasure growing inside you. It’s all too much, and you have to bring your hand to your mouth and bite on your knuckle to keep from coming. He slows his movements for a moment, purposefully torturing you and keeping you on that edge. 

A moment later, everything resumes with increased intensity. He pushes a third finger inside you, stretching you in a way you’ve never felt before. You gasp, shutting your eyes against the pleasure, and when you open them again, he is standing in front of you, never stopping the pace of his fingers. He raises his other hand to circle your clit. The pleasure reaches a new crest, and you find yourself grasping onto the desk just to find something to ground you. 

“That's it. Come for me now,” he whispers, eyes never leaving you as the orgasm washes over you. You shudder as you come down from it, hips bucking against his hand. When you finally open your eyes you find your hand intertwined with his.

He gazes down at you, and the hint of a smile crosses his face. “Beautiful. Fucking perfect, Y/N.”

You blush and attempt to catch your breath as he rids himself of his pants and aligns himself with your entrance. You cast a glance down, taking him in in all his glory. He rubs his tip through your folds and sighs at the contact, before leaning in to give you a kiss. 

“Tell me if it hurts and we’ll stop,” he promises. You nod, dismissing his worries. You sincerely doubt he could do anything to hurt you based on how amazing you’ve felt so far. And regardless, you trust him, trust the rigid self control he’s shown you all these months in the house together. 

You feel his tip prodding your entrance, then he sinks the first few inches in. You sigh at the sensation, tilting your head to steal a kiss. With that for motivation, he pushes in a little further, looking down at you with worry in his eyes. 

“Okay?” he asks.

You let out a breathless laugh, “Better than okay.”

You watch his face soften, and he pushes the boundary a bit further. You look down to watch him sink in, and are shocked to see he’s only halfway sheathed. You can already feel yourself beginning to stretch around him. The feeling is foreign, but not painful. 

When you look back up at him, his face is strained in an expression that nearly looks painful. He’s holding himself back, hesitating to keep a firm grip on that iron self control of his. You reach up to run your hand through his hair, catching his eyes. 

“I’m okay Azriel. I’m not going to break,” you reassure him. 

You can tell by his curt not that he doesn’t believe it. He advances another slow, languid inch, and you buck against him impatiently. 

“Azriel,” you level him a look.

He sighs. “I know. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still human and—”

“And I’m okay. This is okay. This is good.” You rotate your hips enjoying the pleasurable sensation it brings. He hisses through his teeth above you, and his hips jerk forward only slightly. You enjoy pushing him, enjoy making him lose control.

But there's still so much of him left, and you can’t stand the delicate line he’s walking. You want him fully, and you want him now. You reach behind him, grabbing his ass to shove him the rest of the way in. You gasp as he makes a strangled sound above you. There’s a hint of the pain he was so worried about, but it falls to the wayside as you're entirely overwhelmed by pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he finally starts to move freely. Slowly at first, then with increased urgency. He pulls his hips back and rolls them into you, hitting a spot so deep within you it feels like you’re one in the same. You watch as his control slips, and his hips snap into you, inching you backwards on the desk. 

“Yes, Azriel, yes,” you tell him as he picks up the pace, fucking you so hard the desk begins to bang against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Fucking Azriel is a sensation unlike any you’ve known before. He fills you perfectly, bending to place kisses along your breasts and collarbones. Holding your hips to slam into you at an impeccable pace. 

He shifts, looping his arms under your knees, and then there’s only air beneath you as he picks you up and presses you against the wall, fucking you into it. You gasp and weave your hands into his hair, tugging lightly. You feel his thrust getting quicker, jerkier, but before he comes he switches you again, bending you over the desk and fucking you from behind. You cry out at the change in angle, and your hands fly to the edge of the desk, holding tightly.

You feel him leaning over you as he places a kiss on your back. “This is what I wanted. Everytime I avoided you, everytime I pushed you away, it was because of how badly I wanted this.” He punctuates the last word with a particularly hard thrust and you cry out as you feel his hand intertwine with your hair. It all becomes too much, and you feel yourself approaching the edge again when he wraps a hand around to your front, finding your clit and sending you spiraling. He fucks you through it, steady, hard, barely giving you a chance to come down before his hips jerk and you feel him finish. He curses, seating himself fully inside you as he rides out his orgasm.

When he pulls out, you are panting and breathless and sated with pleasure. You turn around to see his shadows scattered across the room, filling every crevice and corner.

It’s then that you both hear footsteps coming down the hall. His eyes widen, and he hurriedly steps in front of you to block you from view, covering himself with his hands. 

Cassian round the corner, fury in his gaze. “What the fuck Azriel. The entire city is covered in shadows. Rhysand thinks you’re– Oh.” He stops in his tracks, cheeks turning pink as he lifts a hand to cover his eyes. 

“Cassian?” Azriel says, his voice strained.

“Yea?” His voice sounds choked in his throat.

“Get the fuck out.” 

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader

[bandgie]

On Your Knees

ONE | TWO

incel!Seungmin x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)

2.7k words

The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.

You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever. 

"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."

Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you. 

Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't not like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking. 

"Never eaten pussy."

"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"

Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."

"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort. 

The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."

"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange. 

To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking. 

"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."

It's worse than you could have imagined. 

The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man. 

"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"

Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."

Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."

The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer. 

"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."

Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.

A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.

"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice. 

"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today." 

This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."

If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave. 

But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."

Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him. 

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."

You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.

"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?" 

You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.

His Adam apple bobs.

"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."

For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.

"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining." 

His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against. 

You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.

Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine. 

"Shut up," he mumbles. 

You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.

"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?" 

Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.

It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt. 

The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it. 

Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"

Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.

"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.

You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."

Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.

Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.

His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"

Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue. 

To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-

"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."

And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?

Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face. 

It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.

"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"

Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him. 

Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head. 

You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."

He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively. 

Fuck, you taste even better inside. 

Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.

You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.

"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground. 

He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.

Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"

a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #stray kids seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #sub!skz #sub!stray kids #seungmin skz smut

[tenelkadjowrites]

Declaration - Hongjoong x Reader (NSFW)

🍒 Summary: On the brink of moving out of the apartment you share with your bad boy roommate, Hongjoong, you’re shocked to learn that he’s a virgin - and wants his first time to be with you.

🍒 Word count: 9k

🍒 Genre & warnings: one shot smut. roommates to lovers. mentions of smoking, drinking, physical violence. loss of virginity. dirty talk. unprotected sex. creampie. oral sex.

this fic is not meant to represent hongjoong in any way, shape or form.

                “You’re lucky we didn’t get tossed out of here.”

                “Please, the bartender loves us.”

                “Does he?”

                “Well, he loves our money.”

                The heavy sigh you emit does not go unnoticed. Hongjoong glances up from his spot in front of the sink, casting a look in your direction. In the dimly lit, run down bathroom of the shitty bar you’ve been in for the past few hours, he appears to be in his element.

                That isn’t surprising, seeing as Hongjoong and his merry band of delinquents loved to frequent spots like this, stirring up trouble and relishing it. You just wish it hadn’t been tonight, of all nights.

                “Stop moving,” Seonghwa grumbles as he wraps the bandage around Hongjoong’s knuckles.

                It is a familiar sight: the dirty bathroom, the muffled rock music, Hongjoong being patched up by Seonghwa, their heads bowed together as they examine the injury. Hongjoong’s hair is electric blue (“Gatorade hair” you like to call it to annoy him sometimes) compared to Seonghwa’s black and occasionally they are so close together their hair mingles a little like swirling paint.

                “We can’t be in here forever. Eventually, someone is gonna need the bathroom,” You point out.

                But Hongjoong doesn’t seem concerned. “Woo will take care of it.”

                You don’t doubt that, seeing as Wooyoung is standing guard just outside the door. Seonghwa releases his hold on Hongjoong’s hand, briefly admiring the patch job he did to stop the bleeding from where Hongjoong had thrown a punch, missed, and struck the wall so hard some plaster fell off. Not that it stopped him from swinging again, this time finally connecting with the jaw of the man who ran his mouth a little too much for Hongjoong’s liking.

                You cross your arms, tentatively leaning against the wall next to the door. The various flyers for bands crinkle underneath your jacket; some of them are so old that they seem to be permanent fixtures to the paint.

                “Thanks, Hwa,” He says and then jerks his head in the direction of the door, “A moment alone though, please.”

                Seonghwa shoots you a glowering look, knowing that the part of the night where you lecture Hongjoong is about to begin. As he walks past you, dressed entirely in black, his lips smacking from his chewing gum, he doesn’t break eye contact with you. This no longer phases you, entirely used to Seonghwa and his guard dog act. Making sure to roll your eyes as he pushes the door open, almost colliding with Wooyoung, you then turn your attention to Hongjoong.

                “Does he always need to be like that?”

                “You know, a lot of women love Seonghwa,” Hongjoong replies, flexing his fingers to make sure the bandage remains in place, “Are quite dedicated to him, in fact. They write page after page describing him.”

                “Couldn’t be me,” You retort and leave your spot by the wall, going towards Hongjoong and motioning to see his hand which he extends, “I really didn’t want the night to play out this way, you know.”

                Hongjoong has enough sense to look slightly abashed while still protesting at the same time. “You heard what that guy was saying about you.”

                “Who cares? You always take me to some shithole like this and then are blown away when some asshole runs his mouth. You’ve never decked them before.”

                “Tonight is different. We’re celebrating,” He puts emphasis on the word as if it clears everything up, “You got an amazing job and the party shouldn’t be ruined by some asshole.”

                And you’re moving out, is the unsaid sentence because for all your differences with Hongjoong, he’s been your roommate for the last four years. But your new job is on the outskirts of the city and the commute just didn’t make sense, leading you to make the choice to move closer.

                Hongjoong, with his slight frame, short height and diminutive appearance, would normally not fit the picture of what a hard ass would look like. But in the four years of knowing him, including moments like having to pay bail a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t sitting in a cell, you know better. Hongjoong has a ferocity to him unmatched by anyone else in his group of equally feral friends. He isn’t afraid of anyone, doesn’t think repercussions through, acts on instinct instead of logic, and tears through people and things for the fun of it.

                But he never misses rent, keeps things exceptionally tidy and isn’t home very often. In all, a dream roommate which meant overlooking the chaotic way his life was lived outside the apartment.

                You hadn’t made it a habit to hang out with Hongjoong regularly, seeing as it always resulted with Seonghwa patching him up in a grimy bathroom. But after asking you to come out for one last hurrah before the move, you agreed – and now stood in the aforementioned grimy bathroom.

                You make sure that Seonghwa did a good job with the bandage, taking note of the blood seeping through a little at Hongjoong’s knuckles. At some point during the fight, Hongjoong’s hat went flying although you are sure someone has retrieved it. He has a baggy black t-shirt on, oversized for his thin frame, with the logo of some underground rock group you’ve never heard of. His jeans are covered in rips and tears and his combat boots are well worn with paint splattered all over them. His nails are painted black although at this point they are more chipped than not. His facial features are at odds with his clothing; he looks as delicate as a small bird which is probably why he has two eyebrow piercings above one eye and a lip ring to try to counteract that very comparison.

                “I think the celebration would go smoother without some jerk threatening to sue you.”

                Hongjoong gives a small shrug. “He won’t do anything. And we didn’t even get kicked out.”

                “A successful night for sure,” You reply dryly, finishing up studying his hand – as usual Seonghwa had done a good job.

                Hongjoong grins wickedly, “They usually are. Come on,” He nudges you with his shoulder while walking towards the door, “It’s only a little past midnight.”

                You sigh, following your roommate out into the night of whatever little bit of chaos remained.

*

                The ‘little bit of chaos’ ended up resulting in a hangover and sleeping past noon. By the time you’re up, showered, managed to eat something and are focusing on packing up the rest of your things, it is past six pm. You only have a week until it is time to move and your room is filled with boxes and a random assortment of items tossed all over the place. Stretched out on your bed, you are staring at a pile of clothes, torn between donating them or keeping them just in case.

                Overthinking the clothing situation is only making your hangover headache worse. The apartment is quiet because Hongjoong, after making sure you got back home safely at two in the morning, had went back out. This is normal for him so you don’t think much of it. Seonghwa is moving in after you go and will continue his guard dog act so Hongjoong will always have someone watching over him.

                As if conjuring your roommate up, you hear the front door open and the sound of Hongjoong’s boots against the floor before he removes them.

                “Are you here?” He barks out into the silence and when you call back an affirmative answer, he appears a few seconds later at the entrance to your room.

                His hair is disheveled, small dark circles under his eyes that means he is running on basically no sleep while in the same clothes as yesterday.

                “How’s your hand?” You ask, motioning him to come inside – all these years living together and Hongjoong never entered your room without permission.

                He blinks in surprise, as if having forgotten about the injury entirely, glancing down at it. “Oh? Fine, I guess.”

                When he gets a step closer, you scrunch up your nose. “Joong, you stink, no offense. You smell like fifty bars threw up on you.”

                Hongjoong immediately looks affronted, grabbing the front of his shirt and sniffing it. He smells of booze, cigarette smoke and the city in general. “I don’t smell anything.”

                “Of course you don’t, you’re just soaking in it.”

                “Well,” He sways a little on his feet, “I’ll shower.”

                You narrow your eyes at your roommate, sliding off the bed and braving the smell to look closer at his face. “Are you drunk?”

                “Still drunk, actually, because I was drunk last night, remember.”

                “Fucking hell, what have you been doing since I got back here?”

                “Uh….drinking.”

                “Okayyy,” You drag the word out, gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the door, “Why don’t we get you in bed to sleep this off and then you can shower? Last thing I want to deal with before I move is you falling in the shower and hurting yourself.”

                “This jerk challenged Mingi and I to a drinking contest,” Hongjoong explains sourly, “I lost.”

                “Clearly. How did Mingi fare?”

                “He won,” He replies brightly, his words slurring at the edge, “We spent the winnings on more booze.”

                “Wonderful, truly. Let’s move it along, please.”

                “Wait, wait,” His hand reaches out for the doorframe, the nail polish completely chipped off the thumb, “Wait.” His slender fingers grip the wood, knuckles turning white for a second.

                You release your hold on his shoulders as Hongjoong turns around to face you. In the evening sun coming through the window, it is clearer now that he is intoxicated. This isn’t new behavior for him. In the four years of being his roommate, you’ve made a point in not asking the following: what he does when he’s out with his friends when you’re not around and how he makes his money to pay rent. Some knowledge is better off not knowing.

                “You’re moving soon so it doesn’t matter,” He declares – to you? to himself? You’re not sure.

                “What doesn’t matter?”

                “All of it.”

                “Can you be a little more specific?” You are trying to keep impatience from creeping into your tone, casting a glance at the collection of clothes you need to get back to overthinking about.

                “There’s something I need to talk to you about. Ask you about? Uhm,” His brow furrows in drunken confusion for a second before he continues, “It’s about me.”

                “Should we discuss this now?” You say with a small sigh.

                “You’re moving so I wanted to ask if you could do me a favour.”

                “I’m not helping you hide a body.”

                “N-no, what? No, not that. Besides, I’d ask Hwa for help with something like that. He’s very meticulous.”

                “Can you please get to the point?”

                Hongjoong suddenly looks a bit unsure of himself which is strange to see. You can’t actually recall ever seeing the expression on his face before and it ushers you into silence, wondering with a quickening heart what in the world he is going to tell you.

                His words are still slurred so you lean a little closer to him (much to your chagrin, given the smell) to try to understand what he is saying.

                “Since you’re moving, I wanted to ask if you would – well, the thing is. You know, I’ve fooled around a lot. But never…you know. So I was wondering if you would. With me.”

                You blink at him, unable to comprehend what Hongjoong is trying to say. If it had been anyone else talking, you would have assumed they were trying to tell you they were a virgin. But that would be ridiculous given the fact this is Hongjoong, who seemed to naturally have people drawn to him. You also definitely saw him making out with people in bars before too…

                As the silence drags on, Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably. That same fragile expression is on his face, a far cry from the usual cocky grin he carried.

                “I’m sorry, are you telling me that you’re a…virgin?” You finally ask point blank when it became clear that your roommate is not going to speak more.

                Hongjoong blinks and to your surprise, there is a touch of colour across his cheeks as he replies stiffly, “Yes.”

                “And you’re asking me to…sleep with you?”

                He clears his throat a little. “Yes.”

                You don’t know what to say and can’t really wrap your head around what he is telling you. What you do know is Hongjoong is drunk and this is not a conversation to be had at this moment. He might not even remember it come tomorrow nor the request he has made.

                Carefully, you reply, “Hongjoong, I think you should get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow, alright? But you’re intoxicated and this is more of a…. sober conversation.”

                He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and mumbles that he understands. Turning around, he shuffles out of your room and down the hall to his own space, closing the door firmly behind him. You hover in the doorway, waiting for…well, you aren’t sure. Was he upset that you pushed the conversation off? Even if he is, you know you did the right thing.

                When it is clear Hongjoong isn’t going to reappear, you quietly shut the door and stare at your bed.

                How is it possible that your roommate is a virgin? He is exceptionally good with people, charming even - when he wanted to be. Sure, he might throw a punch here or there or…often but you also witnessed him flirting constantly with people.

                On the other hand, now that you’re thinking about it, you cannot recall Hongjoong ever bringing someone back to the apartment to spend the night. But you just assumed that he was sleeping with people elsewhere.

                Apparently, he wasn’t.

                So I was wondering if you would. With me.

                For all Hongjoong’s tendencies to get in trouble, you always considered him a friend. But the thoughts never crossed into anything else. You never pictured yourself taking things further with him. He had been your roommate for years, why mess that up with sex?

                Since you’re moving…obviously Hongjoong gave this some thought before drunkenly suggesting you take his virginity. There isn’t anything to ruin when you’re moving out. If the sex was terrible or awkward, Hongjoong knew you’d be on the other side of the city. Through that lens, it made sense why he asked you.

                Tomorrow, you think, I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow when he’s sober.

*

                Late afternoon the next day, you stand outside Hongjoong’s door. He slept almost the entire day, waking up only two hours ago and taking an incredibly long shower. The kitchen smells of coffee and half the pot is already gone. His room is mostly quiet although the low hum of a TV show lets you know he is up.

                You aren’t sure how to approach this conversation. You’ve seen Hongjoong punch multiple people, you’ve seen him get hauled out of bar fights by Jongho, you’ve watched him fix up a motorcycle for an illegal street race and have lost count at watching Seonghwa patch him up.

                But you’ve never had a conversation about his sexual history or how it might include you.

                Lecturing Hongjoong is second nature to you, to the point that you sometimes think he enjoys the speeches. Talking to Hongjoong about his virginity? Yeah, you’re out of your element. You’re hoping that he was so drunk last night that he made the whole thing up.

                But the expression on his face during his confession lingers in your mind, giving you a sneaking suspicion there wasn’t anything false about it.

                Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door. You hear something clatter to the floor and then a shuffling of Hongjoong’s feet. A second later, he opens the door, avoiding your eyes.

                “Hey.”

                “Hi, Joong. How are you feeling? Hungover?”

                “No,” He says almost defensively as if being hungover would be a slight on his character, “Just tired.”

                “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.”

                His eyes flick up to yours. There is a wariness that has settled across his delicate face. He remembers the conversation, you think as he moves to the side to let you into his room. The blinds are pulled shut over the window. The TV has some show on at a low volume, the screen brightness so dimmed that you know he is definitely hungover since it must hurt his eyes.

                Hongjoong is wearing an oversized white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. He looks somehow smaller than ever. Even with the eyebrow and lip piercings, you don’t think that it is possible to recall a time where he looked so tiny. He also smells a thousand times better than yesterday; the scent of clean laundry and soap clings to him in an almost comforting way.

                You sit gingerly on the edge of Hongjoong’s bed. One side of his room is a chaotic mess of paintings in progress, a collection of paints shoved on top of his dresser in a teetering tower, completely unorganized. Hongjoong didn’t keep it a secret that he was an artist but the amount of people who knew probably could be counted on your fingers. He never showed his finished work to anyone and you only caught glimpses the rare times you were in his room.

                Hongjoong just stands there, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. You have no idea how to start this conversation.

                “Listen, this is kinda awkward for me,” You begin, “But I have to talk to you about a conversation we had yesterday when you were drunk.”

                “I remember it,” His tone is defensive, straightening himself out so that he looks as tall as possible.

                You’ve never had his attitude directed at you before but are familiar with it. Right now, however, it comes off as artificial, an act to protect himself from however this talk goes.

                “Great, okay. Were you telling the truth?”

                “Why would I lie?”

                “Maybe you found it funny.”

                “Why would that be funny?” He snaps, his agitation and anxiety too powerful to be masked by his tough guy exterior.

                You shrug. “Seeing my reaction about something like that. You might believe that I would find something amusing about an admission like that. I don’t, by the way. But when you’re drunk, sometimes what we find funny can be different.”

                Hongjoong narrows his eyes slightly, crossing his arms. He looks as defensive as ever but you get the feeling he is crossing his arms more to mentally protect himself, not because he is actually hostile. “You don’t find it funny?”

                “No. So, it’s true then? You’re a virgin?”

                Hongjoong flinches at the word and then scowls. “Yes.”

                “Not to lecture you but you do know virginity is just a social construct –”

                He waves one hand dismissively as if swatting a fly. “Don’t start. I already know. I’ve read it online a thousand times. And it’s not like I have zero experience. Casually making out in bars or whatever happen often enough.”

                “Right,” You reply, “But anything more than that…”

                He averts his gaze, still on edge. “Nothing. It isn’t that I’m against it. I just built it up too much in my head and now it’s some gigantic thing that gives me anxiety. I’ve had a thousand different ideas. I’ve thought about just finding someone at one of the bars or one of the shows I go to and fucking them behind the stage or something and getting it over with. I don’t want it to be some fucking…cuddly romantic thing. But when it comes to pulling the trigger, I just never seem to.”

                “And the idea to ask me?”

                There is a flicker of embarrassment that is wiped cleanly away by his earlier expression of hostility as he replies, “You’re moving. So, if it is awkward or terrible, it doesn’t matter. I won’t ever have to see you again. It can’t ruin us being roommates cuz you’ll be gone. You understand?”

                “Yeah, I get it. But there needs to be…a level of attraction for sleeping together to work, Hongjoong. And I have to admit that I never thought of you that way because you’re my roommate.”

                Hongjoong tentatively sits next to you on the edge of the bed although his posture looks as if he is ready to flee at any second. “Yeah, but we’re not going to be come next week. So…think about it.”

                You study his profile since he remains steadfastly looking ahead. The curve of his elegant nose, the fragility of his features – no amount of piercings could erase those things. Even his hands resting in his lap look to be made from porcelain, the bandage still wrapped around his knuckles making you wonder how he hasn’t broken a bone from throwing punches.

                You try to picture Hongjoong approaching your bed, stripping your clothes off your body, his fingers running across your skin. His lips against yours, the way his breathing would change when he would be turned on. He would probably still be in control when it came to sex, judging from how he is in everything else, even if it would be entirely new to him. The idea of him turning into a whimpering mess seems unlikely to happen.

                “Just think about it,” Hongjoong goes, “I know it’s…an unusual request. But I feel comfortable with you. I don’t think the anxiety would be so bad knowing you’re moving out and if it sucks, it won’t matter. That’s why I want it to be you and no one else.”

                You stand up, skin strangely hot and nod. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

                Hongjoong looks relieved, nodding. “Great. Well, listen, I gotta clean my bedsheets cuz they smell like booze and I have half a pot of coffee left to go so…”

                “Right, I’m going now,” You say, eyes darting to his hands one last time, thinking about how they’d feel against your thighs, “Thanks for the talk.”

                Hongjoong shrugs with the air of forced casual indifference which you see right through but won’t point out. You close the door, mulling over what it would be like to sleep with him. He’s right in that there wouldn’t be any downsides. You’re moving so if it’s terrible, does it matter? It would be so easy to tumble into bed with him.

                Once you’re back in your own room, you flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

                So think about it.

                Hongjoong makes it sound so simple. That causes you to wonder how long he had been thinking about it, how long he imagined sleeping with you. He never gave any indication about such things but he also hides everything under his tough guy exterior.

                In your four years of being roommates with Hongjoong, you always trusted and got along with him. Sure, his life was not one you fully understood nor wanted for your own but he seemed at ease in it. There was the time your car broke down and he sent Yeosang out to pick you up immediately. The rare time you’d attend a rock show with Hongjoong and he would viciously push any guy who tried to get a little too touchy feeling with you under the guise of being smushed in the crowd. Sometimes, after vanishing for a few days, he would reappear with your favourite Starbucks order for no reason at all. Or that one time your relationship ended because your ex cheated on you and Hongjoong played innocent when they showed up and accused him of keying his car. Not to mention the fact Hongjoong just punched that guy last night for being vulgar…

                “Oh god,” You mumble, suddenly sitting up.

                Of course it had been easy for Hongjoong to imagine sleeping with you. The gestures that you just assumed were typical roommate ones and hadn’t questioned are now very clearly indications of a larger interest in you. You’re only seeing it now because of his confession of his virginity and asking to lose it to you, of all people.

                So think about it, he said, carefully hiding his emotions underneath the veneer of indifference and attitude.

                You lay back down and finally, truly, think about it.

*

                Hongjoong promptly vanishes the next two days. You have never noticed his absence before, always enjoying having a roommate that didn’t spend a lot of time at home. But with the last conversation being so serious, the silence feels intentional as if he is worried hanging around will create some sort of pressure on the choice you need to make.

                With your old job winding down and the move mostly organized and settled, you spend a lot of time thinking about sleeping with Hongjoong. You carefully weigh the pros and cons, you consider what it would do to any possible friendship you could have with him after the move, and then you think about how he more than likely has been interested in you for years and just would never say anything about it. In fact, he seems content to let you go without asking you to go out on a date.

                With anyone else, you’d assume this is because he is more interested in using you to rip the ‘virgin’ label off him. However, you know your roommate well enough to be aware that he wouldn’t act like that. In suggesting this to you, and mentioning his earlier anxiety about having sex, you believe that his feelings for you just make the entire process simpler and less stressful. He seems to be aware that, up until now, you have never looked at him in anything other than the light of a roommate and he didn’t want to ruin that by telling you of his affections.

                But tonight, you texted him asking to talk and a few hours later, a little after eight pm, the front door of the apartment opens and you hear Hongjoong’s boots against the floor. You are nervous, unsure how this is going to play out. There is silence and then a hard knock on the door.

                After telling him to come in, he opens the door and hovers in the entrance. Tonight he’s wearing a white button up and as usual, it is a little too large for him. It is purposely untucked although he has a black belt looped around it, smushing the fabric against his waist. His jeans don’t even have any holes in them and his nails are freshly painted black.

                “Wow,” You say by way of greeting, “You look almost presentable.”

                He rolls his eyes but the corners of his lips quirk up for a second. “New exhibit at the museum started and sometimes the staff gets bitchy if the people going during the opening week don’t look super presentable. There’s no official dress code there but you know what I mean. I didn’t feel like having a lot of old people gawk at me while I was looking at the paintings.”

                 “Right, I understand.”

                There is a beat of silence. Hongjoong leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You can almost see the walls going up as he prepares for rejection.

                “Anyway, you wanted to talk?” He prompts.

                You wish he wasn’t on the other side of the room while you sit on your bed. But you know better than to make Hongjoong feel cornered, especially with such a sensitive discussion on the table.

                “I wanted to talk about our conversation the other day. I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”

                “Alright…” He trails off, quickly masking the sudden insecurity that is hitting him by darting his eyes away from you.

                You inhale slowly and then go, “I want to. If you still are interested, I mean.”

                Hongjoong’s eyes snap back in your direction, the surprise written all over his face. The vulnerability shown there takes you by surprise, a glimpse underneath his cool exterior that you weren’t prepared for.

                But then the look is gone, replaced with that typical hard expression. He narrows his eyes, pushing away from the doorframe and towards you. “Do you mean it? You’re not just saying this because you feel pressured? Because it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

                “I don’t feel pressured. I want to.”     

                “Why?” His tone is laced with hostility, another defense mechanism he’s deploying in navigating this conversation.

                Hongjoong stands in front of you now, smelling of clean laundry and his familiar cologne still clinging to his skin. Tilting your face to look upwards at him, you speak.

                “Because your logic makes sense. If it’s awkward or terrible, I’m moving and we don’t ever have to see one another again. We’ve known each other for years. I’m comfortable with you. And…” You steel yourself for the next comment, unsure how he will take it. “And I figured it out. How you feel about me.”

                Hongjoong goes very still, staring at you with a careful blank stare on his face. But for all his attempts at coming off indifferent, he flexes the fingers of his right hand to try to steady his nerves.

                You continue to talk, although it is in a bit of a faster voice than before, nervous Hongjoong is going to take something the wrong way and leave. “I know you didn’t mean for me to learn that you might see more as more than friends or a roommate. I only realized it after you asked me about sleeping together. I understand your reasoning more now; it isn’t just about the fact I am moving away. Your feelings about me make the entire thing a little more comfortable, a little less anxiety inducing. I get it.”

                “I don’t want you sleeping with me out of pity,” He replies stiffly.

                “I’m not.”

                “How is this not pity?” He says hotly.

                “Because you told me to think about it. About being with you. So, I thought about it.”

                “And?” He demands, refusing to budge from his hostility.

                You take a steadying breath and bring your hands carefully forward, gently grabbing onto the belt around his waist, giving it a small tug to bring Hongjoong closer. “And I want you,” You say simply.

                Something in his fragile face seems to shift at the words, like small cracks in fine china. One second, he stands in front of you defensive and on edge. In the next second, he is bending down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his lips hot against yours. You gasp in surprise, muffled in the kiss. Even with all your daydreaming about him since his admission of being a virgin, the reality of Hongjoong kissing you is a bit surreal.

                Your hands grip his belt, pulling on it to lead him onto the bed as you lay back against the pillows, not breaking the kiss. His tongue slips in your mouth and there is heat growing in your body like a slow wave. You weren’t expecting the kiss to be this intense, unsure what it would be like to actually have him in this manner.

                The kiss ends suddenly and Hongjoong is peering closely at your face. His breathing is uneven and his normally guarded expression is open with all the concerns and worries floating around in his head.

                You are slightly disoriented from the kiss, wondering why he stopped.

                “Do you want to keep going?” He asks in a soft voice, the softest you’ve heard from him.

                You swallow hard, disbelieving that he does not see the impact the kiss had on you. “Yeah, unless…unless you’re having second thoughts.”

                “I’m not,” He goes and there is that same defiance creeping back in his tone, that jagged edge of his personality you have grown so accustomed to over the years. “I just wasn’t sure if you were.”

                “I’m not, Joong. I want – I mean, you can kiss me again. If you want.”

                His lips are back against yours, not requiring another suggestion nor word from you. This time, your hands circle around his waist, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hands, holding onto him while continuing to kiss. All that making out must have paid off because Hongjoong’s kisses are the type that leave you breathless, your heart thrumming in your chest like a trapped bird.

                But he sticks to kissing and it strikes you that he is not going to be as in charge or bossy as you previously thought. He is simply too shy to act on what he wants, tying into his story about his anxiety and how it kept him from losing his virginity.

                You begin to kiss along his jawline and down his neck. The touch makes him shiver and you realize how sensitive he is. Carefully, you bring one hand upwards to his hair, the blue strands curling around your fingers, feeling the softness against your skin. Hongjoong’s breath hitches; it is a foreign sound to you, something entirely brand new from a person you believed to know almost everything about.

                “Does that feel nice?” You ask quietly in between kissing along his neck.

                Hongjoong makes a soft humming noise in response, a mixture of too shy and too turned on to speak. Carefully, you change positions so that he is now underneath your body. You’re straddling him, leaning forward to drape your body against his, finding his lips once more. His hands tentatively move along your sides, just brushing underneath your shirt to touch bare skin.

                Your body shivers from the slight touch which seems to give Hongjoong confidence because his fingers trail upwards, underneath your shirt and stopping right where your bra begins. He is stiff in his jeans and it is difficult to hold back and not grind down against his body just to hear what your roommate sounds like turned on.

                Moving your hand away from Hongjoong’s hair, you bring it to meet where his hovers. Carefully, you cover his hand with yours, allowing it to travel upwards to your bra. His breathing has quickened as he begins to grope you. Shyly, his other hand comes to your chest, squeezing your tits as you resume kissing him.

                Your tongue is in his mouth and your brain is overrun by the scent of him, the sensation of his hands, how he feels underneath your body. You’re wet, you realize with a jolt, turned on by Hongjoong and the gentle unraveling of him occurring so close to you.

                The kiss breaks and this time you’re studying Hongjoong’s face. There is a hint of colour in his cheeks, his lips are flushed from all the making out and he has one tiny hickey already forming on the delicate skin of his neck. You don’t even recall giving it to him.

                The expression in his eyes is one of an unraveling – his typical tough guy posture is being pulled away like a cover off a painting, exposing the centre of Hongjoong in a way that you have never seen before.

                The desire to see Hongjoong completely undone hits you squarely in the chest. It is a powerful urge to see what he looks and sounds like when he is experiencing intense pleasure. You pull off your t-shirt, tossing it to the side. Hongjoong swallows hard, eyes widening while you unclasp your bra and bring his hands back up to your bare breasts.

                He seems entranced with groping them, brushing his fingertips across your nipples. When it makes you shiver, he repeats the action, clearly studying what makes you react the most. You’re swiftly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, stopping to remove his belt which drops off the bed with a clatter. He sits up slightly as you peel it off his shoulders, removing it entirely and leaving Hongjoong bare chested.

                Running your hands down his chest, you take in the sight of his toned chest and hard abdomen. Experimentally, you rock your hips just a little, just enough to put some pressure on his groin. He inhales sharply, eyes closing for a moment. Hongjoong is a delicate thing underneath you, sensitive to any and all pleasure that is entirely brand new to him.

                You slide off him, kicking off your shorts and unzipping his pants. He lifts his hips to allow them to be removed, leaving him in just his boxers. Your gaze turns to Hongjoong, making sure he is doing okay. There is a look of determination in his eyes to keep going although there is still the same hint of vulnerability that grows stronger every time an article of clothing is removed.

                “You wanna keep going?” You check in.

                Hongjoong nods firmly although his voice is soft when replying, “Don’t stop.”

                Your hand glides over his thigh and up to his boxers, rubbing him gently. There is a small moan from him, so quiet as if he is holding back. You squeeze his cock through the boxers and his eyes close tightly, mumbling a curse under his breath.

                Slowly, you pull down his boxers, freeing his cock from them. Hongjoong is stiff and warm, the heavy weight of his length against his stomach. You wrap your hand around his cock and he whimpers. Having never heard such a noise from him before, you stop, letting him get used to the sensation.

                But Hongjoong doesn’t seem to be interested in stopping because in a breathless voice he goes, “P-please.”

                Hearing him so desperate leaves you unable to refuse. You spit in the palm of your hand and slowly stroke Hongjoong’s length, fighting the urge to take him in your mouth. But you don’t want to overwhelm Hongjoong with too much, not now, not for his first time. Instead, you lean forward and plant one kiss on the tip which elicits a groan from your roommate.

                “Is there a certain way you’d like to do this?” You ask, wanting him to make all the choices.

                Hongjoong opens his eyes, casting a look downward while you stroke his length. His breathing is shallow, his pupils blown out with desire and his blue hair framing his elegant face.

                “Just…if you could…” His shyness is growing by the second, completely unlike every conversation you’ve ever had before with him, “If you could be on top,” He finishes quickly, the colour in his cheeks deepening.

                You’re surprised again at how Hongjoong is like putty in your hands, so swift to give over all control and let you lead the process. For someone who is usually outspoken and bossy, this turn is enticing. Seeing your roommate crumble from every touch makes the pull towards him even more acute.

                Slipping your underwear off, you straddle Hongjoong. His cock presses in between your folds and he moans again. His blue hair is splayed against the pillow, a bright splash of electric ocean that only highlights his small frame and tender appearance.

                Positioning yourself so that his cock is at your entrance, you lower your hips. His cock pushes inside your wet hole and Hongjoong groans louder, his head rolling back as the pleasure engulfs his length. He enters easily, your pussy slick with juices from just exploring and touching him. When he is fully inside your cunt, you go still, letting him get used to being inside you.

                Hongjoong is unspooling in front of you. All the previous hostile energy he used to protect himself is gone. The fragility on display now is both a turn on and endearing. His bandaged hand grips the bed sheets, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. The colour deepens across his cheeks, making him look almost like a sunset across the ocean.

                You lean forward and kiss him. He tilts his face to meet your lips, the desperation evident in how he moves his tongue and the way he is trembling underneath your body. You still don’t move your hips, enjoying the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock buried in you.

                He is kissing along your jaw and down your neck, growing bold enough to bring his hands around your back, gently indicating to move forward a little. As you do so, your pussy tightens around his cock and Hongjoong groans again as his lips find your nipples, placing one in your mouth so he can suck on them. Your hands are next to his head, gripping the sheets as you begin to move your hips back, starting to ride him.

                Hongjoong switches to your other nipple, his teeth grazing the skin as he gropes your other breast with his hand. When he slips your nipple out of his mouth, his hands go to your shoulders, pulling you back down so that he can kiss you again. Your lips meet his hungrily as the rocking of your hips steadily increases. His tongue is messy in your mouth, his hands against your back, a whimpering mess with each movement taken.

                You pull away, straightening out on top of him, beginning to properly bounce on his cock now. All the years of being roommates are wiped away by the sight of Hongjoong delirious with pleasure. His hands glide down to your hips as the noises tumble from his lips. Hongjoong is not quiet in the slightest; there is none of the silenced pleasure you are so used to having from your past lovers. His eyes are closed once more and his eyelashes lay against his skin like small whisps of a raven’s feathers. He arches his hips at one point as you sink down on his cock and your hands lay flat against his stomach. The muscles are hard underneath your fingers and your speed increases, driving your pussy down faster to get a stronger reaction out of Hongjoong.

                It works. Whatever else residing in his brain is quickly wiped away from how good it feels. He curses loudly, his eyes opening to reveal a hazy expression of lust and desire. A strand of his blue hair lays across his forehead, his tongue pokes out from in between his lips, and his grip tightens on your hips. He is a mess, each ragged gasp and whimper his way of wishing that the pleasure would never stop, a desperate plea to extend this moment forever. It is difficult to merge the Hongjoong underneath you – the one with the flushed skin, ragged breathing and slender frame trembling – as your roommate who punched a guy from mouthing off the other night, the same man who showed no hesitation in telling someone off for the slightest mistake.

                It is even trickier to accept that it is you making him feel this way. You are unsure what Hongjoong pictured for his first time but did he know how he would crumble when put against your body? Did he know that everything would be this intense due to a mixture of his feelings for you and how long you’ve known one another? Was he aware of how he would be a writhing whimpering man far removed from how he acted in public?

                His jaw is clenched as he gasps out, “I’m gonna – I’m so close,” With desperation he pulls at you, bringing your body against his as he pleads, “Kiss me.”

                Your lips are hot on his, the kiss desperate, your tongues pressing together as you bring your hips down one final time. Hongjoong’s groan is muffled as he begins his climax. He clings to you, his arms around your back, fingernails gently pressing into your skin. The kiss ends and you watch as Hongjoong submits completely to his orgasm, erasing all signs of the roommate you once thought you knew. You can feel his warm cum in your cunt, the beautiful vulnerability of his facial expressions as he submits to the dizzying high of the climax.

                Hongjoong’s hands slide off your back, his breathing hard and fast as he tries to wipe the haze from his brain. Carefully, you move off his lap, laying down next to him. Your eyes rake across his body, admiring his small frame, his chest and messy hair. He opens his eyes and turns onto his side, propping himself up a little to stare at you. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light.

                You are unsure how to start the conversation. How do you ask your roommate if losing his virginity was enjoyable? His cum is leaking out of your pussy, something you never thought would happen. Casual conversation at this point seems asinine.

                But before you can utter a word, Hongjoong looks crossed and goes, “You didn’t cum.”

                The ever familiar expression of hostility creeps back across his pretty face, a signal to a return to form. The satisfaction that just obliterated his earlier composure is swiftly replaced by a petulant expression.

                “Oh,” You’re surprised, not thinking he noticed nor care so much, “I mean, this was more about you than me…” You trail off, taking note of his frown.

                “Who said that?” He demands, “Just teach me.”

                “Teach you what?”

                A tiny bit of timidity creeps back into his eyes but he resolutely pushes through it and goes, “How to eat your pussy.”

                It’s the dirtiest thing Hongjoong has ever said to you and momentarily renders you speechless. Finally, you nod, moving back among the pillows. Hongjoong doesn’t waste a moment, shifting so that he is in front of you. His hands are on your thighs and he gently spreads your legs apart. Having him looking at your pussy which still has his cum leaking out of it feels incredibly intimate and you’re thrown off by the sudden timidness that is sweeping over you.

                Hongjoong’s cheeks are flushing with colour again but the expression on his face is one of determination and a growing passion. He brings two fingers down along your slit, spreading your lips apart just enough to take in the sight of his cum in your hole.

                In a shaky voice, he goes, “You have a pretty pussy.” You are unsure if it is nerves making his voice quake, lust or a mixture of both. He slips his fingers in his mouth for a couple of seconds and then brings one to your entrance, pushing it inside. “Is that okay?”

                You nod but then realize Hongjoong is too busy staring at the way you’re taking his finger. “Y-yeah, that’s perfect.”

                “I like pushing my load back in you,” His voice is soft and tentative, dirty talk being something new to him, but you give him credit for pushing through his anxiety, “It looks good.”

                You bring your hand down to your clit, rubbing it a little while saying, “Bring your tongue here –” The rest of your explanation is cut off as Hongjoong doesn’t waste a second, lowering his face to your pussy and rolling his tongue across your clit.

                You curse in surprise as Hongjoong’s tongue presses against your nub, his finger pumping in your hole slowly. At first, his movements are a little awkward and unsure but with more guiding, he switches to flicking his tongue across your clit while inserting a second finger. This feels much better and Hongjoong seems pleased to hear the moans that are flowing freely from your mouth now.

                He fucks you faster with his fingers, burying them inside you. Your pussy is a mess of his cum and your wetness and as his pace accelerates, so do the lewd noises of your hole taking him. At one point, he pulls away to watch how your hole is wrapped around his fingers. He looks entranced and when he suddenly looks up, his face is covered in you and his cheeks are a deep pink.

                “Am I…am I doing okay?” He asks, unsure of himself.

                “Yes,” You breathe out, “Can you fuck me faster? And try sucking on my clit.”

                Hongjoong, apparently ever obedient in bed, wraps his lips around your swollen clit while picking up the speed of his finger thrusts. You gasp, your hand going to his hair, curling it around your fingertips. You quietly urge him to keep going, noticing that each compliment you give him only seems to make Hongjoong more determined to bring you to climax. Out of all the interesting things you’re learning about your roommate today, finding out he has an affinity to being complimented for doing a good job has to be the most surprising.

                “Don’t stop, Joong,” You plead as his fingers are buried in your cunt and he is switching between sucking and flicking his tongue over your clit as your thighs shake, “Please, you’re doing such a good job.”

                He makes a noise that is almost a sigh of contentment, not stopping for a moment. Your climax begins with one final movement of his tongue. Between his fingers and how he works your clit, you lose yourself to Hongjoong. Your grip on his hair tightens as the bliss reaches its peak. His name tumbles from your lips as he stops touching your clit and instead slips his tongue inside your hole. The slurping sounds are obscene yet he doesn’t seem to care. It is only when your orgasm finally subsides that your hold on his hair releases and you are trying to catch your breath.

                A second later, Hongjoong’s head pops up in your vision, his expression as earnest as you’ve ever seen it. “Was that good? Did I do a good job?”

                You know that it’ll be a secret taken to your grave that Hongjoong turns into a needy little thing in bed. You would never want to ruin his reputation.

                In response, you reach out, yanking him down so that the two of you are kissing. He makes a noise of surprise but returns the kiss immediately. He tastes like your arousal; he tastes like you want more of him.

*

                Stepping back into your room after cleaning up, now dressed back in your clothes, Hongjoong is just finishing doing up the last button on his dress shirt. He glances up at your entrance. His face is back in its usual neutral expression although the way his fingers shake against the button betrays his real emotions.

                “Are you leaving?” You ask curiously.

                Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, got some stuff to do.” He’s lying and you know it but don’t want to press things.

                Yet you still wonder what happens now. Knowing about his feelings for you combined with the sexual chemistry, you think it would be a shame if things just really ended here. You hadn’t expected sex to be that enjoyable nor had you thought that Hongjoong unraveling underneath your body would have looked so good.

                “Joong, before you go…”

                He looks up from zipping up his jeans, his belt hanging loosely in between his fingers. His eyes are guarded, his disposition wary. All the walls are back up.

                “Yeah?”

                “Well, I mean, is that just…it? You ‘lost’ your virginity and I just move out and we barely talk anymore?”

                His brow furrows, his piercings glinting as he walks towards you. You aren’t sure why you’re pressing this discussion now minus a gut feeling that if you don’t do it at this very moment, Hongjoong is going to slip out the front door because his vulnerability will lead him to clamming up. You’ll move out and probably never see him again.

                His back is against the doorframe, his gaze heavy on yours. His shirt hangs off him loosely, the front dipping to reveal the top of his chest. The hickey has darkened against his skin.

                “What else is there?” He juts his chin out but a flicker of anxiety in his eyes exposes him.

                “I liked being with you. It felt good and…” Slightly embarrassing to admit this aloud but you keep going, “I like you. I realized it when you were underneath me. I know you have feelings for me. Why can’t we see where this goes after I move out?”

                He looks surprised but quickly covers it up with a cocky expression, poking his finger against your hip. “You want me to ask you out on a date, don’t you?”

                “Well…yes.”

                Another poke. “You had that much fun with me?”

                “You’re fishing for compliments now.”

                “You were quick to give them out when we were fucking,” He retorts, “Why can’t I get any now?”

                “Because you’re back to being Mr. Cool Guy and I thought you don’t want any compliments unless someone is like ‘nice right hook’ or something.”

                His hand comes to a stop on your hip, looking at you with the expression of a cat that just found a glass of milk unattended. “Come out with me on a date.”

                Hongjoong has looked at you a thousand times over the years but never quite so openly as he is right now. You can feel it all the way down to your toes and it throws you completely off balance. The dichotomy of him during sex and outside of sex makes the magnetic pull stronger.

                “Okay,” You say simply as his hand snakes to your lower back and pushes you forward just enough so that he is pressing against your body, “O-oh!” You gasp in surprise and then quickly try to brush it off with the question, “What are we gonna do on the date?”

                “Don’t worry, we’ll do the typical tedious date shit,” His eyes drop to your lower half before raising one eyebrow, “Maybe afterwards though, I can do what I did earlier. I gotta admit that it was pretty fun to hear you be that loud just because of my tongue,” He leans forward, bringing his lips close to your ear, “And you tasted good too.”

                Your head spins, surprised at how easily Hongjoong can bounce back from being such a whimpering mess to openly flirting about eating you out. But Hongjoong has always displayed a cocky exterior and it didn’t look like that was going to magically change. You’re also taken aback by how weak in the knees you feel.

                Swatting his hand away, you take a step back, hoping he can’t tell how flustered you are or you’ll never hear the end of it. “Didn’t you have somewhere to be?”

                “I was lying to get out of here in case the conversation got awkward,” He openly admits, looping his belt through his jeans, shaking his blue hair out of his eyes, “But now I’m actually hungry. You wanna grab something to eat with me? Strictly in a roommate capacity.”

                “Sure. Let me get ready real quick.”

                “Alright,” He turns to walk out of your room but stops when you say his name, looking over his shoulder, “What?”

                “Do you feel any different? Now that you’re not a virgin, I mean.”

                Hongjoong looks thoughtful for a moment and then shrugs. “Nah, I feel the same. I guess because I lost it to you.” The words take you by surprise and there is a small hint of colour on his cheeks at the admission. “It just felt natural with you. You’re ah…always the one I wanted to lose it with,” He scowls then as if disgusted by opening up in such a manner, “Come on, go change. I’m seriously starving.”

                You watch him leave, shutting the door behind him. In the quiet space of your room, you press your fingers against your chest, feeling the thrum of your heart. Maybe it had been easy to overlook Hongjoong all these years due to the formality of being roommates.

                But it is evident to your mind and body that you are no longer overlooking your vulnerable yet prideful roommate thanks to his drunken declaration a few nights ago.

                Lucky you.

the end.

Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @halazea - @moonsangie - @woosfantasy - @yungiology - @erensluut - @yeosang-dot-mp3 - @lvnateez - @carodrug - @fruitcakebin - @yyakitori - @salam2salang - @cath1418 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @leo-seonghwa - @silentcry329 - @shesinthrain - @northerngalxy - @ateezstanforever - @yourfatherlucifer - @jagiyaracha - @myyyshinelight - @marievllr-abg - @kibs-and-bits - @ddeonghwassimp - @oizyscherry - @lil-killer-kitten - @necessiteez - @lmnhead - @thesongofalyssa - @orithyia-eriphyle - @turtash - @mingigiggles - @tvxqnnie - @biddes-enthusiast - @seonghwasmuffin - sorry, it didn't let me tag some of yall.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #hongjoong fics #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #kpop fic #declaration #500 notes #1000 notes

[satorhime]

⁺　 ୨୧ . ᕀ SUGARSTREAM ♡ | ˚｡꒰ gojo satoru x female reader ᨀ ꒱ minors do not interact ᨀ w.c 9.2k˓˓ explicit smut, camgirl!reader, fanboy!gojo, virgin killer!gojo, cherry chasing, sex toys, anal play, candy play [ gojo fucks the reader with a lollipop ], virgin kink, corruption, teasing, cum play, age gap [ gojo is 33 + reader is in 20s ], fingering, masturbation, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, dumbification, praise, orgasm control. ˚｡ SUMMARY ᨀ gojo satoru has a big sweet tooth, an insane amount of money to spend on his favorite camgirl and most importantly, a dick that corrupts innocent girls for life.

gojo satoru has a big sweet tooth.

he can always be seen ordering a frappuccino with five pumps of caramel syrup and extra whipped cream at starbucks, showing up to morning training with an entire platter of chocolate dipped berries, or suckling a tootsie pop with obscenely inappropriate noises during important meetings because the components in sugar stimulates his brain, giving the right amount of rush someone like him needs to keep sane.

his credit card is most swiped at sweet shoppes and random souvenir stands that sell his favorite melon sugar cubes, or the zunda and cream kikufuku he likes so much.

because his appetite for the sweeter things in life is insatiable.

that's why it isn't a surprise he developed a craving for you. he's always had a greedy taste for doe-eyed young women and you happened to be exactly his type. saccharine smile, giggly laugh, and a head full of bubblegum. ijichi kiyotaka's sweet little apprentice who skipped through the halls eating strawberry hi-chews for lunch instead of proper meals, wearing tiny little skirts and rootbeer flavored lip gloss just to torment gojo into wanting to lick it onto his tastebuds.

pure and lovely, you've become his favorite sugar rush.

and with the help of pop culture and social media, he can have a sample before he finally buys the product.

RECENT TWEET FROM @xoyoursweetenerxo: i'll be streaming in 10 mins wearing new lingerie! come take a peek at pixelme.jp/sweetener

that's the alert that begins gojo's unraveling, rolling into his notification center. his heart kicks up an irritating notch when he flips his phone over in his hand and reads your username on the screen. he can feel the curious eyes of his three former students on his back as they trail him down the hall, but he has tunnel vision and cotton ears, their incessant chatter echoing in one ear and out the other.

“gojo-sensei, did you hear anything i just said?” megumi snaps, his annoyed tone barely registering.

“i heard a rumor that he finally has a girlfriend now, that's why he's always so distracted,” nobara gossips into yuuji's ear, the two casting a long, knowing glance at their mentor.

“so it's like that?”

“it's like that.”

“what were you saying?” gojo asks distractedly, lifting one side of his blindfold to unlock his phone, bringing up the twitter app. his main account loads first and he spares a single glance to nanami's weekend vacation update, two for tsukumo straddling her motorbike in hokkaido, and none for aoi ranting about takada's dating rumors at the top of his timeline.

he never hears megumi's reply because he's too busy switching to his private account, an empty lurker with a black photo. eager to click your profile.

tonight's stream invitation is pinned at the top, decorated with pink hearts but he ignores that for now. making sure to hold his phone at an angle his nosy ass kids can't peek at, a long pale finger swipes up to bring the scroll down to a spam of grwm selfies you just posted, a ritual before your streams. you're cute as a button in each one, but it's the last one— on hands and knees, ass pointed to the camera—that makes him groan, the sound covered up by an exaggerated sneeze.

“um, gross!” nobara screeches at him, folding her arms and leaning away. “you sounded like a middle aged dad.”

satoru stops his long stride suddenly, masking his irritation by reaching into his pocket for his wallet, flipping the leather open for a spare credit card. he hands it to kugisaki with a pat on her head, grinning when she slaps his hand down and pockets his card without question.

“you know what? mission’s canceled for tonight!” he cheers, already heading in the opposite direction, shooting finger guns. he's eager to get away from his kids and to his office where he can concentrate on your stream. “go out without me and have fun!”

he waves off their confused looks, disappearing in a flash. attention glued to his phone like a teenaged boy. the sorcerer feels his cock twitch to life in his pants the longer he stares at your picture. you're wearing a skater dress that barely covers your plump ass, giving your twitter followers a tease of soft skin and cute stretch marks on the back of your thighs.

he knows that if he wants to see more, like the devastating visual of your slit spread around your favorite dildo, he'll have to join the stream and tip up.

not many people know about your other life. the angel who brings in sponge cake and iced coffee each morning to gojo, who shyly refuses to meet his stare whenever he walks into the room, unable to stand the intensity of his flirtations, is a camgirl with views high enough to land you in the top rated tab. people tipped you good and in return, you let them control your pleasure.

and gojo satoru is your biggest fan.

he hadn't been stalking when he found out. he'd just been passing by one of the staff rooms with the intention of terrorizing ijichi and found you instead, boldly streaming from your phone, whispering i bought my first vibrator! should i try it at work?

those annoying hot girls in your area, click for more! ads weren't needed because gojo had never made an account so fast.

and if he tuned into your grainy stream from his office, cock shamelessly fisted in his hand as he watched you push your panties to the side, phone camera positioned in an upskirt shot of you struggling to fit the small, vibrating toy inside your tight little cunt? mind your business.

he unlocks the door to his office now, shutting himself in before he clicks the streaming link, letting his phone redirect to the site so he can log in.

username: honoredone89 password: hollowedout28

"is the stream stable? hi, welcome! we'll get started soon."

the sound of your airy, girlish voice rings out from his phone as he falls into a leather lounge chair. you're streaming from your room this evening, dressed in frilly and frothy lingerie and a pair of lacy thigh highs, sitting up on your knees on a bed draped in a white gossamer canopy.

rosy led lights wash out the pretty tone of your skin in a soft pink glow, selling your sweet and innocent image. gojo figures that's why you're so popular— you feed right into their desires to turn out girls like you, drawing them in like worker bees to honey.

“how's my apprenticeship? it's going so good, thank you!” you answer a comment from one of your regulars, waving shyly at the viewers pouring into the virtual room.

“this won't be a long stream since i have to wake up early tomorrow, but...” you prattle on, leaning forward to check the viewer count. gojo's attention is drawn to the plump swell of your breasts in your bralette. god, he wants to run his lips all over the lace so bad; tonguing and biting over your nipples through the flimsy fabric until they're bitten raw. “while we wait for more to join, what did you boys do today-”

“ah, shoot. i almost forgot!” you gasp, twisting around to lean out of the canopy; opening the drawer on the nightstand.

as you rummage around, bent over, you accidentally allow your fans to admire the panties you're wearing. crotchless and lacy, the clips of a garter attached to your stockings. the backshot gives him a perfect peek at the shadowed seam of your pussy too, the little scraps of fabric on the front kissing your clit.

but more importantly, he can see the heart-shaped glass plug buried in the dip of your ass.

oh. well, when did you get that?

his tastebuds water, sweet tooth waking up for cravings. a quick decision made that he will stop holding himself back and get a taste of you, that he will be the end to your innocence.

in2feet chatted: this is boring hurry up and get naked

nakedman chatted: location? i'd fuck your ass so good kitten

it was obviously unintentional because your look of ditzy confusion is too cute when you turn around with the matching dildo, shaped like a sailor moon wand. but it ends up being the perfect way to begin your stream— tips roll in without prompting, chat pinging with comments.

“hehe, what are you guys- o-oh..” your question ends in a small sigh that makes his cock throb in his slacks. the air feels stagnant and warm in his office so he drags his blindfold down, unbuttoning the high collar of his jacket. you settled back on the bed too fast, the glass flare of the plug in your ass shifting, pushing a little deeper, twinging an unfamiliar lurch in your tummy. “t-to be honest, i've never used a plug before so it hurts a bit.”

a young starlet improvising on a mistake, you lift the wand to your lips. pastel pink tongue peeking out to wet the tip as you blink innocently at the cam. "can i put this in the other hole to distract myself from the pain?"

gojo can feel his brain rotting down to the stems.

you settle against the cloudbank of pillows, bringing your laptop a little closer to finish setting up and check the time. “before i start, i want to remind everyone that i'll only take requests from the highest tipper tonight!”

cyberme chatted: whenever you're ready, baby. we're watching!

cyberme and 10 others tipped 20 hearts

tittystan (★ tip) tipped 50 hearts

“you guys are so sweet!” the sound of the tip bell and chat alerts fill the volume of your room, drowning out your voice. lewd requests and thirsty comments begin to chime in, begging for you to remove your bra, show your pussy, play with the plug in your ass.

you have these men wrapped around your little finger, even though their hearts will be cashed out for real coins at the end of the night.

tittystan (★ tip) chatted: play with those pretty tits for us pls

“is this okay?” your impatient thumb rubs over a clothed nipple, shivering at the touch. more tips fumble in and gojo can see you build the confidence you need to push your bralette down, tucking it under the curve of your breasts so they spill right out.

fuck... he can't help but imagine his large digits replacing yours, dragging the calloused pads of his thumbs over your nipples until you cry and his thirsty ass can drink up your tears.

satoru shifts, leaning back in his barcelona chair as he reaches down to press the heel of his palm to the swelling bulge of his cock at the same time you squeeze one of the fleshy globes into your hand, a soft whine whistling past your clenched teeth.

jacker82 (★ tip) tipped 250 hearts and chatted: fuck yourself on the dildo alr!

you nod at the comment, opening your legs a bit only to snap them shut a heartbeat later. “i-i'm sorry, i'm so nervous tonight!” your teeth chew against your bottom lip as encouraging comments ring in your chat, words of praises that urges you to go further.

posessiveness burns green through his veins at the comments from other men, but he knows how to take what he wants and right now, what he wants is your attention only on him.

honoredone89 chatted: don't be nervous. i'm with you.

honoredone89 chatted: go on and open up for me.

gojo doesn't miss the glow of arousal in your eyes as you read his comment, your heart beating faster than it ever has. honoredone89... you missed seeing his comments on your streams. he felt more like a collaborator, unafraid to poke, prod, tease. the way he talks shit at you leaves you soaked and whining each time, wondering who he is; crying into your pillow whenever he'd toss down five hundred to make you cum, then throw down another five to switch up and edge you at the last minute. want me to change my mind, angel? he'd chat out and you could almost taste his smirk.

you would be lying if you said that your little crush on this anonymous person had nothing to do with him reminding you of the white-haired fox you were instantly drawn to at the start of your apprenticeship. honoredone89 could very well be one of those creeps that records cam shows to reupload to shady porn sites or a catfish. after all, his profile picture is the lower half of a (really fucking gorgeous) mirror selfie. but considering that a man like the actual satoru wouldn't return your silly, growing affections, you're fine with cosplaying.

“o-okay, sorry,” you obey him so easily, parting your knees, finally giving your fans a view of your pretty pussy in those crotchless panties. gojo should be ashamed, but he groans at the sight. you sigh as the cool air breezes over feverish skin, cooling the wetness clinging to your folds. it's why your fans love you so much— so wet during streams, no need for lube when your cute little pussy drools out the sweetest nectar no one has had the pleasure of tasting.

“look at you, sweet girl. you got any idea what you do to me?” you've barely shown anything and he feels like losing his fucking mind.

satoru should feel guilty for what he does next, but his conscious is crystal clear. mind blank and too fucking horny to think about propriety, he unbuttons his slacks. fishes his cock out to squeeze at the base, relieving some of the ache. his balls jump desperately as you slide the glass toy between your legs on the screen.

then his phone pings with a notif the moment you press the tip to your clit— a text from megumi dropping down, covering his view of the torturous circles you rub around the swelling nub. a swipe further down and you prod it against your entrance, panting out a low whine that knocks the wind out of gojo's chest, ears ringing.

“p-please let me put it inside!” you cry to the chat, noises so pretty. you'll sound even prettier when you're under him, squirming and pleading for him to fuck you until you live only for the feeling of his cock.

gojo's summer blue eyes scan over the message from megumi, ensuring his kids aren't in danger while he fucks himself off. he chokes off breathy groans so he can hear your moans, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over the tip of his cock. muscles in his stomach twitching in pleasure as he nudges it inside the slit so clear, watery precum dribbles past his fingers to spill down the long length of his cock.

user20180407 chatted: fuck yourself already i'm so hard!

instead of gojo replying to an annoyed megumi complaining about having to go to a pachinko parlor (yuuji's idea, no doubt) with the others, he taps the tip button before he can stop himself.

honoredone89 (★ tip) tipped 1050 hearts

honoredone89 (★ tip)  chatted: just your fingers tonight, sweet girl.

"c-can i put them inside?" is your immediate answer.

honoredone89 (★ tip) chatted: nope, don't think i want you to do that.

the unhappy comments from your other viewers almost gives him more pleasure than the feeling of his palm rubbing out his cock in rough strokes.

“okay, thank you, sir,” you tuck in with a soft smile. he knows you're thanking him for the fat wad of cash in your tip jar, not him snatching away your pleasure, but the sound of the honorific from your lips sends a zip of arousal straight down his spine. the way he fucks into his hand is messy now, dragging his hand up and down his dick. precum coating his fingers white, dripping onto his slacks. “thank you for letting me touch my clit.”

he's your highest tipper and your pleasure is always in the hands of your tip jar. setting the toy aside with the hope he'll let you use it later, you open your legs until your knees touch the sheets, joints in your hips aching. reaching fingers to the opening in your panties. you're so soaked, pretty lace all darkened in spots. you spread your folds, circling your clit with two fingers.

“oooh, o-oh.. it's not enough, please let me-”

“hope y'r this greedy when i feed you my cock, princess, fuck. gonna... give you what you need soon, don't worry,” he promises to the empty air, sweating hard beneath his jacket with his hand tight around his cock. imagining that he's got you right here in his office, fucking up into your pussy as you struggle to bounce on him. on the phone, his speaker rings with your frustrated whines. your thighs tremble as you rub your clit too fast, making it sore.

a few attempt to match his price and tip him out, wanting control over your delicious pleasure; wanting you to use the dildo so they can imagine the little toy is their cocks. but unlike the cheap fucks swarming around your chat, the black metal of his bank card is limitless. there's no one that can stop him from blowing hot cash on an even hotter girl so he does. doubling your tips, tripling it down each time.

the sorcerer has plans that won't be ruined by old men escaping nagging wives and stressful jobs by twisting their dicks to the moans of pretty girls.

at the end of the night, he plans on adding another maraschino cherry to the top of his ice cream sundae.

but that all depends on you.

now when did he close his eyes? on his screen, gojo almost misses it. the prettiest sight.

“c-can i cum, sir?” you simper to your fans, to him. “fuck me. it.. it's right there. please say yes, please please!” circling the pad of your finger under the hood of your clit where you're most sensitive at, you slide a hand up your body to squeeze one of your breasts. a soft gasp pushing out to join the squish of your fingers rubbing through the wet between your thighs.

honoredone89 (★ tip) tipped 2000 hearts!

user20221030 chatted: this rich fuck is so annoying stop hogging!

gojo sounds like a maniac when he tosses his head and howls at the comment, unrestrained laughs choking off into a deep moan when he strokes down and squeezes the base of his cock. fighting off his orgasm for a torturous edge to himself.

honoredone89 (★ tip) chatted: since you can't hold it, go on and show everyone how pretty you are when you cum.

“yu-yes, sir!”

gojo wasn't lying. even the lagging connection to your stream can't dim the beauty you are when you reach your high. it burns a hole into his brain, tearing shivers down his spine as he watches the band snap as soon as you answer his comment. it's real, but you make it pretty, arching off the bed, thrashing, clamping your thighs together as you cum with strained whimpers.

reluctantly, he takes his wet cock and tucks himself away, hissing as the sensitive head presses against the zipper of his slacks.

“did you guys cum too?” you're asking shyly, ready to end your livestream. gojo cleans his hand on his blindfold with a snort at the viewers complimenting your show.

user203020 chatted: u need to block that rich dude. it's unfair. not coming back until u do

cyberme chatted: so hot, kitten. see you next time!

tittystan chatted: don't go babe i didn't get to cum yet :c

sitting up, you wrap your arms around your legs, chin resting atop your knees. your body still trembles with the aftershocks of your little orgasm, but you pull the laptop closer with a blissfully tired smile to answer questions, goodnight wishes, and thank your viewers for their support.

“thank you so much! if you have ideas for my next stream, leave a reply on twitter,” you say distractedly, tapping on your laptop.

gojo's phone buzzes with a notification shortly after and he's not surprised that it's a message sent to his account on the cam site.

xoyoursweetenerxo ♡ : hi >< you were my highest tipper!!! do you have any requests for me?

is what the message reads and gojo wears a big smirk as the cards deal a lucky hand just for him. he cradles his phone in both hands as long fingers fly over the keyboard to reply.

no more time wasted after he's blown away hours, weeks, months on the chase for you.

honoredone89: you know what? i think i do!

honoredone89 is typing . . .

honoredone89: open your door for me.

404 error: this livestream has ended!

somehow, that leads to gojo satoru standing in the middle of your room at jujutsu tech.

you'd barely had time to fix your lingerie and clear the smudges of your lipstick before a familiar rap of knuckles was at your door— the same rhythm gojo knocks against your desk each morning to get your attention.

he looks out of place standing in the frills of your pink wonderland, led lights turning pure white hair the color of blush as he glances around at your bishoujo figurines, sanrio plushies, and special edition manga volumes.

“cute,” he comments with an amused smile and points, your cheeks warming as you follow his line of vision to the sailor moon dildo sitting on your sheets, forgotten. “where's the other one?”

“h-how did you know...”

“still inside you, i take it?”

“h-how!” your reaction is adorable, different now that you're in front of him. fiddling with the ribbons of your robe, unable to watch his gemstone blue eyes darken to a deep pit of arousal when you nod.

with the feeling of a hare caught in a trap, you watch as he crosses the tiny space to stand in front of you. crowding you against the kitchenette with his imposing six foot three stature. though you want to shrink away, there is something about him that beckons you closer like the limitless, making you want to stay close to him and soak up more of his attention.

“ah, um- i bought these for you earlier today!” you blurt out to him in a hurried whisper, scrambling to reach for the decorated jar of lollipops you intended to gift to him tomorrow. “there's cream, melon, cotton candy, there's matcha too because i know you like-”

“you scared of me?” he wonders, but he accepts your distraction, plucking a cherry-flavored lollipop for himself, amused.

“no!”

he's very attractive without his blindfold, snowy peaks of hair sitting wild over his forehead. you watch as he unwraps the treat, tasting it for the first time like he's tasting you, his tongue working around it; swirling and licking it obscenely on purpose. waiting for that shift, the shameful press of your thighs even though you just had an orgasm. falling for it, you shyly avert your gaze and gojo fights down a smirk.

“there's no need to be nervous, you know,” he soothes, hooking a finger under your chin. the deep croon of his voice curls down your spine, bubbling hot desire in your tummy. "i'm right here with you."

“i-i'm not nervous!” you say, wanting to reassure him that he is welcome even though a small voice tells you to run.

after all, haven't you heard the rumors about him?

compliment him in any busy ladies room and you'll summon rumors that gojo satoru picks cherries like a farmer. that gojo satoru fucks girls high in his penthouse, only to drop them low when he ushers them to the elevator hours later. that gojo satoru—

i don't believe it, and your naive schoolgirl crush on him bats those thoughts away.

“obviously a camgirl wouldn't be nervous, silly me,” he nods, tone light and teasing. he tilts his head to the side as he reaches for you, thumb easing your silk robe apart. sensual as he pushes it off your shoulder, a shiver rolling down your spine. “did you mean what you said?”

“what do you mean?”

“in your stream,” he hums, skimming up the curve of your neck. fingernails scraping lightly over your pulse, and his cock aches at the strangled sound you make. “when you begged me to touch you, fuck you. did you mean what you said, sweet girl?”

“the tipper... honoredone89...”

“was me, yes,” he points to himself, smiling. it takes a little while for realization to dawn and he thinks you're too sweet. god, after he finishes breaking in your cunt, he wants to protect you from men like him for the rest of his life. only after, though. “expecting someone uglier?”

where you should feel mortification, you feel sticky and full of attraction for the older man in front of you. how many times did you fuck yourself on two fingers while watching couples on cam, imagining gojo was there and pressing your legs to your chest while he fucked the inexperience right out of you? how many times did you wish that snarky regular on your streams was actually him?

“g-gojo?” you call softly, peeking up at him through thick fans of lashes. twiddling your fingers together in a gesture so fucking cute, it makes his stomach churn. “can i ask you something?“

“hmm? go ahead.”

“how many virgins have you fucked?”

“why? you wanna be my one and only?” he teases, a mocking grin set on his lips. “you're really a virgin... too sweet.”

“i didn't say that! i.. it's the reason i started streaming. to learn more! it’s an experiment because i don't know how to make someone else feel good.” you're babbling, the words rushing out too quickly as you fidget and grip the hem of your robe, looking down to avoid his eyes. “will you teach me?”

“if i teach you, don’t think i’ll go easy on you,” his grin is wicked before he reaches down to ruffle your hair, as if you’re a precious little gem to him. “it’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetness. it just means i’ll really have to put my back into it!”

putting his back into it means fucking you absolutely dumb, but you don't need to know that yet.

the way he looks at you is an awakening. with a little burst of confidence, you make your own decision; burying your fingers into the collar of his jacket, bringing him down for your first kiss. it's a little awkward with the stick of lollipop in his mouth and your inexperience, teeth and stiff lips until he takes the lead. his lips feel like clouds and you want them everywhere, want to kiss him forever. sink his soft groans into your skin, keep the taste of candy flavored spit on your tongue for the rest of your days as he licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before; kissing you into dizziness.

“please,” you pull away, eyes begging— he only needs to be told once.

he takes it in stride, smirking around the stick of lollipop. he draws his hand down, fingers sliding under your bralette to toy with the doughy skin of your breast, rolling a nipple between two pads until the bud pebbles under his touch.

then his path switches, traveling lower and you know exactly where his hand is going. heart fluttering wildly, you whine and nervously press closer to him, hiding your face against the front of his jacket.

but you weren't stopping him, you didn't want to. curiosity coaxes your desire for gojo satoru out of its shell. the entire reason you started exploring the world of porn and cam shows, frustration and curiosity. most women your age had bloomed and blossomed. they were experienced while you felt left behind. never been taken on a date, never been kissed, never been fucked.

a clean slate for the taking.

“i wonder why you're so pretty, hm? been torturing me for months, sweet thing,” gojo nudges your feet apart, tongue pushing out the lollipop for one last suck, his lips star candy pink. making you want to kiss him again. “want to taste you instead.”

“you mean...”

“don't worry, i'll take good care of you,” he gently plucks your hands from his jacket, lowering his lithe body to the floor in a fluid motion. he props one of your thighs over his shoulder, shamelessly spreading your pussy open for him.

cheeks heated, the sight of gojo staring between your legs with a ravenous glint in his eye is too much. your hands fly over your eyes, but he's not having it; reaching up to snatch them down. “good girls keep their eyes open, don't they? how will you learn?”

he hasn't even touched you and yet, lust buzzes an ache between your hips that is driving you crazy.

“good girls deserve to know what it looks like, what it feels like to have me right here,” he continues and leans in to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. nips and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet yips. he slides a thumb between your folds, splitting them to play with your clit. you feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before you choke it off.

“g-gojo-”

he builds the anticipation. getting you used to the motion of something familiar before he opens your pussy for business— the sweetest dessert all for him before the main course. “so what do you think? gonna let me taste how sweet this pussy is, angel?”

“what if you don't like the taste?” you hesitate, hand slipping into the milky clouds of his hair. “i-i heard that happens.”

“trying to keep it all to yourself?” he teases, eyes shining as he crooks a smile at you. he indulges you with another feathery kiss to your thigh, his hand on your hip, caressing the skin lightly. “there's no way i won't like the taste of you. not when i have this-”

before you know it, he presses something warm and sticky to your clit, replacing his finger. when you realize just what it is, you whimper loudly.

“oh, oh god. y-you're supposed to use your fingers-”you point out halfheartedly. gojo drags the sugary ball of the lollipop against your clit in tantalizing swirls, smearing the sticky cherry syrup across your pussy and mixing it with your own juices.

“i'll clean up after myself, sweet thing,” he reassures, nose pressed to the soft curls at your mound, breathing in your heady scent before he tips his head forward to taste you. this is his favorite part- the possessive feeling in his chest once a virgin is on his tongue, knowing he's the first one to look up and see heaven above him. to hear your soft whimpers and feel the unsure tremble of your thighs.

“how does it feel? you like it?” he asks, kissing your clit with a gentle suck that tightens the muscles in your tummy. he licks against you with skill, tongue a warm wetness over your clit. the feeling gojo pulls from you is all new, butterflies between your hipbones as your cunt flutters around emptiness.

“i think i like it, sir. i-it's so-” you whine, the honorific a slip up. ashamed to talk filth to a man you're assigned to bring oversweetened coffee to every morning. it's so easy talking to the men behind your camera. they're blank faces that pay for a performance and to be soaked in the right words. in person, in front of the man who brings you alive, your tongue is tied up in the heat he licks into your throbbing pussy.

“sir, huh?” you can feel his grin spread along your lower lips, his chuckle vibrating against your skin. he stiffens his tongue for a harder lick, quick flits that bathes your clit in bubbly spit, burning pleasure into your nerves that drives you to tears.

gojo's fingers press bruises into your squishy thighs, locking you in his strong hold. he trails the syrupy sphere of the sucker down to your drooling little hole, nudging until he slowly works the candy up into your pussy at the same time he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

you choke out a wet sob, your hands pushing at his shoulders. squirming and trembling, plush walls clamping down around the hard ball of the lollipop with a wince as he fucks it in slow, his eyes focused on the way your walls slurps it inside.

nothing could have prepared you for gojo satoru fucking you with a piece of candy.

“bet your fans would love to see this,” he muses, releasing your puffy clit with a shameful pop, a trail of spit and slick connecting you to the sorcerer's chin. “you can barely handle a piece of candy. look at this cute little pussy struggling to take it.”

he can't hide his arousal when you taste this good, smacking and slurping like his last meal on earth is between your legs. you release a frustrated whine when he removes the candy, but he appeases you with his tongue— dragging the pink muscle down to curl it into your pussy, the squishy feeling of it making you squeak and grip the edge of the counter behind you.

gojo mumbles a deep groan, tastes so fucking sweet, curling his tongue in and out of you languidly, your squeaks tapering off into breathy pants. he's running out of patience, your noises shooting straight to his leaking cock, but he's determined not to rush. he wants to savor your first time. savor the sweet taste of sugar combined with the earthy flavor of you.

he has to make it good so you remember him after you inevitably come to your senses and make him leave before he breaks your heart.

his palm moves up and lands on your breast, squeezing too hard but you whine for the twinge of pain, placing your hands over his larger one. you hold him like a lifeline as he makes good on his promise of cleaning you all up— drinking down every little drop of candy coated slick until you run dry, until the wet slide against your folds is because of his spit.

“i-i'm-” the stretch of his tongue is so good, your eyelashes wet as you chase the sensation. second orgasm on the brink with his skilled mouth licking and suckling over sensitive nerves. you could end it there, cum on his tongue and let him tuck you into bed after, but you've had enough of not knowing what it feels like to be manhandled down onto a bed, kissed slow, and fucked open by his cock.

you want it to be him and no one else.

“you close?” he reels back, lapping at the entrance to your heat, a tease that makes you cry out. blues flit up to look at you, gaze soft and patient even though his desperation to be inside you has him fraying at the seams. when you nod at him, pushing your hips forward, begging, he grins. “didn't you already cum tonight? who taught you to be so greedy, hmm?”

“i-i'm s-”

“you think you can hold it for me? no, i know you can. hold it for me baby. don't cum.”

“n-no, don't! wanna cum, please please- wanna cum so bad!” but he's not hearing it. he pinches your clit meanly until the twinge of pain clouds over your orgasm, laughing lightly as you drive your fist into his shoulder in frustration, a hit that doesn't hurt him one bit.

he pats your mound with a smile but before he stands to his full height, he ghosts his sticky lips over your ankle as he sets your foot to the floor, teeth grazing the anklet you're wearing. a tender kiss that has no business making your heart flutter like that when he's so mean.

“i'll make sure of it, but right now i need you to save it for me, pretty princess. i promise it'll be so much better if you cum around my cock.” the sorcerer whispers his filth to your ear, leaving wet kisses along the shell. is it normal for your knees to be so weak? “ain't that what you wanted earlier? want something to fill your pussy up, don't you?”

you're so shivery that you hold onto gojo like your life depends on it. feeling wet and used between your legs already.

somehow, you know that gojo satoru is above what you're able to handle. he's a grown man with years of fucking under his belt and you're an apprentice parading as a camgirl who just had your first kiss. but really, it hardly matters when you want him in too many ways to care anymore.

“i want it, want it so bad, please!” you chant, prepared to get on your knees and beg for it while this otherworldly attractive man grins down at you. you feel like sobbing when he listens, circling his arms under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. legs cling to his waist as he walks the few paces it takes to reach your bed, splaying you out amongst the pillows.

“then i'll give it to you, sweet thing. but first, i think you'd be more comfortable in a familiar setting, hmm?”

he wants to film your first time.

it's filthy and you should refuse, but it's also exactly what you daydreamed of. all those nights honoredone89 watched your streams, you wished he was actually there. in front of the camera with you, back to his chest while he stretched you wide on three fingers and claimed you as his for all of your viewers to see.

you're too shy to actually let your fans watch you be fucked by someone else, but you let him hit record on your laptop, the pink camera at the edge of your bed recording a private show for your eyes only, but giving you the illusion of a livestream nonetheless. “don't pay attention to the camera until i tell you to, okay? eyes on me.”

after a small nod from you, he makes quick work of his uniform. unbuttoning his jacket to reveal broad planes of smooth ivory skin. shoving his slacks down, no underwear like you expected so his dick springs out, slapping warmth against your thigh.

it's easy to forget you're being filmed when you’re too busy gaping at him undressing. washboard abs taper off into a carved adonis belt dusted with moonlight hair. and with the eyes of a curious virgin, your gaze peeks down to his cock and it makes your tastebuds water. a perfect balance of long and girthy, the smooth tip blushing pretty and pink.

“can i touch it?” your dewy lashes flutter as you reach forward, wanting to know what the weight feels like in your hand. wanting to brush your fingers over the blue veins, maybe even dip your head down to lap up the pearly precum drooling from the head.

“nuh-uh, but you can feel it,” he sucks his teeth in reprimand, catching your hand and brushing an affectionate kiss across your fingertips. “alright, sweetheart. how do you want it?”

“i-i always imagined i'd be on my stomach,” you whisper, wanting to sink into your covers after voicing such a thing. a combination of your favorite fantasy position and wanting to hide your face from the camera.

“as you wish.”

he obliges, gripping your waist and rolling you over for him, front pressed flat into the pillowy mattress. though your hips are caged in by gojo's strong thighs, you wriggle your legs back and forth, cutely tapping his lower back with your toes.

“i-i hear it's better like this.” you mumble into the pillow under your cheek, just to get rid of the silence in the air.

he only laughs at your small talk, kissing your shoulder with care. “oh, sweet girl. i'll show you how much better it is.”

nerves flutter in your tummy at that, but you trust him more than anything— more than the women who warned you not to harbor a crush on him. he straddles your thighs, reaching into the pocket of his discarded slacks.

you hear the crinkling of a foil packet being ripped, all the air whistling from your lungs in a shaky breath as you twist around, embarrassed; catching him about to roll a condom over his cock. “w-wait-”

“cold feet?”

“no,” god, no. “i- please, you don't have to wear one of those.”

“yeah?” gojo snorts with a growing smile, but he shrugs and tosses the protection aside, caution to the wind and no further questions on it. blood rushes to his head quick now, dizzy as he draws your hips up a little until your ass bumps against his stomach. you're so easy to move, so cute and weak, like feathers under him.

his patience was lost long ago, but he's a team player. he gathers the seat of your ass against his palms, a soft peach that jiggles when he squeezes and kneads to the song of your whines, his eyes hypnotized by the jeweled plug. “you've had this in for so long, princess.” he draws a long finger down the line of your ass, tugging at the plug gently to see your hole spread. the remnants of the lube you used makes it an easy slide as he pulls it out. tossing it to the sheets.

he coos when you squirm away from him with a soft cry, hurts satoru, and he fucking loves the sound of his given name on your tongue. his thumb rubs over the puckered entrance to soothe the soreness. it would be so easy to sink his finger in, cock up next, but he'll save that for another night. “sorry, princess, i know. i'm just making room. i don't think you're ready to take both yet.. let me make it up to you.”

gojo keeps your cheeks spread, slotting his cock in the tight space between your plump thighs. he pushes the thick cockhead through your sopping folds. you can feel the milky pearls of precum smearing along your thighs and cunt with his thrusts, a wet slide right against your heat but it's not enough. “p-please-”

“f-fuck, sweetheart. how are you gonna fit me inside you? look at this.”

he's mean for teasing a virgin so much, but he can't help himself. he glances up at the recording laptop; the cam feed showing him your face pressed into the pillows, writhing all over your pretty sheets. fuck, you look so good. he's used to breaking in the starstruck beauties who flock to him, but he plays favorites now— fearing that once he truly has you, you’ll never let go of his heart, his cock.

“i don't- oh god- i don't know, but i want to try, sir,”you breathe out through your whines, the honorific only baiting him into getting your way, a true performer. “p-please let me try!”

“such a good girl, even when your fans aren't watching. if you want it, take it then. put it in for me,” he almost pleads, wanting to see that you want this just as much and you fucking do. too teased out to feel the jitters fluttering in your heart. you reach behind you, hand fumbling to wrap around his girth. skin feverish after hearing his heavy intake of breath— oh, you did that to him. satoru ducks his head to grip your chin and kiss all over your face, heated presses of his lips reserved for a lover. a distraction for you both as you guide his cockhead to nudge at the entrance of your pretty virgin cunt—

your eyes mist over, crystalline tears clinging to your lashes; losing focus after his hips sink forward. hiding your face in the sheets again, you muffle the depraved whimpers you hiccup out as gojo's cock forces your walls to spread open just for him. white heat slicking your body with sweat as you squirm under him on the bed. he's so fucking long, and he chuckles when you slide a hand down to your stomach to make sure you can't feel him there, too. he feeds you his cock slow so you feel every inch of him, bullying a spot to sit right up against your womb.

“t-too big- oh m’ god, it's too big satoru!”

“you cryin' f' me, baby?” oh, he is aching. no room in the little space your pussy gives him. he struggles to breathe, hair sticking to his forehead as he fights for his composure. he wants to treat you tenderly, break you in the right way, but you're a hot brand around his cock, sucking him in so good it drives him wild.

“s-satoru-”

“you feel that? much better than your toys, isn't it?” he kneels, pinning one hand over your back to keep you in place. “you can take it, cutie. just ease up for me a little, i've got you.”

you try to relax, eyes shut and sheets bitten into your mouth. you've never felt anything like it— the intrusion of his cock builds a pressure that none of your toys could've prepared you for. an overwhelmingly tight fit, you feel too full, in over your head. pussy staining his cock with frothy slick as he draws his hips back for an experimental thrust, an emptiness that makes you whine loudly for him to fill you up again.

“talk to me, tell me how it feels, angel.”

“o-oh- i don't... i don't know-” you gasp, leaning up on your elbows, a sensual dip in your back, the way you've seen the girls on the nsfw accounts you follow pose. the webcam films your fucked out expression and you're too cock hungry to care about it now, watching it shamelessly on the screen of your laptop.

“can't talk?” gojo taunts, digging his nails into the skin of your ass as he levels his weight into his hips and fucks forward. heavy, deep snaps that furrows your brow cutely, determined as you try your best to take him like you imagine the experienced women who are used to the oppressive force of his cock do.

“want me to slow down?” he asks softly, a little worried. after all, it wouldn't be the first time his dick knocked someone out. but you shake your head rapidly and he cackles, pairing that insane sound with deeper thrusts, sharp hipbones rutting against the back of your ass as he bottoms out again— too deep.

“wan' see your face, please 'toru, please,” you blubber into the sheets, but his keen hearing picks it up anyway. stopping is the hardest thing ever, but he pulls out; pushes you onto your back with a hiss.

“can't believe you wanna watch me break in this cute little pussy. what changed?” he goads, but he doesn't wait for your answer. “you know what to do.”

shyly, you wriggle down the bed until your hips are flush against his, reaching between the sweaty shadow of your bodies to handle his damp cock again. the stretch is no easier to take the second time, but you know what it feels like. pining for the slight twinge, the hot burn as he spreads sweet fire through your nerves. the weight of his cock fucking your pussy open in slow, teasing thrusts that leaves you whining.

“don't go easy on me-”

satoru listens instantaneously, pounding you roughly as he nips and marks your sweaty skin as his, little love bites along your neck you'll have to cover in the morning. something he never does, but call him attached to you now. “that's all you needed, ain't it? you don't want those sick fucks watching you. just wanted me to make a mess of this pretty pussy.”

“y-yes!” you cry against his shoulder and he buries his nose against the pulse point at your neck, inhaling sweet gulps of sex and perfume. a grunt kicks out of his chest as he leaves you, leaning back on his heels to fuck harder, your fingers flying to his forearms as he grips your waist, tugging you forward onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

you become a victim to his skilled fucking, to the harsh slap of his hips that a virgin has no business taking. thighs trembling up a storm, desperately trying to close as his cockhead drags along your gummy walls on the quick pull out, fucking your nerves to a red glow.

“you're so good for me, best girl. so good. keep these legs nice and spread for me so i can fuck this pussy the way she deserves.”

neither of you pay attention to the blinking red light of your webcam, too lost in the throes of good fucking. satoru can't keep his eyes off of you as you wriggle desperately underneath him. you're a mess; lips swollen and slicked with spit from your lolling tongue, hair splayed out all over your sanrio pillows while you stare up at him through teary, lidded eyes with the most fucked out look of adoration for the man pounding you, he almost feels guilty.

“s'toru.. satoru- w-will i get to cum again? it feels so- but i can't-”

he loses his final thread of sanity at your little pants and whines of his name. “some girls need it right here, d... don't they, sweet girl?” he says, stuttering when your pussy clenches him in on a good stroke. slick squelches out of you, staining your favorite sheets in a gooey puddle. it's how he knows his cock is fucking you at the right angle, brushed up against that precious spot nestled along your walls. your back arches high off the sheets when he hits it, but a big palm at your belly presses you down, refusing to let you run.

“it feels better right here, too,” he tells you, his hand shifting down. drawing sticky shapes of his initials under the hood of your sore, puffy clit— and you've touched yourself enough times to know what the feeling means. the pooling of sweet heat in your belly, the giddy waves of dopamine swirling in your nerves as a man throws you into your peak for the first time. “feel it yet? yeah you do. cum for me like a good fucking girl, make a mess of my cock like it's yours, pretty girl. give it to me.”

you're sobbing for him, clinging to him as if he can protect you from the force of your own orgasm. tears welling up in your big eyes as the knot in your tummy bursts so suddenly and you cum, walls fluttering around satoru's cock so tight it pains him to thrust through it. no thought in your pretty mind except the relentless pressure he fucks out of your body. overstimulation sets in too quick and you push at his stomach frantically as your juices splash onto the sheets, wetting all over his hand and bathing down the white trail of hair on his stomach. “i-it's too much, wait-”

“fucking.. fuck, princess- let me go or ‘m gonna cum inside you.. you're sucking me in so tight. f-fuck!” he is only seconds behind you, remembering at the last minute to draw back on his heels and pull his cock out of your weeping pussy. you're still shaking in the aftermath of the best orgasm you've ever had but he’s pinching your puffy lips between his pointer and thumb. it only takes a few rubs of his cock through your swollen folds before he whines low in his throat, grunting and tossing his head back as he spills thick ropes of opaque cum all over your pretty crotchless panties and ruined pussy.

“o-oh.. there's so much of it-” you marvel and when he opens his eyes again on the come down, hips kicking weakly now, he sees you reaching down to run your fingers through the cum he left between your thighs, pinching his sticky seed between your fingers curiously.

you're going to be the fucking death of him.

“yeah, that happens,” he chuckles with no breath in his lungs, no energy to tease you about it. he is too dignified to collapse on the bed with a softening dick, in need of a long ass nap, so he leans forward and pets the roots of your hair softly. “you need anything? besides a bath and your diary to give me raving reviews, of course.”

“i...” you start, sitting up and reaching for the closest thing that can cover you besides the stained sheets of your bed: gojo's uniform jacket. you drape it around your front, looking away to hide the vulnerability in your eyes. “can you stay until i fall asleep? you can leave after but.. i don't..”

don't be greedy, is what he would usually tell a woman asking him to sleepover after he's snatched her innocence up and fucked her into a limp. but with you, the sinking feeling in his chest, the months of pocketing your hidden smiles and shy flirtations to think about during his darkest hours, tells him only one thing: he wouldn't have left even if you asked him to.

“i'm not going anywhere.”

gojo experiences a first tonight, too. for the first time ever, he doesn't run.

instead, he stays. cleans you up with a warm towel and eases you into clean underwear, though you insist on wearing his jacket as pajamas. he even helps you change your soaked sheets ( with insufferable comments asking if he can keep them. ) you don't know what it means when a man stays after being your first, but your heart feels too warm and a little bit in lo—

“what's that sound?”

you're about to tuck into bed, ready to snuggle in safe and sound with gojo watching over you when his voice speaks up. now that your post-orgasmic haze has cleared a little, you hear it too. the quiet chime of the tip and chat bells ringing wildly from your still open laptop.

the camera at the end of your bed blinking lipstick red from its perch on the tripod.

like.boobs.97 chatted: that bastard is so lucky.

“oh... oh, no!” you squeal, scrambling to shut the laptop down, face burning with mortification. you should have checked, you should have checked. you have to help satoru with his emails in the morning, why did you trust him to click the right button?

you've been streaming to your viewers on the cam site the entire time.

“whoops,” is all gojo says, carefree and flippant as ever as he moves to stretch out across your bed like an oversized unbothered cat, drawing you against his body.

“so, you gonna introduce me as your new boyfriend or what?”

stream viewers: @atsumeii ┊ @bbyatsumu ┊@yuujispinkhair ┊@danibby

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru fic #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru imagines

[bingbongsupremacy]

Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: reader is able to get pregnant, pet names, argument, idk what else.

Summary: It's getting harder and harder to spend time with your husband and you have some really important news. (Pre-Outbreak)

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

ABC List

*****

The room is silent, the only noise coming from our TV. Light bounces off of the walls, casting a small glow on the coffee table that moves.

I curl deeper into the couch, watching as the clock ticks by.

8:30....9:15....10:45....11:12...

Finally I hear keys jingling from the front door.

" You're still up? " Joel's voice is tired and raspy. He pulls off his boots, leaving them near the front door. " Is Sarah still up? "

I shake my head, rubbing my heavy eyes. " No. She's over at Gina's, down the street, for a sleepover. "

Joel wanders into the kitchen, pulling a can of beer out of the fridge. He takes a swig before heading towards the living room. For a moment, neither of us talks.

" You were supposed to be home at 6. " I glance over at the man. I take in his appearance. His eyes are dark from clear exhaustion. His shirt is covered in grime. It's obviously been a long day.

" I was. " He agrees, not saying anything more. He takes another sip of his beer. Condensation forms on the can, dripping down his hand.

His answer doesn't satisfy me. " Why weren't you? Why didn't you call? " I press.

This has been happening often. Every few days he stays out later than normal, most of the time, he 'forgets' to call.

Joel lets out a sigh, obvious frustration filling his expression. " I got caught up in my work. It wasn't supposed to go past 6, but stuff happens. You know that, babe. "

Irritation fills my body. " And you couldn't have bothered to, I don't know, check your watch and maybe call me? I was worried sick, Joel. I stayed up even though I have to be up at 6 for work tomorrow. " I push myself up, looking towards his face. Looking for something, something other than annoyance.

I was really hoping he'd be here at 6.

" I didn't ask you to do that. You could've gone to bed. Don't blame me for your decisions. I told you, I lost track of time. I don't have my phone on me when I'm working. " Joel's gaze meets mine.

Anger runs through my body. Usually I'm not this quick to anger but the hormones are driving me insane. The stress of unknowing along with Joel's careless attitude sends rage flowing through my body. " You really could give less of a shit about Sarah and me, huh? " I seethe, not thinking through my words.

Joel's eyes narrow. " What the fuck do you mean? " He starts getting defensive. " Of course I give a shit about you! I fucking work my ass off, for you two! " Joel's tone rises.

" Then why do you keep doing shit that makes us worry? " I exclaim. " You could have called at any point and it would've helped me feel better. I understand that you don't keep your phone on you while working, but is it really that hard to take a five minute break to call me? God-you need a break anyways! You'll fucking hurt yourself if you're constantly working. " My heart pounds. I stand up, trying to get some space between the man and I.

Joel stands up as well. His eyes burn into mine, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine.

I hate when we get into arguments. My hormones and his exhaustion are mixing together to create a toxic cloud of anger and frustration.

" Like you'd even answer the fucking phone. " Joel rolls his eyes. " You've been so busy talking to your stupid fucking friends that it's nearly impossible to call you sometimes. "

He isn't wrong. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, and I wanted-no I needed to tell someone. I wanted to make the announcement to Joel and Sarah important, something memorable. At the time, I just needed to tell someone else.

They've been there for me this entire time, helping me plan tonight. Helping me plan the dinner and gift for Joel.

A gift he never got to open and a dinner he never got to eat.

" Well I gotta talk to someone, Joel. You're never around anymore. " I snap.

" I'm working! " Joel lets out a breath.

" Your unbelievable. " I shake my head. I let out an angry laugh. " You know what, fuck this, Joel. You're not even listening to me. The point isn't that you're working late, it's that you don't bother to call home and tell me about it. I care about you, Joel. What-What if you got hurt? What if you got into a car crash or fucking died somehow? I'd have no idea because you don't bother to call me. All I want is one call, and that's too much to ask of you. " I push past the broad shouldered man. " Your dinner's in the fucking oven. It's your favorite. "

With that I storm upstairs, grateful Sarah wasn't here to witness the fight. I barely close the bedroom door before the tears start to flow.

Downstairs I hear Joel curse as he drops something on the ground. I lean against the door, doing my best to listen to the man below. His footsteps die off as he most likely settles onto the couch.

I just want him to call home.

_______

The next morning I leave before Joel wakes up. I send a quick text to Sarah, letting her know there's some food in the fridge.

My day seems to fly by. Piles of paperwork seem to disappear in minutes. Before I know it, it's time to head home.

An unsettled feeling wracks my stomach, surely not a good feeling for the baby. I'm still pissed at Joel. I just wish he understood where I'm coming from.

I unlock the front door and am immediately met with silence.

No one's home.

I let out a small sigh, walking towards the kitchen. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot Joel sitting at the kitchen table, a pair of small shoes in his hands.

He found the gift.

Of course he did, I left it on the dresser last night.

" Surprise. " I state while making my way to the fridge. " You're gonna be a daddy. Again. " My voice is unenthusiastic. Not the way I planned telling him at all.

" I'm so fucking sorry. " Joel blurts out. He runs his rough fingers over the small white laces, following the rhythm of the string. " I'm an asshole. "

" That you are. " I agree.

Joel finally looks up at me. His sad expression breaks my anger. Suddenly, I'm torn. Do I keep acting angry or do I feel bad for him?

" I deserve that. I-I shouldn't have yelled at you last night. Pregnant or not- You didn't deserve that. I took out my anger on you. I've...fuck I'll just tell you. I've been working late to try to make some extra money for us. I wanted to take you somewhere for our anniversary. "

I take a seat next to him, shock filling my body. I had no idea.

" You're right, I should've called you. That was a dick move. I...I don't know why I didn't. I guess I was just scared I'd be tired and I'll accidentally tell you something? It doesn't fucking matter now. "

" Oh Joel..."

He continues. " I'm sorry about dinner last night. I should've come home. " He finishes, finally setting the shoes down into the small gold box I put them in originally.

I don't say anything. I wrap my arms around the man, sinking my head into the crook of his warm neck. " Yes, you should've called, but I shouldn't have have been so aggressive. My emotions have just been all over the place. " My eyes begin to tear up. I feel a tightness in the back of my throat as I pull away from Joel. " I feel so much angrier than I usually do. "

Joel pulls me back into his embrace. " It's okay, honey. It's the baby. It's okay. " He tries to sooth me. " I love you so much, and I promise, I'm going to cut back my hours. "

" And you're gonna call, right? " I look up at him from my spot against his chest.

" Yes, I swear I'll call from now on. I have to, what if something happens to you and the baby. " He furrows his brows in worry. " I'll call you every hour. I promise. "

I let out a small laugh, wiping a tear away. " I think every few hours is okay, babe. "

" No every half hour. Who knows what could happen. Your office has steep stairs-we should see if the elevator there is fixed yet. " Joel mutters.

" Okay that might be a little overkill. " I crinkle my nose. " How about you just call when you're going to be late. Alright? "

" I can do that. "

#fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us

[shoddynomenclature]

End of the Day Bath Time with the Women of BG3 (18+)

Headcannons about our favorite ladies: Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheria.

18+ for suggestive content.

After a long day of battle, you return to the Elfsong Tavern. You are, as usual, covered in blood and sweat. You will most certainly need a bath before you go to sleep tonight. Luckily, staying at the Elfsong means bathing no longer consists of a quick rinse in whatever river you can find. You have a nice big tub and your beloved waiting for you.

——————————————————————

Shadowheart

Shadowheart is sat naked in front of mirror across the room, undoing her hair and brushing it out.

She’s adorned the tub with candles and incense. It doesn’t look terribly dissimilar to her alter.

You approach the tub, but it’s empty. “Shadowheart, when you get a moment do you think you could…” You’re interrupted by the water from her spell dropping down on top of your head and into the tub.

You squeal and nearly jump out of the tub. The water is freezing. You look up at Shadowheart as a mischievous smirk paints her face.

“Quit your whining,” she teases. “I’ll be over there in a moment to warm you up.”

Once she is satisfied with her hair, she approaches the tub. She eases her body in on the opposite side of where you’re sitting. She cast a spell that causes her hands to glow orange. As she places her hands under the water, heat spreads across the bath.

“Better?” She teases, leaning forward to climb on top of you.

“You could’ve warmed the water before you dropped it on my head,” you retort.

“True, but” She softly drags a hand over your bare chest. The water doesn’t quite reach that high. She gently pinches a nipple, still very hard from the shock of the cool water. “Then I couldn’t do this.” She dips her head, taking the nipple into her mouth and warming it with her tongue.

Your breath catches and you lean your head back over the edge of the tub, pushing your body against hers. “There are other ways to make them hard.” You breathe.

“I know,” she says casually. “And we’ll get to those momentarily. But this was the most fun.”

Lae’zel

Lae’zel prefers to make her baths quick. Efficient. The less time she has to spend in the water the better.

You’re already in the bath by the time she walks in the room, wringing out your freshly washed hair.

She pads over to the edge of the tub, kneeling outside of it, using it as a basin to wash off her face.

When she raises her head with her clean face you smile softly.

Lae’zel is always wearing a generous 5 pounds of makeup. It’s her war paint, making her look serious and threatening, and it does its job.

But now she stands before you, bare faced, and you see a different side of her entirely.

The war paint doesn’t make her look old by any means, but now that it’s gone you can really see her age. She really is only 21 years old.

Her eyes are rounded and almost soft. You see nothing of the pointed harshness she presents everyday.

Lae’zel proceeds to quickly undo her hair, once again using the tub as a basin to wash it rather than getting in the water.

When she’s done, she finally steps tentatively in the water. She allows you to scrub her back while she washes the rest of her body.

You dare to press a kiss onto her shoulder, causing her to pause her frantic scrubbing for only a moment before she starts again. She decides to let it slide… this time.

When she decides she’s clean enough, she nearly vaults out of the tub.

She is happy to sit next to you while you bathe, but she will not spend a moment longer than necessary in that Vlaakith forsaken water.

Karlach

Karlach is 100% sitting Geralt of Rivia style in the tub when you come in. (Does anyone have art of this?? I need it now)

She got a side table next to her right hand. On it sits a large mug of cold beer she bought downstairs. She’s intermittently taking swigs of the ice cold beverage to counteract the heat of the steamy water she’s emerged in.

The water is SO warm, but not too hot. Since the engine cool down Karlach can manage to not boil the water she’s in.

You slink in the water between her legs and lay on her chest, wrapping your arms around her back.

She smiles at you. “Isn’t life just amazing?” She asks. “A warm bath, a cold drink, and the person I love. Doesn’t get much better than this.”

She’s still mostly dirty by this point. It doesn’t look like she’d done any actual bathing before you arrived. Her hair is not even wet yet and dried blood still flecks her cheeks.

You wet a rag and begin to gently wash it off. She squirms like an uncooperative toddler.

You stop for a moment, holding the cloth away from her face. “Behave and I’ll work on this next,” you say, reaching your other hand between her legs and cupping her sex.

Her breath catches and she frantically nods.

She’ll stay still. She swears.

Minthara

Minthara isn’t one for being wet, but she can still enjoy at least parts of a bath.

When you come in the room, it’s dark, the only light is the soft glow emitted by the candles around the tub.

The water is very hot, almost too hot. You ease your body in slow, giving yourself time to adjust.

The water smells like lavender and sandalwood. She put some oils and flower pedals and a little bit of poison in it.

Minthara steps towards the tub, allowing you to take in her naked body in the soft candle light. Her hair is still up.

She climbs in the bath, straddling your waist so her torso is barely in the water at all.

She grabs some soap and a knife from a nearby table. If you grow any facial hair at all, she shaves it off. Otherwise she’s getting rid of any other unwanted hairs: making sure your eyebrows and temples are perfectly manicured. If you allow her to shave your chest, she’ll do that too.

You predict it’s less about the hair and more about the trust it takes to let her drag a knife against your skin. She relishes in the vulnerabilities only she is privy to.

When she’s done, she props herself up on the side of the tub and watches you bath. She doesn’t get in the water herself until after you get out.

Some nights she’ll let you wash her hair yourself, but for the most part the bath is a relatively quick endeavor.

Jaheira

Jaheira is already cleaned, dried, and in her robe by the time you arrive. She usually bypasses the evening chitchat with everyone in favor of some extra time to herself.

The bath water is full of several different herbs she’s picked along the journey.

They’re different everyday, but today there appears to be a lot of mint? Or maybe something else. You’re not terribly well versed in plants.

“If I trusted you any less, I’d think you had very different intentions throwing me in this stew,” You tease.

“I’m not Asterion.” She retorts, “Though I suppose I’m not a stranger to ravishing you.”

You blush and step into the water. Jaheira pulls over a chair and sits above your head.

She mostly just spends the time reading, letting you do your own thing. She does love to wash your hair though.

[Tiefling] She takes a stiff brush to your horns every once in a while. It drives you crazy, but she tells you to stop your whining and sit still. At the end you’re actually surprised how much dirt comes out. Guess you’ve never really paid attention to cleaning them so throughly.

#bg3 #18+ #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart #tav x lae’zel #lae’zel x tav #laezel x reader #bg3 lae'zel #lae'zel #laezel #karlach x reader #bg3 karlach #karlach x tav #karlach #minthara x tav #bg3 minthara #minthara #minthara x reader #jaheira #jaheira x reader #jaheira x tav #bg3 jaheira #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #tav x minthara #tav x karlach #tav x shadowheart

[jujutsubaby]

after hours (part 6)

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to the barcade with your friends, feeling dejected that toji hasn't messaged you back. not only that, you're horny as hell and the girl satoru brought with him doesn't like you one bit. ☆ warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! sexting, slight dub-con (reader and gojo get to second base while drunk), grinding, kissing, slight exhibitionism, drinking, slight verbal harassment ☆ tags: modern au, academia au ☆ a/n: this one's a doozy (8k+ words sorry) 🤪 also the bob odenkirk uber thing actually happened to me in college ok i really thought it looked like him even tho there was no reason for it!! leave me alone!! 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

"ngh~ m'gonna throw up," you complain, rubbing your temples, as you and your friends walk into the popping barcade.

"jesus, how much did you drink?" suguru asks concerned.

"not much but i saw satoru-" you fake a gagging noise. "i saw satoru shoving his tongue down that girl he's with right now."

"i heard that!" satoru yells, a couple yards behind you. you quickly turn around and see him walking beside her, his hand resting way lower on her back than it should be. you grimace at the sight.

your complaints are drowned out by the loud music the DJ was playing, the sound of coin machines, arcades, and people shouting over the music. it wasn't as crowded as usual (still crowded enough to have to wait in line for drinks and games). you're sure the thumping of the music will definitely have your ears ringing at the end of the night.

your eyes take a while adjust to the dim lighting, and you and your friends approach the bar, crowding around in a circle. the girl satoru is with is all over him, her hands never leaving his chest or his face. she’s always making it a point to kiss his cheek whenever she gets the chance. it makes you sick. there's no way fate is this cruel that even someone like satoru gets laid tonight and you don't?

god, what the hell is toji even doing that's making him too busy to answer your text?

"alright, me 'n satoru will grab drinks for everyone, you guys get coins for the arcade," suguru says and you’re grateful he’s taking control of the chaotic situation and bringing your thoughts back to the present.

“’toruuu~ can you get me a vodka tonic?” the girl asks in a grating high pitched voice that takes everything in you to not make another face at her. god, where’s all this animosity coming from anyway?

“yes, princess,” satoru replies, pulling her close and squeezing her tight. you don’t dare cast your eyes down in fear of catching him squeezing something else, too.

you shake it off, trying to ignore every single excruciating detail your brain is making you pay attention to at this place. and yes, you agree, maybe you should’ve taken it easy when you decided to down an entire can of white claw at the pregame, but it’s far too late to lament about that during this time of the night. things are practically getting started, so you snap out if it, and do your best to focus on grabbing coins and finding someone to play dance dance revolution with you for the rest of night.

you and riko decline to have any drinks, while shoko and utahime both decide to share a moscow mule (”i won’t be able to sleep if i have an entire drink!” utahime says, which prompts satoru to tease her about being old even though she's just three years older than all of you). reluctantly, you look at the girl satoru is with and ask if she wants to join you and the girls to grab coins for the arcade, and she looks at you like you just called her a slur.

“oh…ummm…no? i’ll be getting my drink with satoru?” she says, ending all of her responses with a question.

you’re not sure how to match her energy, so you just nod, and wave to the boys before catching up with your girls.

“jeez, what’s her problem?” riko turns back to you and gives you an apologetic look.

“satoru really knows how to fuckin’ pick ‘em,” shoko groans. unlike riko and utahime, you, shoko, and suguru have known satoru since high school and, as a result, unfortunately gotten used to the kind of girls satoru tends to sleep with: conventionally hot, a little bit not there, and kind of a bitch.

you all giggle as you exchange coins for the arcade games, ranting about miscellaneous parts of the barcade before heading back to the bar to meet up with the boys, who already have their drinks in hand, and are joined by nanami and haibara. suguru, nanami, and haibara are already halfway done with their bottles of sapporo, while satoru is whispering something in the girl’s ear as she giggles and sips her vodka tonic.

“okay!” satoru clasps his hands together. “who wants to watch me beat sugu’s ass in street fighter?!” he’s met with silence from the group and is about to say something before he’s interrupted by nanami.

“me and haibara are gonna go upstairs and get a pool table…” nanami says, sounding almost bored.

“it’ll be fun! i invited some girls from the line outside to join us!” haibara chirps.

“what? you just met random girls outside? and you invited them to play pool with you? and they said yes?!” satoru is bewildered by haibara’s game, unable to believe he could just simply ask girls to hang out with them and they’d say yes.

“it’s actually not that hard if you have a good personality, you know?” you say, handing haibara a couple of your coins for the pool table.

everyone erupts in laughter at this except for satoru and his girl of the night.

“toru~ i think you have a sexy personality.” she gives a quick kiss to satoru’s neck. for some reason, everything she says sounds like a long exaggerated moan, and you find yourself biting your lip, trying not to laugh.

“personalities can’t be sexy though, can they?” utahime ponders, her voice littered with a hint of sardonicism. you, riko, and utahime both lock eyes and suppress a giggle. okay, maybe you should stop. actually, you know you should stop because you don’t know this girl and for all you know, she probably is very nice and you both just got off on the wrong foot, but satoru? satoru is always fair (and easy) game.

“okay, c’mon what is this? the satoru hate club?” satoru pouts and sighs.

“i think i might join you guys for some pool. i used to love playing with kuroi when i was younger.” riko smiles and looks up at suguru, and he doesn’t even think twice before agreeing. satoru’s face drops at the betrayal of his best friend leaving their barcade tradition for a girl (even though satoru has done this to suguru multiple times before). suguru gives him a look that screams “shut up”, but satoru doesn’t care.

“wait, what nooo! sugu, you have to play like at least a couple rounds of street fighter and then mario kart and then -” satoru’s objections are interrupted by haibara.

“that’s fine. you guys all go and play, and i’ll shoot a text when a table is ready for us!” haibara offers, soothing satoru’s childlike temper tantrum.

“then it’s settled!” satoru leads the seven of you down to the arcade, which also happens to be closer to the dancefloor, so the music is getting progressively louder and louder, the lights are flashing more chaotically, and people are drunker and sloppier. your boots are sticking to the floor, which grosses you out and you make a mental note to wash the soles at some point this weekend. god knows what could be on the floor of this place.

satoru easily beats everyone (including you - especially you - because you are never good at fighting games and he beats you so embarrassingly easily) in the group in street fighter, earning him an obnoxious and sloppy kiss from his girl of night, which you realize now you actually don’t know the name of. as everyone shuffles to play mario kart, you tap satoru and ask for it in a low voice, hoping she can’t hear.

“uhh…i actually don’t know. maybe it’s…mia? let’s go with mia.” satoru makes a face, knowing this is low even for him, and that earns him a moderately painful jab in the rib cage from your elbow.

you also kind of suck at mario kart, but you enjoy playing it more than street fighter. lucky for everyone, suguru emerges as the winner of the grand prix, allowing everyone to have a break from satoru’s constant gloating. you all move from donkey kong to killer queen (your team wins but you think it’s because satoru carried for you) to pac-man to random capcom legacy games. you don’t care that you’re losing most of the games, you’re having too much fun shouting at satoru for cheating and getting assists from utahime and shoko. and just as you’re all about to head to the game you're looking forward to playing the most (the game you know you would smoke everyone at), haibara finally shoots a group text to all of you.

haibara: pool table’s ready in 5!!! and the girls actually made it wtf!!! :))

you think it’s cute how haibara never uses less than 3 exclamation marks in his texts.

“oh shoot, okay, let’s quickly play dance dance revolution and then go?” shoko says, walking faster to approach the game, only to be met with a significantly long line. her face drops as she turns to you, and your heart softens at how much she seems to care that you get play dance dance revolution. “shit, okay…”

“maybe we can play pool first and then come back?” utahime suggests. “the line might be shorter too…”

“guys, it’s fine.” you put your hands up jokingly as a sign of defeat and smile earnestly. you won’t lie to yourself: you do really want to play dance dance revolution, but it’s not a big deal - there’s always a long line for the really popular games. “i think i’m too drunk to properly beat your asses at it, anyway.” you lie. you could beat their asses at this game even if you were half asleep, but you don’t want your friends to worry you’re not having fun and you’ve always been a go with the flow type of girl, anyway.

as everyone descends up the stairs, you overhear mia whisper to satoru something out of pocket that really tests the threshold of your patience. “honestly, dance dance revolution is kinda stupid, anyway.”

you are willing to really overlook a lot of things that went awry tonight, but this bitch makes it really fucking hard to do that, and you suddenly do not want to play pool if she’s going to be there, even if makes you look difficult. thankfully for you, you’re not the only one who wants to skip out on pool.

“hey, uh, you guys go ahead. i think me and ‘hime are gonna check out the photo booth and we might order some bar snacks. someone has the munchies.” she teases, poking utahime’s cheek playfully and she blushes under the blacklight and swats her hand away.

“i might follow you guys, if that’s okay…” you shoot shoko and utahime an apologetic look for interrupting their alone time, but they don’t seem to care one bit.

mia turns to satoru. “i’ve got some girlfriends upstairs too waiting for me so i’ll come with.” her voice is sickeningly sweet, and you think to yourself that of course someone with a sickening sweet tooth like satoru gojo would gravitate towards her.

“alright, we’ll see you guys soon then!” riko waves, and you watch suguru, satoru, mia, and riko disappear up the staircase.

as soon as they disappear, you whip around almost immediately to the duo. “hey sorry, i just didn’t want to play pool and i needed an excuse to latch on to. you guys feel free to whatever you want!”

“we can wait in line while one of us orders some food or something?” utahime says, and you suppress a giggle, knowing full well all she wants right now are some mozzarella sticks (you can’t count the number of times the three of you made late night trips to the drive-thru for them).

you wave your hand, and give them an earnest look. “no, i’m being serious. the line is ridiculously long. i’ll probably go to the bar and grab a drink. you guys go, utahime already has some drool coming down her mouth.”

she immediately goes to touch her mouth, only to realize you were joking, and she scowls, causing both you and shoko to laugh. “ugh, you guys are sometimes worse than gojo!”

shoko feigns offense, before grasping her hand, bidding goodbye to you, and heading off to the bar food area and photo booth.

the music is still so loud and you feel the bass deep within your chest. you’re grateful the music that the DJ is playing tonight is not that bad. there’s quite a few people on the dance floor that’s kinda making you want to join in, but not before having a little bit of liquid courage. just a little bit, you tell yourself, not wanting to go overboard. you approach the bar and you somehow become very aware that you’re the only person at the here on your own, and you feel awfully lonely.

it’s probably because of a lot of things, but certainly the fact that you sent a vulnerable photo of yourself to toji and was met with zero response (you just checked so you know he still hasn’t seen your message) isn’t helping. you feel so small and a bit embarrassed at your past self, despite knowing that he might simply be busy on a friday night. you’re never one to feel forlorn like this, but you came into this night to find some company and now it seems like all your friends have company but you don’t. what’s more is that the insecurity of it all is manifesting in your damp hands, and you awkwardly don’t know what to do with them once you approach the table. the signature tells of anxiety settle in you, and your armpits are slowly getting more and more damp, until you can’t bare to have your shirt jacket on any longer and place it on your arm.

you haphazardly pat down your hair (you pray the humidity of this crowded place isn’t making it frizzy) as you look around, hoping to see someone you know, but all you’re met with is a sea of strangers. you want them to notice you, but at the same time, you’re absolutely terrified of making proper eye contact with any of them.

your thoughts are interrupted by the bartender, handing you a frosty pink…slushy?

“s’from that fella o’er there.”

you have to really listen to understand his thick irish accent, but you follow his hands to see the stranger a couple seats down from the bar nodding at you with a slight grin.

“oh, thanks, i guess. umm…what is this drink?” you ask, quizzically looking at the oddly colored drink and then back at the guy who bought it for you.

“drink o’ the day, ma’am. strawberry ‘n’ cream wid rum. quite grand.”

you thank him and take a small sip of the drink. you almost recoil and dry heave just by how strong it takes, and you wonder how it’s possible to have a drink this bad (or strong) on the menu. you quickly fake a pained smile and make eye contact with the stranger, as you quickly decide that maybe going upstairs and playing pool suddenly might not be such a bad idea after all. you’re trying to be swift and polite about taking your drink and leaving the bar, but you're not fast enough as you are met with the stranger blocking your way. oh god, does he have tattoos on his face? what a fucking boner kill.

you give him a polite smile. ugh, he’s not even that cute. “sorry, thanks for the drink but i have to go.”

“oh, shame. you’re really pretty, by the way. i’m sukuna.” he flashes a smile at you and if it weren’t for the dark lighting in the barcade, you could swear his teeth almost look like fangs.

“nice to meet ya. thanks for the drink.” you try side step around him, but he moves his body just in time to block you from leaving.

“whatcha doin’ here all alone? you’re way too pretty to be here all by your lonesome...” he coos, and it grates your skin.

maybe you’re being reckless, but you’re not that terrified of him; you’re frankly a bit annoyed and inconvenienced. you feel safe knowing your friends are nearby and it’s later in the night now so the barcade is way more crowded with plenty of people (read: witnesses) so you know this guy can’t do that many things out of pocket. the most he’ll probably do is say some stupid shit that makes you want to spill your drink on him.

“i’m not here all alone, i’m about to meet up with my boyfriend.” the lie comes so easily to you after living your entire 26 years of life as a woman.

“shame. your boobs are really nice, just FYI. i could just-” he doesn’t get to finish, as the ice cold slushy drink he bought for you collides with his face and the startling gasp he makes causes him to snort some of the (strong) alcoholic drink up his nose. you use his discomposure to finally escape him and beeline upstairs, but not before turning around, making eye contact with him and flipping him off.

okay, you know that was a bit rash of you, and perhaps a bit stupid and unsafe (you hear it all in suguru’s voice, too) but god, you are so fucking annoyed. what? a girl can’t even have her lana del rey, fleabag-esque moody melt down in peace without someone coming in to interrupt it? maybe you should stop drinking that god awful slushy, too. you defend yourself from inner monologue by deciding it’s already three quarters of the way gone, so it doesn’t even matter anymore.

you spot your friends and mia playing an intense game of pool down the dimly lit mezzanine and walk over to them. haibara and nanami greet you with smiles, and that’s how you infer it must be a close game. you stand next to riko and suguru, who update you that it’s them and haibara versus satoru, mia, and nanami. except mia wasn’t really playing more than she was just chatting with her friends next to suguru. currently, satoru’s team was losing.

“nanami said yes to being on a team with gojo?!” you loudly whisper incredulously. looking over at nanami, he looks like he wants to die, having been separated from his trusted partner, haibara.

“he didn’t really have a choice. satoru picked the teams and you know he loves nanami.” suguru explains, putting an ironic tone when he said the word “love”.

you notice it’s satoru’s turn, and his blue eyes are intensely focused, his body bent over with the cue sliding between his long slender fingers. the top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up. you swallow hard as you notice the veins on his on hands and arms, suddenly overcome with a desire to have those arms be wrapped around you. you try hard not to think of it, but you think of how his fingers would feel inside you.

you sigh irritably at your horny thoughts. you hate the lack of closeness you and satoru had throughout the night, and not just because your horniness was once again ignited with the disgusting slushy drink.

a split second before satoru hits the cue ball, he catches your eyes and you grin supportively and mouth a quick “good luck”. satoru gets 3 balls in pockets. he raises his arms in victory and looks at you and winks and is about to say something to you until mia cheers out an obnoxious scream of victory and jumps on satoru to kiss him deeply. he returns the favor, albeit rather hastily.

“no kissing! no kissing until your turn is over!” suguru points and them, looking peeved. “she’s been literally tonguing him after every turn and-”

“it’s so fucking annoying like wait until his turn is over at least?” riko completes suguru’s sentence with ease. oh god, they must’ve been going through it this entire time. also, cute.

“i really am not trying to be mean but i don’t think i can even be near her…” suguru says apologetically, wiping the sweat off his forehead. you give a sympathetic pout and place yourself between suguru and mia and mia’s friends. it’s the least you can do for your favorite up and coming couple.

bad idea. you forget how mean girls can get sometimes.

“oh my god, y/n, right? come sit down next to us!” mia approaches you and sits down in the booth next to the pool table. she pats the seat next to her. you say hello and reluctantly take the seat, expecting the worst.

“wow, your hair…is it always so…poofy like that? i love what you’re doing with it, babe.”

you’re miffed and don’t even know how to answer what mia just asked. you don’t even get to because she just continues.

“so how do you know satoru? i just wanted to clear the air with you about some stuff. i feel like i got some, like, really jealous energy from you at the pregame when me and him were, like, making out? remember? when you threw your drink at me?”

“uhh…i threw my drink at satoru-”

“i’m sure you did but like, it could’ve hit me too. and honestly, i’ve been talking to satoru this whole week and, like, i just don’t think he finds, like, desperation hot, you know?”

you’re at a loss for words. desperation? you’ve heard enough. first sukuna hitting on you, and now this? you smile at her with spite and quiet patience, as you get up from the seat.

“i’m gonna leave.” you choose your next words carefully. “you’re kind of a bitch, also.” you leave your empty drink behind and in your peripheral, you see a confused satoru watching you leave and taking your seat next to mia.

you put on your jacket and you’re not exactly sure where you’re going. the barcade is huge, and if the feelings of loneliness weren’t conspicuous before, they are unmistakable on you now. your palms are slippery and you figure you maybe just need some water, but not before you slip away from your friends and find an isolated row of tables in front of the mezzanine. you figure you can maybe get some peace and quiet here as you try to sober up. according to your phone, it’s only 10:37pm, so you have plenty of time before you have to go to bed. alone.

staring at the DJ screen, you chuckle to yourself at the absurd anime edits they are playing on the screen that’s supposed to relate to some reference that’s been going viral on tiktok. you idly stare at the DJ screen, letting your train of thoughts take you far away from this place.

you’re not sure how long you sit here by yourself but you’re brazenly brought back to the barcade by a familiar voice and an ice cold glass cup touching your cheek, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“where’d ya go?” you look up to see satoru hovering over you, holding a glass of ice water. “move over.” he takes a seat next to you without even asking and hands you the cold glass of water.

you take a sip and coldness of the liquid jolts your mind awake and now, you’re really back at the barcade, mentally and physically. and also, has water always tasted this good? you take a sip, and another, until you’re half way done chugging the glass and your throat is in pain from the cold.

“good girl.” satoru murmurs, putting his arms around you and gently rubbing your back in circles. normally, this would make your stomach do cart wheels, but you’re just too tired for all that. “how are we feelin’?”

you’re trying to answer his question but…oh god? why does your throat hurt? is it the cold water you just drank? no. no, it’s because you want to cry. oh god, nope. you cannot make it one of those nights where you get too drunk and cry. you refuse.

“m’feelin’…sad…if m’being honest…” your words are slurred as you look up at satoru and take another sip of your water.

“damn. that sucks. wanna go downstairs?”

the constricting feeling in your throat immediately dissipates, and is replaced by annoyance. wow, he responds with that? maybe it’s a good idea you won’t fuck him tonight.

he doesn’t wait for an answer as he gets up and helps you out of your seat and guides you downstairs. you interlock your arms with his for support so you don’t trip, and you’re perceptive enough to feel the viselike grip satoru has on your arms as you both descend the stairs.

“what are we even doing here?” your throat hurts even more as you have shout even louder on the ground floor due to the higher levels of music.

satoru continues to lead you down the floor into the arcade and looks back at you confused. “dontcha wanna play dance dance revolution?”

this makes you open your eyes wide in anticipation and excitement. no way. “what, really? the line is still so fuckin’ long though…”

“i’ll deal with it.” satoru tells you wait while he goes to the front of the line. you can’t exactly hear what the hell he’s saying to the people up front, but you do see him flash his signature pearly whites and flutter his bright blue eyes. he meets your eyes and motions excitedly for you to come to the front, and you hurry there, thinking if you wasted any time, you might never get to play dance dance revolution for the rest of the night.

“still got coins?” he asks, as you nod and hand him whatever was left in your purse.

“did you just flirt with the people in front to let us cut them?”

“maybe.”

that makes you uncharacteristically giggle. you want to pick a fight about how that’s so unethical to other people in line who have waited a long time to play, but you’re feeling a bit selfish tonight. satoru squeezes your hand tightly and you squeeze back as the game starts.

you’re not entirely sure how long you both play dance dance revolution, but you can’t remember a time where you’ve enjoyed playing this game more. satoru always says the funniest things in the middle of a game, and because you’re still a bit drunk, you laugh really hard at it and it just spurs him to continue making awful one-liners. by the end of however many rounds you’ve played, satoru is completely wiped. he’s sweaty, breathing heavy, and his lanky yet sturdy build is leaning against the railing.

“how the fuck are you this good at dance dance revolution?” he says in between deep breaths.

“it’s not made for people with long legs,” you tease.

“’kay, one more. this time i’ll really-”

“alright, you both need to leave this game station. immediately.” you both turn to find a club bouncer practically escorting the both of you off the platform.

“we weren’t even playing for long…” you start.

“you played long enough that several attendees complained about the both of you. please remove yourself from the station for the rest of the night. i’ll be watching so don’t try and go back.”

you and satoru stare at the bouncer in silence as he disappears in the back. soon as he’s out of satoru’s line of sight, the swears start rolling in.

“what the fuck? who the fuck was that? who does he think telling us what to do? honestly, y/n, give me the green light, i’m literally a foot taller than him. i’ll kick his-”

you don’t wait for him to finish his sentence and you don’t really care for him to either. you grab his hands and pull him to the dance floor, where coincidentally, a remix of “murder on the dance floor” starts to play. satoru doesn’t question it and matches your energy. he’s always good at matching your energy and being on the same wavelength as you. you clearly have more dancing energy left, and you want to dance with him. you let the music guide the both of you to the center of the floor.

the purple and blue dim lights illuminate both of your faces and both of you can’t really recall if there are other people around you. it’s just you and him.

you turn around and sway your hips and satoru takes a risk and puts his arms on them and pulls you closer to him. when you let him, he full sends it, and pulls your back (and coincidentally, your ass) flush against his front. you have some sense in you to not grind into one of your best friends, so you purposefully try to keep the movement to a minimum while still allowing your body to move freely to the beat.

satoru is trying hard to not get hard, and failing miserably. thankfully, you don’t notice anything, except in the back of your mind, you wish he would’ve kept his keys and wallet in his back pocket instead of his front. satoru can’t stand you on him anymore unless he wants to be stuck in a rock and (quite literally) a hard place, so he spins you back around so that you’re facing him.

you laugh and squeal at being spun. “do it again. spin me again.”

he spins you again and you laugh again. this time, he pulls the front of your body against him and sways his body with yours. you take note of his bashful smile and how his orbs have taken on a darker hue. the song melts into a slower, lo-fi city pop remix, and you feel like you can finally talk above the music now.

you try to open your mouth but you keep on giggling.

“what? what’s so funny?” satoru joins you, trying to hold back his giggles.

“i…i don’t know, i just love dancing, i think?”

“are you still sad?”

the question catches you off guard. “uh, no. i'm not. i’m glad we’re dancing and…i dunno why i said i was sad before.” you trail off, genuinely trying to remember. “i guess…maybe it was because of that pervy guy…”

immediately, satoru stops swaying and comes to a complete stop. his eyes try to make contact with yours, but your mind is still occupied with the euphoric feeling of grooving to rhythm so he has to steady your body and hold your jaw so that you’re looking directly into his now deeper blue eyes.

“what pervy guy?” you sense the genuine worry in his voice, and it snaps you out of the trance.

“wait, no sorry. it’s not a big deal, satoru. he just bought me a drink.” you hesitate to even continue, as satoru already looks upset. you swallow apprehensively, making sure to choose your next words carefully. “he just bought me a drink and, like, made weird comments about my boobs. it’s honestly kind of funny now because i dumped the drink he bought for me on him.”

satoru relaxes his grip on you upon hearing that you took care of the situation yourself, but only a little bit. his brows are still furrowed in irritation. “okay, i’m glad you’re okay…but promise me you’ll point him out if you see him, again?”

you nod, as you both let your body go back to comfortably swaying with the rhythm. “wait, where’s mia?”

satoru scoffs. “don’t bring her up, too fuckin’ clingy. also, she was being sooo bitchy to riko. and you know, suguru is finally getting some, so i can’t let a random hook up do something to fuck that up…”

you smile and shake your head. wow, so she was being a bitch to riko, too? red flag. “you know she was also being a bitch to me.”

satoru frowns. “yeah, i figured out kinda late. after you left from pool, i asked her what was up, and she was just-” satoru lifts his hands up in defeat. “she was a lot. sorry about her…”

“glad you also thought she was a bitch.”

he hums in response. the beat picks up a bit, and he spins again, and pulls your back against him for the second time that night. you both continue to sway to the beat, and you’re once again met with the uncomfortable, unshakeable, feeling down there.

it’s now or never, your body thinks before your brain has any time to process the ramifications of your actions. you’re significantly shorter than satoru, so you lift your head up and look at satoru’s face, and he smiles at you and leans closer to your face. your breath hitches at the back of your throat at the sheer lack of distance between both of your mouths. you almost chicken out. almost.

“m’horny,” you slur, pouting at satoru.

it’s satoru’s turn to choke on his words. he definitely did not hear that right. he definitely drank too much tonight, and he doesn’t know what he’s hearing or doing right now because there’s no way you said what he thinks you just said.

“w-what?”

you ignore satoru’s fumble. you whip around and put your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your level, while standing on your tippy toes. “i’m horny, satoru. i’ve been so stupidly horny this entire night because i took a stupid edible that shoko gave me and then i took that stupid shot and then-”

satoru pulls you away from the dance floor, and he’s practically running to the exit of the barcade. he doesn’t care that he’s leaving both of your friends behind because he needs to hear it again. he needs to hear you outside, where there’s no loud music, and there’s a cool breeze to wake you up from your senses. he turns to see you giggling, and he fights the urge to smile.

“okay, what’s the problem? daddy’s here to help.”

normally, this would make you annoyed, but it just makes you laugh instead.

“i said, m'horny and i dunno what to do 'bout it.” you pout, finally feeling free that you’ve let someone else know about this…issue you’ve been dealing with the whole night.

satoru grins widely. “y'came to the right person.” he cups you cheeks softly. he’s also slurring his words. “wanna go home? i’ll call an uber?”

you nod, and you pull out your phone to check your messages, and satoru does the same. you both have the same messages from the group chat:

suguru: satoru do NOT fucking come home me n riko are hangin in the living room

suguru: satoru are u reading this do NOT step a foot inside or i s2g i’ll end u w my bare hands

shoko: LMAO i’m crying also y/n - staying the nite @ hime’s :)

“i guess…uh…not sure where i’ll go but i’ll figure it out…” satoru fumbles again.

“are you stupid? you’re obviously coming back to my place? what was the other option? sleeping out on the street?” you berate satoru, sounding more like your normal self.

“wow, jeez, okay, chill woman. i missed it when you were complaining about how horny you are.” satoru says, as he puts in your address on the uber.

“i’m less horny now because you keep saying stupid shit.” you cross your arms, consequently causing your boobs to lift and almost spill out of your bralette - something satoru notices in his peripheral. he’s trying to look anywhere but your chest, but the cold breeze is nipping at your skin, causing goosebumps to rise and your nipples to get hard. satoru swallows and takes a deep breath before turning to you and taking your leather shirt jacket from you.

“put this on, you’re cold.”

“i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know i’m cold? hm?” satoru is getting really tired of you constantly challenging him when you’re both drunk, so he decides to be blunt about it, the same way you were blunt before about letting him know you were horny.

“because…” he gestures to your titties flippantly. “your headlights are on.” he also grabs your wrist and crosses the crosswalk, heading to the meeting point across the street from the barcade.

you arch an eyebrow. what on earth is he talking about? “what does that mean?” you say, trying to keep up with his strides. he looks back at you, and has to hold back a groan as he sees your titties bouncing up and down to match his pace and thinks the universe is playing the sickest joke on him.

“your nipples are so hard, i can see them through your bra.”

you stare at him as you both finally reach the meeting point. your mouth slowly furls into a frown your eyes widen. “it’s not a bra. it’s a bralette.”

“sorry, baby. your bralette is doing a shit job at covering your nips.”

you sigh. guess he has a point. you put on the leather jacket, but not without deciding to be extra cheeky towards him.

“my titties are so cold. you were right. i wish…” you pretend to take a dramatic sigh. “i wish someone could, like, i don’t know. i wish someone could warm them up with their hands.”

satoru wastes no time in picking up what you put down, and his palms immediately go straight to your titties. his large hands easily engulfs them, and he moves the fingers that are touching your bare skin back and forth creating a fiction that does nothing to warm you up, but it feels good at least.

“better?” satoru teases. he has a raging hard on now, so he shifts slightly in his stance to adjust himself. you hum and give a cheeky grin in response. something in your head tell you what this looks like, optics-wise, but you both don’t care. ever since the word “horny” came out of your mouth, both you and satoru have been running on the bare bones autopilot, just trying to get back to your place.

satoru keeps his hands on your chest until he spots the uber driver coming from a couple yards away, and pulls his hands away to flag them down. you frown at your chest feeling untouched, but keep your needy thoughts to yourself. you’ll have plenty of time to have satoru warm you up at home.

the uber ride feels like forever. and what’s worse is that satoru has become the chattiest passenger on earth, and it’s annoying you so much that you can’t even focus on being horny and wanting his hands on your chest or anywhere on your body. you’re not even sure what they’re talking about but you hear bits and pieces of their conversation as you stare out the window.

“i think rigatoni is a good pasta shape.”

“nahh, you gotta try cannelloni, my dude.”

“aren’t they the same?”

a loud gasp is heard and you know it’s from satoru. “don’t say that!”

“you kinda look like bob odenkirk. has anyone told you that? are you bob odenkirk? i loved you in better call saul.” this one makes you want to die from second hand embarrassment.

“i don’t know who that individual is.”

“ziti is also pretty good.”

you think you’re about to go insane with all the talk about fucking pasta shapes. you never want to see or eat pasta in your fucking life ever again after this uber ride. you’re about to burst and tell satoru to shut the fuck up (he gets so annoying and talkative when he’s drunk) when the familiar apartment complex comes into view, and you almost open the car door while it’s moving to get out of it.

“thanks for the ride, hector. i’m giving you a 5 stars, and i’m sending you a recipe for chicken and ricotta cannelloni.” satoru waves the uber driver goodbye, and turns to see you half way back to your apartment. he quickly sprints to catch up with you so he doesn’t get locked out.

“jeez, you’re so eager to get back home. what? you excited about something,” he teases, as he closes the gate behind you. you can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to either slap it or kiss it off of him, but you don’t dare look back at him.

“i need to pee, okay?”

satoru shuts up until you both get to your apartment and lock the door. he sighs and flops down on the couch, manspreading his long slender legs and arms across the couch and carpet.

“you can put something on the tv, don’t care. i’ll be back.” you quickly run to the bathroom and freshen up, and come back to see satoru watching a random episode of better call saul, and you scoff knowing exactly where this is headed.

“before you say anything…he didn’t look bob odenkirk.”

immediately satoru gets defensive. “you didn’t even see him properly. i was the one talking to him and interacting with him and it was definitely him.”

“you’re drunk.”

“so are you!”

okay, he has a point, but still. you sit on the couch next to him and pull his face to face you. “why would bob odenkirk, star of better call saul, be driving ubers on his friday nights, satoru?”

this shuts satoru up. he shifts in his seat and exits out of better call saul to the home screen, and plays some random reality tv show. meanwhile, you know it’s late, but you can’t help but check your phone one last time. you’re absolutely deflated that it’s almost midnight and you haven’t heard from toji at all. you sigh agitatedly and chuck your phone to the other side of the sofa while you stretch out your legs.

“toji still hasn’t texted you back?” satoru asks, shifting his body to face you. you mimic his actions, inching closer to him while frowning about your predicament.

“yeah, i just…i just feel stupid okay! i wish he would at least say something! i was kind of vulnerable sending that text…”

satoru sighs. he knows what he’s about to say next is so wrong, so pervy, so inappropriate, but he’s a bit drunk right now, and to be quite honest, he really wants to see this picture of you.

“can i see the text?” he asks quietly, holding his breath. he hopes he’s reading your signs correctly from the barcade. he doesn’t fumble this time.

you reach to grab your phone and unlock it. you turn the brightness up and hand the phone to satoru with the photo of your soapy titties on full display.

satoru’s breath gets stuck in his throat, and he’s choked up on words to describe, what he thinks, are the sexiest pair of titties he’s ever seen in his life. sure, he’s seen the outline of your titties through sheer t-shirts, and today he’s felt them and seen your nipples hard, but none of it beats the way they look bare and wet. god, he feels like such a perv seeing this pic of his best friend and getting wildly turned on by it.

he swallows, his breath unintentionally shallow. “toji’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“what?”

“he’s a fucking idiot.” satoru says louder. and he believes it from the bottom of his fucked up horny heart. he looks up at you and meets your eyes. “if i got this from you, i would respond in a heartbeat. don’t give a fuck where i am or what i’m doin’.”

your breath starts getting heavy, and you feel your heart beating faster. why can’t you hear him properly? better get closer.

“what would you say?” your voice is barely a whisper now, your eyes are drilled into his. his once bright blue eyes are as dark as the murky sea now.

he scoffs lightly, and you smell the beer in his breath. “i’d fuckin’ beat off to it, that’s what i’d do. i’d fuckin’ paint my sheets white.”

you suck in a deep breath loudly. god, he sounds so vulgar. you’ve never heard him talk like this, and it feels like you’ve unlocked a new side to satoru you’ve never seen before. the adrenaline of the alcohol combined with the wetness between your legs makes your head spin and heart race.

satoru edges closer to you, ready to make a proposition you can’t refuse. “i have an idea.” he inches even closer and places his hands on your chin and bring it inches away from his wet lips. “let’s…let’s kiss. to make toji jealous. teach him a lesson. show him what he could’ve gotten tonight if he had the balls to message back.” sober satoru would’ve laughed after saying something this nonsensical and absurd, but drunk satoru can only think of shoving his tongue down your throat (and other places).

your answer doesn’t involve words. you close the pathetically small gap between your lips and his and it feels like you’ve locked on to something you can’t ever let go of.

satoru grabs your jaw and pulls you even closer to him, if that’s even possible. he leads the kiss and opens your mouth for his tongue to enter and explore uncharted territory. you let him, and your tongues fight against each other for dominance, and you lose every time. and it drives you fucking crazy.

you moan into his mouth as satoru straddles you on top of his lap. you feel his hard on, and you subconsciously start to grind your hips on him, moaning even more repetitively. your short skirt rides up, leaving nothing to imagination as your ass is on full display, which satoru takes full advantage of by kneading it and pulling you even closer to his hips. your moans get more shaky as he touches your ass and lightly slaps it, earning a squeal from you that gets drowned in satoru’s mouth.

“so fuckin’ needy.” satoru places open mouthed kisses on your neck and as your throaty gasps overpower the reality garbage playing in the background. he’s right - you’re so needy. you’ve been wanting this the whole night.

you miss the lack of contact of his lips on yours so you grab a fistful of his ivory hair and reconnect your mouths together. he pushes your back onto the sofa and you whine at the loss of friction on your clothed core. you immediately palm his raging hard on and satoru groans, his eyes closed and face flushed, which spurs you even more.

he grabs your hand away from his hard member, and places it above your head. he grabs the wrist of your other hand and hold them both with ease above your head while he continues to kiss you deeply. so this is what the other girls are getting when they kiss satoru, you think to yourself in the middle of all the ecstacy.

satoru uses his free hands to roughly pull your bralette down, and you hear a tear as continues to expose your titties. you break free from his lips and moan as he uses his hands to palm your titties.

“h-hey! you ripped my bralette!” you say between breathy sighs.

“i’ll buy you another one.” he doesn’t even bother to look up or sound apologetic about it, as he uses his long fingers to pinch and play with your hard and sensitive nub, causing your to moan wantonly.

“f-fuck~” you need him on your mouth again. you can’t get enough of his tongue inside you, and you pathetically beg for it. “please~ please kiss me again, satoru~”

who’s satoru to deny such a simple request? his mouth meets yours again and you playfully bite his lower lip and giggle. it doesn’t last long when he squeezes and starts to roughly play with your bare titties again, encapsulating your moans in his mouth.

you’re not sure how long you’re kissing satoru. you’re kissing so much your mouths are numb and swollen and red. satoru doesn’t dare go any further than just kissing you and playing with your titties.

you want him to fuck you. and you know he wants to fuck you, too. but your eyelids are getting so heavy from kissing him, and satoru’s fervor is also mellowing. you both are resorting to small pecks and quick kisses between soft giggles and playful bites.

eventually, satoru moves from your lips to your jawline, and leaves soft wet kisses ever inch of your neck down to the center of your chest. he wants to kiss your hard perky nipples and titties, but he sides with his better judgement to not take it further than just kisses — he’s already been so selfish playing with your soft titties with his hands.

you’re both too tired and quite frankly, on the last legs of your intoxication to get up and go to your bed. you also don’t want to leave satoru’s embrace even though it’s crowded and every joint is touching him.

similarly, satoru has no intention of letting your leave his side, your warmth more soothing than any blanket he could’ve used. you both lull yourselves into a slumber, the rising of both your chests being the rhythm you drift off to.

in between your heated makeout session with satoru and falling asleep, you don’t notice the texts that toji sends you in response to your picture from earlier today that you were obsessing about so much. you don’t hear the vibration of your phone when he calls you, demanding an answer for the tent in his pants right before he’s trying to fall asleep.

and you most definitely don’t notice you accidentally accepting the call while satoru was straddling you in his lap.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo #gojo saturo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #saturo gojo fanfiction #saturo gojo x reader #saturo gojo x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #saturo gojo smut #toji fushiguro smut #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #satoru gojou #gojou satoru #gojo x toji x reader

[stylespresleyhearted]

POV: YOU’RE DATING CALLUM TURNER

or the one where i pretend i am Callum’s girlfriend (and also tagging @precious-little-scoundrel on this bc I GOTTA)

liked by yourinstagram and 56204 others

tmznews Callum Turner spotted with a mystery girl! Is the new heartthrob off the market? Link in bio for everything TMZ has on his new gal.

view all comments

user23 the invasion of privacy … yikes

user12 What does it say about me if I read the article because tbh I’m curious

fan12 don’t do it, lets respect their privacy

callumupdates Don’t give TMZ any clicks. Look at the horrible quality of the photos, they obviously weren’t supposed to obtain these. Callum will share when he is ready.

yourfriendsig At least she’s pretty 😍

yourinstagram stopppp haha

liked by rafflaw, anthonyboyle, and others

yourinstagram soft launching my man bc he’s hot and i love him ❣️ (oh yeah and tmz exposed us)

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fan12 GIRL THIS IS A HARD LAUNCH NOTHING SOFT ABOUT IT!!!!

user41 crrrryingggg omg iconic

user23 lol attention seeker

yourfriendsig It took me three years to be IG official with you, why does he get special treatment 😒

yourusername take a guess 😉

keoghan92 @tmznews you suck

liked by fan12 and 63917 others

deuxmoi Spotted: Callum Turner and his girlfriend at a pub in downtown London. Looks like no more hiding for this couple. Sources tell me they’re in love and don’t care who knows it.

view all comments

fan12 wahhh they’re so cute

user23 i’m so jealous but i also ship it so hard

fan41 my friend saw them making out at a diner last week lmao she said they were eating each other not the food

liked by austinbutler and 36072 others

yourinstagram so proud and moved to tears ♥️ the entire cast and crew did a great job honoring these brave men

view all comments

fan12 we love a supportive gf

fan41 what a great picture fr

user23 I met y/n at the event tonight and she was the sweetest, most HILARIOUS person its easy to see why Callum is in love with her ❤️

liked by yourinstagram, rafflaw, and 78912 others

anthonyboyle One Direction

view all comments

user97 OMGGG they’re so hot wtf

yourinstagram more like Wrong Direction

keoghan92 you think you’re funny huh

yourinstagram Callum finds me funny 🥲

rafflaw he’s biased he’s in love with u

fan91 cryingg she’s a part of the mota fam 💍🥹

liked by keoghan92 and others

yourinstagram hi movie star ♥️ i love you - your biggest fan

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rafflaw 💍💍💍👀

yourfriendsig @rafflaw LMAO DONT START THE RUMORS

appletv Mr & Mrs Egan spin off?

keoghan92 sappy

yourinstagram @sabrinacarpenter

liked by yourinstagram and 639 others

yourfriendsig good times

view all comments

user91 … the hand on her ass … making out … CALLUM TURNER I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

yourinstagram why would you post this when you know im missing him 🥺

yourinstagram brb omw to ft him

fan23 i love the way y/n loves him she isn’t afraid to be a normal girlfriend

liked by anthonyboyle, keoghan92, austinbutler, and 941633 others

yourinstagram social media making fun of me for this but if he was your man you’d get it 😌 i say that’s my baby and i’m proud ♥️♥️

view all comments

fan12 if i didn’t see my bf for a week i’d react the same way people need to mind their business

yourinstagram it was only three days but yes your point still stands 😆

yourfriendsig y/n you’re an icon

fan92 i love them so fucking much pls adopt me

yourinstagram okay! ♥️

liked by austinbutler, rafflaw, and 76043 others

yourinstagram someone tell y/n not to leave her phone unlocked 🤣🤣🥳 - anthony & barry here!

edit: got my phone back. can’t bring myself to delete my boyfriend looks so cute. i guess barry and anthony look okay.

view all comments

fan23 LMAO PLS HOW DID THEY STEAL HER PHONE !!!😂😂CALLUM TAKE IT BACK!

yourinstagram he was supposed to hold it for me it didn’t fit in my clutch and he sided w the enemies 🥺

anthonyboyle New profile picture?

yourinstagram i’ll kill you

yourinstagram also i think it’s important for everyone to know @keoghan92 stuck his hand down my boyfriends pants pocket to get my phone

keoghan92 and i liked it

anthonyboyle 😂😂😂

—

The End

Ahhhhhh making this was so much fun!!! Y/N is a bit shameless in her adoration for her man but that’s the point!!! I’d be the same if he was mine (I mean look at Vanessa Kirby and Dua Lipa lmao)

Marina this is for us because this man deserves our love we’d make him so happy 🙌🏼

It was supposed to be silly and funny so don’t give me shit obviously celeb relationships would be a lot more private. And for bonus fun check this out ⬇️

#callum turner #callum turner fanfic #callum turner x reader #callum turner ig edit #made by me* #part 2 anyone??? i got more pics #mota fanfic #i purposelly included butt pics bc i love butts btw #and it would be for cal to grab onto

[pitconfirm]

did u say hurt and comfort

okay... posting this is a bit out of my comfort zone but i will be nice 😇 but beware it was written in one very sad sitting after the race so may be a little... rough. and venty. just 1500 words of strollonso rambling:

Lance often isn’t a creature of nuance, and certainly never of subtlety. There are two distinct sides to him, sharply and overtly separated. He can be loud, cheeky, confident, shameless. That’s the Lance most people know, and most people unduly hate; misinterpreting his behaviour as bratty and petulant. But there’s a flip side—the quiet, self-conscious, shy Lance. That’s the Lance in Fernando’s bed tonight. Well, their bed. Lance’s hotel room is always more of a cover-up than a living space these days. 

They’ve been here before, and Fernando has seen it all—crashes, tears, anger, and apologies. Mostly apologies. Despite whatever bullshit narrative the media might prefer, Lance is sorely self-critical, often to the point of detriment. To the point where he can’t even celebrate his highs because he’s too caught up thinking what more he could’ve done. Every corner, every gear shift, every blink. So, the shyness doesn’t come as much of a surprise tonight. 

Things like these happen. Mistakes and lapses of concentration are a cruel part of racing. But things like these are never just things like these for Lance. His last name cracks open an entirely different can of hatred. The type of bias and cruelty that makes Fernando’s skin burn, hot and angry. He calms himself, keeping his composure for Lance’s sake. 

“Hey, Lancey…” he whispers, kind and gentle; climbing onto the bed after getting back from the debrief that Lance chose not to attend. Lance is sat on top of the sheets and still in his race gear, as though the effort of changing would be too much in his sorrowful state. He gives Fernando nothing but a shy smile, averting his gaze and shuffling uncomfortably under the attention.

“Where are you?” Fernando asks, waving a hand in front of his distant eyes; big, brown, and damp. It snaps Lance back into focus, making eye contact in that way of his—where he tilts his head down and looks up, as if wanting to make himself smaller. He has a terrible habit of making himself out to be less than he truly is. 

“Right here, silly,” he giggles, but it’s not right. It’s a sad and blatantly performative sound—a failed attempt to dissipate Fernando’s concern. To anyone with the gift naivety, it might be convincing, but Fernando knows Lance better than that. He knows the good and the bad; the pride and the guilt. The little things that nobody else sees (except maybe Esteban, but Fernando tries not to think about that bastard too often). 

He takes Lance’s hands in his palms, not missing the slight tremble. “Talk to me,” he says, trying to coax Lance out of his shell of indifference.  It stings, but it’s necessary; like pressing down on a pinprick to stop it from bruising. Burying the pain will only hurt him more in the long run. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Lance shrugs, sweetly stubborn. He turns away and pulls his hands from Fernando’s grasp, and Fernando tries his best not to take it personally. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have scored points, anyway.” 

“Ay!” Fernando gasps suddenly, face serious. He grabs the hands back more firmly this time—he can be stubborn, too. “You don’t talk like that. Not to me.” 

“Like what?” Lance giggles again, nervously, breathily; his eyes caught on their hands where they’re trapped together on Fernando’s thigh. “I’m just being realistic. It’s what everybody says.” 

Fernando feels the bitter rage bubble again. “What who says?” he asks intensely while squeezing Lance’s hands tighter. Compliantly, Lance lets it happen; hands loose but unmoving in Fernando’s palms. 

“Y’know…” he drawls, disappointedly casting his gaze to the phone discarded beside him on the bed. “Everybody.” 

Fernando sighs internally; trying not to roll his eyes lest Lance interprets it the wrong way. He lets go of his hands to grab the item, quickly typing in Lance’s password. On the screen is the last thing Lance was looking at—searching his fucking name on Twitter. Idiot. It’s all cruel, and brutal; full of every nasty word that can spit on Lance’s identity. 

“You need to delete this silly app. Full of people who don’t know what they’re saying…” he mutters, shaking his head and taking the initiative to delete it himself. He dreads the thought of all of his own ‘fans’ tearing Lance apart, as if he and Lance aren’t one and the same nowadays. An inseparable entity. 

“It’s the same on every fucking app,” Lance says. He sounds annoyed, but at least that’s better than hiding himself away. “You can look on Instagram, or TikTok, or—”

Fernando gently grabs Lance’s jaw, tilting his face to force eye contact. “Then just look at me, yes? Nothing else. Just me, and you.” 

He stares Lance down, watching him try to battle away the pain. Lance always does these tiny movements with his face that give everything away; nervous flicks of his eyes and sad twitches of his brows. There’s another attempt at a smile, but after a few moments, his facade cracks and quickly morphs into a frown. A sad, broken look; brows furrowing more and more until he chokes on a sob. The floodgates open, and like the flick of a switch, the sob turns into wet, hurried cries. 

“Shhh,” Fernando soothes, quickly wrapping both arms around Lance and pulling him into his chest—making him feel small like he needs to sometimes. “It’s okay…” he whispers, stroking a hand up and down Lance’s sweat-sticky back, heaving with uneven cries. “You are okay.” 

Lance shakes his head against Fernando’s neck, tears damp on his skin.

“No? Not okay?”

At that, he nods; a wordless but sincere admission.

“Okay. That’s okay.” 

Fernando sits through it with him, holding him tight until the rapid, shameful sobs turn into slow chokes, then into quiet sniffles. The shake in his body slows to a slight tremble, like the purr of a cat, but certainly not so pleasant. More like a shivering kitten left out in the cold. 

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yes?” he whispers against Lance’s ear, tugging at his race gear. Lance nods with another wet sniffle, pulling away from Fernando’s neck to look him in the eye. Fernando could cry himself at the sight of him—all wet eyes and red cheeks, broken by the unfairness of a sport that doesn’t love him like he deserves. It doesn’t love him like Fernando does. 

He tugs Lance around like an oversized dog that thinks it’s still a puppy, defying his stature to half-carry him to the bathroom. Lance is still distant, too tired to put up any fuss as Fernando sits him on the edge of the tub and undresses him piece by piece; whispering praise and gently kissing his skin as he goes until Lance is bare and shivering. 

“Stand for me, baby,” he requests. It takes Lance a moment to register what he’s heard, but once he gets it, he stands up immediately on two wobbly legs; always so eager to please, even in moments like these. It hurts, knowing how desperately Lance wants to be good, and how a race like this makes him feel like he isn’t. But he’ll always be good—always Fernando’s good boy. So good that it doesn’t make sense why he’d want a cruel and tainted man like Fernando in the first place. 

They shower, warm and steamy, with most of Lance’s weight resting on Fernando. But Fernando holds him, despite his own body being lethargic from the race. He massages Lance’s shoulders, and his flat chest where the impact of the seatbelts must ache from the crash. It’s part of the sport—it’s what they sign up for—but now, being with Lance, Fernando understands why his parents get so concerned every time he gets in the car. Every bump and collision of Lance’s makes Fernando consider turning to religion just to pray for him to get out in one piece.

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispers later; sitting on the bed as Fernando towel dries his hair. It’s longer now than it has been since they got together, curling up at his nape and getting caught in his eyes. Fernando brushes it away for him with a gentle, affirmative pat on the cheek. 

“What you are sorry for?” he asks, stroking Lance’s jaw; a thumb rubbing back and forth on his pouty bottom lip. 

“I shouldn’t be so…” he looks away, embarrassed. “Weak. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

Weak is the last word Fernando thinks of when he looks at Lance. He sees commitment—Lance’s hunger to succeed and pain when he loses. But never weakness. No, Lance might be the strongest man Fernando knows. 

“Lance… the only thing that bothers me is when you lie to me. When you pretend you are okay,” he says with a degree of honesty he never knew he was capable of. It feels like Lance was put on earth to bring these things out of him—the good he didn’t know was there, nestled under his sheath of utter badness. “I would do this every day if I needed to.” 

“Yeah?” Lance asks—quiet, melodic, and tender. A smile perks back on his face, small and hardly there, but there nonetheless. A real smile this time. 

“Yeah. Anything you need.” 

The smile grows, and Fernando knows they’ll be alright. Lance will come back stronger like he always does. Like the perfect boy he is. 

#i don't usually write this stuff so it might not be the best #but it’s better being mediocre here than rotting in my drafts 🙏 #strollonso #my fic #willing myself not to delete this immediately

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #13)

FEB13: Night Out

“Did she book out the whole place, then?” John asked, pulling his pearl buttons through their starched holes as he dressed into his shirt.

“Yep, very fancy,” you told him, fixing his tie and feeling the silk slip through your manicured fingers.

Your best friend, Cana, had just graduated from her master’s program, and she had invited you to her graduation party. When you mentioned that you were housing three additional British soldiers, she had extended the invitation to include them most enthusiastically.  

The boys had dressed up nice. Cana had indeed booked out an entire rooftop bar, and as a woman who liked to party, she was really pulling out all the stops tonight. 

She was dressed all in black, surrounded by her classmates and a few of your mutual friends, but when she saw you coming through the doors with your literal army squad, she made a bee-line straight for you. Her bejeweled arms were spread wide, her perfectly set curls bounced as she ran, flinging herself into your arms and squealing her hellos. 

“Cana!” You laughed, holding her as she spun around you with glee, “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

“Goddamn, babe. Me too,” she huffed, exasperated and sarcastically funny. 

You watched her roll her eyes and smile, 

“Thank fuck grad school is done. Now, introduce me! You brought dinner, I see.”

“Oh, God, Cana. You can’t say that!” You protested. 

But, Kyle heard her comment and brushed you aside, reaching for her hand and taking it in his,

“Let the woman speak, babes. She looks hungry.”

Cana giggled, high pitched and joyful, letting Kyle lead her back to her table. You looked at John and mouthed an apology. 

“Dinnae fash, bonnie. Gaz is in his own version of heaven,” Johnny chuckled, “He never could turn down a curvy lass.”

“She’s a wild one, but I love her,” you explained, trying to dismiss your friend’s audacious behavior.

“She’s grand, love. Let me buy you a drink,” John wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you in to his body. His soft clothes crumpled against your side, and you noticed John’s palm sliding lower and lower down your back. 

“Speaking of blokes in heaven,” Simon quipped, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He cast a long gaze at his captain, and you thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Aye,” John puffed up a little, defensively, “And what of it?”

“Heaven looks good on you, Cap’n,” Johnny clapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, “You were sayin’ somethin’ about a wee drink?”

You talked and drank and laughed all night with John and his friends. Cana couldn’t keep her hands off of Kyle, and he seemed to be loving every moment of it. By the end of the evening, your feet were aching, but you had heard story after story of John being the hero and even more stories of him being the victim of his men’s pranks. They seemed to have an incredible bond together that made you admire John even more. 

“Are you havin’ fun tonight, love?” John asked, whispering in your ear, letting the whiskers of his beard tickle your neck and sensitive lobe as he did. 

You turned your head to him, smiling, whispering just as low,

“Yes, I am. But, I can’t stop staring at you in that suit.”

“And you in that dress. Mmm…” John ran a long finger up your thigh, pushing the dress’s hem higher and higher until it was truly scandalous. 

“Maybe you should take me home,” you suggested, your eyes full of lust, “So, you can take it off.”

“Grab your purse. Now.”

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢 ; 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: a helping hand turns an enemy into a friend for one single night of truce. one single night that ends up redefining their entire relationship, the start of where everything is about to change.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 6,4k warnings: mentions of heavy drinking, sex, p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, language, size kink, breast play, male dominance, jason's sex stimulated superiority complex

a/n: the fact this was supposed to be way longer scared me of how many chapters i might need to end this series lol. and i tried making it possible to read without the context of the series for those who just want to read a nice smut lol. also, thank you for all the support thus far, it has been incredible seeing so many people invested in this story and wanting to see its development. thank you thank you thank you for supporting this silly writer's dream. ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

Thanks, man. Have a good night. Shutting the door closed behind him, Jason thanked the driver before he watched his Uber ride drive his car away, turning the corner and leaving the street he was left on. The night was cold and dark, the faint lighting of the streetlamp doing nothing to provide him a clear view of his ambiance, instead, all was gloom.

 Standing on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, he let out a deep, long sigh. It was late, really late, past 1am the last time he checked, and the weight of the alcohol in his system begged him to find his way to bed. But the soft, barely audible, breaths of the lady behind him reminded Jason he still had a task ahead: getting you to his apartment.

As a strong wind blew past him, he zipped his jacket up, protecting himself from the unusually chilly night, for this time of the year at least, and turned on his heels to find you resting against the stony wall of the old structure, eyes narrowly managing to remain open. You felt the weather as much as he did, hugging yourself to acquire some type of warmth despite your inappropriate attire.

Carefully, he approached your sleepy frame and guided you inside, a hand placed on your back the entire walk up the stairs. Jason’s building was old, but well maintained.  Meaning, it looked decent for all the decades it’d been through, but didn’t have an elevator casting on whoever lived on the last floor (Jason) the curse to climb all the way up every single day.

Already struggling due to the alcohol and tiredness, halfway through your journey you let out a moan without realizing. Your pace grew slower, and you lacked the effort to simply lift your legs and place your foot on the next step.

“Come on, love. We’re getting closer.” Jason said, pausing right behind you. He had to hold his laugh as you turned back to face him, eyes watery and lips sticking out in a pout.

“Why didn’t we use the elevator? Do you hate me?” you cried.

“Not everyone has daddy’s money to afford an apartment with an elevator,” he joked, but your response caught him by surprise, as your face crunched into a sort of angry expression mixed with a tint of sadness.

“I’m not… I…” you tried to mumble out, but failed countless times. “My feet hurt!”

Sighing deeply once more, he pushed you up by your waist, hands placed safely around you but alway mindful of its position. As you reached the next floor, you thanked your slow mind tonight for not allowing a scream to leave your mouth when Jason grabbed your legs and lifted you up so he could carry you to his apartment.

You had to say, it should’ve surprised you that he carried you with what seemed like a total lack of effort on his part, like you weighed nothing. However, you knew him. You knew he spent countless hours training at the gym, to the point you often wondered if he didn’t live there as well. That he’d often pass you carrying up to eight different weight plates in one single trip to use in his next exercise.

It did surprise you he could carry you. It surprised you he actually did it.

On his arm, the sweet coconut smell reached your nose, and you had to hold yourself from feeling sick. The alcohol was doing its job on you, and gosh you hated it. Tiredness taking over, you rested your head on his shoulder and fought against yourself to keep your eyes open.

“How much do you lift?” you mumbled a question, poking the bicep within your reach. You felt his breath hit your skin as he let out a soft chuckle.

“A lot more than you weight.” he stated, and continued his climb silently until you two were inside his deliciously warm and scrupulously tidy apartment. “Come,” he called after you when your feet were back on the ground. You followed him through the darkened living room until he opened a door and turned the light on in his bedroom. “You can sleep here, I’ll take the sofa.”

Your polite and sober side wanted to complain, to offer to sleep on the sofa instead, but your drunk and seriously exhausted one just wanted to throw yourself on the bed. Accepting the drunk side’s victory, you sat down with a noise and laid on his bed, eyes closing soon after, but being forced to open as you felt the mattress sink right beside you.

Struggling to lift your head, you found Jason bent down to catch your feet, loosening the laces of your converse and helping you take them off. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed as you sat up again and started to unhook your bra from beneath your shirt.

Jason got nervous, eyes quickly shifting from you to the floor, not knowing what to do. Pulling your bra off through one of your sleeves, he took it as his key to leave you alone before you could start stripping off your pants too. Standing up, he reached the bedroom door just as you were climbing under the duvet, head laying on the pillow with eyes already closed. 

He knew that, in your state, it wouldn’t be long before you were in deep slumber. So, turning off the lights, peeking at you one last time, he closed the door behind him. Careful to not make any noise. Careful not to wake you up. Unaware of the smile gracing his lips.

It’d been well over an hour since you had fallen asleep. The darkness still loomed outside, but the dim lighting of Jason’s side table lamp illuminated his living room, casting a shadow upon his body.

Jason couldn’t fall asleep, for some reason. He had tried lying down and forcing his eyes closed, had tried listening to whale sounds, rain sounds, brown, blue, black, white, purple noises. Nothing. Nothing seemed to put him to bed, not even his half drunk state.

So, feeling exhausted, he stood up from the sofa and went to the small kitchen to make himself some tea, hoping it would help him give in to sleep. He tried to be quiet, mindful of his guest still sleeping in his bed, filled his red mug with the tea and returned to the sofa, sitting beside his also sleeping kitten, whose snores were too loud for a beast of his size. 

The drink was warm, and the taste pleased him just enough. He immediately felt more relaxed, letting the warmth fill his entire body, as he laid back onto the sofa and he could really feel like he was starting to rest.

On the other hand, you woke up confused. It was dark, and the pillows were comfortable, but they didn’t smell like your soap, nor did you find your childhood plush toy just within reach on your bed. Suddenly sober, you almost jumped off the bed before the memories started flooding your mind.

Shit. You definitely weren’t home, and this home certainly wasn’t from someone you wished it was. Slowly, you remembered Jason helping you take your shoes off, remembered him helping you up the infinite stairs of his building. And gosh, you remembered his damned smirk while he flirted with you.

You were pissed. P-i-s-s-e-d. Pissed. Why did you do that, Yn? Why did you end up here? Where the fuck did Nessie go to and why didn’t you go home?

In the darkness, you felt your feet touch the cold wooden tiles and you had to bring them back up quickly, not expecting the chilly night weather, but soon remembering how cold you’d felt just before coming to his apartment. 

Your bare legs were feeling it too, and you struggled to find your pair of jeans. It wasn’t anywhere, goddamn it. There was no way you’d go out in only your shirt. You had to find something, and remembering you were in a 6 foot tall monster, you knew he ought to have something around. 

Blindly skirmishing through the room, you felt the soft cotton fabric of what seemed to be a hoodie and put it on. It fit largely on you, the hem falling on the middle of your thighs, and the strong smell of perfume lingering from it.

With light footsteps, you got to the door. Twisting the handle with care, you heard the cracking sound of the door as you opened it, exposing the dimly lit living room. Jason heard the same cracking sound you did, his head jolting back so fast he felt the muscles on his neck aching. 

There you were, hidden behind the door, a string of light illuminating your shape. You still looked sleepy, your cheeks puffed, and the minimum makeup you wore looked smashed on your face. But then, his eyes fell on your body, how your legs were bare and you somehow wore his favorite red hoodie.

Wow. Just, wow!

“Hey” he greeted, waving awkwardly in your direction. You only offered him a shy, toothless smile, eyes scanning the room and landing everywhere but him. “Did I wake you?” he asked, voice tinged by worry.

“No,” you shook your head, meeting his eyes for a brief while. His stare gave you goosebumps, and you returned your eyes to the floor, the tiling giving you more comfort. “I just… woke up.”

An awkward silence fell before you, neither brave enough to look at the other. The air was warm, you didn’t know if it was a sudden weather change or if it was the lingering tension between you two.

“I,” you started, and he immediately looked at you. “I think I’m gonna head home.” you announce, trying to return to the safety of his bedroom.

“No way,” he denied. “It’s almost 4am, Yn. There’s no way I’m letting you out this late. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

Sighing, you accepted defeat without even trying to counter argue, aware his decision was well intended, and you too didn’t feel like facing the gloomy and dangerous streets of Gotham at this hour of the night. So, you just nodded, looking back into the room without moving your feet.

“Can I give you something?” he then questioned. “I mean. Do you want anything? Food, water?” Like clockwork, your stomach roared, making your cheeks go red and a smirk to appear on Jason’s face. “I don’t have much in my pantry, but I can make you a sandwich.”

Standing up, he walked to the kitchen once again, mug in hand being left on the sink. He seemed to move around the small area seamlessly, his bigger size never slowing him down. He opened cabinets, taking out of it a couple of dishes and a bag with a long and crusty baguette. Slicing the bread in half and then open, he set it on the plates, spreading butter on top and fishing for the other ingredients from various parts of the kitchen.

“I’m not a chef, you know,” Jason told you while he fished for the cheese, the ham, the vegetables and something else from the fridge. In normal human arms, they’d probably have fallen due the lack of space, but they all seemed to fit in pretty well in his much larger ones. “But I do enjoy cooking sometimes.”

His whole energy levels seemed to rise, and a sparkle tingled in his eyes. He seems to really enjoy it, you thought, watching the scene unfold from the same spot under the doorframe you were not even two minutes before. He was swift, picking things up and down , left and right, with ease and started constructing a delicious looking late night meal.

With watchful steps, you walked closer, something in you wanting to watch him in action from up close. Too enticed by the way he moved, the way he meticulously cut the tomatoes, a green vegetable, that you didn’t recognize due to your total lack of cooking skills, and the garlic before shoving them on a blender. The noise that proceeded, a disturbance of the silence that reigned on the night, but when it ceased, the smell that spread across the room seemed all worth it.

Continuing his craft, he was swift, picking things up and down with ease, spreading butter on the bread, adding cheese, sliced turkey from the smell of it, and the tomatoes. He grilled it on a pan he had started to heat while he assembled your snacks, and shortly after, placed a plate with the sandwich in front of you on the kitchen island.

“I didn’t know if you liked pesto, so I left it here for you to dip in if you want.” he stated, placing a small bowl with the green sauce he’d blended together earlier.

“Wow,” was all you could manage to say, the sandwich’s look worthy of those pins you’d constantly save on Pintrest but never make it yourself. Picking it up with one hand, you wanted to try it first on its own, your stomach getting louder, apparently aware you were just about to fill it and getting anxious over the masterpiece crafted just before your eyes. “Hmmm,” you hummed loudly, closing your eyes and enjoying the taste, your mouth already watering for one more bite.

You heard Jason’s breathy laugh, and your attention was instantly brought back to him. Supported by his elbows on the marble island, he sat beside you, his side profile a beautiful view from where you stood. He had a smirk on his lips, not smug or annoying or flirtatious like he usually had, but a lighthearted and fun one. One that didn’t drive you insane.

Looking at him, though, side by side with you, after making you a sandwich at almost 4am in the morning, you felt a lump on your throat you could not explain or justify. It was something no one had ever done for you and for some reason you wanted to cry. But you wouldn’t, instead, opting to do the sanest thing anyone could do in your position.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his eyes darting to yours and his eyebrows doing their annoying move and lifting up in question. “For everything. Tonight, especially, but at the hospital too. You were really kind and you didn’t have to do either of those things. So, thank you, really.”

A smile you could not decipher clouded his lips, and his eyes shone with a glint of mischievousness you could not mistake. “Say it again?” he joked, and you had to roll your eyes.

“Jerk.”

“Sounds more like you,” he sneered, finally taking a bite out of his sandwich. He dipped it in the sauce, taking another bite, and you took your time admiring his jaw clenching as he chewed. “But you don’t need to thank me. I hurt you that day and it was the polite thing to do. And I couldn’t just leave you drunk at the party, it didn’t seem right.”

“Why not?” you questioned. “There were many other drunk girls at the party.”

“Yeah, but none of them looked like they didn’t belong there,” he stated, soon regretting letting those words out of his lips. He knew it’d bring out more questions, and he didn’t want to spend his night explaining how you would linger in his head on a daily basis.

“Why not?” If Jason wasn’t so tired, he’d notice you’d felt insulted.

“I don’t mean today,” he said, playing with the sauce with his sandwich. “You were having fun today, but I’ve seen you before…”

“Why?” you insisted impatiently.

“Because people go to parties for either or two things: to have fun with their friends or to find a hookup,” he lifted two of his long fingers to you. “That day, you were clearly alone. You stood to the side all night, not talking to anyone, almost barking at whoever came closer. Option one impossible. And you also weren’t exposing too much skin to fit into the other.”

“I was having fun tonight!” you tried to argue.

“Yeah, but your friend had disappeared. And you were too drunk. I couldn’t leave you there, alone to the wolves,” he concluded, staring deep into your eyes. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.”

He seemed honest. And nice. Actually nice, like, he looked like a decent person, not the one you villainized in your thoughts every day. He was nice, a sweetheart, and a great cook if his sandwich was any indication of what else he could do in a kitchen. It wasn’t supposed to, but it only made you madder at him. You wanted to punch his face while also giving him a kiss. Stop it, Yn, don’t go that far.

You were quiet, not knowing what else to say. Jason decided on not speaking too, buried in his own thoughts, afraid he’d let too much out. Finishing your food, you dipped the bread into the pesto when the intrusive thoughts came over, and for once, you let them win.

“No…” Jason gasped when he felt the cold sauce on his cheek. You let out a good chuckle, looking at the green stain on his face. Your masterpiece. But Jason was competitive, he wouldn’t let you win. So, he dipped his own bread in the sauce and tried to do the same as you, but you held his arms to stop him before he could stain yet another one of your shirts. His in this case.

It took all your strength to keep his arms away, your laughter, louder than it had been in a long while, making the job much more difficult. “Jason,” you screamed when he got too close for your liking, but you managed to hold his hand and, to his surprise, took one bite of his weapon.

You really couldn’t stop laughing. Tears formed in your eyes from it, and all Jason could do was shake his head and finish the last bite of his sandwich you’d left for him. He felt good seeing you smile again, laughing even, and he just confirmed it was now one of his favorite sounds. It wasn’t polished, it was loud, fun. Everything you usually weren’t, but proof you could be sometimes, if only you’d allow yourself to let loose.

He waited till you calmed down, taking deep breaths to steady it. Then, you stretched your arms to grab a towel opposite of you on the islands, cleaning your hands before looking back at him. “Here,” you called.

His heart stopped. Your hands going for his chin and pulling his face closer to yours, cleaning the pesto stain you’d left on his cheek. Jason had never seen you from this close, every detail exposed to him. The way you sucked in your cheeks in concentration, as you cleaned his face, your soft touch barely brushing his skin, aware not to give him any type of skin irritation.

From this close, he could get a better glimpse of your lips. How they were plumb from you biting on it, how reddish they were, how soft they looked. He watched them as the tip of your smile briefly lifted up. And then, watched your tongue leaving them wet.

You were aware of closeness too. But you had committed to cleaning the stain, you couldn’t show him any weakness now. Pulling away slowly, you noticed his eyes lingering on your lips, setting your stomach in a spiral. He bit his lips, lifting his eyes to look at yours through his lashes, and your heart nearly stopped. Your breath hitched, and you had to look away.

“Hmm,” you started, avoiding his gaze and himself entirely. “I think I’ll go back to bed, it’s late.”

Something inside Jason dropped, and he felt a weight in his chest. You stood up quickly, and walked back into the bedroom without looking back. Fuck, he wanted to scream, but he had to contain himself. So, he stood up, set the plates on the sink and made his way back to the sofa. The tightness in his jeans making it uncomfortable to walk.

Resting against the door as you closed it, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your heart raced, wanting to break free from your chest, and you felt the warmth rising from within you. Your legs trembled a little, and your mind flew to things you did not wish to think of right now.

You couldn’t give in. You couldn’t. Jason meant trouble, and trouble meant bad things. You couldn’t let yourself fall for it again. You couldn’t invite trouble in, even if it looked as pleasing as he did. He was nice to you tonight because he was polite, but you knew his type well and knew it never ended well. He was just like the others, he’s not perfect, stop it!

A knock on the door broke you from your thoughts, and as if caught doing something bad, you were quick to react to opening it.

“Can I just get some clothes?” Jason asked, heading poking inside. “I just don’t want to sleep in the same clothes from the party.”

Giving him space, you allowed him in. He gave you a weak smile as he pass you, going in the direction of his closet. He indeed was wearing the same outfit from earlier, jeans, and a white shirt you could notice had some green stains on it. Karma.

“I’ve noticed you found my hoodie,” he pointed out while fishing for his pajamas, making your cheeks burn red. You went to apologize, but he was quicker to continue. “You can keep it, if it makes you comfortable.”

He turned back to face you, and you offered him a smile in gratitude. Suddenly mindful of your exposed legs, you tried to hide it with your hands, but you noticed how it only got his attention in that direction. He was about to leave when something made him stop.

“I need a blanket,” he said, running back to the closet. “Just a minute.”Jason was tall, but he seemingly was part of the crew who would hide their blankets on the tallest shelves, so tall that even he couldn’t reach properly. He stretched his arms up, the heels of his feet not touching the floor, and his shirt lifted up just a little. A treat for a very tired Yn to enjoy.

From your position, you caught a sight of his stomach up to his belly button. The toned muscles on the base of his abs made a perfect V shape, pointing downwards to a place you avoided imagining. A few of his tattoos peeked in and out of view as he moved, decorating his skin in drawings you could hardly identify. The thin line of hair going down the cherry on top of this tempting monstrosity.

Through his white t-shirt, you spotted the silhouette of his  back muscles. Well defined, well designed, strong enough to carry two of you up the stairs, and wide enough making it the perfect canvas to be painted by your nails.

You knew your mind was traveling through a very dangerous territory. You knew where it was going. You knew the consequences, yet you wanted it. You wanted the danger, you wanted the consequence. Just this once. Just this once you wanted the bad, the naughty, the dangerous. You wanted Jason. You wanted him. You wanted him.

Fuck, you wanted to scream. Run at him, kiss him. Kiss up the hair line on his stomach, up his abs, his chest. Damn it!

You didn’t notice him moving, wishing you a good night, walking to the door. You didn’t notice any of it. Didn’t notice his intoxicating smell leaving the room, because you knew your mind could make it up pretty quickly. Filling your nose with his inexistent scent. His shadow looming around you, with you at all times.

“Yn,” he broke you from your thoughts. He was worried. You stood still before the bed, not moving since he walked past you, not even your eyes following him along, or moving somewhere else. He’d called you before, but you hadn’t noticed. “Are you alright?”

He’d walked back in, closer to you. Approaching you worriedly, your breathing heavy, eyes now lingering on him. He couldn’t decipher them. They were darker, darker than he’d ever seen them. They hid something, something he couldn’t figure out.

“Yeah,” you breathed out a reply. “I’m fine,” you confirmed, arm extending to touch his chest. Jason’s breath got caught on his throat, and when he looked back at you, he found your eyes, and finally could decipher them. “I’m really fine.”

Sliding your hands from his chest up to his neck, you brought him closer, slamming your lips against his. A shiver climbed up your spine as you felt his tongue immediately sliding inside your mouth, and yours soon fought with him for dominance.

You couldn’t explain it. It just fit. He kissed you hungrily, like he’d been wanting it for long, and you replied with the same ferociousness, wanting him closer, more and more. You fingers tugged at the little hairs at the nape of his neck, and he moaned inside your mouth, the vibration reverberating through your entire body.

His hands roamed your skin. Squeezing your ass, caressing your back from underneath his hoodie. The feeling of his hands around you waking the little hairs on your body wherever they touched, leaving behind a burning sensation, a need for more of his touch all over body.

Stumbling, you two took a few footsteps backwards, feeling the ends of the bed hit your calves. He carefully lowered you on top of it, not breaking your kiss until you were left out of breath. When you two finally broke apart, he took the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head, exposing you to the tattoos you’d had a hard time identifying earlier.

An angel falling graced his left ribs, while something was written underneath his right boob. Overwall, you couldn’t count how many were there, you just knew they made him sexier and your cunt ache harder for him. Lifting yourself up a little, you pulled him back to you by the hem of his jeans, your mouths meeting soon after, afraid that if you had too much time to think about it, your mind would force you to stop whatever the hell this was.

On top of you, lips glued to yours, Jason started grinding his crotch against your clothed core, feeling his hardness through the harsh fabric of his jeans and only eliciting your arousal. Trapping your legs around his waist, you bent your back so you could reach him further, grinding yourself against him in a clothed love making session.

You wanted more. You need more. Desperately wanting him in. It was a wild, primal feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in ages. Or ever at all. You needed him, like you needed air. You needed his tongue all over you, not just on your lips or occasionally traveling to your neck.

His hands slid underneath your shirt, and he broke the kiss to ask you for permission to take it off. His eyes looked at you with a mix of lust and something else, something softer. With a nod, he swiftly had both your shirt and his hoodie thrown off somewhere in his bedroom. 

You didn’t want to waste more time, sliding your underwear off too as soon as your breasts were freed, finding yourself fully exposed to the guy that just a few hours ago you would rather find dead than in his bed. 

Seeing you rush your underwear off, Jason had to stop and admire. Admire your body and all your curves. Your bare chest, your hard nipples, a sight Jason wanted pictured in his mind forever.

He wanted to remember how your excitement dripped off your thighs, its smell reaching his nose, intoxicating him. Driving him crazier for you than he already was. He really wanted to rip his pants off and fuck you right then and there. Slam his dick into you until he had you screaming out his name for the whole neighborhood to hear. But he also wanted to devour you little by little, taste every corner of your skin.

Pulling you closer from under the knee, he spread you open and fell on top of you again, resuming the action on your lips before moving his kisses down your neck and to your chest. He made sure to leave marks wherever he’d go. He made sure to bite, to suck on your skin until little red and purple stains decorated you instead of your shirt.

His hand, once holding tightly at your waist, found its way down too. Sliding to your arousal, he felt his fingers drench wet as they reached your soaked pussy. Finding you like that, so wet from just his kisses and touches, boosted his ego, giving him extra confidence he could do to you whatever he wanted.

Pushing one finger into you, he felt your body jolt up. He laughed against your skin as his mouth finally found its way to your breasts. He fucked you with one finger while sucking harshly at your nipples. You moaned loud, already feeling a tightness forming on your belly, that sweet but painful sensation you hadn’t felt in a while.

When he pushed another finger inside of you, speeding up his movements in and out while his thumb managed to somehow rub at your clit till it ached, it didn’t take long for you to see black spots in your sight. It did take long for your back to arch up, a muffled scream leaving your lung.

Nibbling at your nipple still, Jason took your moans and screams as motivation. He laughed as you came as if you were just a prey he was playing with, mocking your petite, fragile frame underneath him. Slapping your cunt, he moved his mouth to quickly play with your neglected boob before his tongue drew a line from between your breasts to the entrance to your core.

You could already feel your breath leaving your lungs, your mind half numb from your orgasm and tiredness. His breath hit your folds, as he pecked his way down to your entrance, licking from your ass to your clit, as you had to put a hand over your mouth to stop your screams.

Like a thirsty dog, Jason licked you up and down between your lower lips. His whole mouth stuffed on your vagina, enjoying your sweet taste filling his taste buds. You squirmed from the sensasion, so much he had to pin you down with his strong arms. You tried to push his head away, tug on his hair, anything to make him stop, already aching down there. But it also felt good, and you could feel another orgasm growing inside you.

However, he removed his face from your cunt as soon as he felt you were about to come. He was enjoying torturing you, making you weak to his touch. He wasn’t going to give in much easier, but he also needed to feel you. Feel you around him, sucking him dry till he himself was left just a moaning mess.

Fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants, he managed them down his legs, pulling with them his boxers, letting his hard penis hit against his stomach. You let out a gasp when you saw his erection, already knowing it was going to hurt but be so worth it. He was thick, probably the size of your hands around it, and just long enough.

Jason looked around, trying to remember where he’d last put his condoms on, before your voice void his mind of any coherent thought.

“Fuck me, Jason,” you begged, hands reach to touch his dick. “Please, fuck me.”

“Fuuuck,” he let out a loud and prolonged groan, forgetting everything and placing himself at your entrance. He pushed the tip in, getting a painful moan out of you. You were tight, but he was going to make himself fit. 

Collecting your juices, he rubbed it along his shaft, pressing himself in ever so slowly. As he entered, you molded yourself perfectly around him, taking him in entirely eventually. He let you adjust, allowing you to get used to his size. Lowering down, he pulled you into another kiss. This time, deeper, slower, hotter.

He started with slow thrusts, moving out entirely before placing himself back in. You moaned and your body jumped every time he moved. His low groans on your ear making you wetter, and his speed started to pick up. 

The sound of skin hitting skin getting louder, filling the room along the strong smell of your sinful act. The bed creaked and hit against the wall along with Jason’s thrusts. He started to gain more and more speed, taking one of your legs and placing it on his shoulder.

He modded as the action gave him more access to your cunt, speed going so fast your boobs bounced up and down vigorously. With the spare had the wasn’t holding your leg up, he reached for your clit and your moans only got louder, screaming Jason’s name like a fucking prayer. Begging for release.

He’d sobered up from the party a long time ago, but he was getting drunk on the sight of your glistening skin, coated in sweat, screaming his name as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Not rolling out of anger, or annoyance. But because he was making you feel so fucking good you couldn’t control yourself anymore.

Jason felt like a king. Total control over you as you felt your mind go numb, drunk on his cock, drunk on the sensation he was giving you. He moved his hips harshly, slamming against your wet core like a MMA fighter fights his opponent. He felt the growing knot on his abdomen, speeding his thumb’s movements, wanting you to cum along with him.

A few more thrusts had you screaming so loud Jason had to put his hands over your mouth to shut you up, afraid his neighbors wouldn’t enjoy your fucked up symphony. He felt your release hitting his cock and he too released inside of you, feeling your walls clenching around him, milking his ball dry of any cum he had to offer.

The room was now filled with groans and heavy breaths. The air was thick and warm, and the smell of sex sticking to every corner. He pulled out, watching you juices mixed up and dripping off your pussy. Sticking a finger inside, he took some of you mixed orgasm and put it on his tongue. He didn’t lick it, instead just placing it there before lowering himself to give you a kiss, making sure you two got to taste your second late night snack together.

When you pulled away, begging for air, he had his forehead rested on yours. His eyes were closed, and his hair stuck to your forehead from sweat. Something you’d seen many times at the gym, now got a completely new meaning to you. One you enjoyed a lot more, seeing and making it happen.

You too closed your eyes, tiredness weighing your lashes down, as you barely missed Jason’s body falling beside you. You also missed his arms wrapping around your waist, and his face snuggling into your neck. Soon falling into slumber, a delicious ache on your core, as the dream world quickly took over you.

It wasn’t until hours later that the bright sun beams hit your eyes, or the loud noises of Gotham’s traffic found your ears. Eyes taking too long to open, as you woke up more tired than usual. Your body ached in pain, every muscle seemingly sore, but you didn’t remember going to the gym yesterday.

You only remembered you had to work and ended up getting drunk at a party. You remembered getting mad at your parents and deciding you had to release all your anger doing something they’d despise. You remembered your gym enemy taking you home. To his or mine? You wondered, eyes finally opening to the unknown bedroom.

Fuck. Looking behind you, you found Jason’s body spread on the same bed you now laid, and you quickly became aware of your own lack of an outfit. No, no, no. You went too far. You were just supposed to get drunk at a party, not fuck a stranger, Yn. Not fuck fucking Jason!

Carefully removing the duvet off of you, you slipped out of bed and fished for your clothes around his bedroom. Your shirt was tangled on his hoodie you had worn last night, and your panties were thrown on the other side of it. Your bra rested on the bedside table on Jason’s side of the bed, while your jeans were perfectly folded on top of a chair.

You tried to be quiet, to put your clothes back on without making any noise. But your own constant shits and fucks didn’t help your case, and as you buttoned your jeans you heard shuffling on the bed. Jason rubbed his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. “Yn? What are you…”

“THIS IS FUCKED UP!” you screamed, his eyes jolting open at your reaction. “We shouldn’t have done this, Jason.”

“Woah, I didn’t do it alone.” he replied, feeling annoyed at the tone you’d been treating this interaction with.

“We shouldn’t. We…” you wanted to cry, pissed off you’d let yourself sleep with him of all people. Taking your shoes, you rushed out of the room, wanting all of this to be just a silly little memory of a silly little moment when you had lost control.

Opening the door to the living room, you stepped on something that bit your leg in return, a loud hiss forcing your eyes to the black kitten clutched to your leg. Shaking the cat off of you, you proceeded with your run of shame.

“Yn!” Jason screamed after you, but your feet never ceased, and you ran down the stairs. Eyes only jumping up to find him as he stood by the door. The towel you’d cleaned his cheeks with hardly managing to hide his groin. The last sight you got of him haunting you for the days that followed. His sad eyes, frown and pressed closed lips a memory from his heartbreak.

.

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#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-six

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Please, I beg you. Don't focus too much on the whole Trey part(i mean he is an asshole.) But when Noah and Angel are listening to music, please please please listen too Eiley by Too Close To Touch. That is all.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond

"How are we feeling tonight, Milwaukee?!" I yelled into the microphone.

Cheers reverberated back from the ground up to the stage as I squinted my eyes when the stage lights cast over us.

"I'm glad you're having fun because if you weren't, this would be awkward," I joked with a chuckle while adjusting the microphone stand. "But all jokes aside, I wanted to say thank you for all of your support for Hollow Souls the last few years. It's appreciated more than you all could ever know. Because of your love and support, we're able to do what we love every night."

I pointed to Chase who did his typical ten-second drum solo then to Malcolm who strummed a few notes on his bass before giving an over-exaggerated bow. And reluctantly, I pointed to Trey who came up to me and threw an arm around my shoulder, leaving a kiss on my cheek; it smelled like vodka and cigarettes.

"Thanks, baby," he winked before chugging half of his clear water bottle that I was sure wasn't water.

Glancing over to the left side of the stage, I gave a wide smile to the guys of Bad Omens as they all watched out set. They had a killer set before us, this one I actually watched, and the energy that vibrated off of them stuck to me before I came out here, finally letting the excitement of performing to fill my veins. This was the first night in a while that I moved around on stage and put on a show for the crowd.

Noah flashed me a brief smile, memories of our day on the beach a few days ago still burning hot in my mind, and I gave him a small wave.

"So we only have two songs left," I spoke back into the microphone which in turn made the crowd boo loudly. "But you guys have to admit, we put on a killer show for you all tonight. But what about Bad Omens?"

The crow cheered but not as loud as I thought they should so I grabbed the mic off of the stand before going up to the little stage that Chase had his drums set up so I could stare down at the entire crowd.

"Oh, that was some weak shit, Milwaukee," I showed them my mock disappointment by placing my hand on my hip.

Chase looked at me with a smile, knowing what I was fishing for so he beat on his drum, hyping up the crowd.

"I want to hear every single one of you scream for Bad Omens on the count of three. Ready?!"

Cheers and screams filled the large venue hall, but I was greedy; I needed to hear it louder. These guys deserved it.

"One!" I held up one finger.

Chase drummed faster; harder.

"Two!"

Two fingers up in the air as Chase put more force into his drumming.

Looking back over to where Bad Omens were watching with bright smiles as I hyped up the crowd for them, I held up three fingers, Chase breaking out in a full on drum solo now.

"THREE!"

The screams were loud, deafening, and I took out my ear in so I could hear it for myself. My heart pounded in my chest as I ran down the steps from Chase's makeshift stage and ran to one end of the stage, throwing up my arms up in the air before doing the same thing on the other end of the stage. Malcolm played a few chords on his bass as I stood next to him.

"You guys might not think this now but Bad Omens are going to be huge in a few years. They'll be in our position selling out shows and Hollow Souls will open for them," I promised into the microphone.

Malcolm watched me with awe through the messy strands of auburn hair that covered his face. Tonight was the first night all tour that I interacted with the crowd this much and fuck, it felt so good. With the energy of watching Bad Omens play and the crowd singing to every one of our songs made adrenaline course through me and I couldn't stop.

Noah's words from our first night on tour came to mind: "Come alive out there. Have fun."

Trey watched me with pure distaste in his eyes as I hyped up Noah and his friends but I didn't care; I was feeling so good about myself that I even wore something different from I usually did. A short-sleeved white crop top with black high wasted shorts. It showed off most of my tattoos and when Trey tried to tell me to go change, I simply told him to fuck off before running out on stage.

As I walked over to the area by Chase's drum stage where I kept my water, I glanced to my right and noticed that all the guys of Bad Omens were giving me large smiles with Noah finishing it with a wink. I also had my phone on here and usually I never checked it during our set but there was this feeling deep in my gut that told me to check it. It shocked me to see it was from Mason, an old friend of mine.

I'm sorry it has to be through text but you needed to know. Keaton's gone.

My phone slipped from my grasp as I nearly choked on my breath, vacant eyes staring at the floor beneath my feet. I swear my heart stopped in that moment I read the text, almost not believing it. But knowing it came from Mason who was close with Keaton, it was true.

Keaton's gone? I just talked to him a few days ago, and we made plans to catch up once tour was over.

I sucked in a breath; the realization hitting me like a freight train, and I spun around to side stage just in time to see Noah staring down at the phone in his hand. His body was stilled straight, not moving an inch, but even from this distance I could see the cold expression that crossed his face. Nothing about his body language gave off what he was thinking; what he was feeling.

"Look at me, Noah." I muttered under my breath.

I needed to know what his eyes were saying.

Instead, he shoved his phone into his pocket before turning his back to me and disappearing from view, the rest of his friends following close behind.

"Y/N?"

Through my hazy vision, I glanced up to Chase who was kneeling on his makeshift stage so he could look down at me.

"What's wrong?" His voice was full of worry.

He must have seen me read the text and knew me so well to know something was drastically wrong.

"Uh," I blinked slowly, voice wavering, as the grief sank its feral fangs deep into the marrow of my bones. It's nails gouged through my heart, it bleeding to the depths of my stomach.

What was I supposed to do? Cancel the rest of the show?

No, Keaton wouldn't want that. He would want me to perform with every ounce I had left in me and that's what I was going to do. We could all grief together after.

"I'll explain after the show. Lets close it out strong," I nodded my reassurance to Chase before slowly walking over to my microphone stand.

I ignored the crowd as they chanted for an encore and pushed my way through the bodies of our crew members. Malcolm and Chase were hot on my heels, waiting for me to explain what the hell was going on. I rushed through the last two songs so I could get off stage and find Noah. I needed to know if he was alright.

Trey's fingers grasped my elbow in a tight grip to haul me to a stop. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you rush through the last two songs?"

"Fuck off!" I screamed while ripping my arm from his grasp.

Tears burned in my eyes, and I dug my palms into them to stop the tears from falling. I couldn't break down right now. I needed to find Noah.

When Trey tried to grab me again, Chase stepped in front of me and pushed him hard in his chest. "Leave her alone, man. Can't you see something's wrong?"

"This isn't your business!" Trey stepped up into Chase's chest.

Malcolm felt the immediate change in air, the tension growing its webs deep into the air around us, so he laid a soft touch on Chase's shoulder.

"He's not worth it, man."

Trey snickered. "You always have to come to Chase's rescue. Is that what true love is?"

Chase cursed before pushing past Malcom, laying his fist directly into Trey's jaw, knocking his ass to the floor. I yelped out in surprise while covering my mouth as Chase tried to get another hit in but now Malcolm was pushing him farther away from Trey.

"Calm down! You can't do that right now."

He spat at the floor where Trey sat while clutching his jaw. "He deserves it! I'm pissed I waited this long!"

Trey was fast on his feet to barrel past Malcom to tackle Chase down the ground, laying fist after fist into his face.

"Stop it!" I yelled with tears in my eyes.

Malcolm cursed then grabbed Trey from the back and basically tossed him to the side. Chase scrambled to his feet, spitting blood at the ground as he tried to go after Trey.

"That's all you got, pretty boy? Need your boyfriend to come save you again?" Trey taunted with a smirk.

"Fuck off, Trey!" I screamed while stepping between him and Chase, who immediately moved me behind him to block me from Trey.

"Oh, what's this?" He raised a brow. "Noah's dick wasn't enough, now she's sucking yours too?"

Trey's body crumbled to the ground, clutching his now broken nose that had blood pooling to the floor between his fingers.

Malcom cursed under his breath while rubbing his sore knuckles.

"You're a piece of shit," I seethed from over Chase's shoulder. "Not everything is about you!"

"The hell it isn't!" Trey screamed. "You're always taking everyone else side. I'm your boyfriend, Y/N! Why are you in such a hurry to find Noah? You should be with me, not some pussy kid who think he's going to be the next big thing."

Chase advantaged to Trey once more but Malcom was quick to step in front of him.

Malcolm grabbed Chase's face so he could look at just his emerald eyes. "I know, man. But look at Y/N, look at her! She's two seconds away from breaking down and we don't know why. She needs us."

Chase's nostrils flared as he gave one last glance down to Trey before his eyes fell on me, who was still covering my mouth, mind swirling with so many differnt emotions I didn't know which one to focus on. I didn't realize but tears were streaming down my face as I continued to stare at Trey.

"I can't believe you're taking their side. After everything I gave you?" He seethed while slowly rising to his feet.

I blinked, astonished he said that. "I'm not getting into this with you right now."

He spit blood at my feet, wiping it on the back of his hand. "You're pathetic."

I thought the anger would rise as he pushed past us but the grief was so strong; it outweighed all the rest.

"Y/N," Malcolm was now lifting my chin up towards his face, worry filling the emerald lights of his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I have to find, Noah."

My voice was so quiet, and I knew they didn't hear me so after clearing my throat, I held my shoulders straighter so I could tell them the words that I was dreading to say.

"Keaton. He's uh-.," I swallowed thickly. "Keaton's dead."

Chase's anger left his body as he ran a hand over his buzzed head while Malcolm gave a slow nod, my words still registering with him. We all were close with the guys in Too Close To Touch but they knew the special bond Keaton and I had. They also knew how much I was battling inside my mind.

"Come on," Chase's soothing voice encompassed around me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leading us through the backstage area of the venue.

Malcolm showed us his phone. "Jolly said Noah's outside, he wanted to be alone."

I nodded numbly. "Maybe I'll catch him before we leave-."

"No."

Turning in Chase's arms, I saw Nick standing at the doorway that lead out to the back parking lot. His hair was a mess as if he was running his hands through his and while his eyes were red, it looked like he was holding in his own tears.

"He won't talk to any of us, not even me. He's shutting down and I don't know how to help him," Nick said with so much defeat in his voice, it made my heart wrench in pain.

"I don't know how much help I'll be if he won't even listen to you, Nick," I shrugged.

His eyes shined with the wetness of tears. "Please."

I was already loss for words and which made me unable to say the things that crawled my mind. How would I be able to translate how I'm feeling about this when truthfully, I didn't know myself?

"Okay," I let out in one breath. "Where is he?"

"When I left him, he was pacing in front of our bus," Nick said while motioning for me to follow.

Chase left a kiss on my head while Malcolm bumped his fist with mine, his way of showing affection, and I followed Nick outside where the sight broke my heart. Noah was pacing the length of the bus, running a frantic hand through his long hair. Jolly and Folio watched from afar with their hands in their pockets, not sure what to do. Noah let out a loud noise that shook the earth beneath me, the raw grief destroying him.

"Noah," I spoke softly.

Red, bloodshot eyes, stared back at me as tears stained his face. Noah's bottom lips trembled as a broken sob crawled out of his throat.

"Is Trey around? Because I don't want to deal with that bullshit right now."

"Fuck Trey," I spat, the altercation from earlier still burning low. "It's just you and me, Noah."

Both of us stood still for a long moment before the same magnetic pull that was etched in deep in our hearts made us both break out in a sprint towards each other. I fell into his embrace, nearly knocking him over, as his arms circling around me while he buried his face in my hairline. Noah completely broke down when my hands spread over his large back, needing to feel the heat of him. I cried into his shirt as my fists grasped the back of it. We stayed like that for so long, until neither of us could cry anymore, and his raw voice spoke in a hushed tone.

"He can't-." The words died on his lips as he choked on a broken sob.

Still in his embrace, I rested my chin on his chest as I looked up at him. "I just talked to him earlier this week."

Noah tensed in my arms for the briefest of moments. "Me too."

I rested my cheek to his chest again letting the beat of his heart calm my own. One had was running fingers through the long strands of my hair while the other grasped at my lower back. This pain was unknown; I'd never lost someone so close to me like this before. I didn't know the correct way to grief but knowing that Noah was going through the same thing made it a little easier.

"Kenneth said the funeral is on Friday," Noah's chest rumbled.

I looked up at him again with my arms still wrapped around him. "What do you want to do?"

Noah swallowed the large lump in his throat, doing his best to hold back his tears. "I need to go."

"Alright. I'll book us two tickets to Kentucky. I'm sure Ethan and Matt will understand if we need to cancel the next show."

"You're coming with me?" He asked, almost shocked. "What about-?"

I gently touched his cheek. "I'm not letting you deal with this on your own, Noah. Keaton was my friend too. I'm going."

With a relief sigh, he brushed his lips through my hairline, pressing the softest of kisses there and even though I forced the butterflies deep down to the pits of my stomach, I couldn't stop the small smile that pulled at my lips.

"Thank you, angel."

Hoping out of the bathroom on one foot, I balanced while strapping on one heel before switching feet to do the same to the other. I straightened out and brushed away the stray hairs on my black dress before turning my attention to Noah, who was standing in front of the mirror in the room, staring at himself.

"I'm almost ready to go. I just need to find my jacket," I said as I rummaged through my suitcase.

He didn't say a word, just kept staring absentmindedly at his reflection and although he was already dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a black button him, something was missing from his outfit; the grey tie that hung loose from his fingers.

We arrived to the hotel in Lexington earlier this morning and almost immediately, Noah shut himself in the bathroom to get ready. I checked in on him after a while when I realized the shower was running for some time and when he called back. 'I'm alright, angel' I let him be. Noah needed time to heal and mentally prepare himself for today. I didn't want to add any extra pressure that wasn't necessary. Thankfully, both Matt and Ethan were more than alright with us taking two days off to come to Keaton's funeral. We ended up having to cancel tonight's show but once news broke online of Keaton's passing; the fans understood.

After the first initial shock of finding out about Keaton, Noah shut down. He's barely said anything to me or the guys since the other night and Nick stressed to me before we left I needed to make sure Noah didn't retreat into himself.

"He hasn't had an anxiety attack in some time but I'm afraid that with the weight of everything, it might cause him to spiral."

I promised Nick with a bone-crushing hug that I'd keep an extra eye on Noah.

Noah was already so far in his head that when we walked into the hotel room to see only one bed, he merely shrugged before shutting himself in the bathroom.

"Hey," I said softly while resting a hand on his back. "What's going on in your mind?"

He tore his gaze away from the mirror and held up his tie. "I don't know how to tie a tie."

"Here," I smiled while taking it from his hands and popped the collar of his shirt so I could slide it around his neck.

We stood in silence as I worked on tying it and Noah stared straight over my head. Our breathing was the only thing heard in the room as my eyes traveled away from the tie to the tattoo's on his neck and I bit the inside of my cheek when the urge to lick it filled me.

"Yes, it hurt."

Noah's deep voice broke me out of the trance over tracing over the design of snake, apple, and hand.

"Hm?" I peered up at him, fingers finishing the knot in his tie.

"The tattoo, it hurt. You were staring at it so I figured you were about to ask me that," he said.

The brightness of his dark eyes dulled the night we found out about Keaton and part of me worried it would never return.

"Yeah," I murmured, even though that wasn't what I was thinking about. "Well, I'm done."

Noah smiled a thanks before he grabbed his jacket off the chair in the room and slid it on. Next came the rings and bracelets and if it was a different circumstance, I would marvel at how attractive his fingers were.

I stared at him for a long moment as he stood in front of me, now fully dressed.

"What?," he asked.

I bit my lip nervously, unsure how he would answer my question. "Could I brush your hair? I can fix it so it stays out of your face today. If not, it's not a big deal. I just thought maybe-."

For the first time in a few days, Noah smiled just the slightest and handed me a brush from his bag. "Promise you won't braid it?"

"I won't," I chuckled while motioning for him to sit on the edge of the bed.

He did, and I kneeled behind him to run the brush through his hair. It dried weird after his shower and kind of a mess around his face. I figured it would bother him today, so that's why I offered; not because I wanted to take care of him anyway I could.

From the mirror in front of us, I watched as Noah's eyes shut and a pure look of bliss crossed his features. The hard lines in his forehead eased and the darkness underneath his eyes lightened just from this simple action.

"You don't have to carry everything on your shoulders, Noah," I whispered as I set the brush down on the bed but remained kneeling behind him.

My hands rested on his shoulders as I stared at him through the mirror. His eyes met mine in a dull way but there was just enough spark of life that eased the grip around my heart.

"I know, angel," he nodded while grasping my hand, giving it a squeeze.

When he stood to his feet, my hands fell from him and I couldn't lie I missed the way his strong muscles felt under my fingers.

"Ready?" I asked once I had my jacket and bag on.

"No, but I don't have a choice. I have to say goodbye," Noah ran a hand over his somber face.

It truly worried me if he'd be able to make it through the day without showing some kind of emotion.

Instead of dwelling on it, I extended my hand towards him. "Come on. Let's go say goodbye to our friend then."

The warmth from his hand as his fingers intertwined with mine made my heart flutter in my chest and he reassured me he was in fact fine with a gentle squeeze.

"I'll call you guys once the tour is over and all of us can get together for a dinner for Keaton," I smiled weakly to Kenneth.

"He'd want that," he smiled.

I wiped away a few tears before nodding. "Yea."

Mason motioned behind me. "How's he doing?"

Turning on my heels, I took in the broken sight of Noah who was sitting on a stone wall in the cemetery, pure grief on his face. The funeral wasn't easy for any of us but for Noah, it nearly brought him to his knees; if it wasn't for me.

My arm hooked through Noah's as I rested my head on his shoulder, the both of us staring down at the now filled grave. People has dispersed by now, going to the wake, but Noah wasn't ready to leave. He wanted to stay for a few minutes to say something to Keaton. But the longer we stayed in this position, I realized maybe he couldn't find the words to say.

I rested my chin on his arm while looking to the side of his face but the strands of his hair covered what I wanted to see the most so I brushed it behind his ear. "He knows, Noah."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "It's not fair."

With a long sigh, I rested my head against his shoulder once more and looked at our friend's grave. "I know."

"Yeah, he will be. Might take some time but I'll make sure of it."

Saying goodbye to Kenneth and Mason, I walked over to Noah who slowly stood when he noticed me.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah," I nodded.

I planned on walking next to him but when he extended his hand towards me, my heart did the same stuttered it always did when around him. So with our hands intertwined, our hearts seemed to slowly be, I let him lead me towards the rental car.

"Are you hungry?" Noah asked.

"I could eat," I shrugged.

Once we reached the car, he opened the passenger door for me and helped me into the seat.

"Noah, I can get in the car by myself," I giggled when he even clicked the seatbelt over me.

We were so close and I could feel his warm breath cascade over my lips as I tilted up towards him, almost closing the distance. It was the same pull, only this time it was stronger, the energy vibrating in our veins. Noah leaned closer but when my phone rang loudly from my purse, he pulled away while clearing his throat.

"You should get that," he said before shutting the door.

Trey's name flashed across the screen and with a grumble, I ignored it and sent a quick four word text to the group chat me, Malcolm, and Chase had.

Going dark. We're okay.

Once my phone was shut off, I leaned back into the seat as Noah started the car and drove away from the cemetery. Trey had been calling almost every hour since I left early this morning and it was getting to where I nearly chucked my phone out the window. He wasn't happy I was coming here, especially with Noah, but I told him to go fuck himself; he couldn't tell me what to do.

Not anymore.

"Shower's open," I said while walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a hoodie.

Noah sat perched on the edge of the bed still wearing his clothes from the funeral, and rested his elbows on his knees. When he heard me walk into the room, he quickly wiped away tears and cleared his throat.

"Okay," he kept his gaze cast downward to the carpet of the room.

Shit, he was crying.

Then I realized, a soft tune was filling the room and felt my shoulders fall; Keaton's voice grazed my ears as Too Close To Touch played through the bluetooth speaker Noah brought.

"Noah," I said gently while sitting next to him. "Please don't hide this from me."

"Angel," he warned but any malice behind his voice was deadweight.

He was exhausted and couldn't fight, as much as he wanted too.

I brushed my fingers over his face to tilt his chin towards me and sucked in a breath when I saw how red and swollen his eyes were. Not saying another word, I brought him down to my chest while his hands immediately grasped at my sweater, holding on for dear life as if he was afraid the grief would rip apart from me and drag him deep into the dark abyss.

Noah's cries tangled with Keaton's voice as I let his tears stain my sweater, his body shaking in my embrace. I brushed the air back from his face so he didn't have to worry about it sticking to his face with the tears.

"I fucking miss him, angel. It's not fair."

I blinked away my own tears. "I know. But he's still with us in everything we do. We have pictures and messages from him to remember, we have his music."

Noah sucked in a large breath, burying his face deeper into me. "I can't believe he's fucking gone. I can't. I've lost so many people-so many. I just-. I'll miss him so fucking much."

I rested my head on top of his. "Me too."

He pulled his head away from my chest and I raised my hand to brush away his tears, one hanging on by a thread on his eyelash.

"If I'm being honest," he took a breath to steady himself. "Sitting here with you tonight has also hit me like a train."

Another pause as he exhaled the breath, body shaking with nerves or grief, I wasn't sure.

"I can't lose anyone else. I can't." Noah shook his head. "I don't-I-want-"

"Hey," I cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over the tear that hung on his eyelash. "I'm right here."

His eyes twinkled with the wetness from his tears. "I don't want to fucking lose you, angel. No matter what; I can't. I won't."

"You won't," I repeated his words back to him with my promise, tears falling from my eyes down to his lap.

After the tears were shed and Noah felt a little lighter, he went into the bathroom to change into a pair of sweats and a shirt, throwing his hair up with a claw clip. I'd made myself comfortable leaning against the headboard and Noah followed, sitting right next to me. We continued listening to Too Close To Touch, almost in a way to honor his memory. Noah's knee brushed against mine but I didn't bother to move away from him; his body heat wrapped around me like a blanket and I reveled in feeling this sense of peace in so long.

A deep yawn fell from my lips, and when I gazed at the clock, I nearly groaned. It was only four in the afternoon but with all the emotional trauma we went through today; I was ready for bed.

"Here," Noah extended his legs on the bed and patted his lap. "Lay down. You should get some rest, angel."

I hesitated. "Are you sure? We never even talked about the sleeping situation. I can go lay on the couch."

Noah rolled his eyes with a hint of a smile. "We're two grown adults, we can share the same bed. I'll even put up a wall of pillows if that makes you comfortable."

"No, you don't have to do that," I giggled. "But I definitely will take you up on that offer of laying my head in your lap."

Something dark flashed in his eyes and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Go for it."

Ignoring the way my core clenched with the image of me doing other things in his lap, I rested my head against his thigh and almost mewled in pleasure when his long fingers ran through my hair, nails scratching lightly across my scalp.

"Is this alright?"

I nodded. "More than alright. If you keep doing this, I'll fall asleep."

Noah hummed. "That's the plan, angel."

"How can you say this was all part of your plan? Start explaining. Crafted from hope and hospital beds, she's gone."

"No," I trembled. "Not this one."

Out of all the songs, this one was the one I did not want to hear tonight; Eiley.

"It hits differently now, huh?" Noah noted.

"Yea, it does."

With the music and Noah's soft fingers through my hair, I dozed off only to awake sometime later when I felt intense eyes staring down at me. I opened my eyes in a daze and looked up to see dark eyes watching me, tracking my every movement as my lips parted in breath. His expression was something I'd never seen before; blank, lips drawn in a straight line, and his brown eyes blown dark.

I opened my eyes wider and his face lit up with a small grin.

"Hi, angel."

"Hi," I whispered.

Noah gently put his hand on my cheek to scan my face once more, almost waiting for a reaction. I met his intense gaze with my own and felt the intensity from the pull that seemed to be connected by our hearts pull me down so deep to the abyss that was Noah Sebastian and for the first time; I didn't ignore it.

I almost expected his kiss. It's always been right there between us, waiting hungrily. What I didn't expect, however, was his hands so rough, to hold my face tenderly. I didn't expect the furrow of his brows as his eyes darted from mine to my lips, almost in a silent question.

Please.

As the earth stood still, gravity nonexistent, Noah laid his lips to mine, kissing me softly, slowly. Everything around us blurring and disappearing. My fingers grasped his wrist to keep from slipping away from how light I felt with his lips on mine, gasping into his mouth at the sensation that came roaring to life inside of me.

A match lit in a dark room, flaring with brilliant light. My lips parted with that gasp to let Noah slip his tongue past mine, and then fight for dominance until eventually, he won.

He tasted fucking heavenly and when a low growl crawled from the back of his throat; I knew Noah thought the same for me.

"Fuck," I rushed out suddenly, sitting up from his lap in a start. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."

Noah raised his tattoo hand and gently cupped my cheek, his thumb grazing over my kiss-swollen lips. "Fuck, no I'm sorry angel. I shouldn't have."

He leaned in close so he could whisper his apology into the air and all noise ceased to exist. There was this tension thick between us and suddenly, I was afraid that with what happened, things would get awkward between us. But Noah broke out in a light laughter one that eased the erratic beat of my heart. I soon followed, both of us laughing away the tension.

"Nick let me bring the Super Nintendo. Want to play a few rounds?" Noah smirked.

I scoffed playfully. "Your ass is grass and I'm going to mow it."

Noah, who was still chuckling and out of breath, stood from the bed to get the game set up. "Whatever you say, angel."

Some people might think laughing and going to playing a video game right after an intense kiss like that was not normal but for Noah and I, none of this was normal. I appreciated he could tell the tension was too thick I couldn't catch my breath, so he immediately made the atmosphere breathable again, the only way he knew how, with blushing cheeks, familiar scars, and electric hearts. 

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Schism

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: Allusions to dub con and non con, mentions of masturbation, humping, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Part of The Hand That Feeds universe, but can be read as a standalone too. Ettore can't sleep, and can't resist the urge to pay her a visit while on his way to The Box.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @targaryenrealnessdarling. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

It has been lights out for hours, or at least it feels as though it has. Ettore has been laying flat on his back in his bunk ever since the ship’s systems switched to sleep mode, with a dim blue illuminating the corridors. The glow of it seeps through into the cell, serving to amplify the irritation he feels that unconsciousness evades him. He could simply close his eyes to block out the light, but in the quiet, empty blackness is where his mind is loudest. The cacophony of intrusive thoughts are far more jarring than the faint cerulean gleam that casts faint shadows against the sterile white walls.

He cannot silence his thoughts tonight and he sighs restlessly, finally giving up on the idea of sleep as he throws the blanket back and pads quietly out into the hall, wearing only a loose fitting pair of boxers. There is no point in dressing, he only plans to use The Box; if he can quickly get himself off he hopes it will clear his mind and exhaust his body enough that he can slip back into bed and at least get a few hours of rest before the lights flicker back on to full brightness, signalling the start of a new day.

As he passes her room, he does his best to steel himself to not look in, to ignore the invisible thread that tugs him to her like a moth to a flame. Ettore has not yet made sense of the feelings she elicits from him. He is not yet comfortable to have her touch him, but relishes in the fact that she allows him to touch her, setting clear boundaries for him when he pushes too far. He still doesn’t fully trust her, doesn’t trust himself not to give in to the temptation to ignore her when she tells him no, to stop, or that that’s enough. Indulging his desires with her is like walking a razor’s edge, if he lets his guard down for even a moment it will all fall to ruin.

That is why he cannot afford to spare a glance into her room. If he looks in upon her sleeping form, he cannot guarantee that he will be able to control himself, that he won’t take what hasn’t been given freely. If he pushes too far, gives in to the voice at the back of his mind that whispers to him that he doesn’t need her permission, then she will take away that permission entirely. Without that, he does not know what he will do. He isn’t sure that life onboard this floating prison cell is survivable without the warmth of her gaze or the softness of her flesh beneath his own.

His body betrays his will, or perhaps his will is simply not strong enough to withstand his desperate need to look upon her, Ettore is unsure which. However, he finds his head turning, his eyes fixing upon her prone body, the outline of her visible beneath the blanket that’s draped over her. His breath hitches, his throat growing dry as his gaze darkens, lingering in the doorway as he stares at her. Would it really be so terrible if he went in just for a moment, felt the heat of her skin beneath his palm? Just the slightest of touches.

It would not be just a touch though. It never is.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Her quiet voice startles him from his thoughts, and Ettore blinks, swallowing thickly before shaking his head. “No, was on my way to The Box.”

“Something holding you up?” She asks playfully, moving to sit up.

Ettore says nothing, continuing to stare at her. Every breath he draws feels shallow, not enough.

She sighs, sensing his intent. “We can’t. Had my check up with Dibs earlier, she reckons I’m ovulating. Can’t risk anything.”

His hands clench into fists at his sides, her denial sending a sudden flash of anger sizzling through his veins.

She takes in the way his brow furrows and his jaw clenches. “I know you want to lash out because you’re disappointed, but if you behave yourself, we can compromise.”

Ettore lowers his gaze, nodding and stepping forward into the room.

“Come here,” she instructs, shuffling over in the bed and pulling the blanket back.

He climbs in beside her, a shiver rippling its way down his spine as his body occupies the warmth of the space she’d been laying in previously. Her sleepwear consists of a plain white tank top and matching briefs, a stark contrast to the blackness of the ink that decorates her arms and thighs.

“I wanna touch you,” he murmurs.

“Go on then,” she whispers, parting her legs to accommodate him as he moves to kneel between them.

She keeps her hands clenched upon the pillow above her head, a preventative measure to ensure she doesn’t touch him, just as he’s asked her not to countless times. He smirks at this silent mark of respect. 

His hand trails over the thin, white cotton of her knickers, moving downwards until he feels the outline of her through the material. He presses his fingers against her with more force, moving them up and down her clothed core, his gaze fixated on the way the gusset shapes to her folds as his fingertips repeat their motions. Her soft sighs encourage him, and he hooks a digit into the elastic, pulling it to the side, drawing in a sharp breath as he takes in the sight of how wet she is already.

Before meeting her, Ettore had never had the opportunity to properly study what lies between a woman’s legs. He is certain he’ll never tire of looking at it, the way she twitches when he touches upon just the right spot is almost hypnotic. The faint scent of her arousal when he’s this close makes his cock ache, and he pushes his boxers down, taking himself in his palm and stroking from root to tip and back again.

He wants to feel her, and before he can stop himself he’s pushing the head of himself through her wetness, his eyes screwing shut at the white holt jolt of pleasure that causes his balls to tighten.

“Not inside!” She hisses.

He nods, breathing shakily, opening his eyes to watch how his erection slides against her, glistening with their combined arousal as he rubs it from her opening to her pearl over and over. His grip on the base of his length is tight, a means to ground himself and resist the urge to simply thrust forward and sink inside of her, yet the sensation is maddening.

The hand holding her underwear to one side lets go, as he lowers it to the mattress, supporting his weight upon it as the movement of his hips grows quicker and less controlled. The material pings gently back across, covering the sight of him rutting against her, adding additional friction that makes him groan low in a quiet throaty rumble.

Despite no longer being able to see precisely what he is doing to her, the sight still borders on obscene. Their combined moisture creates a dampened patch upon the crotch, turning the cotton almost translucent. She moans softly, her own hips canting to meet the movements of his own each time he pushes against her delicate bundle of nerves.

Warmth licks at Ettore’s lower spine and he knows he won’t last long, especially with the feeling of her thighs trembling either side of him. She’s getting close too. Panting, he pulls her knickers back to the side once more as he feels himself begin to pulsate. She slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling the strangled cry that leaves her as she falls apart, bucking against him as he paints her with pearly ropes of his spend. His cock twitches as he strokes himself to completion, stomach muscles contracting as warmth envelopes him from head to toe, and his mind finally goes blank.

As he comes back down to earth, eyes raking over the parted lips and glossy eyes of her blissed out expression and down to the mess he’s made between her legs, he can’t help but wonder what might have happened if she had been asleep when he’d looked in on her. He almost wishes she had been.

#ettore x reader #ewan mitchell #ettore x you #ettore x y/n #ettore smut #ettore imagine #ettore high life #high life ettore #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic #high life #high life fan fiction #high life fanfiction #high life fan fic #high life fanfic #ettore

[hartsider]

“Animagus” marauders x animagus!reader | 777 words

Summary: after months of preparation, you're finally ready for your first transformation

No cw

Feels kinda choppy but I can’t be bothered. Not proofread.

You'll never look at a mandrake the same. Their leaves are so bitter.

Sure, it's been several weeks since you set your mandrake leaf into the vial with the other potion ingredients, but you can swear you can still taste it. You take a deep breath.

The vial is filled with a mouthful of blood red liquid, a potion that has developed in the dark without interference until this storm. You all had been buzzing all day. The weather-predicting charm that Remus had cast easily warned you all of the storm tonight, and as soon as you all heard the first lightning strike, James had retrieved the potion. Just as the spell says.

It was an odd feeling at first---the feeling of a second heartbeat alongside your own. But you soon got used to it, and by now it's as familiar as your own.

James, Remus, and Sirius all watch as you take a deep breath. This is almost ceremonial, the way that you have an audience, the way you're sitting with your legs folded underneath you on the floor, the way that this is going to be the last time you recite this incantation. The boys sit in a row on Remus’ bed, all waiting for you. They look about as nervous as you feel.

This is supposed to hurt. They didn't sugarcoat it. The feeling of your bones breaking and molding into different shapes for the first time is going to be painful, and there's nothing that you can do about it but grit your teeth and bear it.

Well, here goes.

“Amato amino animato animagus.” You say with the tip of our wand to your heart. For the last time, that double heartbeat appears. You think a quick goodbye to it before knocking back the small vial in your hand, swallowing the entire potion in one gulp.

It burns down your throat. The second heartbeat ricochets through your body alongside a feeling like your blood is on fire, and James reaches out a hand to stop Remus from going to you as you brace your hands on the floor. The pain leaves you gasping, and it only gets worse. Your bones creak and crack, and you feel every break.

But it’s over as soon as it starts, and soon you’re left panting through a respiratory that is both foreign and familiar. When you open your eyes from where they were scrunched, you see a pair of paws on the floor in place of your hands.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks, tentative, and you look up at him. All of the color seems to have leached from your surroundings, replaced by muddy blues and grayish yellows. You blink up at him.

“She doesn’t look like she’s still in pain.” James grins, expression morphing from the concern that he’d been feeling since you had all sat down. There are a lot of ways that this could have gone wrong, something Remus had pointed out a few dozen times during the process. Sirius had taken on the task of attempting to quell his fears, having spent months pointing out that it would be a lot easier for you since James and he have already done it.

It’s odd to walk on four paws instead of your feet, but you test your strides anyway, making a small circle before walking up to where the boys sit. Sirius leans down to offer you a hand, and you sniff it for a moment before bunting your head against his palm.

“You're a cat.” Sirius informs you. “An orange one.”

You mraw up at him, standing on your back legs to brace your front paws on his knees. Remus reaches in front of James to rub behind your ears, and you lean into his hands as purring wells up in your throat.

“You remember how to change back?” James asks. He joins Remus in petting you. You rub at his hand.

After a bit, you go back to where your wand lays on the carpet, sitting beside it and picturing yourself in your mind's eye. You will your form to change, and it does, moving from cat to human.

Fatigue hits you as you pull your wand from the ground. James takes it from your fingers and sets it on Remus’ nightstand, as the others come to sit with you on the floor. Sirius takes your weight against his shoulder like it was made for him, and Remus kisses the palm of your hand.

“You did great.” Remus hums into your skin, the ridges of a scar on his cheek under your fingertips.

“Anything for our Moony.” You tell him.

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