#and another round of finals stare at me from around the corner

[ninjatrashpanda]

Home (Home is wherever I'm with You)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round Two. Day Seven: "Predict the Future." Read on AO3 here.

“Oh yeah,” Buck exclaimed, handing another freshly washed plate to Tommy to dry. Evenings like this one were becoming more and more common. Buck and Tommy would meet up at Tommy’s house or Buck’s loft after their shifts, cook and eat dinner together, do the dishes together, and then settle down on the couch for a movie Tommy wanted to see, or a documentary to fuel Buck’s latest hyperfixation before heading to bed, either for a round of ‘Was I a good boy, Daddy?’ or to just sleep, depending on how tired they were after work. “My lease runs out in three months. Remind me that I have to talk to my landlord about a new one.”

Tommy nodded, putting the now dry plate on top of the stack next to him. “I can remind you, but have you thought about maybe… I don’t know… not renewing it?” His tone was casual, as it usually was, but Buck could tell that he was nervous from the way the blue of his eyes seemed to waver. For all that Tommy knew how to mask his facial expressions, Buck had quickly learned that his eyes had the tendency to betray him as long as you knew what to look for.

Buck let out a small chuckle, reaching for another plate, one of his eyebrows rising in confusion. “Not renewing?” he echoed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what? Move into the station full time?”

Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “Not quite what I had in mind. I was thinking more… you know, here. At my place.”

An odd sense of quiet spread through the room for a moment, despite the soft clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of the dishwasher running behind them. It wasn’t an out-of-the-blue proposal, not really. In fact, Buck figured, they’d been tiptoeing around it for weeks, maybe months. Their evenings together were less about convenience and more about the deep comfort they’d found in each other’s company, the quiet routines they’d built together. On nights when their shifts kept them apart, Buck deeply missed and outright craved Tommy, and not just in the sexual sense either. He’d realized a while ago that he really didn’t want to be apart from his boyfriend for any extended amount of time.

“You… You want me to move in with you?”

Tommy stopped drying for a second, focusing on folding the towel in his hands to avoid meeting Buck’s eyes. “Yeah, I do. I mean, we’re here all the time anyway, right? You’ve got a drawer, you’ve got space in the closet, half your stuff’s already in the bathroom. It just makes sense. Plus…" He finally looked up, his expression softening. “I like having you around, Evan. It feels… good. Natural.”

Buck didn’t respond immediately. He reached for the next dish, but instead of handing it over, he stared at the water droplets sliding down the ceramic, his mind working through the unspoken implications. He wasn’t scared, exactly. Living with Tommy had an appeal, a strong one, but it also carried weight. The last time he moved in with a partner had been an absolute disaster (and Buck was mature enough to acknowledge that it wasn’t fully or even mostly on Taylor either) and he really, really didn’t want his relationship with Tommy to go down the same path.

He finally spoke, voice steady but thoughtful. “I like being here with you too, Tommy, of course I do, I love you. It’s just… moving in, it’s a big step. You sure we’re ready for that?”

Tommy’s lips pressed together as he kept playing with his towel, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He didn’t want to push, and Buck knew and appreciated that. This wasn’t about trying to goad Buck into doing something he wasn’t ready for; it was about opening a door that, deep down, he already knew they both wanted to walk through.

“I get that it’s a big step,” Tommy finally said, his voice a touch softer, though still carrying that cadance of sincerity that Buck had become so familiar with. “I’m not trying to pressure you or make you feel like we have to do this now. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and… honestly, I’m ready if you are.” His eyes met Buck’s, unwavering, calm but warm, and full of love. “No rush, no pressure. Just… think about it.”

Buck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, running a hand through his damp curls. There was a knot in his chest that he hadn’t quite figured out how to untangle, a mix of excitement, anxiety, and an old, familiar fear of things falling apart when they seemed to be going too well.

“I do love being here,” Buck admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might somehow jinx what they had. “And you’re right. Half my stuff’s already here. I just…” He paused, words getting caught somewhere between his heart and his throat. “I guess I’m scared, you know? Last time I moved in with someone, I made a whole bunch of mistakes. It was a bad idea, and we rushed into things and it got… messy.”

Tommy nodded, leaning against the counter, his fingers still absently twisting the towel. “I know what happened with Taylor wasn’t easy, Evan. But that was different. You were different. And I’m not her.” He took a step closer, closing the space between them, his hand finding Buck’s in the soapy sink. The warmth of Tommy’s touch grounded him, and for a second, the room felt smaller, quieter. More intimate.

“You’re not,” Buck agreed, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of Tommy’s hand. “And I don’t want to compare what we have to that. I just… I want to make sure we’re doing this for the right reasons. Not because it’s convenient or comfortable, but because it’s what we both really want.”

Tommy tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching Buck’s face as if trying to read the thoughts that Buck was too afraid to say out loud. “If you need to think about it, that’s okay. You know I’m not gonna hold it against you, right?”

Buck let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of Tommy’s words settle over him. He knew Tommy meant every word. There was no hidden agenda, no underlying expectation. He was simply being honest about what he wanted, but ready to let it go if Buck didn’t. And Buck knew that should he say no, Tommy would be disappointed, but nothing would change between them. Tommy would know that Buck declining now wasn’t a never, just a not at this point. And that was what made this relationship so different from all the others. It wasn’t built on fleeting passion or some burning need to be wanted. It was steady, patient, and real.

“I know,” Buck said, his voice a little more solid this time. He turned to look at Tommy, really look at him. The man who had somehow woven himself into the fabric of Buck’s everyday life without either of them really noticing it happening. Tommy was everything Buck never thought he needed. Calm where Buck was impulsive, thoughtful where Buck was driven by instinct. It made Buck feel safer than he had in a long time.

Tommy smiled, a soft, understanding curve of his lips. “There’s no rush, baby,” he said again, letting his hand squeeze Buck’s gently before releasing it and taking the next dish. “We can talk about it whenever you’re ready. Or not talk about it. Whatever works.”

*

“So, what’s bugging you?” Bobby asked as he threw Buck’s apron over to him. They’d just gotten back to the station after a minor fender bender (three mild injuries, no deaths) and after sending everyone off to do their chores, he had quickly roped Buck into making dinner with him. Buck should have known it was a set-up.

“Wow, okay,” he said, grabbing an onion to dice for the bolognese recipe Tommy had gotten from his Nonna, a recipe both Bobby and Buck had gotten obsessed with mastering. “Not even gonna try to butter me up first, huh?”

Bobby chuckled as he started chopping the garlic, his hands moving with the kind of ease that came from years of cooking for the station. “We both know I’m not great at subtlety,” he said, glancing up at Buck with a pointed look. “Besides, I can tell something’s been on your mind. Figured I’d cut to the chase.”

Buck sighed, shaking his head slightly as he focused on the onion in front of him. The sharp smell of it hit him as soon as he sliced into it, and the familiar sting of onion-tears started piecing his eyes. He really should’ve known Bobby would catch on. If not him, who?

“I don’t know, Cap,” Buck said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s kinda dumb, really. I’ve just been... thinking. A lot.”

Bobby didn’t respond right away, just kept working at the garlic, letting Buck find his way to whatever he needed to say. Buck appreciated it. He hated being pushed to answer, and it always made him feel like he had to justify himself for feeling things. Bobby leaving him air to breathe and sort his thoughts, even if he was a little embarrassed that Bobby could read him so readily.

Buck did appreciate it. But it did also make him squirm.

“You know you’re allowed to think about things,” Bobby said after a moment, keeping his tone light. “But sometimes you get stuck in your head, Buck. And I’m not sure that’s where you want to be right now.”

Buck dropped the knife on the cutting board with a sigh, the rhythmic chop-chop of onions halting as he wiped his hands on his apron. “It’s not that,” he muttered, staring down at the half-diced onion, almost willing it to give him answers.

“So what is it?”

Buck looked up, meeting Bobby’s eyes for the first time since the conversation had started. He could feel the weight of Bobby’s concern, genuine and steady, like the man was always a step ahead, trying to make sure everyone around him was okay.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “Tommy asked me to move in with him, and I’m scared.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, pausing his garlic chopping for a second before setting the knife down. “Scared?” His tone was gentle, but Buck could sense the surprise there. “Of moving in with Tommy, or… something else?”

Buck let out a long breath, the air thick with the smell of onions and garlic now, the comforting scents of a familiar meal that should have helped ease his tension but only seemed to magnify the knot twisting in his stomach. He looked down at the onion, pushing it around the board with the edge of his knife. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but it was like they didn’t want to come out. Talking about feelings was never easy for him, especially not the deep, vulnerable ones. But this… this was Bobby. The man who had been there through the worst and somehow still saw him, still believed in him.

“I don’t know,” Buck finally said, the words coming out in a rush, like if he didn’t say them now, they’d never come. “I’m not really scared of moving in, I’m scared of messing it all up like I did with Taylor.”

Bobby gave a small nod and a hum, his expression one of calm realization. He turned and resumed chopping the garlic, the steady sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filling the silence between them. Buck appreciated the way Bobby let the quiet hang, giving him the space to work through his tangled thoughts.

“I know I shouldn’t compare the two,” Buck said, frustration creeping into his voice. He resumed dicing the onion, his movements a little too quick, the sharp knife clattering against the board. “Tommy’s not Taylor and I’m not the same Buck that I was back then, but it’s like I can’t help it. Every time I think about taking the next step with him, my mind goes back to everything I did wrong with Taylor. How I thought I could make it work, despite everything, and then… well, you know how that went.”

Bobby set down his knife again, wiping his hands on a towel as he turned to fully face Buck. His gaze was steady, not judgmental, just patient. “Buck, you can’t beat yourself up over past mistakes forever. You’ve learned from them. That’s what matters.”

Buck frowned, his hands stilling for a moment as he considered Bobby’s words. “Yeah, but what if I haven’t learned enough? What if I mess this up too? Tommy… he’s important to me. Like, really important. I think he could be it, you know? And the last thing I want to do is hurt him or make things awkward between us.”

Bobby gave a small nod, leaning back against the counter as he crossed his arms. “I get that, Buck. Believe me, I do. But relationships aren’t about never making mistakes. They’re about being willing to learn and grow together. From what I’ve seen, you and Tommy are already doing that.”

Buck stared at the sloppy onion dices in front of him, the smell still sharp, mixing with the garlic Bobby had finished. “What if I can’t handle the pressure? I mean, living together is a big deal. I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

Bobby smiled faintly, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he watched Buck. “Do you want to be ready, though?”

Buck blinked. The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t something he had considered, at least not in those terms. Did he want to be ready? Of course he did, didn’t he? But then again, that was part of the problem. He wanted to be perfect, to have it all figured out before he took the leap. The thought of messing up, of failing, of somehow destroying what he and Tommy had, gnawed at him.

“I do,” Buck sighed, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “I just don’t want to screw this up, Bobby. I’ve done that too many times already. What if I’m just not meant for this? What if...”

Bobby held up a hand, stopping him gently but firmly. “Buck, stop.” He shook his head slightly, his tone soft but unwavering. “You’re not broken. You’ve been through a lot, and yeah, you’ve made mistakes. We all have. But that doesn’t mean you’re destined to keep repeating them.”

Buck felt a lump form in his throat. He hated how accurate Bobby’s assessment of him was. How often had he thought like that about himself? That he was somehow defective, doomed to fail at every relationship he tried to make work? It was like a heavy weight tied around his neck, one that seemed to make it harder and harder to keep his head up.

Bobby’s eyes softened as he kept speaking, his voice filled with that steady, reassuring calm Buck had come to rely on. “You’re allowed to be scared, Buck. It means this matters to you. But don’t let that fear keep you from something good. You and Tommy… you’ve got something worth fighting for. And from what I’ve seen, you’re both willing to put in the work.”

Buck swallowed, his eyes burning a little, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the onion or the sudden rush of emotions coursing through his body. He wiped his hands on his apron again, more out of habit than necessity. “I guess I’m just scared I’ll let him down,” he admitted quietly. Bobby had done it once again. He had peeled back every single one of Buck’s worries and doubts and had nailed exactly what the source of his issues was. “He deserves someone who’s... not a mess.”

Bobby shook his head, stepping closer and resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Buck, you’re not a mess. You’re human. And Tommy knows that. You two are building something together, and that’s not something that happens overnight. It takes time, effort, and yeah, sometimes it takes stumbling a little along the way. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of it.”

Buck looked up at Bobby, his throat tight, the knot in his stomach loosening just a little as he heard the words. He knew Bobby meant them. He could see it in his eyes, could hear it in his voice.

“Do you think I can do this?” Buck asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

Bobby’s smile was small but full of warmth. “I think you already are. You’re asking the right questions, thinking about it the way you should. You care enough to want to get it right. That’s what matters.”

Buck nodded slowly, feeling a little of the tension start to melt away. Bobby’s words had a way of doing that, of making things seem less impossible, less overwhelming. Maybe he didn’t have it all figured out yet, but maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe just wanting to do better, wanting to be there for Tommy, was enough for now.

“Thanks, Cap,” Buck said, his voice steadier now. “I guess I just needed to hear that.”

Bobby gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to the cutting board, picking up his knife and getting back to the garlic. “Anytime, Buck. And hey, when you move in with Tommy, don’t forget to keep practicing this bolognese. I’m counting on you to help me perfect it.”

Buck laughed, a real, genuine laugh that he hadn’t realized he needed. He picked up his knife again, the rhythm of chopping the onion coming more easily now, less frantic. “Deal. But only if you let me make the garlic bread.”

“Done,” Bobby said with a grin. “Now, let’s finish this before everyone starts complaining about being hungry.”

*

“This is the last one,” Tommy called, carrying a box down the stairs to Buck’s former bedroom. Buck, waiting at the base with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his suitcase by his side. “You had a lot less stuff than I expected, baby.”

Buck smiled, though it didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, it’s… I never really needed much, you know?”

It was true. Buck had, for all intents and purposes, been kind of a minimalist with the loft. He lived at the station half the time anyway, so he had never really tried to accessorize or anything. A few pictures of himself and his family, from Maddie and Bobby to Christopher and Jee-Yun were about the only things that he figured mattered. He loved his family, and being surrounded by them, even if it was only through photographs, always made him feel better.

“You okay?” Tommy asked, putting the box to the ground. And that… was a loaded question. Yes, Buck was okay, technically. He wanted this. He wanted to move in with Tommy, was okay with letting the loft go.

But this had still been his home for the last six years of his life. It was still the end of an era.

“Just… feeling a little nostalgic is all.”

Tommy nodded, an understanding smile making its way to his face. “Makes sense,” he said quietly, running his hand through his messy curls as he leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been through a lot in this place.”

Buck sighed, his eyes drifting around the room, taking in the bare walls, the empty bookshelves, the absence of the things that had once made this place feel like his. There was a time when this loft had been a refuge, a place to heal after he had hit rock bottom more than once. He’d been here after the ladder truck had crushed his leg, after the tsunami, after the lightning strike. His relationships with Ali and Taylor and Natalia had ended here. He had spent weeks in here all alone when he had filed the lawsuit that had almost destroyed his relationships with the people that mattered most to him.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice soft. “A lot happened here.”

And yet, it had also been a sanctuary, a place of endless laughter, and some of the best parts of his life. Getting this place had made him feel like an adult for the first time in his life. He had felt independent in a way not even traveling across the country on his own had made him feel. He and Eddie had made up after the lawsuit in here, he and Christopher had spent countless hours pummeling each other in fighting games, he’d first seen Jee-Yun crawl in here when she had made her way from the door to the couch. He had even delivered his Conner and Kameron’s child in here.

Tommy and him had shared their first kiss here.

Tommy watched him carefully, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “You don’t have to let it all go, you know,” he said, voice gentle. “You can take the memories with you.”

Buck smiled at that, the kind of smile that cracked through the melancholy even though it still didn’t quite fill out his face. “I know. It’s just… this place has seen every part of me, you know? The mess, the mistakes, the times I got back up again. It’s hard to leave that behind.”

“I get it,” Tommy murmured, stepping closer, his hand brushing lightly against Buck’s arm. “And it’s normal. Leaving your old home for a new one is always hard.”

Buck’s gaze softened as he looked at Tommy, grateful for the way he understood, the way he just… got it. That was one of the things that had made Buck fall for him in the first place. Tommy knew how to be present, how to listen without forcing an answer or solution.

“Moving in with you,” Buck said, looking down at the duffel bag and then back at the empty space around him, “it feels right. I just didn’t expect it to feel this… complicated too.”

Tommy chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss Buck’s temple, his arm moving around Buck’s shoulders. “Change always is. Even the good ones. But look, we don’t have to rush anything. If you need more time, I—”

“No,” Buck interrupted, though his tone was gentle. “I’m ready. I really am. I want this—us.” He turned to pull Tommy into a slow, soft kiss, resting his forehead against Tommy’s. “I think I just need a second to say goodbye to this place, you know?”

Tommy squeezed his hand, a warm smile lighting up his face. “Take all the time you need.”

Buck turned back toward the loft, his heart heavy but steady, while Tommy went to grab the box and stand in the doorway. Buck walked slowly around the room, letting his fingers graze the walls, each touch bringing back fragments of the life he’d lived here. The first time he’d stood in the kitchen, fresh from a shift, feeling like he was finally becoming the man he wanted to be. The nights he’d stayed awake, trying not to let his loneliness get to him, wondering if he’d ever be enough for anyone. The day Maddie had come home after getting treated for her PPD. The moment Eddie had told him that Chris thought of him as a hero, a title Buck never felt like he deserved but wore like armor anyway.

He stepped out onto the balcony, the Los Angeles skyline glowing with the soft hues of the setting sun. The view had always been one of his favorite parts of this place. It reminded him that, no matter how chaotic life got, the world kept turning, kept moving. And so did he.

With a deep breath, Buck finally allowed t’he tears that had built behind his lids to flow free, feeling the weight of six years lift from his shoulders. This place had been his sanctuary, his shelter. But now, he realized, it had also been his cocoon. It had kept him safe while he grew, while he healed. But he wasn’t the same man who had first walked through that door all those years ago. He was ready to spread his wings and step into something new.

Something with Tommy.

He stepped back in, his heart full but at peace, and caught Tommy’s eye. “I think I’m good now,” he said softly, smiling—a real, genuine smile this time.

Tommy grinned, his eyes twinkling with that infectious warmth that had always made Buck feel grounded. “Good. Because I was starting to think I’d have to carry all your boxes back up.”

Buck laughed, the sound light and free, cutting through the bittersweet air. “You’re hilarious. But no, I won’t strain your back like that, old man.”

“Oh, okay. I see how it is!” Tommy shot back, his expression playful as Buck picked up his suitcase and duffel bag. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you change your mind.”

Tommy grabbed the last box, and together, they headed for the door. Just before stepping through, Buck paused one last time, looking back over his shoulder at the loft. He let the memories settle in his mind, like pictures into a photo album.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, not to the loft itself, but to the man he used to be inside it. Then, he turned to join Tommy in the hallway. “Let’s go home.”

[reginrokkr]

Starter call. Capping this at 3! For multimuses, please let me know for who is meant to be ♥︎

[dragonsholygrail]

oh to be a mouse hybrid toyed with by a cat hybrid who just wants to see you squirm in every way

Ooh when the Cat Hybrid’s owners told him they were getting him a new little friend, you, a Mouse Hybrid were by far the last thing he was expecting.

He wanted another cat to mess with, to play with… to mate with. But he couldn’t stop himself from noticing your plump round form scurrying about the house or the constant skittish look in your eye as you surveyed your new home. Perhaps you would do.

From that day on he would terrorize you mercilessly. Chasing you around the around the house when your owners were gone, saying he was gonna devour you when he finally got his claws into you. Backing you into corners just to see the delicious terror in your eyes. Plopping his large form right on top of you so that you couldn’t escape him even as you scrambled desperately to get away.

It was never ending and as much as you wanted to say you hated it, it felt far too good. The Cat hybrid severely underestimated you, forgetting you too were a hybrid with all the same perks. You could smell his desire in the air every time he chased you. And you had grown addicted to the scent. To feel so wanted and yearned for, especially during the chase, nothing else could compare.

He would only ever mess with you when he felt like it so you figured you might need to give him a little push. Using yourself as bait you use your owners creaky stairs to your advantage. As soon as the first step creaks, the Cat hybrid’s head snaps up from where he’s perched. His eyes meet your wide ones for only a moment before you’re bolting down the stairs.

As soon as you hear the pounding of paws behind you, you smirk wickedly knowing your plan had worked. Cute little squeaks leave your mouth as you run throughout the house, narrowly trying to avoid being caught. He should’ve realized how much you like this. You’re much faster than him after all.

After rounding the next corner you wait a moment for him to catch up. Seeing a flash of fur and then you’re off. The Cat Hybrid pauses for a moment as he realizes what you had just done. What you’ve actually been doing this entire time.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he chases you at lightning speed. He’s catching up to you in no time and by the look of genuine alarm in your eye he knows this wasn’t a trick. Instead of his usual antics he pounces on you, sending you both tumbling to the floor.

“You messin’ with me, little mouse?” He growls in your ear, his body pinning you to the hard wood floor. You don’t even bother to squirm, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare up at him.

Before you can even blink he’s shoving his hand down your pants and swiping his fingers through your folds, your slick drenching them with how aroused you are. He chuckles lowly, rumbling purrs vibrating into your chest and straight to your core.

“So this has been a game to you, huh? A bit of foreplay before I inevitably snap and fuck you dumb.”

You find you can’t even answer, panting breaths escaping you as you rock with his hand that’s slowly rubbing against all the right places. He devilishly smiles and pushes two fingers deep inside you, causing your hips to jolt as you cry out.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve done it. I’ve snapped,” he says with a menacing snarl as he pumps his fingers roughly against your walls, his claws just barely scraping them and setting your nerves on fire.

You try and be as good as you can, staying perfectly still for him as he fucks you with his fingers, but your small reaction only seems to infuriate him further. He picks up pace, licking and nipping at your throat until you too break and your moans echo throughout the empty house. A secret smirk plays on lips.

That is until the Cat Hybrid plays a trick of his own. Pumping his fingers inside you, drawing you closer and closer till you’re just about to fall off that edge when he suddenly stops and withdraws. You whine, squirming now as you begin to beg for more.

“I see through you now, sweet prey. You won’t be winning this one.”

You only start to realize your mistake as he starts fucking you with his cock, the large length stretching you so good. The natural curve hitting the soft spot inside you perfectly. Then he starts doing to you exactly what he did with his fingers. Bringing you up to the edge and then pulling you right back.

He’s as merciless as he is when terrorizing you and in a way he’s doing just that but in a whole new way that drives you more insane than the chasing ever did. Eventually you’re a sobbing mess, your tears and your arousal forming two separate puddles on the floor with how in need you are right now as he starts up again.

You jump as the sudden sensation of his wet nose nuzzling into your neck, his purrs even louder now. You immediately cling to him, meeting his thrusts and trying to chase your growing orgasm before it’s taken away again.

“Do you think you’ve earned the right to cum for me now?” The Cat Hybrid asks and you whine, nodding rapidly.

You feel his grin against your skin before he pulls out and starts slamming his cock deep inside your cunt. His intent clear before he even says a word. But when he does it’s like music to your ears.

“I agree. Cum for me, mate.”

This time as you get closer and closer to the finish, he doesn’t stop. Instead, his hands slips down and rubs tight circles into your clit. Your orgasm breaks through almost instantly and you scream as you milk his cock for all it’s worth, sending him right into ecstasy with you.

But the sound of the car door doesn’t leave either of you much time to bask in pleasure coursing through you. Luckily the Cat hybrid takes the lead, maneuvering you both as he curls around you, keeping you stuffed full of his cock but hiding any of the evidence. You’re too weak to do anything but shift into how he molds you. Making it appear as if you two are asleep and cuddling in the hall.

“Aw, look at them. Finally getting along,” you hear your owners say who are none the wiser to what’s really going on.

Cat Hybrid bf rocks his hips, snapping them back inside you quietly and forcing a squeak from your throat. He chuckles under his breath and nuzzles into you, not planning on moving away from you for hours. Wondering how many more orgasms he can rip from your tight pussy.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[undressrehearsal]

dare to be stupid

summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)

a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk

part 2

“Truth or dare?” 

It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.

And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes. 

She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?” 

You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed. 

Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.” 

Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.” 

You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.” 

“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?” 

Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?” 

Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?” 

“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?” 

Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.” 

Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?” 

Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.” 

There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in. 

In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress. 

When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?” 

You grinned. “$200.” 

Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.” 

“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”

Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.” 

You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips. 

“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling. 

“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.” 

You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.” 

Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor. 

Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?” 

You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!” 

Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.” 

You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder. 

“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone. 

“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”

Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning. 

“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away. 

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.” 

You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you. 

This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”) 

“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?” 

She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.

“Don’t-” 

“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!” 

“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-” 

“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?” 

“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?” 

Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.” 

Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.” 

“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.

And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing. 

“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints. 

You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.” 

“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light. 

You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”

You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies. 

“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar. 

It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own. 

So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?” 

She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands- 

“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?” 

And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited. 

You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse. 

You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk. 

You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.”

“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat. 

For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed. 

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.

“How would you rate your last kiss?” 

You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.” 

Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.” 

“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic. 

Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.” 

Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else. 

Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.” 

Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.” 

You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart. 

“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there. 

Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.” 

And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.” 

You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover. 

And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer. 

Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face. 

Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth. 

That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp. 

“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest. 

And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving? 

Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.” 

And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body. 

Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue. 

“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.” 

She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone. 

The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.” 

Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin. 

“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips. 

“What?” 

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no. 

“Truth,” you sighed. 

One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?” 

You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing. 

It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs. 

Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?” 

This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips. 

And you decided to play her game. 

“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes. 

Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.” 

You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.” 

She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment? 

But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach. 

You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.” 

The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.

“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.” 

Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple. 

“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones. 

You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease. 

She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.” 

Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan. 

You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye. 

You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.” 

Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission. 

“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence? 

And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them. 

Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been. 

Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs. 

You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place. 

You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….” 

And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job. 

And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-” 

And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted. 

Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-” 

It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it. 

Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-

A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs. 

Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity. 

When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple. 

The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?” 

Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?” 

You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?” 

Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.” 

You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”

The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin. 

Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again. 

You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.” 

Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?” 

You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.” 

Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you. 

She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.

You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.” 

You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.

Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.” 

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

[pucksandpower]

Wild Goose Chase

Oscar Piastri x soulmate!Reader

Summary: in which Oscar is terrorized by the soulmate goose of enforcement … until he runs into you (literally)

Oscar Piastri is not one to get flustered. It’s kind of his thing — cool under pressure, calm in the face of chaos, composed when the world around him loses its mind. But right now, he’s seconds away from losing his.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath, scanning the area around the paddock, eyes darting from side to side.

The coast looks clear, but Oscar knows better by now. The stupid goose is lurking somewhere, probably eyeing him like he’s the world’s most wanted criminal. He barely makes it five steps before he hears the familiar, grating honk.

“Oh, come on!” Oscar yelps, whirling around to face the persistent bird. Sure enough, there it is, waddling towards him like it owns the place, beady eyes fixed on him with the intensity of a predator stalking its prey. “What do you want from me?”

The goose doesn’t answer, obviously. It just keeps coming, wings fluttering slightly as if gearing up to make his life a living hell for the umpteenth time that day. Oscar takes a cautious step back, then another, but the bird matches his pace, honking louder, as if it’s mocking him.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbles, glancing around for any sign of help. But the paddock is nearly deserted — most of the crew are inside, probably watching the CCTV footage of his latest goose chase and having a good laugh at his expense. He sighs, resignation settling in as the goose inches closer, its beak snapping in a way that’s far more menacing than it has any right to be.

“Fine, you win,” Oscar concedes, hands held up in surrender. “But you’re not biting me again.”

He takes off, jogging towards the gate that leads out of the paddock, hoping to shake the bird off. It’s a fool’s hope, really. The goose gives chase, honking triumphantly as it gains on him. Oscar barely makes it through the gate before the bird nips at his ankles, forcing him into a full-on sprint down the sidewalk.

“I don’t even know where I’m going!” He shouts over his shoulder, like that might actually make the goose reconsider its life choices. It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t. The bird just keeps at it, relentless as ever, as if this is its sole mission in life.

Oscar rounds a corner, nearly colliding with a group of tourists who scatter like pigeons at the sight of the manic goose. He mutters an apology, hardly slowing down as he bolts across the street, narrowly avoiding a car. The goose, undeterred by traffic, flies over the vehicle and lands in front of him, honking like it’s conducting some kind of victory parade.

“Alright, alright, I get it! Just leave me alone!” Oscar’s practically pleading now, breath coming in short bursts as he darts into a nearby alleyway, hoping to lose the bird in the maze of narrow streets. But the goose follows, nipping at his heels like a relentless shadow.

He’s so busy looking back at the bird that he doesn’t notice you — at least not until he crashes into you, the impact sending you both sprawling to the ground. Time seems to slow as he twists mid-air, instinctively trying to cushion your fall with his own body. He hits the pavement first, the breath knocked out of him as you land on top of him in a tangle of limbs.

“Ow,” you groan, pushing yourself up on your elbows, blinking down at him in confusion. “What the hell was that?”

Oscar’s too winded to answer immediately. He blinks up at you, dazed, trying to process what just happened. The goose, victorious, waddles in front of you both, honking one last time before it saunters off as if it has better things to do.

“Did … did that goose just attack you?” You ask, incredulity coloring your voice as you roll off him and sit up.

Oscar finally catches his breath, nodding as he pushes himself into a sitting position beside you. “Yeah,” he pants, running a hand through his hair. “That’s … been happening a lot, actually.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “Seriously?”

“Unfortunately,” he replies, shooting the retreating goose a glare. “It’s like it has some kind of vendetta against me.”

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s a startled, slightly hysterical sound, but it quickly turns into something genuine as you take in the absurdity of the situation. Oscar joins in, the tension in his shoulders easing as the laughter bubbles up between you.

“This is so weird,” you say, shaking your head as the laughter dies down. “I’ve never heard of a goose doing that before.”

“Neither have I,” Oscar agrees, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “But here we are.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both catch your breath, the ridiculousness of the situation settling in. Finally, you look at him, curiosity shining in your eyes. “So … what’s your deal? Did you, like, offend the goose gods or something?”

Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “Not that I know of. I’m just trying to do my job, and that bird’s decided it doesn’t like me.”

“And what’s your job?” You ask, genuinely curious now. “Are you, like, a bird whisperer or something?”

He laughs again, this time a bit more ruefully. “No, nothing like that. I’m a driver. For McLaren.”

You blink, clearly not recognizing the name. “Is that, like, a taxi service?”

Oscar blinks back at you, momentarily stunned into silence. “No, it’s … it’s Formula 1. Racing.”

Your eyes widen in realization. “Oh! Right, that makes sense. Sorry, I don’t really follow sports.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving off your apology with a grin. “Most people don’t get chased by geese for a living.”

You smile at that, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable. “So, what brings you here, then? Besides being terrorized by a bird, I mean.”

“Just in town for a race,” he replies, glancing around as if the goose might come back at any moment. “But, uh, I didn’t expect my biggest challenge this weekend to be a goose.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is happening right now. You’re probably the last person I’d expect to crash into on a random street.”

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual,” Oscar says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But, I guess if I had to crash into someone, I’m glad it was you.”

You raise an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the goose makes a reappearance, honking loudly as it charges at him again. His eyes widen in alarm, and he scrambles to his feet, pulling you up with him. “Because you might be able to help me get rid of this thing!”

You yelp in surprise as he grabs your hand, dragging you along as he takes off down the street. The goose gives chase once more, honking furiously as it flaps its wings in a bid to catch up.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You shout, barely keeping pace with him as he pulls you around a corner.

“Not a clue!” Oscar admits, breathless but grinning as he glances back at you. “But it’s either this or let the goose win!”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation catching up to you again. “Okay, okay, I’m in! Let’s outsmart this goose!”

You round another corner together, darting into a small park in the hopes of losing the bird in the greenery. The goose, however, is nothing if not persistent, and it’s not long before it spots you again, honking in triumph as it barrels towards you both.

“Any bright ideas?” You ask, glancing around frantically for an escape route.

Oscar scans the park, his mind racing. “There!” He says, pointing towards a small, man-made pond. “If we can get across that bridge, maybe we can lose it in the water.”

You nod, and the two of you take off towards the pond, the goose hot on your heels. As you reach the bridge, Oscar lets go of your hand, urging you to go first.

“Ladies first!” He shouts, grinning despite the situation.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you sprint across the bridge. Oscar follows close behind, and for a moment, it seems like the plan might work. But then the goose decides it’s had enough of running and takes flight, swooping low over the water and landing directly in front of you on the other side of the bridge.

“Seriously?” You exclaim, skidding to a halt as the bird blocks your path, its beady eyes glinting with what can only be described as malicious glee.

Oscar stops short beside you, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Okay, new plan,” he says between gasps for air. “We … we try to reason with it.”

You stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “Reason with a goose? Are you for real?”

“Do you have a better idea?” He shoots back, straightening up and taking a cautious step forward. “Hey, uh, Mr. Goose? We, uh, we come in peace. There’s no need for any more … biting or chasing or-” He flinches as the goose lets out a loud, aggressive honk, cutting him off mid-sentence.

You try not to laugh, but a snort escapes anyway, earning you a sidelong glance from Oscar. “I’m just saying,” you whisper, “this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

“You and me both,” he mutters, still watching the goose warily. “Okay, new plan … again.”

“Run?” You suggest, but there’s no real conviction in your voice. It’s clear neither of you has much hope of outrunning the bird, especially now that it’s in full attack mode.

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we just …” Oscar hesitates, then sighs, “Sit down.”

“Sit down?” You’re incredulous, but he’s already lowering himself to the grass, crossing his legs like he’s about to meditate. The goose, now only a few feet away, seems puzzled by this new development. It tilts its head to the side, honking softly, almost as if it’s confused.

“Worth a try,” Oscar says, motioning for you to sit beside him. “I have no idea if this will work, but we’ve tried everything else.”

You give him a skeptical look but eventually lower yourself beside him, crossing your legs and mirroring his posture. The goose blinks, looking between the two of you, as if it’s trying to figure out what the catch is.

For a moment, nothing happens. The three of you sit there, locked in a bizarre standoff, with you and Oscar on one side and the goose on the other. Then, to your surprise, the bird takes a cautious step forward. Then another. And another, until it’s standing right in front of you both, its head tilted as if it’s studying you.

“What now?” You whisper, barely daring to breathe.

“I don’t know,” Oscar admits, his voice just as low. “Maybe … maybe it just wanted us to stop running.”

You exchange a glance, both of you too stunned to do much more than sit there and wait for whatever’s going to happen next. The goose seems to consider you for a long moment before it lets out a soft honk — nothing like the aggressive sounds from earlier. Then, with a final bob of its head, it turns and waddles away, disappearing into the bushes on the other side of the pond.

“Did that just happen?” You ask, still half-expecting the bird to reappear and resume its attack.

Oscar blinks, as if coming out of a daze. “I think … I think it gave up.”

You look at him, and then suddenly the absurdity of it all hits you like a tidal wave. You laugh, loud and unrestrained, doubling over as the stress and tension of the chase evaporate. Oscar joins in, his laughter rich and full, and before you know it, you’re both lying back on the grass, staring up at the sky, tears streaming down your faces.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Oscar says between fits of laughter, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Neither can I,” you manage to gasp out, wiping away the tears from your eyes. “What even was that? I feel like I’m in some kind of weird dream.”

“Tell me about it,” Oscar says, finally catching his breath. “I’ve faced some crazy stuff on the track, but this … this takes the cake.”

You both lie there in silence for a moment, the sky above you turning a soft shade of orange as the sun begins to set. The chaos of the day feels far away now, replaced by a strange sense of peace that settles over you both.

“I’m glad I crashed into you,” Oscar says suddenly, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

You turn your head to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his eyes still on the sky. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I could’ve done without the goose situation, but … I don’t know. Maybe it was worth it.”

You smile, a warmth spreading through your chest. “I guess if a goose had to chase you down, it’s kind of nice that it led you here.”

“To you,” he adds, his eyes meeting yours, something unspoken passing between you.

The air between you shifts, the playful banter from earlier giving way to something more serious, more charged. For a moment, neither of you says anything, just holding each other’s gaze as the reality of what’s happened settles in.

“Do you think …” you start, then hesitate, unsure of how to put it into words. “Do you think the goose was trying to, I don’t know, tell us something?”

Oscar chuckles softly, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes as he nods. “Maybe. I mean, it’s a pretty crazy thought, but after everything that just happened … I don’t know. It’s almost like it was trying to push us together.”

“Like fate or something?” You suggest, half-joking, but there’s a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Yeah,” Oscar agrees, the word hanging in the air between you, heavy with meaning. “Like fate.”

Another silence falls, this one filled with unspoken possibilities. Then, slowly, Oscar reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, tentative, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“Maybe this is going to sound weird,” he says, his voice a little unsteady, “but I feel like I’ve been looking for something — or someone — for a long time. And today … I don’t know, it feels like maybe I found it.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he’s seeing you — really seeing you — for the first time. And it makes you wonder if maybe he’s right. Maybe all of this wasn’t just random. Maybe the goose, as ridiculous as it sounds, was trying to show you both something that you wouldn’t have seen otherwise.

“I think maybe I have too,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar’s eyes light up at your words, and he squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that’s both comforting and intimate. The connection between you is undeniable, and for the first time all day, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning out of control.

“So what now?” You ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Well,” Oscar says, a grin spreading across his face, “how about we get out of here? Maybe go somewhere the goose can’t follow us.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement as you both stand up, brushing the grass from your clothes. “I like that idea.”

Oscar doesn’t let go of your hand as you start to walk away from the park, the warmth of his palm against yours sending a thrill through you. As you leave the park behind, you glance back over your shoulder one last time, half-expecting to see the goose watching you, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

Maybe it’s gone for good. Or maybe it’s just done what it needed to do — bringing you and Oscar together in the most bizarre, unexpected way imaginable.

“So,” you say as you walk side by side, your steps in sync, “where do we go from here?”

Oscar looks at you, his smile soft and genuine. “Wherever we want.”

And just like that, the world feels right again.

[rin-may-1103]

The Disappointment.

This may or may not have multiple parts, depending on whether I feel like writing more. (dcxdp, demon twin au.) also based on some post I read a while ago... can't remember for the life of me who wrote it but if any of you guys do, let me know.

"This way," Mother hissed, snatching Danny's wrist tightly. Damian lagged behind, twisting his head this way and that, keeping an eye out for anyone following them.

"Quick now, we must hurry." She hissed again, her eyes darting back and forth, eyeing the small nicks and scratches she had left previously to lead them away.

Danny glanced back at his brother, watching as he scowled and defiantly lifted his head. His baby brother would die before he allowed anyone to see him defeated.

Glancing back to the path, Danny watched as Mother took down anyone who was in their way, killing without hesitation. As he watched another body hit the floor, Grandfather's muttered words from when he left dinner, ran through the back of his head, "Bring the disappointment to me after sundown. I've seen enough."

There was nowhere in the world they could hide that Grandfather wouldn't follow. They would be hunted for the rest of their short lives, hiding in fear like cowards. Grandfather would not rest until he drew blood.

"In here, Habibi, quiet now. Quickly, both of you." Mother finally let Danny's wrist go, darting across the hall to open the secret door. Danny moved to the side, signaling to Damian that he would keep watch. His brother nodded his head and quickly made his way over, ducking into the small, dark, and eerie corridor.

Mother crouched next to Damian, running her hands over his face like this would be the last time she would see it. knowing her, she probably expected it to be. No one went against their grandfather without severe consequences.

Glancing over his shoulder, Danny studied the shadows; there was a lookout patrol moving closer, which meant they only had a minute before they were discovered. Gritting his teeth, Danny darted across the hall, but instead of joining his mother and brother in the dark corridor, he pushed the wall back, leaving only the missing brick his mother had initially taken out.

"Danyal!" his mother hissed, her voice full of stern panic.

"Apologies Mother, but I can not let you do this," Danny replied, glancing to the side to see how much time he had left. Forty seconds. Crouching down, he picked up the brick and looked back at his mother. Damian stood next to her, his brows furrowed in confusion. Obviously, he hadn't figured out Danny's plan, otherwise he would have started shouting at him.

Mother stared at him for a second, her stern eyes wavering for the first time in Danny's life that he could remember. "Take care of him for me, keep him safe when I can not," Danny asked, grabbing the hood hanging around the back of his neck.

Mother's eyes teared up, but she straightened her back, her black hair framing her pretty face. "You've made up your mind then," she said, her voice low and steady. She rested her hand on Damian's shoulder, giving Danny a nod of understanding. "You are like your father, his love makes him weak."

"But," she continued, kneeling down in a bow, "You are of the demon's blood, it runs in your veins just like mine. Your actions will not be forgotten, nor will they be for nothing. You have my word, tifl alqamar. I love you, Habibi."

Danny nodded his head, unable to voice the thoughts clogging his throat. Instead, he took a silent breath, pulled his hood and mask into place, and shoved the final brick into place. Sealing off his precious family just in time to hear the guards around the corner.

Turning around, Danny silently stalked forward, drawing his shoulders back. The group rounded the corner and stopped, watching him in anticipation. Pitching his voice just slightly to the left and rolling his tongue, Danny spoke in a neutral voice, "take me to grandfather."

The two guards in front shared a look, but the ones in the back straightened up and moved aside. Marching forward, Danny passed the two hesitating guards and with a quick slice, brought them to their knees. He needed this to work, there was no room for mercy, no matter how much he hated it.

"I am the grandson of the demon head, you will respect me as you respect him. there will be no next time." Danny continued walking, pretending to not care if the two managed to follow or not. the remaining guards trailed behind him, silently observing him.

Danny was glad Mother had insisted on them matching today. otherwise, his plan would have failed long before he made it to his grandfather's door.

Stopping in front of the painted carved wood that was grandfather's door, Danny idly studied the carvings and statues around the grand hall. He remembered all the stories of how grandfather had collected them over his lifetime; grand stories of bloodshed and cunning manipulation.

His eyes settled on the one farthest away, with the least interesting story. It was considered ordinary, placed next to art worth billions. But it was Danny's favorite. It was a simple green crystal, carved like a crescent moon.

so simple, yet the most beautiful piece in Danny's opinion. He had always hoped he would die beneath the stars and his ever-faithful friend the moon. Maybe, instead of beneath them, he could die amongst them.

He would take it with him, he decided.

Turning sharply, Danny marched over to the small pedistal and plucked the crystal into his hand. Wrapping his fingers around it, he shoved it into a side pocket and returned back to his position.

They only had to wait for another minute before the door opened, grandfather's servants clearing a path for Danny to walk through.

"I see your mother did not drag you away," Grandfather mused, sitting in his large chair. His dark eyes studied Danny's form, taking in the katana on his back, and the hood and mask concealing his face. He was dressed like he would for a mission; no discernable features, no sign of who he was or wasn't. The perfect image of an assassin.

"at least you aren't a coward," Grandfather hummed, standing from his seat. He slowly pulled out his own katana, aiming it at Danny in a challenge. "no, just disappointing. but you are my blood and that earns you the right to die an honorable death. Draw your sword child, and fight like the warrior you are."

Danny bowed like he had been taught, then without another moment of hesitation, drew his sword and lunged.

He wished he could say it was a drawn-out battle of strength and minds, but it was not. for Danny was only ten years old, and his grandfather had hundreds of years of training and discipline behind him.

he gazed up at his grandfather as his knees hit the ground, his katana dropping to the ground as his hand reached up to the sword impaling his chest. Grandfather's eyes were filled with nothing but contempt, contempt for the useless boy he had just sentenced to death.

but his contempt did not bother Danny, no instead it drew a smile to his face. As much as Grandfather lorded his sharp mind over them, he had never been able to stop Danny from surprising him. So, with a burst of adrenaline, Danny allowed the small shuriken he hid in his sleeve to drop to his left hand and buried it deep into his grandfather's chest.

grandfather lunged back, pulling his katana with him, removing the only thing keeping Danny upright. Danny's body hit the ground, and with the last of his strength, he twisted his head so he could listen as his grandfather cried out in anger.

Grandfather's breath was heavy, the sound of him removing the dagger filling the silence. the shuriken was dropped to the ground with a sharp clatter, falling just a few feet from Danny's face.

"you," Grandfather huffed, "aren't such a disappointment after all. I'll grant you one last honor and keep you in the family tomb. Rest now, Damian, you have fought well."

Danny smiled, the cold feeling of blood loss crawling through his body, but not fast enough to block out the pressure of the moon crystal still in his pocket. He hoped Mother had gotten Damian out in time, and he hoped Damian could forgive him for what he had done.

[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You're on a cross-country road trip when your tires blow, and you're forced to get them fixed at a small town mechanic shop. When your card declines, you only have one other option to get your car back. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, mechanic!joel, sex for favors, oral sex (f + m receiving), blowjob, deepthroating, cum eating, fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, unprotected piv sex, size kink, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, joel being a disgustingly nice gentleman, porn with absolutely no plot A/N: I saw this gif float across my pinterest and had a terribly fun idea... so here it is. Enjoy a lil fun ;)

PART 2 | Masterlist | Ko-fi

“S’all fixed up now,” Joel said, walking into the waiting room.

You had been waiting a few hours to have your alignment fixed and tires replaced, and now you could finally breathe a sigh of relief. You were on your way through the small town headed east towards Tallahassee when both of your back tires blew out on the highway. You were lucky not to cause a crash and thankfully found a local mechanic shop only half a mile off the road. 

“Thank you so much,” you exhaled as you stood up and stretched your legs.

Joel rounded the counter to the register, typing up the work order to charge you out. Wallet in hand, you waited for the cost, praying it wouldn’t make a dent in your bank account. You only budgeted so much for the road trip, and this definitely wasn’t in the budget.

“Alright, ma’am, lookin’ like it’s gonna be around $500 for everything. Shaved some off just for the hassle you been through,” Joel smiled.

Shit.

“Uh, okay. Great.”

You reluctantly handed over your card, praying it would be enough. Joel swiped it on his machine followed by a loud beep that clearly meant DECLINED. You let out a shaky breath, fishing through your wallet for another card.

“Shit, try this one,” you said.

Joel nodded, his brows furrowing a bit when it also beeped in the same tone. He slid your card across the table, cocking a brow as if to ask, ‘Got another one?’

“Fuck,” you laughed nervously. “Okay, how ‘bout this one?”

Another card. Another decline. How the fuck were you going to get out of town now?

“Sorry, ma’am,” Joel sighed. “No payment means no car ‘m afraid.”

You ran your hand through your hair in frustration, trying to come up with something. Glancing up at him, you took in his broad frame covered by a simple black t-shirt that seemed to hug the planes of his chest perfectly. You hadn’t even noticed the patchy beard or kind grin that he donned so well earlier. Maybe…

“Look, I gotta get out of here tonight,” you pleaded. “Is there anything I can do to just get my car?”

Joel crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps looking much bigger in that position. With a frown turning down his lips, he shook his head.

“Afraid not, ma’am.”

“Anything? Please, I'm begging you.”

He considered you a moment, his eyes raking over your figure. You felt your cheeks warm at that look, knowing what he might be insinuating. If that’s what it took to get your car and get the fuck out of this town, then why not?

“Anything?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m pretty fucking desperate right now.”

Joel came around the corner of the counter, crowding you until your neck craned up to meet his eyes. Your heart thrummed in your ears, warmth blossoming in your stomach the longer he stared at you. 

“Desperate lil’ thing, huh?” He teased.

Backing away from you, Joel walked to the shop entrance and slowly turned the lock. He looked back at you as he flipped the sign to CLOSED as if testing your judgment. You gave him a meek nod, never letting your eyes off him as he stalked toward you again. His finger ran up your forearm, catching on the sleeve of your top and tugging it lightly.

“Follow me, darlin’.”

That sentiment, followed by the twang of his accent, was enough to make your knees buckle, and you followed him like a dog in heat. Joel led you back into the heart of the shop, scraps of tools and car parts littering the makeshift garage. And right in the center of it all was your car. Leaning against the hood, he patted the metal, beckoning you over. You dropped your purse on the workbench and walked toward him on shaky legs. Joel spread his legs a bit wider as you approached, his fingers wrapping around your belt loops to pull you in close.

You were a breath apart now, just the barrier of clothes separating you. Joel’s hands snaked around your waist and firmly palmed your ass through your jeans. You let out a small yelp as his fingers dug into the supple flesh, kneading and massaging until your eyes drifted shut at the feeling.

“You pay off all your debts this way?” His voice dropped an octave, and you felt the bulge in his jeans prodding against your stomach as you leaned closer.

“Fuck off,” you scoffed. “Wasn’t planning on my car taking a shit out here and definitely wasn’t budgeting for it either.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “Ain’t got a boyfriend to give you some cash to help?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be out here tryna fuck you for my car,” you quipped.

A grin split across his face at your defensiveness, as if he enjoyed you being a brat. You weren’t trying to be— honest to god—but you desperately needed to leave this town, preferably with your car. 

“Y’sure are a bratty little thing,” he said, tugging you closer.

“Why don’t you stop talking so much and fuck me so I can get the hell up out of this small fucking town?” You grumbled.

Joel raised one of his hands to grip your chin, steadying your gaze on his. Sliding his thumb over your lips, he coaxed your mouth open and urged you to suck on his finger. Without breaking eye contact, you swirled your tongue over the skin of his thumb before wrapping your lips around it.

“Christ, darlin’,” he exhaled. “Might just let you suck my cock and send you on your way.”

You released it with a pop, a trail of saliva dripping from your bottom lip. Reaching down, you massaged the bulge in his pants, letting out a soft gasp. He was massive—bigger than expected. He let out a small chuckle as if reading your mind, bucking his hips against your touch.

“You’d give me my car for a little blowjob?” You questioned, squeezing his cock tighter.

“S’nothing little about me, darlin’.”

“Aren’t you just full of yourself,” you rolled your eyes.

Your fingers danced over the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down as he helped pull his cock free. You peeked down to catch a glimpse of it, your eyes growing wide. His cock was girthy and thick and definitely had no shortage of length, either. Precum leaked from the tip, and you wet your lips at the idea of trying to fit it all in your mouth.

“Y’gonna suck it or what? Car ain’t gonna pay for itself.”

“You gonna give me my car after?” You tossed back.

“Maybe,” he grinned. “Those tires might cost you extra.”

“We’ll see about that,” you smirked.

Sinking to your knees, you pulled down his jeans and underwear until he adjusted himself at the tip of your lips. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, squeezing softly as you guided it into your mouth. Stretching your lips wider, you swirled your tongue around the tip, basking in Joel's groan as you did so.

“S’fucking perfect, darlin’. That mouth feels fucking amazing.”

 You took him deeper, moving your mouth in a rhythmic motion until you felt his hand come down to grip your hair. He held you steady as he snapped his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further down your throat. Sputtering around him, you dug your nails into his thighs as leverage while he continued fucking your throat.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he rasped. “C’mon now, take this fuckin’ cock down your throat.”

Opening your throat wider, you swallowed every thrust as tears streamed down your cheeks. Joel was relentless with his thrusts, your nose brushing against the curls at the base every time you took him deeper. You could sense he was close to the edge, so you dragged your tongue against the base of his cock with each stroke, spurring him on further. It elicited a primal growl deep within his chest, and within seconds you could feel the warmth of his cum sliding down your throat. His cock twitched inside your mouth as he came down from his high, and you hummed as you swallowed every last drop.

Using the grip on your hair to pull you off, you sat back on your heels, coughing and heaving to try and catch your breath. Joel looked down on you with heavy lidded eyes and a smug grin as if to taunt you. Cupping your cheek, he slid his thumb against your skin and brushed away the rolling tears.

“Open,” he ordered. “Show me.”

You quirked a playful smile, leaning your head back as you stuck your tongue out to prove you swallowed it all. Slapping your face softly, Joel let out a soft chuckle.

“Atta girl.”

You brushed the remainder of your tears away, wiping the makeup from your eyes, and you stood on wobbly legs. Smoothing down your shirt and jeans, you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked a brow.

“I think I earned my car back,” you insisted, your voice hoarse from how hard he fucked you.

“Hmmm, y’think so?” Joel questioned. “I think I deserve a taste of that pussy.”

You shoved at him playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“In your dreams, cowboy,” you laughed. 

With his pants still hanging down, Joel spun you until your ass was pressed against the hood of your car. Working at the button and zipper of your jeans, he shoved them down and pulled your legs free until your bare ass was pinned to the cool metal. Joel gave you a lopsided grin and shoved you further onto the hood.

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t return the favor, darlin’.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you said, your voice shaky.

“Oh, but I want to,” he argued. “Gotta see how sweet you taste.”

Sliding down, Joel situated himself between your thighs, tugging your calves up to rest on his broad shoulders. He gave you a teasing kiss on your inner thighs before delving in, his tongue flicking at your sensitive bud. You careened back against the hood, your back arching as his mouth suctioned around your clit. Crying out, you carded your hand through the brown curls of his hair, anchoring his face against your wet cunt as it pulsed against his mouth. Joel plunged his tongue inside you, forcing another whine from your lips.

“Fuck!” You cried. “Right there! Oh my god, yes!”

He hummed in satisfaction, bringing his fingers into the mix as he opened you up, curling them against that sweet spot inside you. Keeping his mouth on your clit he worked in tandem with his fingers until that coil inside you wound tighter and tighter. With one more curl of his fingers, your orgasm surged through your body, forcing a gush of liquid to stream out of your wet cunt. Joel sat back in awe, staring at your glistening folds as your body trembled from the release, your juices covering his beard and mustache. 

“Fuck babydoll,” he grinned. “You a squirter, too?”

You laughed awkwardly and watched as he removed his two fingers and brought them to his lips. Sucking them into his mouth, Joel groaned as he tasted the remnants of your orgasm. You knew you could squirt—it was your own dirty little secret—but something about seeing him covered in your juices made you want more. Tugging him softly with your calves on his shoulders, you urged him back to your soaked entrance, silently begging for another round. 

“Gonna cover me in your juices again, darlin’?” Joel smirked. 

“Mhmm,” you whined. 

“Drench me babydoll, let’s see it.”

Joel’s mouth was on you again, lapping up the juices leaking out of you until you were crying out for him. He didn’t let up as he sucked your aching clit between his teeth, his tongue working at the bud in earnest. He pushed his fingers back into you, your cunt pulsing violently each time he curled them. Slipping a third finger in, he stretched you wider and moaned against your clit as your body tensed with another orgasm. Another rush of liquid made it past his fingers, soaking his mouth and chin. You could feel it trickle down the seam of your cunt, drenching the hood of your car as you thrashed against it.

“Christ, Joel,” you mumbled, your head lolling to the side. 

He rose to his feet, wiping a hand over the hair covering his chin as he smiled at you. You sat up slightly, positioning yourself on your forearms as you watched him slide his jeans further down his legs. You were already in this deep; you might as well keep going. Spreading your legs a bit wider, you raised a finger to beckon him closer. 

“C’mon cowboy,” you teased. 

“Y’really need that car, huh?” He smiled, lining his cock up to your entrance. 

“I really do,” you whimpered, nodding your head vigorously. 

Joel eased himself inside you, inch by fucking inch, until he was fully seated at the base of his cock. You both groaned in unison, his cock sliding in and out of you easily from all the juice leaking from you. Crossing your ankles behind his back, you pushed him deeper, mewling at the sensation of the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. You could feel that stinging stretch of your cunt as he picked up his thrusts, your ass sliding up the car each time. 

“Shit, babydoll,” he growled. “S’fucking tight around my cock.”

“You feel so good, Joel,” you hummed. “Please, I need it harder.”

Listening to your pleas, Joel planted his hands on either side of your face, pistoning into you with brute force. He bent down, sucking and biting the skin of your neck until you were crying out from the pain mixing with the pleasure. You rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, your cunt fluttering against his cock each time. That blinding orgasm was on the horizon as your muscles tensed up for its release. Running your hands up under his shirt, you dug your nails into his back muscles, dragging them down his tanned skin. Joel groaned into your ear, his hips snapping against yours harder and faster.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “I–I’m gonna fucking cum, Joel!”

“Yeah, babydoll? Fuckin’ soak me with it.”

He pulled out at the last moment, a heavy stream of liquid pouring from your cunt and coating your inner thighs and Joel’s cock. Without wasting a second, he drove back into you, picking up the pace despite your body still shaking and dripping from your orgasm. You could feel your tears rolling down the sides of your face, that warmth still coursing inside you. Joel’s thrusts grew erratic and off-rhythm, and you sensed his orgasm was pushing him to the edge. 

“Y’gonna let me fill that pussy, darlin’?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his voice sent shivers up your spine.

“God, please,” you cried.

With one…two…three final strokes, Joel was grunting and painting your insides with thick bursts of his cum. You both lay there limp and fucked out for several moments, catching your breath and chuckling as reality settled back in. He slipped out of you and drew his pants back up his legs, his eyes roaming over your sweaty body. With one hand, he tugged up the zipper of his jeans, using the other to push the cum leaking out of you back into your wet cunt. 

“Gotta send you off with some sort of parting gift,” he laughed.

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, adjusting yourself and sliding off the hood. Joel bent down to ease your pants back over your thighs and hips, helping with your own zipper as you stood awkwardly in front of him. Joel leaned in to kiss your cheek before walking to the corkboard hanging from the wall. Retrieving your keys from one of the hooks, he offered them to you with a kind smile.

“I’m free to go?” You asked, reaching for them. 

He pulled them away, shaking his head with a teasing grin. You pouted sarcastically, opening your hand and waiting.

“One kiss, and we call it even, babydoll.”

You grabbed either side of his face, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. You coaxed his mouth open, teasing your tongue over his, tasting your arousal still lingering on his tongue. Joel deepened the kiss, tangling his free hand in your hair to anchor you closer. Pressed up against him, you found yourself thirsting for more but knew you had no obligation to stay. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you pulled away reluctantly and snatched the keys from his hand. 

“Thanks for the new tires, cowboy,” you grinned. 

Joel dazzled you with another gorgeous smile, the lines around his eyes creasing as he gave you one final nod. You squeezed your way out of his embrace, making your way to the driver's side door. He followed you over, opening it like the gentleman he was, waiting till you were situated inside. Leaning in for one more kiss, he lingered a moment too long before breaking away.

“Safe travels, darlin’. If you ever need some work done, y’know where to find me.”

You dug your keys into the ignition, letting the car rumble awake. Joel shut the car door with one final smile and watched you reverse out of the mechanic shop. Giving him a small wave, you turned onto the street and back toward the highway with a soreness creeping up your thighs.

[munsonsmixtapes]

You Can Have Me

virgin!Eddie x fem!reader

summary: Eddie decides that he's finally ready for his first time

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

part one part two

Rain pattered against Eddie's trailer as the two of you were lying on his bed. He was on top of you, your lips connected in a very messy make out session. His lip swiped along your bottom lip and for once, he actually felt like he was ready to take it to the next level. He was ready to finally sleep with you, knowing that you were the only person who was capable of truly understanding him. Of making him feel the way he deserved for his first time.

He pulled away from you, his eyes glazed over, his hair an absolute mess from where your fingers had been holding onto it, running through it, pulling on it until moans fell from his mouth.

He gave you a look that you were somehow able to decipher, furrowing your eyebrows as if to ask him if he was sure. And even if he wasn't, you were more than happy to stop if he was uncomfortable. You knew how important it was to him and were determined to make it special for him.

"Eddie...are you sure?" You asked, sitting up and he followed, not straddling your waist. You hands then took his, pressing a kiss to each one. "I want you to be sure."

"I am," he nodded. "I'm ready."

He climbed off of you so you could grab a condom from your purse then tossed to the side of the bed before pulling him in for another kiss. You hands moved to the buttons of your cardigan and you slowly unbuttoned them as Eddie removed his shirt.

Your shirt fell onto the bed behind you and Eddie pulled you closer, his hands moved to your back, his fingers undoing your bra as his tongue swirled around yours. It fell between your bodies and you tossed it aside before helping him lie on his back.

Together, you unbuttoned his jeans before he removed them completely so now he was only in his underwear and now you could see his rock hard cock tenting in it. He slowly pushed them down his waist and you could stop staring at his now free cock.

You let your eyes rake over his body, feeling honored that you were the only one that he wanted to see him naked. You never thought you would have been his first, but now it just made sense to you, not that you were expecting it. You were his best friend, the one person who knew him in ways that no one else did.

You rolled the condom onto him before lining yourself up with him before you settled yourself onto his cock. He let out a noise as soon as he was inside you and you couldn't help but think that he was the hottest sound he had ever made. It was hot and breathy and almost sounded like a moan.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you leaned down, looking him directly in his brown eyes. The were still glazed over, his pupils blown wide as a smile curled up at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me know if I do something you don't like or even if you're not having a good time. This is all about you tonight, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded and his hands moved to your waist as you began to ride him, taking it as slow as you good, wanting him to get comfortable with it before you picked up your pace.

His eyes shut tight as he let out a loud moan, his fingers, curling into your hips. You watched him come undone underneath you, already taking a mental picture of what he looked like, his hair splayed out on the pillow underneath his head, his very pink cheeks, his eyes shut tight, and his mouth wide open as he let out moan after moan.

He was already close, but he didn't want that to be the end of it. He wanted to keep going as long as you would've had him, wanting to go for as many rounds as possible, going into the late night and early morning.

You had barely even done anything and it was already everything he had dreamed of, doing it with someone he cared about who seemed to actually want him in the way he wanted them. It was all perfect and he only had you to thank for it.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his kiss bitten ones, slowly moving down so that they were right by his ear.

"Look at you, taking me so well. You're doing great."

"Really?" He asked, bucking his hips towards yours and you pulled back to smile at him before moving back to his ear.

"Really," you replied, bringing his earlobe between your teeth and giving it a soft bite before diffusing it with a suck.

He let out another moan and continued to buck his hips against yours, wanting to make you feel as good as you were making him feel. And that was when he had a feeling that he only really got when he was alone. He knew that his orgasm was building and decided that he didn't care how loud he was as he let out a scream, his back arching as he did so.

His hips bucked one more time as everything was getting to him. He was getting tired and the two of you had barely even done anything. He felt dizzy, but that didn't mean he wanted to stop. He wanted to keep going until you weren't able to walk.

"Getting tired, hm?" You asked as you slowed your pace even more.

"No," he slurred. "Not at all."

"I think you're getting tired. How about this? How about we take a nap then we can pick up where he left off? If you want, you can be on top next time."

"Deal," he replied and you climbed off of him before disposing of the condom.

You then helped him get under the covers before getting in beside him, pulling him to your chest then pecking his lips. You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, knowing that it was the best way to help him fall alseep while you laid there, hoping that he enjoyed his first time just as much as you did.

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco - Epilogue

Dead Disco masterlist Ghost/Soap/female reader The end.

You’re having trouble breathing.

It doesn’t help that you’re hiding in the back, peeking around the corner every so often, trying to interpret everyone’s faces. 

It’s terrifying. You’re terrified. 

“Hello?” Lea calls from the other side of the hallway, hands turned upwards like she’s confused. “What are you doing?” 

“Shhh!” You hiss, grabbing her by the wrist. “I’m hiding.” 

“Okay… why are we hiding?” 

“I can’t go out there.” The denial is steadfast, and she shakes her head. 

“You have to. You’re the artist.”

“I know. And that’s why I can’t go. They’re all… looking at me. Judging me.” 

“They’re appreciating you, love. They’re appreciating your work.” You shiver. It’s not just your work out there. It’s a collection of your pieces, moments and feelings worked out on canvas, agony and elation painted together into something called art. 

“I can’t go out there.” You double down, and she rubs your shoulder sympathetically. 

“You have to.” 

It’s not so bad. You finally appear from the back, and the gallery host introduces you as the artist. Everyone claps. 

As you make your rounds, you start to notice small stickers on the plaques, signifying the sale of a piece, and it warms you, happiness spreading from fingers to toes, fills you with pride.

People stop to talk to you, shake your hand, ask you about certain pieces. You find answering their questions is not as painful as you imagined, and their compliments make you feel lighter. You circle the room, finally coming to a stop in front of the biggest piece in the entire gallery. 

At first glance, you think it’s hard to discern what’s really going on, but the longer you stare at it, the more the puzzle comes together. Or at least, you think so. You’ve been staring at it for four years. 

It’s an expressionist piece, as all your paintings are, but this one is a touch abstract, stroked together in a way that seems almost unintentional. 

It’s a painting of conflicting colors, some dark and moody, others bright. A push, and a pull.  Three bodies lay on a bed, diaphragms torn open and bleeding. They're all reaching into each other's chests, blood coating their arms, curled up so tightly together it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins in some strokes. 

There’s no emotion scrawled into their features, nothing to interpret. You did it intentionally, hoping to direct the focus to the piece as a whole. That’s the only way it works. The only way it makes sense. 

“I like this one. It's intriguing. Feels sad, almost.” Someone says behind you, and you turn to see a tall man staring at it with a thoughtful gaze. Studying. “Will you tell me about it?” 

Emotion clogs your throat. Your fingers trace over the plaque bearing its name. 

Darling.

“It’s a love story.” 

The bar stool is one of the spinning ones. 

You keep turning around in it, in circles, laughing as Lea rolls her eyes. “Babe, you’re going to fall.” You tsk. 

“You’re literally no fun.” 

“We’re here celebrating you. I don’t want to be doing that in a hospital when you break a bone falling off that stool.” She tips her head towards the bartender. “Can we get another round please?” 

“Sure thing.” You like this place. It’s got great natural light in the day, big, tall windows and sage green walls, gold accents littered throughout. It feels homey, and sweet. 

“I think that went really well. How do you feel about it?” 

How do you feel. 

“I think so too. Once I got over the nerves I… I thought it was good.” 

“You sold a lot of paintings.” 

“I know.” You laugh. That’s the surprise of the night, if you’re being honest. The number of pieces you sold, to other galleries, to a museum. 

A wild dream turned reality. 

“You’re going to be a big-time fancy painter now, watch.” 

“I’m sure that’s either a long way off, or not going to happen. Either way, I’m really happy. I’m really proud of myself.” The two of you sip your new drinks, and you twist again on the stool. 

“Someone tried to buy Darling.” Lea says gently, eyes soft. 

“I know.” 

“You’re sure you didn’t want to sell it?” You shake your head. It might be your best, biggest piece, but it will never know a home other than yours. You started painting it four years ago, the first night you left her behind, and she’ll never belong to anyone, except you. She’s safe with you, protected by you, loved by you, like she always should have been. 

Like she was, so reverently, by them. 

You didn’t even want to display it tonight, if you’re being honest.  But Lea convinced you, and you found it in yourself to be brave. 

She lets you sit in your silence for a while, which you appreciate. She’s a true friend, one that doesn’t pressure you to do things or say things for the sake of them. 

Usually.

“Well,” she clinks her glass against yours with a mischievous smile and then says much too loudly, loud enough faces and bodies turn towards yours in the bar, “here’s to my favorite painter and her first gallery showing.” Some people clap. Some people cheer. You glare at her. “What? Opposed to free drinks?” You spin on the stool again, smiling, and then catch a flash of someone walking towards a door, muscled shoulders- 

And a mohawk. 

Your heart trips over itself. 

“I’ll be right back.” You tell Lea, who gives you a confused look, but you’re already moving through the room, unsteady on your heels. 

You burst through the door into the cool air, autumn nipping at your exposed skin, and look up and down the street. Your pulse ricochets in your ears. 

They’re a block away. The night is dark, and the streetlights are yellow, but you’d know them anywhere. 

“Hey!” You yell. “Wait!” They turn, and you teeter towards them as fast as you can manage, startling to a stop a few feet before them. 

Your heart hammers inside your chest. Standing here, staring at them, taking them in, soaking in it. They look good. Happy. Healthy. Johnny’s skin is glowing, Simon somehow seems bulkier than he did four years ago, but the weight suits him. 

“Hi.” You breathe. 

“Hi.” Johnny’s eyes sparkle, Simon’s lips turning up in a barely-there smile. 

Words fail you. For the first time in a while, you don’t know what to say. Hundreds of thousands of things try to get free, but none of them make it, though your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. 

“We saw yer name on the sign outside the gallery down the street earlier. Congratulations.” 

“Thank you. It was… really neat.” Lame.

“It’s a big accomplishment. You must be very proud.” Johnny’s gaze never leave yours, and you nod. 

“I am.” The three of you stand there, staring at one another. 

“Well, we should get going.” Simon breaks first. 

“Right. Of course. Uh, it was… it was good to see you.” 

“Ye too.” You let them get half a block away, not even. 

You know what you want to say. Delayed, held on your tongue too long in a wash of uncertainty, but it arises clear as day.  

“Wait!” They turn, you take a deep breath. “Would you… would you maybe want to have dinner, or something, sometime? Catch up?” 

“We’d love to.” It feels different now, but the good pieces, albeit changed, shifted, are still there. 

“Great, it’s a… plan. To have dinner. Or something.” Johnny smiles, and Simon nods. 

“It’s a plan. You’ll text us?” 

“Yeah, I will.” 

“See ye soon, then.” 

“Okay. See you soon.” 

[gojonanami]

SIT IN MY LAP - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you and satoru take your daughter to see santa at the mall, and satoru proves that he's just as much of a match for his daughter, as he is for you. ✴︎ contents: fluff, domesticity, satoru being a cute girl dad, crack, innuendo, daughter's name is satomi, implication of pregnancy, wc -> 1,350

Satoru Gojo was blessed in almost every single way — from his cursed technique to his looks, but the thing he was not blessed with was patience. 

“We have to wait how long?” Your husband grumbles as you two wait in seemingly a line longer than the Nile itself all to take for your precious daughter to take a picture on Santa’s lap. 

“I don’t know how long, Toru, it’s probably going to be 45 minutes at least,” and you swear he pouts more then your three year old does, “Santa is very busy this time of year, isn’t he, baby?” You ask your sweet daughter and Satomi only grins up the two of you, after she insisted on standing on her own. 

“Very busy,” she repeats, and Satoru softens for a moment before he sees the long wait still ahead even as the three of you round another corner of Santa’s miniature workshop they had built in the middle of the mall, “Daddy gotta wait with us!”

“Why can’t Daddy go to the car and take a nap instead?” He grumbles, and you roll your eyes. 

“Because daddy has to be in the picture with Santa, otherwise you’ll end up on the naughty list,” and his lips curl, “and not the good kind of naughty list,” you add in a whisper. 

“Daddy has already been naughty!” Your daughter exclaims as Satoru stares down at her dumbstruck. 

“What?” 

“You ate my pancakes this morning,” she huffs, and you stifle a laugh at Satoru’s indignant expression 

“I took one bite—“ but her glower said she did not care, “only three years old and already turning on me,” he mutters, “who carried her this entire time around the mall when she didn’t wanna walk? Doesn’t that earn me some points?” 

“Well I think you’ve been a good boy, aside from the impatience,” and he’s sporting a glower similar to your daughter now, as you giggle between the two of them, “how about this? We’ll all have a treat when we go home if the two of you behave,” and you lean to whisper in Satoru’s ear, “and if you’re a really good boy, maybe I’ll sit in your lap tonight,” 

And he perks up at your words, eyes raking over you, “And are you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?” 

You kiss his cheek, warmth blooming where your lips touched, “I think you know,” 

And a small blush settles over his cheeks, even as he grins shamelessly, whispering, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Definitely not,” your lips skim his outer ear, drawing a shiver from him. 

“Daddy are you cold?” Your daughter notices, but you scoop her up in your arms. 

“Daddy is running a little hot I think,” you chuckle, as you watch him try to adjust himself, his tight pants doing little to help his situation, “he’ll be fine, right?” 

And he pouts again, “I’ll be fine,” he presses a kiss to his daughter’s forehead, “can’t say the same for your mom when we get home,” 

Finally, after many brain cells lost and almost an hour of time, you reach the front of the line. “Santa” sits in his chair, looking quite jolly, despite having to deal with children all day, and he welcomes your daughter, who, for all of her spunk when dealing with her parents, now was hiding behind your leg. 

And before you can say anything, Satoru is kneeling beside her, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He’s running his fingers through her soft white locks, “do you want daddy to go with you?” 

And she considers it, lips in a cute pout that’s all too similar to her father’s, and then nods, “daddy, come with me,” 

“Of course, baby,” and his fingers intertwine with her smaller ones as he takes her up. You hang back a little, your phone ready and poised to take pictures and a video, as you beam. 

Santa holds your daughter as he asks her what she wants for Christmas. Your daughter says something half whispered that you can’t make out, but Satoru does, his cerulean eyes widening slightly before his lips curl into a grin. 

And before you can ask what she said, you’re pulled in to take a picture. You three leave, Satomi in her father’s arms, nestled on his shoulder, peacefully sleeping, “what did she wish for?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

He snorts, “Sworn to secrecy by Santa,” 

“What’s that? A hidden confidentiality clause?” And he only smiles, as you roll your eyes, “pun definitely not intended,” 

“I’ll tell you when we get home. Too many prying elves here,” he jerks his head at one of Santa’s elves sitting on a bench, clearly on their break with earbuds in either ear. 

“I don’t think they care about a three year old’s wish,” and Satoru’s lips part and eyes comically big in mock offense. 

“This is not any three year old — she’s the next Gojo heir, my successor, the fruit of my—“ and you glare, “our loins,” 

“More like mine,” you cross your arms, tilting your head as you glance at your daughter, “you’re not the one that pushed her out,” 

“Yes I’m the one who put her in there—“ and another scowl makes him clam up, smile bit back, “I’ll tell you when we get home, after I get you on my lap that is,” he adds with a grin. 

“Oh yeah, I don’t know if you’ve been so nice though,” and his free arm slides around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead, curling his lips. 

His voice low as he murmurs in your ear, “The real question is if you have been, baby.”

And finally, when Satomi is fast asleep in bed — arms and legs tangled in her blanket like a menace, you emerge from her bedroom, sighing, “finally down,” you collapse on the couch beside him, lying your head on his shoulder, as his arm wraps around you, pulling you close, “are you gonna finally gonna tell me what she wished for?” 

And he hums, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “Sit in my lap, and see,” and you tilt your head, but you slide over his lap, sitting with your knees on either side of his waist, “good girl,” 

“Satoru—” and he’s kissing you slowly, lips meeting yours in a languid kiss and you can taste the sweet hot chocolate on his lips he drank earlier. 

“Been waiting to that all day,” he murmurs, gaze leaving a trail of heat as it slid over his body, and his hands follow, squeezing your hips and making you lurch against his hips, “definitely on the naughty list from that noise,” he grunts. 

“Weren’t you supposed to tell me what Satomi wanted?” You mumble against his lips, as they meet again, before pressing kisses down your jaw and the hollow of your throat. 

“Oh, we wanted the same thing,” and you raise an eyebrow, and he’s grinning up at you, “she wants a sibling,” you breath catches — both at his words and at his darkened gaze — and you can feel his erection press against you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your sides, “wanna make a Christmas wish come true?” 

And your heart flutters, “do you think we’re ready?” You had been talking about possibly having another kid, Satomi was getting older — ready to start school soon enough — and you wanted your daughter to have a sibling to grow up with. 

Satoru’s gaze softens, his palm sliding across your cheek, as you lean into his touch, “I know we are — as long as you want it to,” and you can almost see it now — a little boy with Satoru’s blue eyes and your hair, nights spent up with the baby, days spent as a family, the baby sleeping on Satoru’s chest as you do Satomi’s hair, and another piece of your family complete. 

So you kiss him, lips sliding gently against his, and you smile at him, “Luckily, you both knew exactly what I wanted for Christmas.” 

✴︎ note: i don't celebrate christmas, but i got this cute fic idea in my head and i couldn't get it out lol. i love girl dad satoru.

[cimmanonrowl]

urs

Your father’s best friend is a man of principles. And as much as you want him to be your very first, Aaron Hotchner couldn’t bring himself to corrupt you.

Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x virgin!reader

Theme: smut mallows

Contents: age gap, gentle first-time sex, unprotected sex, size difference, praise kink, sweet!aaron, angst somewhere, cliffhanger (?)

You barely managed to suppress a squeal of joy as you frantically smoothed your disheveled curls and checked your appearance in the hallway mirror. From where you are standing, you can hear the boisterous laughter of your father mingling with the deep and soothing voice of Aaron Hotchner talking animatedly downstairs.

It only means one thing.

He’s visiting.

And your heart almost exploded at the idea.

With light and careful steps, you bolted down the stairs, quickly trudging towards the spacious living room where your father and his best friend were talking. Your anticipation rose higher with each step, and by the time you reached the staircase landing, your face was flushed with excitement. Eagerly, you rounded the corner, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on a certain man whose sight alone was enough to knock you off your feet.

Aaron Hotchner was standing near the fireplace, absorbed by the conversation he was having with your father, his tall frame and commanding presence impossible to miss.

“Aaron!” You called out, your voice bright and laced with obvious adoration.

Aaron whirled instantly at the sound of your voice, a warm smile spreading across his face. 

“Oh, hey there,” he greeted back, mirroring your wide grin.

You crossed the room in quick strides and flung your arms around him, which he returned with an amused chuckle. His arms wrapped tightly around you in a familiar, comforting embrace. And the first whiff of his scent threw you off-guard. It feels like falling in love with him all over again. The very same way you felt on your 25th birthday when he asked you for a dance and wrapped you in his gentle warmth in the middle of the dance floor.

The closeness now was making you dizzy; the heavy scent of his perfume, the firmness of his body, and the feeling of being held by him after so long.

“It’s so good to see you!” You chirped, your voice muffled against his shoulder. You clung to him a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the contact. “It’s been a while since you dropped by. I thought you forgot about us!”

Aaron chuckled at your whiny voice.

“It's good to see you too,” He pulled back from the hug but kept his hands on your shoulders as he stared back at you. “I’m sorry, work’s been keeping me busy. How have you been?”

You smiled up at him. “Great. You know, same as always. Just busy with work and everything.” 

You tried sounding casual to not appear too excited. You felt his rough hands squeeze your shoulders gently before finally letting go.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

As he released you, a pang of disappointment swirled down your stomach, but you quickly masked it with another bright smile. 

With a tentative step back, you clasped your hands behind you and rocked back and forth in your heels, still staring at him. Aaron chuckled softly at your innocent gesture, a sound that sent a chill through your spine. 

“Aaron’s just in town for a bit, sweetheart. They just finished a case,” Your father chimed in with a smile, watching your usual interaction with his best friend. “Thought he’d drop by and catch up.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” You mumbled, your gaze never leaving Aaron’s face. 

Aaron replied quietly, smiling at you. “Me too. It’s always nice to be here.”

Your heart hammered against your chest almost painfully. Jesus Christ, this man is aging like a fine wine. You doubt you’ve seen anyone as handsome and attractive as he is. He always looked so good in your eyes. And it seems like he’s getting hotter and hotter every time you get to see him. Is it even possible for someone to look this good? Shouldn’t this be a federal crime?

Before you could even stop yourself, the words slipped out of your lips.

“You really should come by more often, Aaron,” You suggested out of nowhere, a hint of hopefulness in your tone. “I mean… you know… it’s just me and Dad here. It’s not like we have a lot of friends who come over.”

Your heart soared as he continued staring at you. Heat rushed through your face because of that. You started panicking in your head. Was that out of line? Was that too much? Oh God, maybe that’s too much. He must be thinking you’re desperate for company- his company. Or maybe he thinks you’re weird for asking th—

“I’ll try, angel,” his expression remained soft as he nodded. “Promise.”

You let out a soft sigh.

Seems like he didn’t mind too much.

The late afternoon sun casted a warm glow over the backyard of your home. Aaron and your father stood by the grill, occupied in a seemingly humorous conversation, the smell of grilled meat wafting through the open air. Both of them had cold beers in hand, laughing and chatting as they tended to the meat they were grilling.

It was a quiet afternoon. 

By the pool, you decided to lounge on a large swan floater, enjoying the last hours of the day. You were clad in a white bikini adorned with soft pink ribbons that fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze. A pair of oversized sunglasses shielded your eyes from the sun as you sipped on a mango smoothie, humming quietly to yourself.

A thick book lay open in your lap, but your attention was divided. Aaron would often catch you glancing up, watching him and your father with a small smile on your lips. He’d only mirror your smile and go back to their conversation, leaving you to your own thoughts and your fluttering, little heart.

The sight of Aaron, relaxed and at ease, filled you with a sense of relief and contentment. He was wearing a navy blue shirt and denim pants, all casual and handsome from where he was standing. You couldn’t help but admire the way he laughed at your father’s terrible jokes, his eyes crinkling at the very corners. 

The sound of his deep, hearty laughter echoed in your ears.

How you wish you could always have him around.

Despite the book in your hands, you couldn’t focus so much on reading. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Aaron: the way he looked, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his presence. You could barely remember the first time you found him attractive. Maybe somewhere deep down, you’ve always known he’s the most attractive man you have ever met.

You took another sip of your smoothie, savoring the sweet, tangy flavor as you unconsciously let your gaze linger on him… again.

“How’s that book?” Your father called out, glancing over at you with a smile.

You grinned, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the water splashing. “It’s good. But I’m enjoying the sun more.”

Aaron looked over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re having a great time,” he said, his eyes briefly wandering on your bare legs before returning to your face.

Crimson red dusted your already flushed cheeks.

“Well, I am...” Your voice trembled a little, your heart fluttering at the attention. “And I’m hungry. That smells good I can’t focus here.”

Your father chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. “Just wait until you taste these burgers, sweetheart. Aaron here has some secret grilling tips.”

“No, no. I’ll be the judge of that, Dad.”

You laughed, leaning back on the swan floater. And as Aaron’s gaze landed in your direction again, he took a swig of his cold beer.

“We’ll make sure to save you the best one,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “I bet you’ll forget your own name.”

“Oh, that’s cocky!”

He chuckled at your reaction. “Just a little fact.”

“As I said, I’ll be judge of that." 

You beamed at him, feeling a ribbon of happiness twirling in your stomach. 

The evening eventually settled into a comfortable night. After a delicious dinner Aaron insisted on preparing, the three of you moved to the living room. The television was on and cast a soft glow in the dimmed space as a series played.

Aaron and your father sat on the large couch, sipping on their brandy. While you occupied the solo couch, your legs tucked beneath you as you watched the scenes intently, munching on the red velvet cupcake Aaron brought for you earlier.

“Oh, oh—” You shrieked, covering your eyes quickly as you reached an intense moment between the main characters, the tension was so thick that you felt uncomfortable watching it with your father.

Aaron glanced at you and chuckled, licking the bitter alcohol left in his lower lip.

“You okay?” He asked gently, amused by your reaction.

You shook your head while laughing. “That’s not— that shouldn’t be allowed. They look so good together!”

Aaron laughed in agreement, nodding his head in accord. But it quickly died down when your father joined the conversation.

“You know, it’s inappropriate, isn’t it? An old man with such a young woman,” your father suddenly commented, sipping on his drink before shaking his head.

You felt a slight flush of embarrassment. You found yourself darting your glance at Aaron to see his reaction. On his seat, he remained silent, his eyes focused on the screen, but you noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw.

“Really, Dad, that’s your concern?” You tried sounding playful, clearing your throat a little. “That’s literally her uncle. Doesn’t that freak you out?”

“Silly girl, of course, it does!” You chuckled awkwardly at your father’s dry reply. “It’s already wrong from our moral standpoint. What I’m saying is, that’s a grown man hitting on a young woman. That’s highly inappropriate.”

Aaron took a slow sip of his drink, still not commenting, but you could sense the discomfort radiating from him. You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.

“It definitely makes you think,” your father continued, oblivious to the tension. “I mean, what could they possibly have in common?”

The scenes continued with you and Aaron both silent. After a few more moments, your father turned to Aaron with a more cheerful tone. 

“So... have you been on any dates lately? You never talk about your love life.”

Aaron finally looked away from the TV, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “I’ve been busy with work, you know how it is. Haven’t had much time for dating.”

Your father’s interest was piqued, and so was yours. “Come on, there must be someone. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. And suddenly, the red velvet cupcake no longer taste appetizing. It turned all bitter and dry against your tongue.

“I’ve had a few dates here and there, but nothing serious.”

“Oh, right. What’s her name again? Beth, right?”

You felt a pang of something you couldn’t quite name. Jealousy, maybe? Aaron dating other women was a topic you actually didn’t like to think about. And who the hell is Beth?

“Maybe you should settle down,” your father suggested, leaning back in his seat. “Find someone who can put up with your crazy work schedule. You know, after Haley divorced you because of that…”

Aaron laughed softly, but there was a hint of resignation in his tone. “Easier said than done.”

Your throat dried up as their conversation continued. It feels like you’ve been eating sand. You fidgeted on the cupcake box perched on your lap as you unconsciously glanced over the kitchen, thinking of getting yourself water. But Aaron’s eyes met yours briefly, and you felt a spark of something electric pass between you.

Which made you look away.

You tried to focus on the television screen, but your thoughts kept returning to Aaron, wondering if he ever thought of you as more than just his best friend’s daughter. Maybe not.

Definitely not.

The tension in the living room had become palpable you had to excuse yourself to the kitchen. As you walked away, you felt Aaron’s gaze lingering on you, sending a trail of shivers down your spine.

You let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding as you reached the kitchen. You filled a glass with cold water and took a slow sip, letting the cool liquid soothe your nerves. The silence of the kitchen contrasted with the awkwardness in the living room.

“Hey,” Aaron’s deep voice jolted you out of your thoughts.

You turned around to see him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. As always, your heart skipped a beat, wallowing from his very presence.

“Hey,” you said back, trying to sound casual, “you need something?”

“I just wanted to check on you.”

You forced a smile and didn’t say anything. Aaron took a step closer, the space between you shrinking until he was only a foot away. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his presence and scent overwhelming your senses.

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hmm. Just too much cupcake. Too sweet.”

His eyes softened as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The gentle touch made you blush, and you found yourself leaning into his hand, craving for more.

“Aaron,” your voice trembled as you whispered the words, “This... I don’t know what to do with this.”

He sighed, his thumb caressing your cheek. 

The world seemed to have gone quiet. The hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of the TV in the other room— all of it faded into the background. All you could focus on was Aaron, and the way his attention narrowed down on you. Like you’re the only one that matters in his world.

Almost as if in a trance, you pushed on your tiptoes, leaning in to Aaron’s lips. Blood rushed through your head with your own action. You could feel his breath on your lips, the hint of alcohol intoxicating.

But just as your lips were about to meet, Aaron pulled back abruptly. His jaw clenched when he glanced down at you.

“We can’t do this.”

“Aaron…”

He shook his head, stepping back further. “It’s not right. You know that.”

“I don’t understand. I thought... I thought you felt the same.”

Tears welled up in your eyes.

“This is inappropriate,” He said instead, his voice strained. “I’m sorry.”

You looked away, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying. Aaron sighed as he saw you keeping your tears at bay, his eyes filled with regret.

Silence enveloped you both for a moment, while the weight of his words was crushing your young, hopeful heart.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same…” your smile trembled before you finally walked passed him.

The night had grown late. After finishing the episode, your father called out it was time for bed. You quickly made your way to your room, bidding them both quick goodnight, trying to push aside the pain and disappointment from your earlier encounter with Aaron.

You slipped into your pajamas, a simple tank top, and silk shorts, and climbed into bed. The silence was comforting, allowing your thoughts to slowly drift away. You tried to focus on anything but Aaron, the silence of the night, the coldness of your room, but his face kept appearing in your mind, his words echoing in your ears— and the fact that he’s literally in the guest room next to yours.

Just as you were staring mindlessly at the ceiling, you heard a quiet knock on your door. Your heart leaped as you stood up, your breath caught in your throat.

“Who is it?” you called out softly, not entirely sure if you were dreaming.

The door creaked open, and there Aaron was, standing in the doorway. He looked hesitant as he stepped inside, his expression unreadable in the dim light of your room.

“Can I come in?” he asked cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded in silence, unable to trust your voice. He closed the door gently behind him as he finally stepped inside. The room felt even smaller with him in it, the air thick with tension.

“What are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask.

Aaron took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about... earlier.”

A bitter smile rose on your lips.

“I know I said it’s inappropriate,” his deep voice sounded strained as he went on. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“What are you saying?”

He moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “That this is tearing me apart. I know it’s complicated, and I know I said it can’t happen, but... I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

The room filled with the quiet sound of your breathing as you both stood there, just staring at each other. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Come here,” you said softly, pulling him closer.

Aaron hesitated for a split second, then stepped forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. Being in his arms felt right. You know that no matter how complicated this is for you both, this is exactly where you want to be.

With him.

In his arms.

You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes again, and for a moment, the world stood still. 

“Take me, Aaron…” you said in a whisper, blood rushing through your cheeks. “I want you to be my first.”

His body stiffened with what he heard. 

“What? No, no. I can’t do that.”

“Why?” You leaned in slowly, testing the waters. 

When he didn’t show any sign of resistance, you carefully closed the distance, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. Which Aaron didn’t respond at first…

Until he did.

It started slow, gentle, tasting Aaron’s hesitance from your insistence.

“I ca—” He broke the kiss, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. Not— no.”

You cupped his cheeks with both your hands. “I want this, Aaron.”

“Do you even know what you’re asking me to do?”

“Yes,” you cut him off by chasing his lips again, staring up at him. “Please, Aaron? I want you to fuck me.”

You stared back at him with the same intensity.

Aaron let out a deep sigh as he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His big hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he guided you to the bed. 

Both of you broke apart for a moment, breathing heavily. And when he looked down at you, a mixture of adoration and concern flickered in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded quickly, your grip tightening on his arm. “I’ve never been more sure about anything, Aaron.”

Aaron’s lips trailed down your neck, inhaling your scent as he left a soft trail of light kisses. “You smell so good, angel. God, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He was murmuring against your skin. With his hot breath fanning on your neck, you felt like you were on fire. Every touch sent tingles through your already wet core. You tugged at his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Off, Aaron, please…” you pleaded softly.

And so he obliged, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You ran your hands over his chest, marveling at the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. Your cunt clenched at the mere sight of dark hair trailing his stomach down to the fabric of his shorts.

“Tell me if you want to stop, alright?” He murmured breathlessly.

“I’m yours, Aaron. I don’t want to stop.”

“My sweet girl...” He sighed softly, placing a soft kiss on your collarbone. “Promise me.”

You buck your hips to get some friction on your neglected cunt.

“Alright, okay, I promise. Just please do something…”

Aaron’s hands expertly moved to the hem of your tank top, his eyes seeking permission. You nodded again, and he lifted it over your head, revealing your bare skin. His lips found yours in no time, hungrier and so much messier, as he explored your body.

His calloused and rough hands cupped your tits, rubbing your taut nipples with the pad of his palm.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice breathless. “I need you. Feel so hot.”

“I know, baby. But we need to slow down.”

He shed the rest of your clothes deftly. His touch was gentle yet insistent, his hands exploring the softness of your skin like a map. And you felt like drowning in him, his kisses, his touch, your desire to be taken.

Your breath hitched as you felt his hand traveling down your thighs.

“Do you touch yourself, angel?” He asked softly.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Yes, yes. Just my fingers.”

“You do?” He seemed interested, perking his eyebrows teasingly. “And what do you think about while doing that?”

You arched your back as you sucked in a breath, feeling his finger rubbing the sensitive nub of your drenched pussy. Fuck, why is he teasing you?

“You, Aaron… wanted you…”

Your jaw almost dropped as Aaron entered two of his fingers in his mouth, wetting them profusely as his eyes lingered on yours. Right after, he settled himself in between your thighs, while you blushed hard and fought the urge to hide your wetness from his hungry eyes.

“It might hurt a little, sweetling,” He said quietly. “Be a good girl and relax for me, alright?”

You nodded quickly, your cunt clenching in anticipation. Just a few moment, you felt Aaron’s middle finger prodding your entrance, his eyes focused on you— searching for any sign of discomfort and that he needs to stop.

Instead, you gave him a nod.

He dipped his head in between your legs, his hot breath directed at your clenching pussy. He gave your cunt a few teasing licks, nibbling on your clit before running the pad of his tongue on your wet entrance. All the while, his finger found a rhythm that felt both new and familiar to you. 

You bite down on your hand, muffling the moans threatening to escape your lips. And once you started getting accustomed to his finger and his tongue assaulting your cunt, he prodded the other finger, while his thumb rubbed gentle circles on your aching clit.

“Aaron… oh god…” You shut your eyes tightly, your legs trembling. “Feels so goo- oh! Oh my god!”

A smile appeared on his lips as he glanced up at you, his voice rough as his fingers continued abusing the spongy spot inside. “Right there, angel? That’s it?”

“Yes, yes, ye– oh my god, Aaron!”

“Shh…” He chuckled quietly, “You’ll wake your father, baby. You have to be quiet for me, alright?”

You nodded frantically even though you didn’t fully understand what he was saying. The lewd sound of your pussy squelching echoed in the silence of your room, accompanied by your quiet whimpers and Aaron’s heavy breathing.

“There you go. Good girl, angel. Good girl…” He whispered encouragingly, diving back again on your pussy. “Come for me, sweet girl. Be good for me.”

The world crumbled as your orgasm racked your body. Your legs trembled, your back arched, your lips hung open into a silent scream. But Aaron didn’t stop, his fingers pummeling in and out of your wet cunt until you whimpered and held his wrist, stopping him fully.

“Good?” He asked hoarsely, making you nod as you catch your breath. “Do you still want to do this?”

“I do, yes. Inside… I want you inside me, Aaron.”

He sighed softly before finally taking off his shorts. Your eyes followed the slow movements of his hands, alternating your gaze from the the plain of his veiny arms to his face.

Once off, he wrapped his big hand around his hard and leaking cock, pumping it slowly, then rubbing his thumb at the tip. You heard him hiss at the contact. He was big; both in girth and length. And for the first time that night, you felt unsure for a moment.

Aaron gave you a reassuring smile.

“Would it fit?”

“I’ll be gentle, sweet girl,” He chuckled hoarsely at your question, taking his place in between your legs again. “Spit on my hand, darling.”

“W-why?” You blushed, confused by the request.

“Alright, I’ll do it then.”

You bit your lip as you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance. Aaron knelt between your legs, and you watched how he spat on your desperate pussy. Just after that, he rubbed the tip up and down your cunt, spreading his saliva messily on your pulsing core.

“It will hurt, baby. I need you to relax.”

You nodded unsurely, your eyebrows tugging to a frown. “I’ll try, Aaron– oh, ouch!”

Aaron held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your hips. Your room was filled with whispered words and soft moans.

“That’s it, angel… just relax for me… Good girl, look at that.”

“Ouch–” You whimpered quietly, gripping his arm for support. “It… it hurts. Aaron—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered sympathetically, peppering your cheeks with soft kisses. “You’re doing great for me, angel.”

You hummed shakily as you let him bury himself deeper, feeling more of his pulsating cock deep down your cunt. Aaron propped himself above you, scanning your face with obvious worry. His hand was gentle as he caressed your cheek, brushing the strands of hair away from your sweaty face.

“You look so beautiful, baby…” He gave you a sweet smile before placing a featherlight kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, down to your lips.

You keened at his softness. “You can move now, d-daddy. Please... I can take it…”

“Of course you can, sweetling. Daddy just wants to be careful.”

THE ENDING AAAAAAAAAA! This is originally a request but I accidentally deleted the first draft 😅 Hehehehe sorry, Anon! Hope you like this! 🫶🏼

[namisin]

❝ TOUCH ME, FEEL ME. . .

⚝ pairing : nanami kento x reader.

⚝ synopsis : it's date night, and the food isn't the only thing kento wants to devour.

⚝ content : 18+, fem reader, soft/pleasure dom kento, pὁrn with a literal sprinkle of plot, oral, car sėx, inspired by this song, praise, a good bit of it, semi-public, he's simply down bad ur honour, established relationship, mention of squirting, some size diff if you squint, overstim too squint real good, MDNI.

⚝ word count : 1.8k | 6.4 min read.

⚝ a/n : whats up whats up whats uppp ! this is my very first public fic after lurking on this side of fandom for... forever ? really hope u guys enjoy it ♡ likes, reblogs &/or comments are mega appreciated !!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 were trying to kill him.

that had to be the reason you turned up to your and nanami's weekly date night wearing that dress. red silk flowed around your curves like water and parted around your thigh like the sea moses allegedly split — a crimson sea of pure temptation that shifted dangerously with each step you took back to his car.

"you look gorgeous," he'd murmured in your ear when you'd met up earlier that night, teeth clenched and eyes wavering with the urge to wander. you gave him a glossy grin in return that nearly ripped his resolve in two, and thanked him in a sugary tone that made his pants that much more uncomfortable.

nanami opened the door for you, as usual, and held your hand to help you take your rightful position in his passenger seat. you sank into the cool leather while he rounded the car to the driver's side, toying with the smooth gem pendant on the necklace he'd gifted you forever ago. wordlessly, he settled before pulling his seatbelt into place. his eyes flitted instinctively to you, routinely double-checking that you'd fastened your own seatbelt too (it would become a habit for anyone after dating for well over a year). not long after, he pushed the sleek button that made his bmw m850i hum to life.

for you, the ride was quiet, save for the muted melody playing through the radio and the soft "clink!" of acrylic on smooth gemstone. for nanami, the rush of need in his head was deafening. the squishy mass between his ears swarmed with the cacophony of sounds you'd make if he touched you just right; how you'd squeal his name once he buried his face far enough between your thighs; the sticky squelches that would fill his eardrums once he finally slid home inside you, where he so desperately wanted to be.

for the moment, the sorcerer settled for clasping a calloused hand around your thigh.

"i can see you trying not to stare," your glacéed laughter broke through (what he thought was) his private musings, making his eyes widen a fraction on what was otherwise a stoic expression.

"can you blame me, darling? i meant it when i said you look gorgeous," nanami retorted in teasing stride after sobering; the corner of his lip quirked as his grip tightened on your thigh, "it's hard to keep my eyes off you."

an appreciative warmth crawled across your cheeks, curling the smile on your own lips further up.

"you should be focusing on the road, kento. would suck to crash 'cause you couldn't keep it in your pants," you snorted. he only huffed a breath of a laugh. his hand strayed further up.

"i think i'm a better driver than that. i'd still prefer to focus on you, though," he spoke in a bassy murmur, full of the gravel of lust he held for you. a particularly cold waft of air gusted at you from the air con, but you weren't so sure that was the real reason you shivered. you covered it up with another snort—

cut short by the warmth of nanami's hand eclipsing your clothed cunt.

a shaky breath blew from your chest. it was your turn to sneak glances between the road ahead and your boyfriend. your hips itched to circle in tandem with his fingers ghosting over your clit.

"ken..." you started.

"hm? what is it, precious? 'm trying to focus on the road."

you would've cracked a grin at his sass if not for the fact that your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth. the heat from your face cut a straight path downward, pooling in your abdomen and clinging to the crotch of your panties.

nanami ripped a broken sound from your throat by digging further into the fabric separating you, pressing the pads of his fingers down onto your clit. even from where he sat, he could see the patch of wetness that betrayed your arousal... it sapped any trace of amusement left in him and replaced it quickly with a spate of lust.

his fingers stilled, almost making you whine, until you realized he was pulling over onto a soft shoulder.

"w-wait ken, we shouldn't—"

"it's late, doll. no one'll see us. and besides," he released his seatbelt, then yours, "if you keep making pretty sounds like that, we will end up crashing."

burying your face in your hands, you almost missed the sound of his door opening.

"coming?" he called once he opened yours, holding a hand out for you.

"where're we goin'?"

the back door of his coupe opening answered your question.

you landed on your back with an "oof," the most jelly-like parts of you bounced for a moment before they stilled. there was barely another moment of reprieve before nanami's lips were on yours, slotting to fit just as his body did between your pliant legs. he licked at the full seam of your lips until you opened up to allow him exploration access. and explore he did — from the roof of your mouth, to the backs of your teeth, to wrapping his tongue around yours. your man was an absolutely filthy kisser, at least if the gloss smearing across both your mouths was any indication.

he pulled away from you with a wet "smack!" and like a lost puppy, you followed the warmth. hoarse laughter rumbled from his chest at your expense, drawing a pout to your swollen lips.

"oh, don't pout, sweet girl," he cooed after pecking it away, "you know i could never leave you wanting for anything."

"now, be good for me," nanami breathed into the heated skin of your neck before following up with his lips. you shifted your head to the other side easily. thrills of shudders raced along your spine at the way his lips pressed up against your sensitive spots. he took his time to work his way down, from your neck to your collarbones, then down to the deep v-cut of your dress. dark eyes, swimming wildly with desire and adoration for you, met yours over the gentle peaks of your tits, the same ones he slowly pulled the silk of your dress away from to expose to the air con.

"perfect fuckin' girl," he grunted. you would've protested (feebly), but he cut you off yet again when his lips suctioned around a hardened nipple. you hands found their way to his perfectly-coiffed hair, mussing it up in seconds.

"kuh-ken," again, you whimpered for him, feeling the telltale pulsing of a growing ache in your cunt.

"tell her i'm comin'," he warbled around the opposite nipple, satiated by the amount of saliva covering the other. as he suckled away, he reached down to shuck your dress up over your hips until it came to bunch at your tummy. you could tell he was reluctant to move on from your tits, though he had something he craved much more waiting for him.

you felt hot puffs of breath fan across your clothed slit, and that alone had you hiccupping out a whine.

"you wear these tonight for me?"

"d-don't tease, i can't—"

"as if you haven't been teasing me the whole night in this damn dress?"

the urge to roll your eyes and buck your hips up into his face were equally strong, however you stayed still and docile enough for him to cave and give you what you wanted.

he always did in the end.

you were almost right on the money, too. he lolled his tongue out to run it over your panties, growing the small wet patch into a much longer-spanning one. nanami mouthed and licked at you through the fabric just long enough to make you mewl, squirm and wrap your legs just a bit closer around his head, all in an attempt to be subtle in your push for him to give you more. impatient girl.

he didn't bother with pulling your panties off; contrary to the way he acted, he was just as impatient as his darling. every soft, needy sound you made only ticked off the amount of time he was still willing to put you both through the agony of waiting.

instead, he yanked the so-thin-it-was-almost-useless cloth to the side, pausing for a mere moment to admire the way your treacly arousal glistened in the low light of the moon. translucent strings of it connected you to your panties and pooled temptingly around your entrance.

with a gruff moan, he burrowed his way into your folds, nose bumping up against your clit. a deep gasp tore its way up your throat at his fervor.

he went from running his tongue along your slit to sucking on your clit, pursing his lips and tongue around the sensitive nub in the way he knew you liked. nanami licked a continuous path up and down, passing between that and sucking the daylight out of that bundle of nerves. he worked a finger, then two, into your fluttering hole while on the latter half of the rotation — that got your back to bow off the padded seat, just how he liked.

"don't stop, mmph! please don't stop, holy fuck-"

he couldn't help his chuckles, more hot puffs hit your now-exposed flesh in a way that made you retake your grip in his hair with one hand and sink your nails into his expensive leather seat with the other.

"'m so, so close- please!"

nanami took that as his cue to wrap his hands around your hips in a tight grip, forcing you down against his mouth and giving you no choice but to take everything he aimed to give you. he didn't let up even as you were quivering in his hold, your body tensed and his scalp stinging beneath your tight fist, nor as you squealed—

"cuh-cumming, ken! cummin'-!"

the warmth that pooled in your belly rushed throughout the rest of your body in waves, making you huff shortly in between wailing, cracked sobs of "ohmigodohmigodohmigod"s and "puh-lease, kento"s. stars blinked in and out behind your eyelids, your ears rang with the songs of angels and you swam in dizziness even though you were still laid on your back. the bliss that enveloped you numbed you to the point you barely noticed just how much you gushed around his fingers and tongue, nor how much you constricted around him.

slowly, very slowly, you came back to, vision zeroing back in on a proudly-smirking nanami. the lower half of his face dripped obscenely, a mirror of the cunt he was pulling his fingers free of.

"that's my girl," he muttered against your lips, "so fuckin' pretty. all fuckin' mine."

he left you to recoup on the backseat of the coupe after peppering you with more kisses and hushed praise, wrapped up in his jacket and curled into a blissed-out little ball. you watched him clean his face up with a handkerchief from the rearview with hooded eyes, and noted he still couldn't wipe the pleased look off his face.

"oh, don't get too comfortable yet, darling," he hummed while steering back onto asphalt, "i'm finishing what i started once i get you home."

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke’s had a crush on you for longer than he can remember, and after Chris decided to play one sided cupid, he decides to ask you out.

warnings: use of yn, kinda shy!luke and loser!luke but we love it <3, fluff

₊˚⊹♡

Luke led Percy, the new kid, through the dusty maze of Camp Half-Blood. Percy peppered Luke with questions once in a while. "So, who are those hulking dudes with Clarisse?" Percy asked.

Luke chuckled. "Those are the Ares kids, her half-brothers. But don’t worry, they're all bark and no bite... actually, they do bite."

As they rounded a corner, the sounds of clashing metal and grunts reached their ears. Luke stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze snagging on a particular figure in the training field.

There, bathed in sunlight, you were training. Your form, clad in the simple camp T-shirt and shorts, moved with the fluid grace of a warrior dancer. Every swing of your practice sword, every parry, was a testament to your skills that stood out. Your hair whipped around your face as you disarmed your opponent with a swift kick.

Percy, oblivious to Luke's sudden paralysis, glanced between him and the scene playing out on the field. "Who's that?" he asked, curiosity creasing his brow.

Luke cleared his throat, trying to dispel the sudden fog clouding his brain. "That's-, uh, yn" Luke stammered, his voice rougher than usual. “Aphrodite´s kid. Don´t let her looks fool you, though. She´s a hell of a warrior”

Percy nodded, but his gaze remained firmly on you. You were now sheathing your celestial bronze sword, a bead of sweat clinging to your temple. As you reached for a nearby water flask, you brushed the hair from your face, the gesture casual yet captivating.

Luke found himself staring again, just like he does every time he looks at you from afar, mesmerized by the way the sunlight seemed to follow your tiniest movements. He was so lost in the moment that he barely registered the volleyball hurtling towards him.

"Yo, Luke! Catch!" someone yelled. Luke, still mesmerized, couldn't react in time. The ball connected with a resounding thump right in his gut.

He doubled over with a groan, clutching his stomach. A familiar chuckle reached his ears as Chris strolled over containing a hysterical laugh.

"Sorry man, had to snap you out of that trance" Chris said with a smack to Luke’s back.

Luke's face burned hotter. He hadn't realized how blatantly obvious he'd been. Straightening up, he attempted to mask his flustered expression. "Shut up, I wasn't in a trance" he retorted, his voice a shade higher than usual.

“You totally were” Chris poked him playfully. “You are every time you look at her.”

“Okay, okay” Luke swatted Chris’s hand away, “stop touching me.”

Chris, ignoring his protests, squeezed his arm with mock sympathy. “Aw, don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,—”

"When did the mighty Luke Castellan become all weak and whiny for a girl?" Chris teased, playfully tousling Luke's hair.

Luke swatted his hand away again. "Hey! I'm not—!"

“Hey” a causal feminine voice cut him off.

Luke freezes. You stood mere inches away, your smile widening at the sight of his flustered expression. "H-hey" he managed, his voice barely confident, and shaky.

Chris stifled a snort, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. Luke shot him a withering glare, silently pleading for him to cut it out.

“You alright?” you ask, "I saw the, uh..." You paused, gesturing vaguely with your hand in the direction of Chris. "The volleyball-, greeting?" you ask, a confused but fun expression on your face.

"Yeah, I'm fine" he offered, his voice strained. "Just a love tap, I guess." Another pointed glance in Chris' direction revealed him struggling for composure.

"Looks like you're busy" you said, your gaze flickering to Percy, who stood awkwardly to the side. You offered him a warm smile.

"Right, yeah" Luke stammered, finally managing to tear his gaze away from you. He remembered Percy standing awkwardly beside him. "Percy, this is yn, Aprhrodite´s cabin" he gestured towards you, his voice regaining a semblance of normalcy. "yn, this is Percy, the new camper."

"Nice to meet you" you greeted him, your voice laced with a kindness that put Percy instantly at ease.

"Nice to meet you too" Percy stammered back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"You're lucky," you continued, turning back to Luke, your eyes sparkling. "Luke’s the best counselor around, especially for new campers."

Luke felt a familiar heat rise in his cheeks at your praise. He always struggled with compliments, especially when they came from you. "Ah, don't listen to her" he stammered, deflecting awkwardly.

"Oh, don't be so humble" you teased, your playful tone sending shivers down his spine. "You know you are. You helped me out a lot when I was new."

Your words hung in the air, causing another wave of warmth to flood his cheeks. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. But he forced himself to focus, so he turned to Percy. "yn's always around the training field," he began, his voice a touch higher than normal. "So if you ever need a sparring partner or just someone to answer questions, you can find her here."

You raised an eyebrow playfully. "Coming from 'Best Swordsman' himself" you said, a teasing lilt in your voice.

His cheeks burned even hotter, but a genuine chuckle escaped his lips. "Alright," he conceded, his lips curving into a small, charming smile. "that might be true."

"Humble much?" Chris chimed in, ever the opportunist. He tossed the ball towards Luke's head, light and playful.

Luke turned around to Chris, “Dude” he calls. He hears your slight giggle from behind.

"Well, I gotta get back to training" you sighed, a hint of regret in your voice. You turned towards Percy, your smile warm and genuine. "Percy, if you ever need anything and Luke's not around, you can just look for me, okay?"

Percy, still a bit overwhelmed by the new environment, managed a hesitant nod. "Okay, thanks" he mumbled, a shy smile gracing his features.

"I'll see you around then" you chirped, offering him a final wave of encouragement. "Good luck with everything, alright?" As you turned to walk away, with a final glance towards Luke over your shoulder, a hint of something unspoken lingering in your eyes. "Bye, Luke."

The simple farewell hung in the air long after you'd disappeared. Chris nudged Luke's arm with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "You're so into her, man" he declared, barely containing his smile.

Luke groaned. "Shut up" he muttered, his voice betraying a hint of amusement.

They continued walking. "I mean it! You were practically stuttering" Chris exclaimed, his voice laced with mock horror as he reenacted Luke's awkward greeting. "'Uh, h-hi yn, uh-, y-yeah, I'm camp's best swordsman'"

"Okay, I do not act like that" Luke protested, his voice laced with mock indignation. He glanced down at Percy, a playful glint in his eyes. "Help me out here. Do I really talk like that?"

"Well," he admitted with a shrug, "maybe a little."

Luke groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. He playfully shoved Chris, who burst into fresh laughter. "See!" Chris crowed. "Even new kids thinks you’re like a lovesick puppy around her."

Luke shot a playful glare at Percy. "Don't listen to him, he’s full of crap” he muttered, though a hint of a smile played on his lips.

"Seriously, though," Chris continued, his voice turning serious for a moment. "Just ask her out already. She'll say yes."

Luke hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. "I don't know, man" he trailed off, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Chris slung an arm around Luke's shoulder. "Dude, you've been practically drooling over her since forever. And trust me, she's totally noticed. You gotta take a chance. Besides, I have a feelings she feels the same way." Chris added. He suddenly launched into a dramatic impersonation, his voice taking on a high-pitched tone. "'Oh, bye Luke,' " he whined, twirling a nonexistent strand of hair around his finger and swaying his hips in a comical exaggeration. "'He's the best counselor at camp, oh! He helped me sooo much!'"

Luke cringed, his face burning a mixture of laughter and embarrassment. "Okay, that´s enough". Chris's words, though delivered in a ridiculous way, struck a chord within Luke. He looked down at his shoes, suddenly feeling doubtful. "I just don't know..." he mumbled, the confidence Chris had tried to instill in him wavering. "What if she says no?"

Chris stopped his antics, his playful grin softening into a reassuring smile. He patted Luke on the back. "What if she says yes?" he countered. "Stop overthinking it, man. Go for it."

Luke chuckled, the sound laced with a hint of nervousness. Chris's teasing, although annoying, had pushed him to confront his feelings. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and met Chris's gaze.

"Fine, fine" he conceded. "I'll give it a shot. But if she says no," he warned, his voice laced with seriousness, "I'm blaming it all on you."

Chris threw his head back and roared with laughter. "The risk I'm willing to take for you, my friend"

Luke shoved him playfully, a grin plastered on his face. "Yeah, yeah, now scoot," he urged, gesturing towards the direction Chris had come from. "I gotta keep showing Percy around."

Chris mock saluted him. "Aye aye, Captain! Good luck!" he chirped, throwing a wink Luke's way before sauntering off, leaving him alone with Percy.

A blush crept up Luke's neck as he turned back to Percy. "Sorry about that" he mumbled, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, he was sure a twelve year old wasn’t entirely interested in Luke’s love interest.

Percy didn’t seem to care. "Honestly," he admitted, "that's the most normal thing I've witnessed today. So," he continued, his curiosity piqued, "what's next?"

The flickering firelight danced across Luke's face, casting long, flickering shadows as he stared intently into the flames. He wasn't really seeing or listening anything around him – his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and anxieties, all centered around you.

All day, he’s had you on his mind, a constant reminder of the decision he'd almost made. Since that first glimpse of you years ago by the lake, you'd become a captivating melody in the symphony of his life. Unlike other Aphrodite children, rumored to be arrogant or aloof, you possessed a genuine warmth that never failed to draw him in. Braiding little girls' hair with a gentle smile, your actions were a window into your kind soul.

It had been a long day, filled with his usual camp duties and a nagging restlessness that he couldn't quite shake. Chris's words echoed in his head, a constant reminder of the decision he still hadn't made. Should he really take a chance? Could you possibly be interested in him?

A deep sigh escaped his lips. He glanced up, his gaze drawn towards the sound of laughter that sent a familiar shiver down his spine. There you were, surrounded by your friends. Your face glowed in the warm light, illuminated by the cheerful flames that danced around you.

A sudden sense of purpose washed over him. He couldn't stay silent anymore. But a fresh wave of fear washed over him too, as he considered the setting. Here, surrounded by campers that could hear, was hardly the ideal place to confess his feelings.

He stood up, sticking a marshmallow to the end of the stick he was holding and walked closer to the fire. And he stood there, a solitary figure amidst the chatter and laughter, his mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. Just as he was about to convince himself to wait for another opportunity, a soft footstep beside him startled him out of his thoughts. He kept his eyes trained on the fire, afraid to look up, afraid his nervousness would be telegraphed in his gaze.

Because he knew, it was you.

A small, shy smile played on your lips as you looked at him, your eyes reflecting the flickering flames. "Hey," you said softly. "You okay?"

Your sudden presence sent a jolt through Luke. His heart, already hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, stuttered in its beat. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to appear composed.

"Yeah, I'm alright" he managed, his voice a touch hoarse. "Just needed a little distraction."

He turned slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. The firelight danced in your eyes, casting playful shadows across your face. He found himself mesmerized, lost in the warmth of your smile and the depths of your gaze.

"Too many counselor duties?" you teased gently.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, the sound laced with a nervous tension. "Can get pretty tough sometimes, you know" he admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Responsibility and all that."

He turned back to you, his eyes meeting yours again. This time, he held the gaze a beat longer, the air crackling with a sudden, unspoken energy. He felt himself drawn to you, captivated by the beauty of your features.

"I understand" you whisper. There was a subtle shift in your posture, a subtle lean closer that mirrored his own. "How's Percy doing?" you asked, changing the subject, leaning your own marshmallow into the fire.

"He's holding up well" Luke responded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Just, like everyone does when we arrive here."

You breathed out a small smile. "That's good to hear." A moment of comfortable silence followed, broken only by the crackling fire and the occasional chirp of crickets. “Any ideas on who his father might be?" you finally asked, your voice filled with curiosity.

Luke pondered your question, his gaze flickering between the flames and your inquisitive face. "Honestly, no clue yet" he admitted, shaking his head slightly. "He doesn't quite fit in with any of the cabins. But we'll figure it out."

"Poor kid" you murmured, a flicker of sympathy crossing your features. "I really hope he doesn't end up unclaimed."

As if sensing the shift in mood, Luke shifted his position, his body turning slightly more towards you. The warmth of your presence radiated beside him.

"Don't worry" he said softly. "He'll be alright. We'll make sure of it."

You nodded silently, blowing gently on your marshmallow to cool it down a little. The playful banter had momentarily distracted you from the nervous tension that had been building in Luke's chest.

A playful smirk tugged at Luke's lips. "Actually," he began, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, "he reminds me a little bit of you."

Your head snapped up, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. "What? Why?"

He chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "I don't know," he feigned contemplation, drawing out the suspense before shrugging lightly. "He just gives off the same 'new and confused' vibe you had when you first arrived at camp." He says, "And," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "he seems to have a knack for getting himself into trouble just like a certain someone I know."

You swatted him lightly on the arm, a playful frown creasing your forehead. "Hey" you exclaimed, feigning offense. "When did I ever get myself into trouble?"

Luke scoffed. "Oh, come on, don't be so modest" he countered, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I still remember how you managed to get into that fight with that Ares kid."

"Well, he wouldn't leave me alone" you mumbled, your voice laced with a hint of defiance. "Someone had to teach him a lesson."

“And your solution was to throw Pegasus' shit at him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Well," you stammered, trying to defend yourself, but the vividness of the memory left little room for argument. "Yeah, okay" you finally admitted with a small defeated voice.

Luke shook his head in mock disapproval, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with you" he joked, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"No one's asking you to stay" you countered playfully, returning his teasing smile. "You're free to leave anytime."

Luke's laugh filled the air once more, a welcome sound that calmed the nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Wouldn't dream of it" he replied, his voice turning a touch softer. And he didn’t mean to say it, but it came out unwarranted. He met your gaze, holding it for a beat longer than usual.

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, a subtle change. You let out a small, nervous chuckle, breaking eye contact and turning your gaze back towards the dancing flames.

Luke couldn't help but notice your nervous gesture, but instead of taking it as a sign of rejection, he interpreted it as a reaction to his own sudden boldness, even though his heart was down his ass.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to take the plunge. There was no turning back now. "Hey," he began softly, his voice barely a whisper above the crackling fire. "Can I ask you something?"

You met his gaze, a nervous flutter in your stomach mirrored by the rapid beat of your heart. Tentatively, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a self-conscious gesture that only accentuated your beauty in Luke's eyes.

"Yeah, sure" you replied.

Luke cleared his throat again, trying to mask the nervous tremor in his voice. "I, uh," he stammered, "I-, I was wondering if you... would like to go out with me? Sometime?"

The nervousness in his voice was impossible to miss, but it was the spark of hope in his eyes that truly captured your attention. You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for him. There he was, this strong, capable counselor, reduced to a blushing mess in front of you.

At that moment, the world around him seemed to fade away. All that existed was you. The oversized grey sweatshirt you wore hung loosely on your frame, making you appear smaller, more vulnerable. Even without makeup, your beauty was undeniable, a captivating mix of strength and softness that had him completely enthralled.

You looked at him. Silence stretched between you, thick with anticipation. Luke held his breath, his palms slick with nervous sweat. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your answer.

Then, slowly, the corners of your lips began to curve upwards. A smile. A genuine, radiant smile that lit up your entire face and sent a wave of warmth through him.

Luke's heart leaped in his chest, but before he could react, a soft laugh escaped your lips. The sound washed over him, chasing away his anxieties and replacing them with a soaring sense of elation. The blush creeping up your cheeks confirmed it – he wasn't imagining it.

He rushed to speak, the words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I know that-, this is something you're kinda used to" he stammered, his voice laced with nervousness. "Getting asked out, I mean. It's just... I don't know, I- you-"

He stopped mid-sentence, frustration causing him to sigh in defeat. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a defeated, "Shit" under his breath. Which only made you laugh harder.

It was like a symphony to his ears. He couldn't help but smile back, even with the butterflies doing a frantic tap dance in his stomach. "Sorry" he mumbled sheepishly.

"Don't – don't be sorry” you chuckled, waving your hand dismissively. "You're good." The laughter subsided, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. But to Luke's anxious mind, the silence stretched into an eternity, filled with the dread of having somehow messed this whole thing up.

Just as despair threatened to engulf him, you spoke. "Yes" you said, your voice soft but firm. "I'd love to."

Luke stared at you, momentarily speechless. His brain, overloaded with disbelief and unexpected joy, struggled to form a coherent response.

"Really?" he finally managed. It was a question loaded with disbelief and pure, unadulterated happiness.

"Yeah" you laughed, nodding your head as if he'd asked the most ridiculous and obvious question. "When?" you countered, playfully turning the tables on him.

"Uh..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair in a fluster. "Shit, sorry," he stammered again. "I just – I didn't think you'd actually say yes, so I haven't really thought that far ahead." His confession only made you laugh harder.

A nervous laugh escaped Luke's lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Honestly, he couldn't believe his own luck.

"I'll give you some time to think about it if you want” you said, your voice laced with amusement and comfort.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. That sounds good" he stammered, his flustered response betraying the excitement bubbling over in his chest.

The comfortable silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the crackling fire and the occasional pop of a burning marshmallow. You both seemed content to simply bask in the warmth of the fire and the newfound connection you shared.

Just as Luke was about to break the comfortable silence, a voice cut through the air. "Hey, yn!" a familiar voice called out.

You turned your head towards the sound, a smile gracing your lips. "Right, uh..." you trailed off, turning back to Luke. "I gotta get back."

A brief pang of disappointment shot through Luke, but it was quickly overshadowed by the excitement bubbling within him.

"Go ahead” he replied with a smirk. "Don't keep her waiting."

You took a step back, but before turning to leave, you locked eyes with him.

"Don't keep me waiting" you said, your voice soft but firm.

The playful challenge in your words sent a new wave of butterflies fluttering in his stomach and lower.

A bigger smile stretched across Luke's face as he watched you walk away, the firelight casting a warm glow on your figure. "I won't”.

[joontroverted]

kiss it better (nsfw)

husband! ran haitani x wife reader

fandom : tokyo revengers

word count : 2.9k

cw : anal beads, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, daddy kink, reader is a brat, impregnantion talk, fluff! this is a sweet fic, i'll have you know 😤

twitter porn that inspired me!

video

happy reading!

ran comes home late often enough that it's not an issue.

his schedule is erratic. he doesn't work every single night, but when he's called to work he's gone, and almost unreachable too. and he's definitely coming home late on those days.

between the two of you (two sleepy people) he knows it's no hard feelings to come home to you fast asleep. he just strips off, does a quick shower, speedruns through his unskippable skin care routine and settles into bed with you. one arm snaked around your waist and into your panties, two fingers in your warm pussy, and he's out like a light.

it's a fun routine.

but you miss him.

sure, you have the sleepy mornings and the evenings filled with wine and whichever new little snack ran had flown in from God knows where, but you missed the nights.

the nights of opening your arms and legs for your man, undressing him, tumbling around in bed till you're both sore and filthy and then hopping in the tub for another round- ahem, a bath.

so tonight's the night!

you're adorned in a light blue lingerie set, the type that highlights your titties and has a crotchless panties. your usual home clothes are thrown on on top of this sexy get up because of the chill from the ac, and even though you've fought back many a yawn, the moment you hear scuffling and the beep of the lock, you throw off your loose clothes and position yourself spread across the sofa.

you watch as ran staggers into the foyer, stumbling, stifling a yawn. he makes a beeline past the hall and straight to the master bedroom without paying you even the slightest glance.

you sit there dumbfounded.

you can hear him tossing off his clothes, washing his face and finally turning the lamp by the nightstand on to do his skin care before he realises you're not in bed.

"sweetheart?"

you hear him jog out of the room, turn the corner and seeing you sitting on the sofa, all (sex) dolled up, and glaring holes into him.

"what are you- oh," he stops, eyes taking you in. "oh honey, come here," he calls you, spreading his arms.

you stare at him and get up, and walk past him to your bedroom.

"honey? honey! baby, i'm so sorry, it's so late and it's been such a long day, this has nothing to do with- "

"literally die," you mutter, clambering onto the bed.

"are you wearing those crotchless panties?"

"die! go hang out with your precious besties! die!" you hiss, wrapping the blankets around yourself and settling in.

"baby- "

"i don't want to hear one fucking word ran haitani."

you shut your eyes, turning your face into the pillow, tears of anger stinging behind your shut eyelids. god, this was so humiliating more than anything. you were so excited, and the worst part is you can't even blame him, you know how tiring his days can get.

you hear him slowly sit down on the bed and turn the lamp off. no skincare, nothing, and he settles into bed next to you, almost spooning you, but giving you some space.

you feel his hand come up to stroke your hair.

"good night angel."

something's keeping you up.

you can't put a finger on what it is exactly.

you twist around and see ran fast asleep next to you, no doubt too exhausted to even pleade his case with you. his hand is on your pillow, having fallen asleep while stroking your hair. you had fallen asleep too, but something woke up you up around twenty minutes ago, and you can't seem to figure out what.

the temperature of the room is perfect. chill, but not cold. the blankets aren't too heavy to make you hot. you aren't hungry and you just took a few sips of water some time back when you had woken up.

so what is it?

do you miss ran? do you miss the contact of him spooning you?

no... not that you wouldn't miss it, but more like you and ran moved around in bed a lot while you sleep so you aren't always touching each other.

no, this is something more related to your body.

for a second you wonder if you're secretly pregnant.

no.

you press a hand on your stomach. you feel like you're close to the problem, because now you can zero in on something inside you being wrong, but pregnant? no. not even food poisoning, you didn't eat anything disagreeable.

something inside you...

"ran. ran!"

you shake him, and if you weren't so taken aback, you would've stopped to admire how gorgeous he is. his purple and black hair fans out on his forehead, and his chest gently rises and falls. he really could be a model, his strong angular jaw and his angelic features uniting masculinity and femininity to create such beauty.

"ran!" you smack him across his face with your pillow.

"what, what, fuck!" he shouts, rising up to his elbows, his eyes flitting over you. his hands immediately roam over you before his eyes adjust to the dark to make sure that you're in one piece and not hurt in any way.

"wha' happened," he says gruffly, sitting up this time, his hands still on your waist protectively.

you falter, seeing how protective he is of you, and how much sexier he sounds with his voice deeper from sleep.

you bite your lip. "hi."

"what the fuck happened," he blinks at you slowly, like he can't believe this situation. he's just been forced awake by his panicked little wife who had just been screaming and now you're sitting pretty, hair mussed, bra strap sliding off your shoulder, eyes wide, looking ditzy.

"um, nothing much. what's up with you?" you shrug, looking down.

"i'm going to count to three- "

he doesn't even have to finish his sentence for you to start talking. you know all too well what happens when he counts to three.

"so you know how i dressed up for you and then you so very rudely ignored me?"

"i apologized for that, and you told me to die."

"yeah, that."

he stares at you. "and?" he prompts.

"i didn't actually want you to die."

that makes him crack a little smile. "why thank you. that's one less person now. unfortunately the list's a bit too long for me to be in the clear, honey."

you scrunch up your face at that. ran's a terrible person. you forget that sometimes. his worst crime is probably torture and homicide, not kicking your plushie off the bed.

"was that all?" he asks, thumb stroking your waist. "can we sleep now?"

"no," you say firmly. and then you mumble something.

"what?"

"there's something inside me."

"what did all those creampies pay off," he laughs. "wait a minute, did they?" his face morphs into horror.

"no, jesus. this is less scary."

"just spit it out already!"

"fine! when i was waiting for you, i..." you shift. "um i stuffed myself with some... beads," you trail off, nodding, glad that the lights are off, so he can't see you clearly.

ran leans to the nightstand and flicks the lamp on, making eye contact with you. well there goes decency. he looks at you, his face a mix of disbelief and criticism. "you stuffed yourself with some beads."

you nod again, unable to look at him.

he grabs your face and forced you closer. "you stuffed yourself with the anal beads i bought you and told you that i would help you with."

"i wanted to surprise you okay?"

"and then you fell asleep with them inside you. who was that for? the icu when they surgically remove them from you? what if i couldn't come home tonight?"

"fine!" you pull yourself away from him. he had spent his entire life being both a brother and a father to rindou that when he brought up his stern voice he could be so goddamn condescending. "i'll do it myself then! i don't need your help anyways!"

you most definitely did need his help.

and that's why you find yourself laid on your tummy between ran's spread legs, him having pulled your hips towards him, ass facing him, legs locked around his back. your bra was tossed to the side, and your crotchless panties dangle from your ankle in sad defeat.

ran had sat back quietly, arms folded as he watched you try to pull the beads out. he didn't say a word, but watched you seriously, as though he were a teacher watching his student helplessly mess up an equation even further. the scrutiny sure didn't help, and only made you more tense.

you sniffle.

"and whose fault is it that you're in this position, huh?"

"yours."

you get a sharp slap on your left asscheek.

"it's my fault! i'm sorry!"

you can't see him, but you're sure he's enjoying this. ran's rather laidback and chill, but all of that is made up for with how much of a stern disciplinarian he is in situations like this.

he pulls your ass closer and your pussy settles on his crotch, feeling his thick and hard cock beneath his boxers. you snicker.

"what was that for, slut?" he asks, giving you a harsh pinch on your other cheek.

you squeal and kick your feet. "nothing. just nice to know you missed me too."

"hmm," he hums, taking you in.

you really are the stupidest little girl in the world. of course he misses you. he'd be mad not to. the light of his life. he loves his job, but he's been liking it less and less as it eats up all the time he keeps especialy for you. he's missed too many meetings and too many trips just to spend an evening watching a movie with you or a weekend away with you. and here you are, pitching a fit because apparently he doesn't miss you anymore.

as much as he chides you for your carelessness, it's landed his beautiful wife face down ass up, stuffed full in her ass with purple anal beads. all that could be seen of it was the glinting sea pearl that hung out like a charm from the base, with the backdrop of your pretty little pucker behind it.

he grabs the base and gives a little tug, causing you to yelp.

"you need to relax honey," he mutters, rubbing your back.

"well you're not helping with that," you grumble.

he rolls his eyes. he reaches for the lube and sees the half empty bottle and can't help but think about how much lube you had emptied within yourself trying to get it in in the first place, a finger pushing each bead in while the other hand poured lube on your gaping hole. his cock jumps at the image of that.

"hmm, what how can we get you to relax, huh? would a spanking work? you get pretty brainless from a good spanking, don't you honey? i was meaning to give you one in the morning just because of how you behaved with me."

you kick at the thought of that, heat filling your face, pussy pulsing at the thought. yes, unfortunately ran had trained you into taking his spankings well, but that would tense you up too much, and he knew that. he's just doing this to rile you up.

ran smirks as he watches your pussy squeeze around nothing, dampening. he's trained you well.

"but on second thought, maybe you need something more humiliating. you think i'm just wasting time hanging out with my guys at work, huh? how 'bout i handcuff you over the table with your panties pullled down, huh? so all the bad, bad men i work with can remind you of how tough this job is, huh?"

"no!" you whine, pushing your ass out. "no!"

he watches your pussy get wetter and wetter. he massages your lubed up hole with two fingers and slips two fingers inside you. you really were a sick girl. his sick girl.

"o- ohhh," you moan, as his thick, long fingers sink deeper inside you.

in and out, up and down. all while teases your asshole into opening. his finger swipe further and hurther in, scissoring before they finally curl down and hit your g spot.

"ran! ran! please, please, more!"

and that's when he slows down.

the rhythm he had built up slows down into a gentle massaging on your g spot.

"ran, what the hell? you're so- "

you falter as a another feeling takes over. an insistent pushing from in the inside of your hole.

plop!

"there we go," says ran, and you can hear the smile in his voice. " there's my big girl."

the first bead popped out, shiny and glossy, warm from your insides, lube dripping down it. your hole closes up again, and he presses down on your g spot again, causing you to let out a strangled cry.

"another one sweetheart," he coos, "relax for me?"

plop!

the second one pops out as your mind is lost from both the sensations. the bliss from having your g spot massaged combined with the odd pleasure that's coming from him playing with your hole.

plop!

"oh, there's another one," you murmur, dazed.

"my big girl can count can't she," he laughs. he sure has the fucking audacity. "last two honey."

you push your ass out and get onto your knees, chest pressed on the bed. he snickers at your eagerness and drives his fingers deeper in you, stroking away.

plop!

you feel lighter, both inside and in your head. you can't believe that for all your complaining, you're spending the night with your husband yanking anal beads out of your asshole. not even in a sexy way particularly. for the sake of not having a medical emergency.

"last one angel," he kisses you ass cheek. "can you do that for me?"

"uh huh."

"what do you say?"

"yes daddy," you keen as his fingers push deeper in you again. you feel his lips a feather light kiss on your perineum, and you can blush from how soft it feels.

he watches as the last bead slowly pushes it's way out of your hole with a final little plop!

watching your pretty hole gao almost sets something primal off in ran, and with a low growl he gets on his knee, one leg braced against the bed. he lowers his boxers and brings his heavy cock out that he had neglected for a little too long. the grinding of your pussy on his crotch wasn't nearly enough for what his eyes were feasting on.

the thick head of his tip slaps against your sloppy pussy and you whine, finally getting a taste of what you've been missing.

"give it to me ran, i've been waiting for too long."

"i know pretty, i've been gone for too long these days, haven't i?"

he pushes in, and that familiar feeling of being filled is back. you husband is back.

"daddy," you cry in ecstacy as his tip finally reaches the deepest it can go. "i love you."

"daddy's home honey," he pants, having mounted you finally, and now driving into to you. "i love you."

the pace picks up and you're boneless as ran's firm grip on your waist is all that's holding you up. he slams into you, his cock hitting all the right places as he leans down and covers all of you, holding you tight.

"i'm sorry angel, i'm sorry i haven't been home lately. but it's all for you, yeah. it's all so i can give you a beautiful life and make you a mama one day, nice and plump and spoiled."

"ohhh!" that sends a wave through you. "you wanna make me a mama?"

"yeah honey, you'll be a good mama, won't you? perfect girl?"

"yes, yes daddy," you cry, "i'm cumming, gonna come!"

"come for me angel," he pushes into you one final time, and you come together. the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, causing you to sink under bliss as you feel him filling you up to the brim with his thick, warm cum.

he bites the crook of your neck and coos as he watches you shake underneath him.

"my wife," he whispers, pressing kisses down your neck. "my beautiful silly wife. i always miss you. i love you."

he turns you over, and you immediately twist your limbs into each others'. you smile as you look into his eyes, his hair still untouched despite it all. you reach out and mess it up, causing him to laugh and kiss your wrist.

"i love you," you mutter. "and i know you love spending time with me. i was just frustrated... and in need of a rough night with you. i don't actually want you to die."

"i know." he nods, giving you little kisses. "i'm the luckiest man alive to have a wife who loves me so much she stuffed herself full of the anal beads i told her not to use without me."

"my hole is sore," you groan as he nuzzles against your chest.

"bend over, i'll kiss it better."

reblogs, tagging, comments, likes and asks are HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

read my other tokyo revengers fic -

bully baji x popular reader fic

all right heathens. this one's done. pls hop on anon/asks and tell me i'm not alone in my insanity and you're this horny for this man too ❤️