#and try to blame you for making this too big and force them to answer you

[satorena]

❛ # MÉNAGE À TROIS ! ❜

ᡣ𐭩 featuring. g. satoru x reader x g. suguru

☆ warnings. explicit content. foul language. thrēēsome (mmf). getting caught in the act. ceo!satoru and secretary!reader make a comeback. jealous gojo. ceo!suguru but he’s a pervert. crēāmpie. fīngerīng. oral (f+m). backshots. afab!reader. feminine descriptions used.

ᡣ𐭩 serena's note. can be read as a stand-alone but it’s basically a continuing to unprofessionalism !

“are you—mmph, insane?!” you’re hoping your words are convincing enough to draw him back to his senses, despite them jumbling out your mouth and right into his. pressed up against the door of the empty bathroom, your legs are spread apart in favour to be supported by a strong thigh. big hands slide from your lower back to your ass, and squeeze, forcing a moan out of you. “we’re in public— we’ll get caught!”

when gojo does give you space to breathe, a thin string of saliva connects from his bottom lip to yours. he pants heavily, lips shaded a hue of cherry red as the corner of his mouth tugs into a sadistic smile, “yeah but don’t that make it more excitin’ though?”

you blink at him, the thought having already crossed your mind. you weren’t in any position to oppose as you’d even gone commando to a formal business dinner all due to your perverted boss’ orders. but a lot would be at stake here— you both could lose your jobs if caught, and you’d most likely be labelled a whore for the rest of your career. naturally, that was the last thing you wanted, and yet—

“quit overthinkin’ sweets,” you’re pulled out of your train of thought when his bulge grinds against your core. you gasp, eye lids fluttering shut as a rush of heat spreads in your gut. you feel his hands grip your waist and drag your hips forward, angling your body at a perfect position enough to force a whine out of you.

he leans forward to seal his lips with yours yet again, and you foolishly kiss him back. gojo pulls away too quickly for your liking, though his lips trail from the corner of your mouth to trail hot kisses at your jaw, to the slope of your neck. “promise we’ll be quick, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“b-but,” you stammer, head thrown back against the cold surface of the door as your fingernails claw to the fabric of his expensive blazer. you try to recollect your thoughts, perfectly aware of how risky this entire situation could be. you do not get wetter because of the idea of getting caught—no way, you’d rather blame it on the stimulation of your clit rubbing against muscly thighs. “i could lose my job! or worse, we could lose our jobs���”

“‘m not gonna let that happen.” gojo cuts you off sternly, hand leaving the dip in your waist in favour of cupping your jaw. his index raises your chin, enforcing eye contact between you both to ensure his certainty. there isn’t a shred of doubt in those cerulean orbs, gaze intensely strong as opposed to your shyer one.

the arm at your hips snake around the perimeter of your lower back to hug you snugly against him. you’re entirely at his disposition— body trapped between the door and his much larger frame towering over you, and you hate the way your chest tightens at the unreadable look on his face.

“ever.” he repeats more firmly, before planting a short kiss onto your lips. you’re taken aback from the intimacy behind the kiss, as if he really were trying to reassure you you had nothing to worry about it. he might’ve been reckless and utterly stupid, but when it mattered, he really could be reliable. “do ya trust me?”

“yes.” you answer honestly, and the grin he offers at your response confirms every shred of doubt you’d had in mind. of course you’d do this— you were as much unprofessional as he was.

“that’s my girl.” you jolt at the firm blow landed on your ass. when your lips fall into an annoyed pout, he’s quick to kiss it away, beaming at you like a child on their way to a candy store. “now go face the mirror f’me— needa apologize for not properly treating you right the last time.”

you’re sure he’s referring to your last encounter in his office when he’d decided to punish you for bad mouthing him by skipping oral, if the way he hiked your dress up to your hips, kneeled on the floor and spread your pussy lips apart said anything. you shiver from the cool air he breathes at your aching cunt, fingers gripping the ceramic sink before you.

“shitttt,” you moan, head lolling forward when you feel his tongue swipe from your clit all the way near your rear end. gojo latches his lips onto yours, and feasts like a starved man. he rotates his tongue into motions he knows will have your knees buckle the way it does, flicks it at your a swollen leaking clit, and fucks it in and out of your clenching hole. “f-fuck, satoru, oh my goddd!”

he groans loudly into your cunt, big hands gripping an asscheek each as he divulges into your core. you’re a slippery mess, and you can’t imagine how soaked his face must be by how sloppy he tugs and nibbles onto your labia, drinking up any fluid you have to offer him. he makes it nearly impossible to keep alert of any upcoming visitors— any time you attempt to regard the door, just a peek over you shoulder, he plunges his canines into the flesh of your ass and spanks at your cunt. it’s as if he wants you to completely trust and rely on his word.

“nah uh princess.” you feel the impact of the coolness of his rings against your warm folds, mixture of saliva and your juices splurting as he spanks you. you feel your thighs trembling as you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your skull from the pleasurable pain. “you’re offendin’ me over here. focus on me—not that damn door.” if you didn’t know any better, he was definitely pouting with a mouth full of your cunt.

how ridiculous.

“‘m just tryna w-watch out for the doo—ooohh!” his tongue finds its way to your clit and you officially give up. completely surrendering yourself to his disposition, you let your guard down and allow him to ravish you whole.

it’s proven difficult to keep your eyes on yourself as you watch your reflection through low lidded eyes— gloss smeared on your swollen lips as fat tears build at your lower lash line. your neck and chest littered in love bites, areas that are incredibly visible to the public. and under any other circumstance, you would’ve made a big fuss about it, but you simply couldn’t care with gojo’s index and middle finger pumping in and out of your sopping pussy.

you’re irresponsible and foolish, and admittedly shameful as you feel the infamous knot of arousal in your core tightening. your knees feel wobbly, and you’re moans tune into a higher pitch as you claw the marble sink. gojo reads your body language well, his pace steady as he simultaneously finger fucks your cunt while lapping at your bundle of nerves.

you shoot him a look behind your shoulders, the sight of your boss on his knees aiming to please you admittedly quickening the process, “s-satoru, fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum!” you whimper, bottom lip tugged into your teeth. you remove your death claw grip on the sink in favour of carding your fingers through a set of fluffy hair.

he cocks a brow behind snowy locks, cerulean eyes peering at you with sheer intensity. he knows you’re close, could’ve guessed from how tightly you clamped down on his tongue, and he’s aiming to give you the best damn orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life because you deserve it.

it takes one, two, three jabs of his fingers at that spongy spot against your muscles for the dam to break. and it all happens too damn quickly to register—your eyelids beginning to shut close as your cunt squirts onto gojo’s face with the addition of an indifferent suguru geto at the bathroom door—

wait. wait wait wait.

your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets as you’re quickly drawn back into reality, “oh shittttt— shit! w-wait, toru, hol’on a second ‘m— he’s right there— fuckin’ hell!”

it’s like he’s doing it to fuck with you, deliberately ignoring your pleas as he swirls his tongue deeper into your high. it takes a forceful grab of your fingers at his scalp to remove him away from your cunt, and even that makes him moan.

his skin is botched red and glistening wet in your arousal, a childish pout resting on his shiny lips. he looks like a child who you’ve confiscated his jar of cookies for overeating, “what’s the rush, princess? y’re kinda killin’ me here, ‘m not done with you just yet.”

“so is she the girl?” geto shuts the door behind him, back resting against the flat surface. he cocks his head to the side and presents his infamous smile— the one you’ve seen briefly in the hallways as you passed by him, on your way out of your boss’ office.

“hmm?” gojo tilts his head to the intruding voice, and when his eyes fall onto his colleague, he lazily shrugs his shoulders, as if his appearance had been the most natural thing. “oh, suguru—what’re you doin’ here?”

“they’ve sent me to come find you both as the closing speech is soon commencing,” geto pushes himself off the door and takes long strides towards you both. “though i did have my suspicions— turns out i was right. satoru, you fuckin’ whore.”

your heart beat wildly against your chest. your mind raced a mile a minute, thoughts in turmoil as you fought between the fear that settled im your gut from being caught by another worker but simultaneously feeling your cunt ache at getting caught by another worker.

“heyyy, that’s fuckin’ rude,” gojo squints his eyes at his friend, a firm hand raising to spank your ass. you jolt from the impact as you squeal, your face heating in embarrassment at the situation. “she isn’t the girl, she’s my girl. there’s a difference and you oughta learn it.”

geto waves a hand around as if to dismiss his complaints. “yeah yeah, sure.” the ravenette stops before you, and for the first time you notice just how much tall he is too. a large frame sitting in an expensive tuxedo towering over your bent form, leaning forward to sit at an eye-level with you.

your lips part, as if to weakly defend yourself from the shameful situation you’ve found yourself in, but before words can escape your throat, you feel his knuckles grazing along the slope of your jawline. the gentle touch begins at your jaw and trails down to your chin, where the pad of his thumb then fondles at the corner of your mouth.

there’s a hypnotic look in his eyes— a seductive gaze stuck in the endless pools of purple as he stares you down. despite still being clothed, you feel naked beneath his gaze, and yet you can’t find yourself looking away, even when he hooks his thumb into your mouth.

“hi beautiful. mind tellin’ me your name?” geto asks, the melody of his voice so honeyed that you can’t help the automatic response you give him. he chuckles, pulling his thumb out of your lips and swiping the wet digit against your bottom lip.

“gorgeous name for a gorgeous beholder,” you’ve heard that line before, most likely from your boss, and if it ever came out corny then, then it certainly didn’t feel corny now. “tell me y/n, has satoru taken care of you properly?”

gojo interrupts, taken aback by the nerve of his friend’s assumption of him. “what— of course i have! who do you take me for?” you can hear the whine through his words, though you were still entirely stuck in a trance by the man before you. “baby, tell ‘im i took good care of ya!”

“mind if i take a look?” geto cocks his head to the side, the tip of his nose grazing yours. blinking, you suddenly realized the proximity of the man before you, warm breath fanning above the dip of your cupid’s bow. “promise i won’t take too long. feel free to say no.”

and rationally speaking, you should’ve said no. you should’ve taken the outing and tell him it was unprofessional and entirely risky since you’d already gotten caught by him, and had it been any other worker, you would’ve surely been black balled for the rest of your career days. and yet, the way his touches felt comforting and safe, fleeting from the back of your neck down to your arms and chest, another around your torso—

oh fuck it. “yeah, g-go ahead.” you nod instead, your mind telling you one thing but your pussy telling you another.

“whaaaaat?! y/n!” gojo complains, but geto’s quick to smile at you, going as far as calling you a ‘good girl’ before quickly shoving gojo out of the way. he crouches down as gojo rises to his full height, one hand holding onto your cheek and spreading it as the other grips onto the back of your thigh.

you suddenly feel very aware of the situation at hand, and lower your head in shame, teeth nibbling onto your bottom lip. you feel like a slut— your pussy casually being inspected by another high figure at your workplace, meanwhile your boss leans against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown on his face.

“not bad satoru.” geto teasingly praises his friend, the grip on your cheek spreading the flesh further apart, as your sticky cunt squelches in result. your lips then follow suit as they spread, and geto abandons the hold on your thigh in favour of swiping his thumb to collect all of your juices, before popping it in his mouth. “mmhm, she’s all wet and sweet too. can’t believe you were holdin’ out on me man. i feel betrayed.”

“ever considered the fact i don’t want to share her with anyone? much less you?” gojo retaliates, pushing himself off the wall to stand beside you. your brows furrow at his words, eyes following his steps before he plants himself at your side.

geto chuckles, an sleek eyebrow raising up, “oh?”

gojo ignores his friend in favour of directing his attention towards you, pushing your hair away from your face and behind your ear. you blink at him through thick lashes, tilting your head into the warmth of his palm at your cheek, “if you don’t want this at any time, just lemme know and i’ll kick his ass, yeah?”

“wait.” you hold onto the wrist near your face, and his blue eyes follow the point of contact before returning to your eyes. you suddenly feel bashful as he stares at you as if you were the only girl in the world. “wanna suck you off too. . . y’know, as a payment for earlier.”

“yeah?” his smirk returns to his face, fiddling with a piece of your hair between his fingers. you roll your eyes despite the smile that crept at your own lips. “i dunno sweets, it’s startin’ to sound like you’re in love with me or somethin’.”

“not even in your wildest dreams, satoru.” you scoff, grabbing the hand that played with your hair to rest it above the mounds of your chest. the fleeting touch of his fingers against your perky buds through the thin material of your dress has you humming in pleasure. you watch as his eyes light up like a child on christmas day, the smirk on his lips stretched even wider as he cups onto your sensitive flesh.

gojo pushes the material of your dress aside to free your tits, watching the recoil as your bud comes to contact with cooler air and instantly stiffens. “oh come on—you can admit it princess, y’know i won’t hold it against you.”

you lick your lips, “give me a break toru— hngh, fuck!”

“oops, my hand slipped.” geto comments, running his fingers up and down the entrance of your folds. you can tell by the sound of his voice that it was definitely not an accident, as he dips his fingers in and out of your cunt, drawing out moans from you.

you fail to see how gojo frowns, a bitter look on his face as his best friend snatches your attention away from him. it’s soon replaced by admiration when your face contorts into that beautiful look you make whenever you’re completely over washed with pleasure— and even if it isn’t him offering you that euphoric feeling, he feels his cock twitch in his slacks regardless.

“toruuuu,” you call out his name, your gaze unfocused as you stare him up with doe eyes. you watch as he gulps, completely enamoured by you. “whip it out already, need it in my mouth.”

you giggle as he wastes no time, fumbling with the belt at his slacks before dropping them to his knees. he pulls out his cock from his dampened briefs, dick standing tall in arousal. veins decorated the sensitive skin all over, his mushroom tip a raging red as it dribbled pre cum. you could feel your mouth salivate at the look of his dick alone, balls hanging heavily full of cum.

he tightens his fist around the perimeter of his cock, dragging it down from the base all the way up to his tip, a guttural moan heaving from deep in his chest. he’s taunting you, and you shamefully feel your cunt dampen at his wanton sounds, “ngh, you ready baby?”

from behind you, you hear geto’s slacks also fall down to his ankles as he pumps his own hardness right against the cleft of your reddened cheek. he taps the tip of his dick against your soft flesh, watching the recoil of your ass bouncing on his cock, panting heavily as his words come out breathily, “you—shit, good to go, y/n?”

you nod eagerly, legs spreading for stability as you bend your upper body forward. your hands grip around the firm muscle of gojo’s thighs, and your nose nuzzles in the bush of snowy pubes, his musk clouding over your senses in a familiar way. your tongue lolls out as it rolls over the sensitive skin of his ballsack and sucks, and gojo whines, hand immediately flying to the back of your head to grip at your hair tightly.

you can feel the tip of geto’s dick pushing past your first ring of muscle, and you attempt to relax the muscles of your body at the intense intrusion of his penetration. he’s fucking girthy— much thicker than gojo, though not as lengthier. he’s stretching you out in ways that has your limbs liquify in heat, fingernails clawing deeper into gojo’s pale skin.

“fuck, shit, you gotta loosen up f’me baby— you’re too tight,” geto grunts, hands gripping tightly at your waist as he lurches forward. your stomach tightens in lust as your thighs tremble, the intrusion of his cock balls deep in your cunt melting your brain. he’d just bottom out, and you already felt on cloud nine.

“feel s’good, ngh fuckkk—mmph!” your mouth is suddenly full, the familiar taste of saltiness resting on the pallets of your tongue. you hear gojo above you moan pathetically, hips already rutting desperately into the warmth cave of your mouth.

you’ve sucked him off plenty before and so you know just how he likes it— sloppy and tight. you hollow your cheeks and stay mindful of your teeth, as you relax your throat muscles and let him work his magic.

“there’s my good girl, fuck yeah— y’know jus’ how i love it, dontcha?” gojo smiles down at you, thumb grazing at the dent in your cheek. he drags his thumb over the outline of his cock against your face, “what a fuckin’ beauty, shit, keep doin’ great for me, hnghhh, ‘m gonna bust soon.”

“already?” geto teases, thrusts languid as they match the pace of his friend’s. his hips meet the curve of your ass in hypnotic bounces as your ass ripples off his pelvis, and gojo’s quick to roll his eyes.

“fuck you,” it’s meant to come off as an insult but when you take him even further down, a gag tightening around the length of his cock, it trails off into a desperate moan.

“no thanks, ‘ve got your pretty little secretary here.” geto hisses when your pussy clamps down on his cock. he feels sweat begin to collect at his hairline, and focuses on the grip of your folds latching at his dick desperately.

you feel a firm blow at your ass cheeks, your muffled whines echoing in the room at the stinging pleasure. you attempt to run away from the impaling dick in your stomach, but you feel geto’s hands grab at your hips, stabilizing your limp body before a hand rises up and pushes your back into a curve.

“and where do you think y’re goin’?” geto tuts, hips angling at a new position, one that draws a broken mewl from your sore throat. every moan resonates against the dick stuffed in your mouth, and the sounds travel from gojo’s tip all the way to his stomach, as he feels his balls tighten.

“oh god baby, y’can’t do that to me!” gojo mewls, matted locks glued to his forehead from excessive sweat. you feel his droplets trickle down to your forehead, dribbling down your face and combining in the mixture of fluids leaking from your lips.

you feel his dick twitching in your mouth, a telltale that he’s bound to bust his load in no time. you release a hold from his thigh to cup at his balls, gently fondling with the sack as you bob your head forward to match his pace. saliva pools from the corner of your mouth and dribbles down your chin to the floor.

geto leans forward, chest pressed against the arch of your back. his breath is warm and tickles at the column of your hickey-littered neck, and the stretch of his girthy cock spreading the tight muscles of your rim has your stomach knotting in foreign pleasure.

his hand creeps in between your thighs, fingers toying with your aching clit as his lips graze at the shell of your ear, “love havin’ this clit of yours played with?” he purrs in your ear, lips ghosting over the goosebumps of your skin, and despite being gagged, you nod your head frantically in response. he’s bottomed out, balls deep inside your cunt, grinding his hips and rubbing his cock into areas you had yet to explore. “such a good slut f’me, ain’t that right?”

“for me– ngh, me too!” gojo argues childishly, quivery pink lips falling into a pout. he runs the pad of his thumb against your cheek, hooking his fingertip at the corner of your lips, thus painfully widening the hole of your mouth.

tears quickly build up at your lash line, vision blurring when you feel geto pull back up, landing blow after blow on the planes of your ass. the harsh impacts and rough thrusts has your backside ricochetting against his pelvis, your pussy clenching uncontrollably. the sensation was one that left you speechless– besides gojo’s lengthy cock occupying your throat. it was most definitely an uncomfortable stretch, but every now and then, when you’d feel the coolness of geto’s rings trailing down your inner thighs and the pad of his fingers soothing the ache at your clit, it easily subsided into pleasure.

“shitttt, just wan’ stay in your mouth forever,” gojo whines loudly, head thrown back with his brows cinched. he’s completely forgotten about your own comfort, fucking into your mouth for the sake of his own pleasure. you watch as his abs contract, chest heaving deeply, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

another gag rips out of your mouth when gojo abruptly plows into your mouth, your nose all the way to his snowy white pubic hairs. he moans all prettily, hand clutching tightly at your hair at the back of your head, before pulling away and repeating the same motions, “hell yeah baby– just like that, fuck.”

with tears now streaking down your cheeks, your mouth salivates uncontrollably as you clamp down on suguru’s cock, balls heavy with cum as they slap against your clit.

“shit—fuck, hold on,” geto hisses, thrown off by gojo’s sudden pace. purple orbs trail at the curve of your back all the way up to your bobbing head, when he’s hit with an idea. you fail to see it, but the smirk he shoots at his best friend is enough to telltale. you can only realise they’re up to no good too late, when gojo mirrors the smirk before him.

“match my rhythm and watch how quick she’ll cum.”

and embarrassingly enough, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten when you’re pounded into roughly from behind. their pace now much quicker and rougher, your broken moans turn into gargles around gojo’s shaft, and in an attempt to run away from the overwhelmingly thrusts stretching at your pussy, you instinctively move forward, only to choke around a twitching dick. you then realise their plan, when you try to pull away from the mushroom tip stroking at your uvula and wind up back into geto’s possession, balls deep in your cunt.

well shit.

they treat your body as if it were a fleshlight– a mere toy for their own pleasure, and you couldn’t deny the objectification of your body at their dispense had your body tense in straight arousal. the bulge in your throat and musky scent of gojo’s bush overwhelming your senses, and the thickness of geto’s shaft tearing your hole apart had you coming undone quicker than you’d like to admit.

“oh yeahhh,” geto whistles, never letting up his pounding as you leak through your pussy like a faucet. “look at that pussy go– clenchin’ down on me like a whore. y’fuckin’ love it when we slut you out like this, hm? our very own cumdump– shit, gonna fill you up nice ‘n good.”

“that’s my pretty baby— mmhm, swallow every last drop, mkay?” you feel your mouth being filled with warm spurts of cum, thick ropes shooting down your throat as gojo groans. “s’good for princesses like you, fuckkk, better open wide.”

��.*

“i’m. . . gonna get goin’ now. you two stay back.” you tug at your dress, fixing your appearance with a nod before exiting the bathroom.

the two friends are left in the space as they run water against the heat of the skin, cleaning up any trace of mess they’ve left behind. the silence is incredibly loud, despite the faucet leaking water into the sink.

“she’s cute. i see why you like her.” geto comments, rolling his sleeves up before pumping his hands full of soap. he clicks his tongue against his teeth, “definitely piques interest.”

“suguru.” gojo deadpans, staring him down through the reflection of the mirror. geto looks up and returns the stare, though the crease of his cheeks through his smile sets gojo off wrongly. he can tell what his friend is thinking, and he doesn’t want to play this game— not with you.

“don’t. . . please. just don’t.” gojo breathes out, chest rising up and down. he doesn’t realize his fists are balled tight, nor that there’s a frown on his face. “she’s different, and i really like her. if you consider yourself my friend, you won’t.”

geto eyes him through slanted eyes, washing off the suds of soap on his palms before turning off the tap. every second passes by agonizingly slow for gojo as he watches his friend move. his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his chest uncharacteristically tight.

he walks to the paper towel dispenser, before drying his hands and shoving the paper down the garbage. gojo’s eyes trail his every move yet again.

finally, purple eyes meet his and they curve into that infamous smile— one that could send chills down your spine if not on his good side.

“yeah, i got you.”

thank you @nantoji for beta reading 🙂‍↕️.

[bluemotifofsleep]

❤︎ Toji is an ass man, fight me about it |

You have to be so careful bending over in front of Toji, because he takes the sight of your ass pressed against whatever you happen to be wearing as an invitation.

Alright, okay, maybe when you first started dating him, you would wiggle your ass in the air a little too suggestively, bending just a liiittle farther than really necessary. You’d bait him like a worm on a hook but present an innocent facade when he confronted you, a shy smile and a sweet “what’s wrong, Toji?” when he growled about what you were doing to him.

Can you really be blamed, though? When he always reacted so deliciously. Warm palms spreading over your ass like he owned it, growling in your ear about all the things your taunting had earned you, all the things he was going to do to you.

And Toji always, always delivered.

But now, you almost avoid it. You’re hyper-aware of your own ass because you can always feel his burning gaze transfixed onto it. You can’t do anything bent over without him pouncing on you like a predator that was waiting for his prey to look away.

Literally, you’ve started crouching instead of bending, just to avoid getting Toji riled up, not because you didn’t want him to, but because you didn’t always have time for the four-coursed meal he turned you into. The tiring, harsh, doggy-style fucking until your legs gave out and your lungs burned like you just finished a marathon. A marathon, of sorts.

When you’re reaching for something in the back of the lower cupboards, when you’re fixing the fitted sheet in the back corner of the bed, even just reaching across the counter for something will always end with you pinned against any surface, being pounded into it like he hated you.

He didn’t, of course. Well, maybe he hated what you did to him. Hated the feral beast you turned him into with just the sight of your stretched glutes like some hormonal, drooling teenager.

You can’t even remember what you’d done this time, whatever you’d been reaching for under the couch had quickly been forgotten when your sleazebag of a boyfriend slid a big hand onto your shoulders and pinned you to the carpet like a butterfly to a cork board.

Your hips are stretched meanly like this, aching, but not quite as mean as the snapping of his pelvis against your ass. Not quite as mean as the head of his dick, battering your cervix like it was punishing you.

Not quite as mean as his words, growled into your ear huskily like he was trying to ingrain them into your skull.

“This what you wanted, baby?” It’s growled right into your neck, your cheek pressed firm against the carpet. you’ll probably have a mark later, but you don’t really care, not with the pleasure shooting out from where you were connected like fireworks, bringing you closer and closer to a blinding end.

You don’t answer him, can’t answer him even if you tried, but he keeps going. “This is what you get, for teasing me like a goddamn minx.” His thrusts get impossibly sharper at his words, and your eyes roll farther into your skull, your jaw hanging loose.

“I d-didn’t-“ you’re trying to defend yourself, tell him that you truly weren’t trying to tease him but the words get lost in your throat with a choke when he grinds into you, pinning his chest to your back and forcing your arch deeper.

“Yeaaah, you did.” He wriggles a palm in between you and the floor, sliding down to where you’re connected just to circle two fingers mind-numbingly against your clit. “Cmon, tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you wanted this. Needed this.”

And you do, just not through words. Your brain can’t really form them right now, but he hears just how much you need this through your broken moan against the carpet, through the way your pussy squelches around his dick like it was screaming for more.

“Don’t worry, honey. Won’t make you beg any more.” But you don’t know if he’s talking to you, or your pussy.

Whatever, as long as he doesn’t stop, you don’t care.

And stop, he doesn’t. Not until you’re squeezing around him with your orgasm so hard you both see stars, not until his tip is spitting white ribbons against your cervix, not until your knees give out and you both lay spent against the carpet.

And earlier, when you’d been searching under the couch, if you had bent further and waited to hear the creaking of the bedroom door, waited for the telltale sounds of his footsteps stopping suddenly, waited for the feeling of his heated gaze to fall onto your wiggling ass-

-Well, that’s your little secret.

[s-4pphics]

more fratadjacent!ellie and adhdhaving!reader and their impulsive nature because why not fuck it. it’s tuesday.

a lil freaky at the end but nun crazy. mentions of drugs and sex lol

—

“You’re back early.”

Yeah, maybe. Your bottle’s been empty for a day and a half and you're knocking on the devil’s door a week in advance, but who could blame you?

Your productivity was at an all time high throughout these last couple weeks. The schedule was the same; pop one of Ellie’s gifted dexies at 7:30am, inhale a concerning amount of coffee, and breeze through every annotation assignment, paper, project, pre-rec review. Everything, everything. Every fucking bothersome pest that you’ve put off for the better part of the term was completed within a two week time frame.

What the fuck was in that bottle?

Sure, your usual supply redirects your priorities, hushes the distracts that make your brain whirlwind—your work gets finished, but this? “Dextro”? It’s not the dex you know and love. You rode an accomplished high for three days straight. You can’t recall the last time you’ve slept or eaten properly but you don’t want to. The ball of meat in the middle of your skull told you you were satisfied, just as long as you’re dex-ed up.

This may be withdrawals. You’re uncharacteristically twitchy; possibly from the thrill of seeing Head Druglord. Or maybe your body’s trying to force a cleanse to filter all the man-made chemicals out of your body.

You hope your body betrays you. Midterm preparations are around the corner.

“Yeah.”

“Glad to see you’re still around.”

Around meaning alive and not drowning in a pool of your own vomit, you suppose. Cute. Funny. You don’t laugh. “Okay.”

Ellie nods down at your sneakers with that same cunning sparkle. “New shoes?”

“No.” It’s almost their five year anniversary. She smiles a bit too brightly, too prettily. Your fingers won’t stop shaking.

“Need that fill?” Condescendingly hushed, a brow arched in questioning despite already knowing the answer. She looks hot but you can’t process it because you’re out. Muscle memory leads you at all times; one swift reach into the water holder of your backpack for the pill bottle, shoved miraculously with thirty bucks. A repayment for last time.

She doesn’t acknowledge your silent indication of restocking the goddamn jar. “You gotta second? I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

You blink dumbly.

Spidey senses tingle, urge you to freeze or run for your fucking life. Ellie’s a stranger. Albeit weird and hot, but a stranger, the main ones you were trained not to trust. But your best friend trusts her enough to send you her way.

“You can say no, I’ll still stock you.” She snorts.

Temptation is your greatest demon. Your feet answer for you with every step into her apartment.

—

Her residence is surprisingly normal.

Posters. A lot of Greek mythology textbooks. A cracked TV. A ripped squishmallow. There’s a giant star painted on the ceiling. How she managed the lines with such precision is fucking insane. You can barely do the five-lined crossover stars with accuracy, let alone no crosses—

“Do you smoke?” She wisps brightly, interrupting your train of thought.

“Used to. I tweaked once and never touched it again.”

“Shit… maybe I shouldn’t ask you—“

“What is it, Ellie?”

She leans up against her dining table, hands shoved in her hoodie pockets. “I gotta new pack.”

“Congrats.”

She snickers, “I think you’d make a good tester.” She proposes and you squint.

“Do I look like a lab rat?”

She assesses from your head to your busted sneakers with a mischievous glint. “A bit.” She snarks jokingly.

Said stranger is now asking to smoke you out. Free of charge again. The hairs on your arms stand at attention. Freaked the fuck out.

According to filmmakers, the only reason a dealer would ask another stranger to test any product for them is: a vendetta. To kill their ass with no trace, lure them in with white only to shoot them in the face. Or…

Or. Big fucking or.

This may be her flirting. Fucking for free drugs, but you’re not a prostitute. You’re just stupid. And you also haven’t fucked, you hardly know her last name—so maybe not, but it could be. Ellie’s a slut according to everyone that breathes on campus so fucking maybe.

“Are you trying to fuck me?”

You expect an exaggerated reaction—wide eyes, dropped jaw, even a little gasp from the random accusation, but none display. Still a chill pickle.

“No. Are you?”

Your exhale leaves in wobbles. “No.”

“You sound unsure.” She smirks.

“I…”

“Oh?” She hums lowly.

“Shut up.”

“What, you can ask me but I can’t ask you?”

“I-I’m… I—“

She laughs to herself. “If you wanna, we can. Wherever,” she waves a finger around her living room, “just not my room, ‘s messy.”

“This is weird as fuck.”

“You brought it up. Your bottle’s right there...” she lazily points towards the dresser that— oh. Lots of labeled pill bottles, lots of baggies with white shit in them. Lots of green, both smokable and wrapped with rubber bands. How’d you not see that there?

“You can leave that one and go,” she nods towards the one in your hand that holds her cash, “we can fuck, or you can be a tester. Or all three if you’d like, no particular order.”

No fight or flight skills, spidey senses silenced by temptation. Of course this is the outcome.

Your backpack thuds to the floor before you kick your shoes off, eyes locked onto Ellie’s that follow your jerky movements a bit too closely.

“You’re funny.” She mumbles, and your lashes flutter.

“What… what strain?”

A hand leaves her pocket, thumb and index bunched around the corner of a ziploc that holds three pre-rolls, eyes twinkling suggestively.

“Find out.”

[discordantwritings]

Practice Makes Perfect (Katakuri x Reader)

Warnings: gn AFAB! Reader, Reader is normal human size, virgin! Katakuri, some feelings, size difference, big giant ass size difference, it’s basically monsterfucking, oral, premature ejaculation, grinding, frottage

WC: 5.2k

Summary: Katakuri is worried about his lack of experience in the bedroom should he get married off by his mother. You, a kind and concerned friend, are here to help him out.

Notes: this was supposed to be just a little warm up……. Oh well

Tagging: @keiva1000

While neither of you nor Katakuri would say it out loud you were both the closest thing either of you had to a friend. You didn’t verbalize it since it would be improper- you were one of the few high ranking pirates in the Big Mom Pirates that wasn’t a part of the family so you knew your position was precarious. Katakuri had his reputation to think of so you never blamed him for his occasional distance. But in the precious moments you two got alone, both of you relaxed just a little bit.

Like now.

“And that’s all the reports from the morning. Any news from your breakfast with Big Mom?” You sat on the edge of Katakuri’s desk, the only spot in his office that made it so neither of you had to strain your neck to look at each other.

“No new movements of changes to current plans.” Katakuri answers, his slightly muffled voice through his scarf as always but there was something in the way he answered that gave you pause.

“Was there something else?” You know how much he loves his mom- but everyone knows that she can be beyond overbearing.

“She says she wants me to be happy.” Katakuri sighs and you immediately understand the situation.

Everyone knows Big Mom is obsessed with growing her family. And while Katakuri is spared some of the overbearing pushing of his mother due to how much responsibility he took on- Big Mom still wants to see her darling commander in a happy relationship. But for someone like Katakuri finding someone casually isn’t an option and you know how long he’s been pushing back from an arranged marriage.

“Well, it might be nice?” You offer, but you both can easily tell you’re just trying to make him feel better.

“It’s not like I don’t want something like that…” He pulls on the overlap of his scarf, securing it even further on his face. “I just don’t want to force someone to be with me.”

“I know it’s not a great situation but anyone would be lucky to be married to you.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “You’re one of the kindest people I know. I’m sure you would make a wonderful husband.”

It isn’t until you see a blush creep over the edge of his scarf that you realize you might have gone a little too far. It was all honest- perhaps too honest- but you should know better than to be so upfront with him. Despite his cold exterior he’s incredibly soft underneath and the few times you’ve complimented him he’s practically ran away.

“Ah- well-“ You watch him flounder and decide to help out.

“I mean all of your siblings who have had their marriages arranged and that’s worked out pretty well for them! Sure it might take some getting used to but this is a really nice place to live.” You take the heat off of him and watch him relax a bit, still buried more than usual in his scarf.

“I guess…” From his voice you can tell there’s a bit more going on but you decide not to push him just yet.

“Well I have to get going and take these reports but I’ll be back later for the evening debrief?” You grab the reports sized for normal humans and slide off his desk, landing with a small thud.

“Yes, of course.” You can’t see his mouth but you can see the smile in his eyes as you wave goodbye.

You don’t stop thinking about Katakuri having an arraigned marriage for the rest of the day. Big Mom has clearly been bringing it up more recently and as much as you also wanted him to be happy you couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness whenever it was brought up. He was the one person you felt even remotely comfortable around and him getting a partner might disrupt the small world the two of you shared.

Of course, you couldn’t have a crush on your commander. There’s few things that would be worse than that. It would be catastrophic if you pictured yourself with him, spending time in his large embrace, sharing food, seeing what was under that scarf…

So, of course, those are things that are not happening. And even if they were to happen it’s unrealistic for so many reasons. Not only the fact that he was a commander but- well- he was big and you were not. Sometimes you forget that you’re an average size person when you spend your days with the Charlotte family. There’s no way Katakuri would want someone basically a third his size.

You though?

Well you wouldn’t mind being with someone basically triple your size.

It’s shameful the way your mind wanders when you look at his massive hands or the way you’re directly in eye line of his broad chest when you sit on his desk. The way he could overtake you in every sense of the word-

Your body had carried you back to Katakuri’s office for your evening debrief while your head swam with thoughts you quickly shoved deep down as you knocked on his door. Katakuri’s voice calls for you to come in and you really really hope observation haki can’t secretly be used for mind reading.

You take the ladder specifically set for you up to his desk, laying out the fresh reports for him. “Nothing noteworthy, just resupply requests and normal Marine movement.”

“Mhm…” Katakuri looks through the papers but you can tell his eyes are glazing over the words and not actually reading them.

“And tomorrow is a quiet day, just a few meetings that everyone will come to you for.”

“Ok.” He’s still staring at the paper that you know has no interesting information on it.

“Katakuri?”

“Mhm.”

“Katakuri!” You yell, not out of anger but just to get his attention- and it works.

“Ah- sorry- I was just… thinking.” He sets the papers down, adding them to a stack on the corner of his desk.

“You’re not still worried about this arranged marriage thing are you?”

“I… yes I am.” He admits, eyes looking shamefully to the side.

“We talked about this- I know it’s not the best but it’s not like you’ll be holding someone hostage.” You offer, sliding closer to him in an effort to get him to look at you.

“I understand that.” He sighs and finally glances back over to you.

“But?”

“But… it’s-“ He shakes his head and pulls up his scarf more. “Nevermind.”

“Katakuri.” You reach you and gently touch his forearm that’s laying on the desk next to you. “You can talk to me.”

You watch a blush creep up over his scarf at the touch but you don’t move your hand away. “It’s… I don’t want to be crass.”

Now that has you even more curious. “I won’t hold it against you. Besides, if it’s troubling you this much I want to help.”

“It’s- ah-“ He turns his gaze away again but does answer you. “I just have… no… experience.”

Ah.

Well.

Honestly, now that you’re thinking about it, it makes totally sense. Katakuri won’t even show his face to anyone and you’ve never seen him be casual with anyone besides very close family members or you. He was someone who took his duty very seriously so running off in his youth and having fun would be out of the question too.

“I’m sure the right person wouldn’t care about that.” You reassure him honestly.

“But there are certain expectations- and I can’t even be sure it would be the right person since I won’t have that much of a say-“ To hear a man of few words nervously ramble catches you off guard and makes you realize how painfully insecure he must be about this.

“Katakuri- hey-“ You lean into your hold on his arm.

“And- I mean there are only so many people in the world as tall as I am Mama was lucky enough to find people with comparable heights for everyone else but what if that isn’t an option-“

“There are ways to make it work.” Both of your hands are on his arm at this point, leaning to try and catch his gaze.

“And I could just accidentally hurt-“ He stops mid sentence as he processes what you said to him.

There a moment of painful silence as both of you catch up on your words. You’re probably blushing just as hard as Katakuri at this point, realizing where the conversation was headed.

“I mean- that-“ It was your turn to flounder, embarrassed that even a sliver of your thoughts had breached the surface. “There are… less than traditional ways to- never mind!”

You pat his arm and stand up, planning on leaving the desk and hoping you bash your head on the way down so you can forget this ever happened. However, as you’re about to do so Katakuri’s hand hovers in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. You don’t turn to look back at him but you can still hear him clearly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but…” There’s a long pause and you turn to see him staring down at you, gaze surprisingly serious. “I would be indebted to you if you gave me some guidance.”

“Of course.” You answer before you can think yourself out of it. “What are friends for?”

There’s something that flashes behind his eyes at your words but you can’t read him before he’s awkwardly settling back into his hair and giving you space to sit down again. You sit back down, suddenly aware of just how hot your body has gotten.

It’s probably best to start easy. “So you haven’t- I mean I know you keep your face covered- have you ever kissed someone?”

“When I was really young, just some silly childhood stuff…” He’s back to not making eye contact with you, nose buried in the scarf. “But even kissing is…”

You’ve heard stories about what lays under his scarf- all sorts of tall tales that you’re sure aren’t true. You scoot closer to the edge of the desk.

“Can I see?” You ask softly- hopefully.

You watch his hand slowly creep up to his scarf, hesitating at the frayed edges. It’s unnatural to see him scared. You’ve watched him decimate hundreds of Marines without a change in expression- but here even you could notice the fear.

“Just don’t- please-“ You’re not sure what he’s asking but you nod knowing you would do anything for him.

He slowly pulls the scarf down and away from his face and it’s all too clear why he’s hidden that part of himself away. Large fangs rest at the corner of where his mouth should end but you see the thin line where his mouth continues close to his cheekbones. Despite how unnatural it is you can’t help but feel like it fits his face perfectly. The contrast of his pink blush against the sharp fangs is so perfectly him- nothing looks out of place. He’s watching your reaction closely, you can tell he’s using his observation haki from the way his eyes narrow but you don’t have to hide a single thing.

“Katakuri you’re perfect.”

You watch your honesty sink in with him, long moments of silence as he grows impossibly redder before he forces his gaze away to the ceiling.

“I guess- ah- well you can see why kissing would be a problem.” Thankfully he doesn’t move his scarf back up, content for now to tug at its ends nervously.

“Well…” You hum thoughtfully. “There would have to be some caution but I don’t think it’s a problem. Besides, if a person isn’t as big as you are then their mouth could fit right in between your bigger teeth.”

“I guess…” You watch him shift in his chair, occasionally glancing back over at you before refocusing back on a spot on the ceiling.

“So, see, nothing that can’t be worked around.” You nudge his knee with your foot, trying to make the air in the room less heavy.

“You’re right…”

There’s more quiet as the next part of the conversation looms, both of you knowing the real issues he was thinking about. You try not to be eager to talk about it, not wanting to push him too far and not wanting to come across as some pervert. You give him the space he needs and after a minute he speaks up again.

“I just don’t see a way around the… size problem.” His voice is quiet and breathy and you force yourself to ignore the heat rising in your stomach.

“There’s a lot that can be done without… insertion.” You cringe a little at your own word choice, but that was the least sexually charged term you could come up with.

“But I thought…” You see a small flash of embarrassed panic as his eyes dart back to you. “I mean- I’m aware of the other things! I just didn’t think that was, you know, enough…”

“It’s enough. More than enough if you know what you are doing.” Your gaze was locked on him and it seems like neither of you could look away anymore.

“Oh that’s… good to know. Very good.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears as you fight to keep your face normal as he slowly responds. “I guess that I just… need to know what I’m doing.”

“And I’m sure that you would be receptive to learning.” You know that not all men are but you know that Katakuri would be.

“I like to think I would.”

The way he’s looking at you so intensely and speaking so softly- you throw caution to the wind.

“I can help you learn, if you want.”

“Please.” His response is so quiet you almost think you’re making it up in your mind but when his large hand softly runs over your leg you know it was real.

You nod, not trusting your voice in the moment as his hand travels to the outside of your thigh and his thumb rubs comfortingly into your side. He leans in, large face taking up your whole vision as he hesitates just a hair away from you.

“We should probably go to my room.” His breath fans over your face as he talks and you nod, even if your body is screaming that you need to touch him now. “Is it alright if I carry you?”

The idea makes you giddier than you care to admit. “I’d like that.”

He smiles down at you as he stands up, easily picking you up with one hand and holding you close to his chest. Instinctively you reach out to steady yourself against him, your hands finding his chest. Your face burns as you realize you’re practically groping his pec but that doesn’t stop you from leaning into his skin.

You’re thankful there’s no one in the halls between his office and his room, unsure how either of your would explain this situation. He quickly pushes into his room, locking the door behind him before gently setting you down on his large bed. As much as you try not to you’re right at eye level to stare at Katakuri’s crotch. His large bulge strains against his leather pants to the point it must be painful for him. Before you can fully process just how big his cock is you force your gaze up to his face where you find him watching you carefully. Smiling up at him you push yourself further up into the bed, settling your back against his large pillows.

“Come here.” You say softly and he follows your request automatically, crawling overtop of you.

You reach your hand up to hold his face and he leans into your hand. You don’t push him to go faster, letting him slowly adjust to your physical contact as he hovers above you, propped up on his elbows. His chest presses down into your legs, a comforting weight against your body.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, full of sincerity.

You nod and he slowly moves down, hesitating just before his lips touch yours. From there you close the gap, gently pressing your lips to his. Your mouth fits snuggly between his fangs, only the smooth outsides press into your cheeks. Katakuri is frozen against your mouth and after a few second you pull away and look up at him with concern.

“If you don’t want-“ Before you can get the rest of your sentence out he surges back down, eagerly pressing his mouth to yours again.

He’s clumsy as moves his lips against yours but he more than makes up for it in how enthusiastic he is. Katakuri isn’t pushy though, letting you take the lead as you mouth molds to his. You take it slow and steady as he learns to match your motions. He’s a quick study though and the both of you easily transition to him being in control of the kiss. You don’t pull away until your lungs force you to, gasping as he nuzzles your nose with his.

After you catch your breath you press one more quick kiss to his mouth before speaking. “How do you feel about kissing now?”

His wide mouth cracks into a smile. “I think I like it but I’m not quite sure yet…”

You giggle as he captures your mouth in a kiss again, now more confident in his movements. You let your hands tangle in his hair as you lose yourself in the kiss. Eventually he releases your mouth to press more kisses into your jaw and neck. You can’t stop the breathy moan that eases out of your throat at his actions as your hands pull at his hair. He clearly hears you because he stops in his tracks, darkened eyes glancing back up to you.

“Tell me what to do next.”

You nearly faint at how sincere he is- but at the same time there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind that you might be using him. “If you lay on your back I can-“

“Tell me how to please you.” He shifts so his weight is held by one elbow, large hand running down your side.

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, barely clinging onto your reservations.

“Please let me.” Fingers lay at the waist of your uniform and the last coherent thought flies out of your mind when he pushes your shirt up and kisses your stomach.

You lift your hips up to quickly shove your pants and underwear down to your thighs before Katakuri helps them the rest of the way, tugging them off your legs and discarding them. He moves down the bed slightly, large hand splayed over your left hip and thigh gently keeping your legs open. Your breath is heavy as he stares between your legs and you fight off the urge to be insecure.

“Tell me- show me-” His breath tingles on the soft skin inside your thighs.

You let one of your hands drift down your body and between your legs, fingers seeking out your folds. It’s no surprise to you just how wet you are as you use two fingers to push apart your folds, to show Katakuri what you’re doing. Your other hand follows and you use your pointer finger to slowly draw circles around your clit. A whine drags its way out of your throat, already so worked up and on edge.

Katakuri watches you in a trance, fingers digging into your skin on their own accord as you whine and moan at your own motions. Ready to take it further you use your hand previously holding your folds open to dip inside you, two fingers sliding in with no resistance.

“You don’t- fuck- you don’t have to be inside but a lot of people like a- a mixture of internal and external-“ You do your best to explain as you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the lewd sound of your slick loud between your words.

“My fingers might be too big.” He’s not wrong as you watch them drift to the inside of your thigh and close to where you are working yourself.

“Don’t have to- you can use your mouth if you-“ Just the idea of him eating you out has your walls clenching around your fingers.

“Can I try- please-“ He sounds desperate, on the edge of begging you.

“Yes- fuck please-“

You let your hands drop as Katakuri uses his fingers to part your folds. His other hand maneuvers your legs up and around his face, your knees settling near his temples as he gets his mouth closer to where you need him. You watch his mouth split open and his tongue slip out, anticipation killing you as he moves slowly. Finally his tongue moves, the large muscle dragging a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit and you moan loud at the sensation. One of your hands grips into his hair as he repeats the motion, tongue digging deeper into your folds this time.

“Is that good- you taste good-“ He doesn’t even wait for your answer before he dives back in again, movements gaining confidence.

“Yeah- fuck- just like that just-“ You grind your hips into his face when his tongue reaches your clit again and he understands what you need.

He uses the tip of his tongue to press against your bud before sliding the thick muscle down again to slip between your folds. Slowly he presses his tongue into you, the size already overwhelming compared to your fingers. Despite his careful movements he pushes in too far too fast and you pull his hair hard.

“Hey- easy-“ You warn him and he pulls out of you quickly to look at you with concern.

“I’m sorry did I hurt you? We can stop I-“

“Just too much too soon- you just have to let me stretch out a bit.” You run your hand through his hair, petting him to calm him down.

“Okay, I can do that.” He presses a kiss to your thigh before diving back in.

He’s careful but he’s messy- part of it due to just how big his mouth and tongue are really. You feel your slick and his saliva coat your thighs as he laps at you, tongue seeking out every inch of you. The next time he pushes into you he’s much slower, letting the muscle flex inside you as you writhe beneath him. It’s wonderful but it’s just not quite enough. Your free hand goes between your legs and you almost have your fingers on your clit before Katakuri sends you a glance that stops you in your tracks.

“No-“ He says, barely pulling away. “Let me.”

You retract your hand and feel Katakuri’s thumb move to take its place, pressing down lightly as his tongue snakes it way back inside you. You swear loudly as he moves, grinding your hips into his fingers and tongue as he lets you use him to chase your pleasure.

“Just need you to- just move your finger a bit-“ You guide him and he obediently follows your direction, thumb moving in small circles like your finger had done before.

Looking down at him you watch as he’s lost in your taste, moaning into you at every grind of your hips and pull at his hair. You don’t miss the roll of his hips on the bed, no doubt desperate for the friction of the mattress beneath him. It’s all too much for you and you cry out his name as you cum, white blocking your vision. Katakuri doesn’t stop though, eagerly lapping at your juices even when you regain the strength to pull at his hair.

“Kat- fuck- baby stop-“ You don’t even register that you’ve said the pet name as he finally pulls off of you, confused.

“Did I hurt you again?”

“No ‘m just sensitive and it was a little too much right after I came.” You explain with a dazed smile.

“So you…” You nod and he smiles wide. “Didn’t want to assume-“

“Me screaming your name is a safe indicator.” You say with a small laugh.

He rests his head down, squishing your thigh and stomach a bit but you don’t mind the pressure at all, combing your fingers through his soft pink hair. The two of you sit like this for a bit, the silence comforting. Eventually though, you break that silence.

“I know you don’t like laying on your back but if you just want to sit up-“

“Oh- um- I’m-“

You’re a little confused at his reaction so you prop yourself up lightly to get a better look at him. “This is a mutual thing Katakuri- I don’t want to just-“

“Please, really don’t worry about me-“ You watch his face bloom with pink again and it clicks for you.

“Did you finish already?” You ask softly, no traces of judgement in your words.

“I’m sorry-“

“No- don’t be sorry.” You push yourself down so your face is level with his. “If you ask me it’s really hot that you came just from eating me out.”

“Oh- well-“ You press a light kiss to his mouth before he can stumble any further with his words.

“If you don’t want more I understand but if you can go another round there’s still some things on my mind…”

He captures your mouth in a messy kiss, a far cry from the chaste one you gave a moment ago. You can taste yourself on his lips as you’re pressed back into the bed by how eager he is. When you push on his shoulder lightly he breaks away and lets you breathe.

“Just don’t tell anyone about me being on my back.” He says seriously and you nod.

He rolls over, careful not to squish you in the process. As he does so you throw your shirt off, finally fully naked. Once he’s settled you climb onto him, his muscles flexing under you as you settle on his lower stomach. You watch as his hands ball into the sheets, forcing himself to stay still. As you slowly slide back though, he catches you off guard with a quiet question.

“When you said you had some more things on your mind… have you thought about this before?”

That freezes you in your tracks, embarrassment and shame filling up your stomach and catching in your throat. You lock your gaze to the side of him as you try and find your words. Logic tells you it’s stupid to be embarrassed at this point- he’d already enthusiastically ate you out- but your emotions dragged you down as you wonder if this really is just a practice run for him.

“You probably don’t want to know.” You answer, suddenly aware of how naked and cold you are.

“I just want to know if- hey…” One of his hands untangles from the sheets and a finger lightly presses against your chin to make you look at him. “I just want to know if you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

That catches you off guard and while you think for a second he might be lying to you you see the honestly in his eyes. Of course. Why else would he show his face to you, lay on his back for you. You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner.

“I have been.” You confess, leaning your face into his hand.

You let yourself enjoy his touch, the warmth of his skin finally seeping into you and giving you the confidence to slink back down his body. You drag yourself down over the bulge in his pants, his cock already hard again. You slowly undo the large belt and fastenings of his pants, opening them up to see the dark patch in his boxers. Taking both your hands you tug the elastic waistband down and his cock springs out.

“I’ll just-“ One large hand gently picks you up as he raises his hips and shoves both layers down past his ass with the other, setting you back down where you were.

You would say thank you if you weren’t caught up staring at Katakuri’s cock. Obviously, it’s big. He’s big it makes sense but there’s a large gap between knowing something and seeing something. He’s flushed a beautiful shade of pink, large veins standing out along the underside. Your hand moves on its own accord to slide up it and the second you touch him you hear him groan. You scoot up closer next to him, and you would compare the length and girth to about the size of your thigh.

“Ah- I get the sensitivity thing now-“ He gasps and you smile.

“I have an idea- just let me-“ You swing your leg up and over so you’re straddling his length.

You’re still slick with saliva and your own juices, making it an easy glide as your grind yourself against his length. Katakuri’s hips buck up and you fall forward but before he can apologize you take advantage of this new position, licking at his smooth tip as you let your body slide against him.

“Fuck- that’s-“ You have the prefect view to watch his abdominals contract after every slide and lick you give him.

Your movements are not entirely selfless though, angling your hips so your clit grinds against him, bumping against his veins. You use your feet to slide up and down but it’s a bit hard to find a good rhythm as your legs aren’t used to this kind of movement.

“Need your help. I want you to slide me up and down.”

Katakuri looks at you, hand hesitating in the air. “But- I don’t want to just use you-“

“I want you to use me- please- this feels good for me too I just can’t keep it up.” You beg with him and that’s all the encouragement he needs as his large hand wraps around your midsection and slowly moves you.

There’s something about him using you, letting the soft skin of your stomach and thighs and folds grind against him, that makes your head go fuzzy. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before and it was bliss. It’s not very long at all until you feel Katakuri’s dick twitching under you and you know he’s going to cum again.

“Just let go for me, please Katakuri I want to see you-“

Your pleas are more than enough as you watch thick ropes of cum spill from his tip and onto his stomach. He holds you down as he cums and you don’t mind at all, getting a great view of his face from here. Eventually he relaxes and you slide off of his cock and wiggle your way up to his shoulder to lay your face next to him.

“Feel good?” You ask nuzzling into his neck.

“Very good.” He responds, still catching his breath. “Did… did you..?”

“No but that’s okay. Felt good.”

He huffs and you’re about to comfort him again but suddenly you’re flipped around with your back on the bed again. He stares down at you with a now confident smile.

“I think I could use some more practice then.”

[naffeclipse]

A Drive

Reader x Mob Bosses!Sun & Moon

Commission Info

Many thanks to @vixenfoxpup for giving me a go at the mob boss brothers. They are, I'm afraid to say, still dastardly. The mob bosses decide to take you away on a little drive, but they discover something along the dark and quiet city roads, something you're not telling them.

Content Warning for suggestive themes, abduction, implied abuse, and bruises.

———

You step carefully down the street, jacket pulled tight around you, weary of each rattle and grumble from passing cars, and erupting laughter from two men just outside of a speakeasy. The coils of anxiety within you are twining so tightly, you fear something will tear. You are too on edge for a city that is so lively. 

Inhaling the thick fumes of the city, catching oil and smoke and something much more rotten underneath it all, you continue towards your home. It’s been a long day, a long week. The sky is turning red from a bleeding sunset, and the light is quickly fleeting from the dark and dreary streets. 

You might have quickened your stride if you weren’t so exhausted. A heaviness pulses behind your eyes. For several days at your job, you’ve done nothing but struggle with prose and putting together a comprehensive piece for your boss to throw into the newspaper. 

The ghost of pain flares. Unwittingly, your fingers slip inside your jacket sleeve to caress a dark blossom of purple and blue over your wrist. Your skin seems so delicate though it’s not yet broken as it holds back the damage. 

You just have to get home. Taking a corner, the street seems to fall dead before your eyes. What would usually be bustling is not hush with the shadows thickly draping the sidewalk and the slick road. Fire burns in street lamps, solitary beacons in the infant night, as doors are shut and windows drawn close, and you wonder what happened to the businesses in this area. 

The walk home hadn’t seemed so lonely before. There is another you can blame on such a thing but you bite back any accusations and duck your head to stride quickly to your apartment. Maybe you could actually catch some shut-eye and not disappoint your boss tomorrow.

There’s always something to report, something going down, someone murdered and someone found washed up in the river. Corruption thrives in the festering wounds of the city, and you bear witness. 

There has to be something someone can do. On top of your private life struggles, a helplessness sinks down and drags you into the muck of the city. 

The last rays of the dying red sunlight disappear into a deep blue twilight, and you think about lying down on your bed only to twist and turn, fruitlessly chasing some hours of snoozing. Yellow lights guide your way home, and you stare into dark buildings with indifferent streets falling behind you.

Your pulse thrums in your ears. Evening your breath, you force your stride to not show any fear. The wrong person might not like your scent, might see someone without an escort and without any means of protection, and want to try their luck.

You don’t need any more bruises tonight.

At the end of the street, a vehicle rumbles into sight. Turning into view, great big headlights cut through the night and blind you momentarily. Forced to avert your gaze, you catch the deep growl of the engine as it creeps down the street. Your vision settles with two blots of afterimages seared into them, but you catch the dark make and model of the vehicle. It’s black as a hearse and sleek as polished onyx. 

Your heart immediately leaps into your throat. You turn away, immediately walking in the other direction. Squaring your shoulders and holding your head high, you try to not run—it might push them into a chase, like a predator unwilling to allow its prey to escape.

A dozen answers race through your mind: a hit and run, an ordered target, a problem that needs to be solved with lead and gasoline. It was always a possibility in your line of work—and you’ve rocked the boat on plenty of circles within the city from the counselors’ office all the way down to the low life gangsters that seek to keep polluting the people.

Your lungs constrict and deflate. Swallowing back a whimper, you continue striding purposefully down the sidewalk as if the black vehicle isn’t crawling behind you, lights fully placed onto your figure. Your shadow is startled and jumpy, twitching arms unable to decide to prepare for a fight or to run all the way to someone who might bear witness to the crime about to occur. 

You curse quietly in the echoes of your mind. You don’t want to die like this. You don't want to die. 

Behind you, a sudden stutter in the engine sounds as it jerks to a stop. 

Your heart explodes in your chest, adrenaline fueled into the recesses of your limbs, and you take off like an alley cat escaping the jaws of a mutt.

Doors open and footsteps pound behind you. Only a precious few strides closes the distance, and hands seize you, wrapping around your waist and snatching your legs before the familiar scent of bourbon and cigarette smoke reaches your senses.

That does not quell your furious struggle, attempting to kick your legs and claw at your abductors, but they haul you back to the vehicle and stuff you inside as if you were a mere lamb.

Before you can blink, doors slam shut, the vehicle lurches forward, and you’re caught in the darkness behind tinted glass. Fabric rustles before you’re pulled neatly onto the mob boss’s lab.

“Sun,” you utter, your throat thick with panic. Across the plush seats and dingy trails of cigarette smoke, sits his brother. You meet his gaze briefly before lowering it. “Moon.”

“Turtle dove,” a cheerful coo slips into your ear. The solar theme animatronic, crowned with bright yellow rays and a notorious infamy for his underworld business practice, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His arms trap you firmly against his chest. “The attempt to fly away from us was precious, but you wouldn’t have to lose your breath if you simply stayed where you were.”

You offer a noncommittal hum, unable to argue but unwilling to concede. 

Across the seat, Moon sits in the darkness, his pale eyes glowing red with a simper. He fixes his fedora with two fingers pinching the brim.

“If you wanted us to chase you, say the word,” his growl is low and saccharine, causing your pulse to jump, “I would have enjoyed giving you a better chance.”

“What chance would that be?” you ask warily. Sun’s hand slips down your cheek with warm, slender digits leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

“Next to nothing,” Moon chuckles, “but it would have had more sport in it.”

“For you,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes as Sun leans closely behind you. His hand softly wraps around the column of your throat, just under your chin.

“For me,” Moon grins wickedly. Then brusquely, he says, “Sunny, leave enough to share.”

“I’m not overindulging,” Sun’s voice, bouncing and dark, warms your ears until they turn red, “Not yet, anyways.”

His thumb strokes your pulse. Held still in his grasp, you fight the urge to gulp as Sun hums thoughtfully.

“Dollface, we’ve been so worried! We thought you might have forgotten about us!”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” you answer meekly. You glance down to his sharp suit. His half-lidded gaze peers around you, his eyes pale and haunting. 

You try to squirm free, to find some space where you’re not overwhelmed by the rich scent of his clothes and the metallic tang that almost hangs like blood in the air, but Sun leaves no room for escape. His arm cinches tightly over your waist. His faceplate is smooth and sleek, and his malleable mouth presses a kiss to the back of your neck, just above your jacket collar. You flinch slightly from the pressure on the sore and sensitive bruise circling your neck like a choker before flailing to cover it up.

“Where are you taking me?” you squeak in fright. Frantically, you up turn the collar of your jacket to conceal the bruises once more.

Sun becomes frozen, and you shift frantically in his lap. You almost turn to see his expression but dread what you will find. His hand falls away from your neck but they hover close to your arms, as if he wishes to grab you and whisk you away somewhere. 

“A little tour of the city,” Moon answers, and seizing his opportunity, reaches across the space and plucks you from Sun’s arms. 

The mob boss slides you onto his lap. The city lights flash past, dulled by the windows, and the night hangs heavier still outside. Your heart thunders within you. Silver and dark hands slip down your sides, rubbing you gently as if to soothe the anxiety boiling over within you. His touch slides down your legs, carefully caressing until you shiver. 

Sun sits strangely silent, as taut as the trigger of a gun. His expression catches on flashes of streetlamps, unreadable, but his eyes are wide and piercing the darkness. 

Moon at last cups your chin and turns it towards him. Attention ripped away from his brother, you struggle to not whimper under his daunting expression. His red glow dusts your cheeks. A frown forms on his face plate. He lifts a thumb and draws it in a half moon underneath your eye.

“When’s the last time you had a good night’s rest?” he murmurs. Your eyelids flutter, wondering how terrible you must look. 

You cage your tongue within your mouth, “Last night.”

His optics narrow into thin slits of red. “Naughty thing. Perhaps I should take you back with us. You would have a proper bed, and peace, and Sun and I to help you drift into dreams. Doesn’t that sound like heaven, my dear?”

You stiffen, and quickly try to deny your sleepless night, but pushing back against Moon only results in your wrist being captured.

Pain pulses, sucking in sharply through your teeth. Moon immediately becomes alert. He releases your chin to rip your jacket sleeve back and expose the dark circle wrapping your wrist like a bracelet. In response, you pull it back down.

“Take me home,” you utter.  

“What happened?” Moon growls. He lifts his head, refusing to release your arm though he grips it gingerly. “Who did this?”

“It was only me,” you answer, but you avert your gaze. “I fell down a step and hit it on the railing.”

“An accident,” Moon rasps, much lower. You fear he doesn’t believe you.

“Yes.” You unwittingly meet Sun’s gaze, and his hands have curled into iron-like fists. He still says nothing. The weight of his expression burns through you.

“Please,” you look at neither of them but plead with both, “Take me home.”

You catch the briefest glance shared between the brothers, silent and stormy. Moon shifts you back to the seat where Sun resides, and settles you between them. The quiet stretches as Sun gives a signal with his hand, and the driver turns a corner on the street. Instead of diving downtown, the vehicle returns to the higher streets where you were abducted. 

Sun’s hands caress your hair softly, twisting the strands between his fingers. A shiver rises up and over your scalp at the sweetness of his playfulness. The burn of his gaze resides on the back of your neck. Likewise, Moon’s touch does not leave your hand. His other strokes your knuckles and slips between your fingers until you shudder from the sensitive traces. 

Your street comes back into view, lonely and quiet and dark. The car parks quietly before your apartment building. A concern of them knowing where you leave is filed away for another time.

For several moments, neither mob bosses move, and you are trapped between them.

Sun grins but there is little joy in it, “We’ll see you again soon, turtle dove.”

“Very soon,” Moon echoes, his eyes darker, almost bordering on black before he at last opens the door for you.

You step out, freed. The black car peels away, leaving a scent of burnt rubber. You stand and stare at the vehicle turning away in the distance.

They shouldn’t have looked too close. Now you sit with a fear that they will go digger where they shouldn’t. It shouldn't matter at all to them.

You rub your wrist before touching the back of your neck. 

Though, this once, it matters to you that they’re involved.

[voidsxntry]

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER THREE I series masterlist WC: 5.6k

WARNINGS:

angst, language, nose bleed, headaches, asshole parents, pov switch, smoking, ron’s mean, roommate oc, flashback is italicized, let me know if i missed any

AUTHORS NOTE:

big thanks to the amazing @amiableness and @mischievousmoony for reading and helping me with this chapter! i love you both so much! couldn’t do it without you both!

hopefully this answers some questions you guys had! i had fun writing this!

After a restless night, you wake up feeling somewhat refreshed, though a faint unease still lingers, like a shadow just out of sight. You push the feeling aside, blaming it on the inevitable tension of the upcoming war. No one could expect to feel fully relaxed until it’s all over.

Determined to shake off the dread, you pull on your house uniform and head out to meet the trio in your usual spot, hoping the familiar routine will help steady your nerves.

As you fumble with your crooked tie, cursing under your breath at its refusal to cooperate, you’re so absorbed in the task that you don’t notice someone approaching until it’s almost too late. You barely manage to stop yourself from crashing into them. When you look up, it’s Luna, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watches you wrestle with the stubborn knot.

“Morning,” she says softly, her voice like a gentle breeze. “Your tie seems to be having a bit of a rebellion.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “It’s not the only thing,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Luna steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours as she takes over the task of fixing your tie. “There,” she says, her touch light but sure. “Sometimes, things just need a little extra patience.”

You’re about to thank her when she suddenly tilts her head, looking at you with that faraway gaze she’s known for.

“I think today will be important,” she muses, as if she’s sharing a secret with the universe.

You blink, caught off guard. “What makes you say that?”

Luna smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Just a feeling,” she replies, before turning and drifting away as if pulled by some unseen force, leaving you standing there, tie now perfectly straight, and the uneasy feeling from before somehow softened by her presence.

Reeling from your conversation with Luna, you continue walking through the castle until you spot Hermione and Ron waiting at your usual spot. But there’s no sign of Harry, which is strange—he’s always the first to arrive.

“Where’s Harry?” you ask, looking around.

“Forgot something in the library,” Ron replies, rolling his eyes. “Said he’d meet us there.”

You nod, though Ron’s irritation catches you off guard. He must’ve had a rough morning already.

The three of you head to the Great Hall and find your seats. As soon as you sit down, you start piling food onto your plate. After missing lunch and dinner yesterday, you’re starving.

The chatter of the hall is a welcome distraction, and as you bite into a piece of bacon, the savory flavor makes you sigh in contentment.

As you chew, you turn to Hermione, eager to share something that’s been on your mind. “Guess what weird piece of clothing I found in my dorm last night?” you ask, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

Hermione raises an eyebrow, already playing along. “Don’t tell me it was Grace again?”

“It was Grace!” you laugh, enjoying how well she knows your roommate’s antics. “I found a Slytherin tie and a couple of jumpers by my bed. Honestly, I hope they didn’t do anything on my bed,” you add, making a face.

Hermione’s eyes widen, but before she can respond, you remember something else. “Oh, and I’ve been meaning to ask you guys,” you say, pulling a small locket from under your shirt.

You fumble with the chain a bit, trying to unsnag it from the loose thread on your tie. “Do you remember where I got this locket?”

You hold it up, letting the gold catch the light as you rotate it in your fingers. Ron opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get a word out, Harry suddenly appears at your side, his expression tense.

“Ron, Hermione, I need to talk to you—now,” Harry says, his voice urgent. He grabs both of them by the shoulders, startling all three of you.

“What’s going on?” you ask, but Harry’s already pulling them to their feet.

“Sorry, Trouble. We’ll be right back,” he says quickly before dragging them out of the hall, leaving you behind.

You watch them go, feeling a pang of exclusion. They’ve always had their secrets, but it still stings to be left out. You poke at your food, appetite waning, and glance around the Great Hall at the other students, all absorbed in their own lives. The noise that was comforting a moment ago now feels distant and hollow.

As you finish what you can manage, the morning owl post arrives, letters and packages dropping onto the tables. You’re surprised when two letters land in front of you instead of the usual one. You pick up the one from your parents first, already bracing yourself for the sharp words you know are coming. Carefully, you break the seal and unfold the letter.

“We heard you had an accident and fell. That is no excuse to fall behind in your studies. Make sure you catch up on any missed work immediately and seek extra credit if possible. You need to follow in your sister’s footsteps or you’ll never amount to anything—”

The words blur as a sharp pain stabs through your head. Your vision swims, and the hall around you seems to tilt.

You blink, trying to clear your head, when you see Theodore standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you.

“What are you doing out here?” you mutter, your voice thick with the remnants of the pain.

“I could ask you the same, Tesoro,” he replies, stepping closer. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern in it. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the courtyard.

You turn away, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m not in the mood, Nott.”

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he reaches out, gently catching your arm as you start to move away. “Hey, I’m not here to cause trouble,” he says softly. “Just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

For a moment, you consider brushing him off, but something in his voice makes you pause. You sigh, the fight draining out of you as you sink back down onto the bench.

He sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. The silence stretches between you, but it doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected. After a while, you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket and hand it to him without a word.

He takes it, glancing at you before he starts reading. You watch his expression harden as he scans the lines, his jaw tightening with each word. When he’s finished, he folds the letter neatly and hands it back to you.

“They’re wrong, you know,” he says quietly. “You’re worth more than that.”

You look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” you whisper, though the words feel inadequate.

Theodore leans back, looking up at the sky. “You know, sometimes burning things like that helps,” he says casually, as if suggesting the most normal thing in the world. “It’s like telling them to go to hell.”

You blink, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Burn it?”

He nods. “Yeah. Why keep something that only hurts you?”

You consider his words for a moment, then slowly nod. “Yeah, okay. Let’s burn it.”

A small smile tugs at his lips as you take your wand out, feeling a little lighter. “Incendio,” you whisper, and the letter catches fire, the flames consuming the harsh words. You watch as the paper crumples and turns to ash, a strange sense of relief washing over you.

“Thanks, Theodore,” you say, glancing at him with a genuine smile. Somehow, he’s made the weight on your chest feel a little lighter.

“Trouble! Trouble!” Harry’s urgent voice pulls you back to reality. You’re still in the Great Hall, with Harry gripping your shoulders, his face etched with concern.

“What… what happened?” you ask, feeling disoriented. Your hand instinctively moves to your face, where you feel the warm, sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

“You’re bleeding,” Harry says, his eyes wide. “We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey, now.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, pulling away slightly. “I can go on my own. You should get to class.”

Harry hesitates, worry etched on his face, but Hermione steps in, gently pushing him aside. “I’ll stay with her,” she says, giving Harry a reassuring nod.

As you wipe the blood from your nose, Hermione takes you by the arm and guides you out of the Great Hall. You can feel the weight of curious stares from your classmates, but you focus on Hermione’s calm presence beside you.

“I don’t want to see Madam Pomfrey,” you start to protest, a hint of anxiety creeping into your voice. You know you should go, but something inside you resists. That vivid memory from earlier—it felt so real. But why was Theodore Nott, of all people, in it?

“I know,” Hermione replies softly, her voice soothing. “We’ll go to your dorm instead. You can rest there.”

Her understanding surprises you, as if she knows exactly what’s weighing on your mind. You try to piece together the memory. It lingers, just out of reach, teasing you with its importance.

You’re lost in thought, your surroundings blurring into insignificance until Hermione pulls you into your dorm room. She sits you down on your rumpled bed, her face etched with concern.

“Hermione, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to steady your racing thoughts as you notice the tension in her posture.

Hermione takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with how to begin.

“Something happened… something we didn’t want you to find out like this.”

A cold knot forms in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, then says carefully, “The fall you think you had… it wasn’t a fall. You were hit by a spell—by accident.”

Your mind races, trying to make sense of her words. “A spell? What kind of spell?”

“A memory charm,” Hermione says quietly, her eyes locking onto yours. “It was meant to erase specific memories. But it didn’t go as planned, and you were caught in the crossfire.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “A memory charm… but I remember everything, don’t I?”

Hermione shakes her head slightly. “Not everything. We think it’s caused gaps, places where something important used to be but isn’t anymore.”

Your heart pounds as you try to wrap your mind around what she’s saying. “What did I forget? How much have I lost?”

“That’s the problem,” Hermione says, her voice gentle. “We can’t exactly tell you what’s missing. We’re trying to figure it out, but it’s tricky. We didn’t want to tell you until we had more answers.”

You feel a mix of fear and anger rising. “So, you were just going to let me walk around not knowing?”

“No!” Hermione says quickly. “We were going to tell you, we just needed time to understand it ourselves. But we found you unresponsive and bleeding…”

You sit in stunned silence, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What now?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ll work through this together,” Hermione promises. “We’ll do everything we can to help you recover what you’ve lost, or at least figure out what happened.”

Her words are meant to comfort you, but the reality of missing pieces of your life—of not knowing what’s been taken—leaves you feeling detached. Hermione remains by your side, her presence a steady source of reassurance as you struggle to process this overwhelming revelation.

Theos pov: prior day

Theo hadn’t had much time to process the chaos Potter had unleashed. The shock of learning that you no longer remembered him, followed by the sting of your angry outburst, had left him feeling numb, as if he were moving through the day in a fog. He wasn’t even sure how he had made it back to the dorm. Everything felt surreal, as if he were watching someone else’s life unravel before his eyes.

He barely registered walking into the common room. Even Mattheo’s attempts to get his attention seemed distant and muted, like he was hearing them through water. It wasn’t until Mattheo physically grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a shake that Theo snapped back to reality.

“Salazar, Theo, you really zoned out there,” Mattheo said with a hint of concern, though he tried to keep it light. His eyes scanned the room. “Where’s Trouble?”

The question hit Theo like a punch to the gut. His body tensed, and the words he needed to say seemed to lodge in his throat. How could he possibly explain what had happened? How could he tell his best mate that he’d been secretly fighting against everything their house stood for, and that you—his girlfriend—had been caught in the crossfire?

Mattheo would probably tell him that he deserved it, that this was the price of betraying his house. Or worse, he might report it to his father, who would ensure that Voldemort dealt with Theo personally.

“She… she had a nasty fall yesterday,” Theo forced the words out, his voice strained. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy Mattheo, but his friend wasn’t so easily convinced.

“That why you disappeared last night? Is she okay?” Mattheo asked, his tone more serious now, his earlier humor fading.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Theo muttered, the words barely audible. It was the first time he’d spoken them aloud, and doing so made it all feel too real, too painful.

“What do you mean?” Mattheo asked, his expression hardening as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on him. Trouble who had been a pain in his ass and was finally tolerating you. Theo didn’t want to say it again, didn’t want to feel that same stabbing pain in his chest. But Mattheo wasn’t letting it go.

“Theo, what do you mean?” he pressed, his voice sharp and demanding.

“She remembers everything but me! Our entire relationship—gone!” Theo snapped, the frustration and despair that had been building up since the incident finally boiling over. He shoved Mattheo back, his fists clenched tightly as if ready for a fight.

The anger, the helplessness, the grief—they all mingled together, pushing him to the brink. Tears threatened to spill, but he refused to break down, not in front of Mattheo, not in front of anyone but you.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me! I’m trying to help,” Mattheo shot back, stepping closer as if to challenge him, his tone now serious and firm. Theo scoffed in response, rolling his eyes as he pushed past him, desperate to reach the solitude of his room.

Theo slammed the door behind him with a force that reverberated through the room, but he barely noticed the sound. He couldn’t breathe; it felt like the walls were closing in on him, suffocating him.

Everything he cared about—everything that mattered—had been ripped away, and he had no idea how to get it back.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in the chaotic disarray of his belongings, though none of it seemed to register fully. His bed, unmade from where you had slept just the night before, looked like a mocking reminder of what he had lost.

Your tie, casually draped over his desk, next to the book you two had been reading together every night, felt like a relic of a time that had suddenly been erased. Little parchment notes, filled with love and encouragement, were scattered across the surfaces, each one a painful echo of a relationship that now existed only in his memory.

It was unbearable.

Desperate for an outlet, Theo grabbed the nearest object—a chair—and hurled it at the floor with all his strength. The wood splintered and cracked, pieces flying in every direction. A sharp shard sliced across his cheek, but the pain was a mere blip against the emotions raging inside him. It wasn’t enough; the destruction did nothing to quell the storm.

His eyes locked onto the fire poker resting by the fireplace, an innocent object that suddenly felt like the perfect instrument for his fury. He seized it, gripping it with both hands, and began to swing wildly at his bed.

The metal struck the wooden pillars with a resounding crash, splintering the supports, shattering the structure into ruins. His yells filled the room, raw and primal, as he tore through the space, obliterating everything within reach.

When there was nothing left to destroy, when the room was nothing but a mess of shattered wood, glass shards, and torn fabric, Theo collapsed against what remained of his bed. His back slid down the broken frame until he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the debris of his breakdown.

The numbness crept in, dulling the edges of his anger and grief, leaving him feeling hollow and lost. He stared blankly at the wall, his mind on the brink of spiraling again, unable to grasp what he was supposed to do next. How could he fix something so deeply broken?

His gaze shifted, and something caught his eye—a flash of color peeking out from under the bed. It was your jumper, partially hidden but unmistakable. He reached for it quickly, almost desperately, and when his fingers closed around the familiar fabric, he pulled it close. Dusting it off, he clutched it to his chest, his breath hitching as he buried his face in the soft material. Your scent lingered faintly, a comforting trace of you that seemed to cut through the haze of despair.

As he inhaled deeply, the tears finally came, silent and unchecked, sliding down his face as he held your jumper tighter. It was the first real release he’d allowed himself, the first moment he’d let the weight of everything truly hit him.

He had to find a way to fix this, to make things right. After his first class, he’d start working on a plan. He had to see you, make sure you were okay—and selfishly, because he couldn’t stand being apart from you any longer.

Theo rushed to class, almost knocking over several students in his haste. He didn’t bother apologizing; his mind was fixated solely on seeing you.

As he burst through the door, earning a few glances from his peers, his eyes immediately sought you out. There you were, sitting in your usual spot, and for a brief moment, Theo allowed himself to hope that maybe everything would be normal again. But as he approached and took the seat beside you, the tension in your posture made it clear he had been too optimistic.

He tensed in response, trying to keep himself together, even as the nausea of your apparent discomfort around him threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe it was a mistake to come to class instead of diving straight into research. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you like this, not in his current fragile state. But what about you? Were you alright?

Lavender’s voice suddenly cut through his thoughts as she asked how you were doing. Theo’s heart raced, dreading what you might say, what Lavender might tell you.

This wasn’t how you should find out—not after everything that happened this morning. So he quickly cleared his throat, giving Lavender a sharp look that silently begged her to drop the subject.

Luckily, the professor began the lesson before anyone could say more. But Theo wasn’t paying attention; his focus was entirely on you. He watched as you suddenly winced, shutting your eyes tightly and massaging your temples. His heart clenched in his chest. He knew you suffered from migraines, but this one seemed different, more intense.

Normally, Theo would offer comfort, holding your hand or rubbing your back—anything to help ease the pain. You had always said his touch brought you relief, that his warmth helped you get through the worst of it.

But now, how could he offer that comfort when you seemed so distant? The image you had of him now wasn’t the same as it was yesterday. Still, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

He leaned over, pretending to need more ink, subtly brushing against you. To his relief, he noticed your body relax slightly, and he felt a small surge of pride. It seemed your body still recognized him, even if your mind was struggling.

He stayed close for the rest of the class, finding some solace in being near you, even if it wasn’t the same. When the lesson finally ended, you remained seated, your breathing shaky. Theo wrestled with himself before finally finding the courage to speak.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

His voice seemed to pull you from whatever trance you were in, and you answered him hesitantly, clearly torn between confiding in him and holding back. Theo could see the conflict in your eyes, mirroring the turmoil in his own heart. To be so close to you yet feel so distant was a cruel irony.

Tentatively, he reached out, resting his hand on yours. The familiar softness of your skin was almost too much for him to bear. The urge to pull you into his arms was overwhelming, but he resisted. And then, to his dismay, you apologized.

Of course, you would apologize. Theo deflated, disappointment crashing over him. For a fleeting moment, it had felt like everything was normal again, like this was just the aftermath of a minor argument. But reality was far harsher.

This wasn’t a simple fix, and Theo wasn’t going to get an easy resolution.

Accepting your apology was a small hurdle, but saying your name instead of the endearing terms he used to call you—amore, tesoro—hurt the most. It felt foreign, like a painful reminder of how deeply the spell had affected you.

He could see that you wanted to say more, but then you recoiled, almost tipping backward in your chair. Instinctively, Theo reached out and caught you before you could hurt yourself further.

“Whoa, easy there. What’s happening?” he nearly let amore slip out, but caught himself just in time. Before he could say anything else, you excused yourself and hurried out of the classroom. Theo watched you go, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure, wishing he could take away whatever pain you were feeling.

Determined, Theo hastily grabbed his bag and decided to skip the rest of his classes. He needed to get to the library. Madam Pince could take all the points from Slytherin for all he cared. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Theo stood frozen in the library, staring at the seemingly endless shelves of books. He didn’t know where to start, and the thought of asking Madam Pince for help made him grimace. He didn’t have the time or patience to search the entire library by himself. With a frustrated huff, he yanked off his robe, tossed his bag onto a nearby table, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his nerves before reluctantly seeking out Pince.

“Mr. Nott, shouldn’t you be in class?” Irma Pince’s voice cut through his thoughts, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“What are the call numbers for any information on the Obliviate spell?” Theo snapped, too agitated to explain himself.

Her eyes widened slightly at his sharp tone, clearly displeased with his lack of manners. “Ten points from Slytherin, Nott,” she replied icily, before guiding him to the section he needed.

After a short walk, she pointed to the relevant shelves. “This better be for research only and not some mischief you boys are planning,” she warned, her gaze stern and unyielding.

Theo barely concealed his irritation, rolling his eyes in blatant annoyance. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, brushing past her to scan the shelves for useful books.

Pince stalked off, leaving him to his task. He gathered a few books and an old Daily Prophet article, his arms heavy with the weight of them. He dropped the books onto the table, pulled out some parchment, and prepared to take notes—anything that might help fix the mess he was in.

Starting with The Standard Book of Spells, Theo flipped through the pages until he found the section on the Memory Charm.

“The Memory Charm (Obliviate), also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, was a charm that could be used to erase specific memories from an individual’s mind. It was different from the spell that created false memories.”

Theo sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. This wasn’t new information—it was basic knowledge. Moving on, he opened the Daily Prophet article, hoping for something more useful.

“Obliviate is the incantation for a Memory Charm, a spell that erases specific memories from an individual’s mind. It is one of the most potent and potentially dangerous spells, as it can lead to severe and permanent memory loss if used incorrectly.”

His stomach churned as he read on, the words making his anxiety worse.

“The strength of the Obliviate spell depends on the caster, and in some cases, it can destroy memory so thoroughly that a witch or wizard may lose their sense of identity.”

Theo’s heart pounded in his chest. The thought of you losing yourself completely was unbearable. He couldn’t let that happen. For both your sakes—and Harry’s—this had to be fixable.

After jotting down some notes, Theo grabbed the next book, A History of Magic, and started skimming through it. Most of the information was redundant, but then his eyes caught something that made his blood run cold.

“Reversing the effects of Obliviate is extremely difficult, if not impossible in some cases. Restoration of memories may require highly specialized magical treatment and is not always successful. Memory Charms could be broken through torture.”

Theo nearly gagged. The mere thought of you being hurt, let alone tortured, was more than he could bear. He forced himself to push those dark thoughts aside, continuing to scan the text. His eyes widened as he came across a bold warning.

“Caution: If the spell is carelessly cast, the brain will be in a delicate state. If you stress this person too much or aren’t careful when trying to restore their mind/memories, the results could be unpredictable, even leading to a complete breakdown of the mind.”

“Side effects may include headaches, fainting, vomiting, bloody noses, and/or completely losing themselves. Keep the person calm, distract them, or give them a Sleeping Draught.”

Theo’s heart seemed to stop. He’d seen you suffer from a headache earlier, and now he was certain that the spell had left you in this delicate state. Despair gnawed at him as he realized how little progress he was making. The hope of finding a safe way to restore your memories was slipping through his fingers.

Reluctantly, Theo acknowledged that he needed to tell Harry what he’d found. Your friends might make things worse if they tried to help without knowing the risks. Gathering his things, Theo abruptly stood up, leaving the mess on the table behind as he hurried out of the library. He needed to find those blithering idiots—your friends—before they unintentionally made things worse.

But as Theo stepped into the hallway, he was surprised to find the castle cloaked in darkness. Hours had slipped away unnoticed, swallowed by his mounting anxiety and frantic search for answers. The realization hit him hard—he’d spent the entire day buried in books with nothing to show for it but a sense of helplessness.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. The weight of his failure pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn’t afford to crumble now. Tomorrow, he’d have to face them—your friends. They’d have to work together, whether he liked it or not.

Theo took a deep breath, the resolve hardening within him. First thing tomorrow, Theo vowed, he’d get them involved. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t stop until everything was set right.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough. Theo barely slept, his mind too consumed with worry about you. The absence of your familiar presence beside him made the night feel endless—he longed to wake up and see your peaceful face, to trace the contours of your features like he used to. What he wouldn’t give to have that back.

He needed to reach Harry quickly; there was no time to waste. Theo jumped out of bed and dressed hurriedly, ignoring the curious glances from his dorm mates—he was never up this early. 

Bounding up the stairs to the Gryffindor entrance, he didn’t care that he irritated the portrait lady as she reluctantly let him in. Thankfully, he found Harry’s dorm room without much trouble, and quietly crept inside. Theo moved to Harry’s bed, clamping a hand over his mouth, startling him awake.

Harry jolted, wide-eyed and reaching for his wand before realizing it was Theo, which did little to ease his nerves. Theo, unbothered by Harry’s panic, rolled his eyes and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. He motioned for Harry to follow, stepping back toward the door and waiting for him to get dressed.

Once Harry left a note for Ron, the two headed out, Harry nervously trailing behind Theo. They made their way to a secluded corner of the library, where Theo suddenly stopped, causing Harry to nearly bump into him. Theo turned to face him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Things are worse than I thought, Potter,” Theo began, his tone cold. “Her condition is more fragile than we realized.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though the guilt of what he had done was eating away at him. You had always been there for him, and now, because of him, you were suffering.

“Because you didn’t mean to cast the spell on her, it left her mind in a delicate state,” Theo explained, barely containing his frustration. “We can’t let anything stress her out. The side effects could be devastating, and we could lose her completely if we don’t handle this right.”

Harry nodded, already sensing where this conversation was headed. Despite the tension between them, he knew they had no choice but to work together. “What do we do?”

Theo sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know yet, but what I do know is that I’m the only thing missing from her memories. We need to keep researching.”

“We should tell the others too,” Harry suggested, realizing the importance of getting everyone on the same page.

Theo agreed, though with a note of urgency. “You go get them. I needed to talk to you first before they start interrupting.”

As Harry left to gather Ron and Hermione, Theo stepped out into the corridor, his nerves on edge. It had been two days since he last had a cigarette, and the stress was getting to him. He pulled one out, lit it, and inhaled deeply, letting the familiar sensation calm him as the cool morning air brushed against his face.

His thoughts drifted to you—how you’d always hold your breath when he smoked, jokingly scolding him but never actually asking him to quit. You hated the smell, but you’d still kiss him if he asked. The memory brought a small, bittersweet smile to his face.

As he spotted the trio approaching out of the corner of his eye, Theo sighed and flicked the cigarette out the window.

“So, what does this tosser want?” Ron muttered as they neared. Ron had never liked Theo, always suspecting he had ulterior motives with you.

Theo rolled his eyes. “I’m here to make sure you lot don’t make things worse,” he retorted.

Ron glared at him, ready to snap back, but Hermione quickly intervened. “You mean Trouble?” she asked, concern clear in her voice.

Theo bristled at the nickname—he always found it annoying and unoriginal. “Who else?” he replied, irritation seeping into his tone. “You have to keep her calm. There are too many risks involved, and we can’t afford to make her condition worse.”

“How do we fix it?” Hermione asked, her worry for you evident.

“We don’t know yet,” Harry admitted, “but we can’t stress Trouble out, while we figure it out.”

Theo added, his voice firm, “If she starts to realize she’s lost memories, don’t tell her what they are—especially not about me. She doesn’t remember anything about us, only what came before. If you spring it on her, it could be catastrophic.”

“Why should she remember you anyway? I’d say that’s a win, don’t you think?” Ron sneered, a smirk playing on his lips.

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly stepped in front of Ron, blocking Theo from moving closer. “He’s joking! We’re going to fix this,” Harry assured, trying to defuse the situation.

Theo’s jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his temper in check. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, and rolled his head to the side before continuing.

He explained the potential side effects, what to watch out for, and how to keep you calm if a situation arose. They agreed to meet regularly throughout the week to share their findings and come up with a plan.

With everything said, the trio left Theo standing in the hallway as they headed back to the Great Hall—and to you.

Theo watched them go, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a stone. As much as he disliked relying on Harry and his friends, he knew they were all you had now. And if they didn’t handle this right, it could ruin everything.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he tried to clear his thoughts. He needed to stay focused, to keep his head straight if they were going to find a solution. There was no room for mistakes, no second chances. They had to get this right or lose you forever.

If you enjoyed, please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[undertheorangetree]

Snowed In

Summary- A snow storm leads to an opportunity.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Modern Aemond. Cat Vhagar is modern AU canon. Friends to lovers vibe. Thigh riding. Blowjob. Cunnilingus. P in V sex. Safe sex practices for once. Probably ooc Aemond cuz he's experiencing joy.

Author's Note- Yes all of my fics take place in the winter what about it?? That's my business that I am now involving you in link to full fic below :)

dividers by me

"They've just closed campus."

Her head pops up from behind her laptop, staring at Aemond in wide eyed disbelief. Already, there is a sympathetic wince on his face, the kind that is only ever present when he knows she is about to get upset, but even then she refuses to believe him.

"Closed? What do you mean closed?"

"It says they had to on account of the weather."

"No, they haven't. Let me see."

He spins his laptop screen to face her, forcing her to push her own down in order to see properly. His email has been left open on the page and her eyes rove over the message she had so desperately hoped he had made up. There before her in big bold letters are the words URGENT- CAMPUS CLOSED followed by a brief explanation blaming a snow storm and apologizing for any inconveniences the decision may have caused.

She lets out a groan, leaning back in the library's old chair, a pleading look on her face as if Aemond is the one responsible for making such decisions. He may as well be, with his family being such heavy contributors to Oldtown University's alumni fund, his last name plastered across the front of one of the many building on campus. She has half the mind to ask him to go speak to whichever family member is on the chair committee to convince them to reverse the decision and allow them to go back to finishing their final papers, though somehow she doubts that would be likely.

"The storm wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow. It can't already be that bad, can it?"

He reaches over toward the blinds they have long since closed, both of them having agreed that the glare from the sun was too distracting hours ago, only to be met with the sight of a now white campus, the snow blanketing near everything in sight. It's evident now why they would have shut down campus - it must have been snowing for hours- but she still feels something close to dread work its way up her spine.

She sucks in a heavy breath, turning to face Aemond once more. "Do you think they would have shut down the buses too?"

She knows it's a lost cause even as she asks it. The university is located away from the port, standing alone at the top of one of the mountains. It's a steep drive even in idle conditions and she knows that with the snow on the roads, the chances of her being able to commute back to her apartment are slim to none.

Just as she suspects, he simply looks at her, face contorted in a way that clearly implies that she already knows the answer. She bites out a curse, half slamming her laptop down before dropping her face into her hands.

The last thing she wants to do is spend the night on campus. She doubts that they were the only two caught unaware and trying to find a place to camp out for the night is going to be hell. Not for him, of course. Aemond's family connections came with seemingly endless perks and he had been set up with a beautiful flat on campus, less than a five minute walk from the library. He has lived there ever since she has known him and she had been there more times than she could count. Since first befriending him during orientation week in their first year, she had spent countless nights eating take out and studying for finals there. With their joint history major, they had taken nearly every class together, making last night studying near second nature at this point, so close to finishing their degrees.

There's a faint burn of envy in her gut at the thought of his flat- warm, isolated, cozy- but it's quickly snuffed out by her nervousness, fretting over where exactly she is meant to camp out tonight. She doubts she will actually sleep, not while she’s alone on campus, but she still wants to be at least somewhat comfortable. A padded chair would be ideal, though she knows they will be difficult to come by if she doesn’t act quickly.

Shoving her laptop back into her bag, she begins collecting the handful of papers she had sprawled out across the tabletop. "I guess I should go and try to find somewhere to sleep. It's going to be a blood bath trying to find something with decent cushioning."

He scoffs. "You're not going to be fighting any blood baths. Just spend the night at mine."

Read the rest here

[yuikomorii]

I got a question but I need an objective answer please. So I saw a lot of people complain about Yui being written in a very bad way in Ayato’s routes starting with More Blood and was curious if you think that she became a bad girlfriend as the story progressed?

// I will analyze Yui’s versions from Ayato’s routes and provide an answer at the end of this post.

More Blood:

Even from the first two chapters we are aware of the fact that Yui got a big crush on Ayato merely because of his looks and pleasure he gave her. At first sight, these reasons seem very superficial, but at the same time you can’t blame her completely for that. Yui went to a normal school and used to read magazines for teens, therefore it’s obvious she would have hormones and fall in love with someone who got features portrayed as the beauty standard.

It's understandable why some found her annoying, as she repeatedly cried for Ayato's love without making any real effort to earn it. Apart from giving him her blood, she didn't try to understand what he was going through, even when she noticed changes in him that made him crave so much blood.

Nevertheless, I believe that she did redeem herself in the last chapters, where she admitted being selfish and only thinking about her own desires, instead of focusing on Ayato’s struggles too. I know she paralyzed him out of jealousy and cheated on him in the bad endings, but in the good one, she’s actually a really loyal person. Yui waited years for Ayato to wake up from the coma and Ayato searched for Yui for years in his dream until he finally woke up. This ending confirmed the genuineness of their love.

In the After Story, Ayato planned to attend university for Yui's sake, aiming to get a job and buy a house. Yui helped Ayato with his studies and praised his skills. Initially, she fell for his looks, but in the After Story, she mentioned falling in love with him again because of his caring, determined, and hardworking personality.

Vandead Carnival & Lunatic Parade:

I really liked Yui in both of Ayato's routes and honestly, I can't find anything to criticize about her behavior.

It's not that Yui was a bad partner; it's just that Ayato was portrayed as too good, such as when he ran through flames for her or protected her from a bomb explosion. But that's likely because these are fan service games, where the love interests are designed to be your knights in shining armor. xD

Dark Fate:

I absolutely loved Yui’s portrayal in that route. It was the sweetest version of Yui I’ve ever seen, and I really enjoyed seeing her so happy and soft. Regarding her relationship with Ayato, he was truly the apple of her eye, lol.

The only problematic thing she did was pushing Ayato to face his abuser, Cordelia, even though he didn’t want to. I honestly don’t care if a character does something to another character, as long as it doesn’t affect them and the story, so since Ayato didn’t get mad at her for that, I didn’t mind it much either. However, from an objective point of view, I agree that doing such a thing is quite bad. Being in the presence of someone who ruined your life can trigger intense memories and forcing a confrontation removes the victim's agency in deciding how to cope with their trauma. Ayato might not have been mad at Yui for planning that, but if it had been Laito, I’m sure he would have shown why Yui was in the wrong.

Other than that, she was a kind and supportive girlfriend throughout the whole route, clearly having no ill intent, and I appreciate that she had an actual important role in the route.

Lost Eden:

Ok, I really can’t defend her anymore there. She literally had no redeeming qualities, no matter how many times she got the chance to fix herself. I discussed my thoughts about LE Yui in this post, but I’ll sum it up.

She tried to convince Ayato that despite Cordelia abusing him, she actually did it because she “cared about his future”, and then acted surprised when Ayato started feeling uncomfortable because of her words.

Yui knew the reasons behind Ayato’s behavior, yet when his brothers started mocking him, she didn’t even try to defend him. Everyone ganged up on Ayato, and he was on the verge of a panic attack, yet she remained silent.

Another terrible scene was in one of the last chapters, when Ruki admitted to turning the Vibora Clan and Church organization against Ayato out of envy, aiming to kill him. Instead of criticizing Ruki’s actions, Yui justified them and spoke ill of Ayato behind his back. I wouldn’t like to date someone who claims to love me but keeps hurting me without learning anything… It felt as if Ayato only continued being together with her because he had no one else. No wonder he didn’t marry her there.

Chaos Lineage:

I found Yui quite boring in CL in general, but she started off as determined and sweet in his route, so I liked that.

For most of the route, Yui’s entire personality seemed to revolve around Ayato, and she didn’t do much. There were many cheesy moments between them that made me cringe. Still, I’m sure a certain audience enjoyed those.

My only complaint is that when his brothers started treating Ayato unfairly, despite the fact that he came up with the idea of breaking the glass floor of the church, Yui did nothing to defend him, again.

However, I do appreciate that she gave him that adorable monologue. I just wish she had done it in front of others instead of only acting when Ayato was already insecure and sad.

Now… let’s see what kind of girlfriend Yui was in each route by judging her progress:

MB: Good

VC: Good

DF: Very good

LP: Good

LE: Very bad

CL: Decent

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART ONE.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: guess who’s back in town: the sturniolo triplets. it’s for their birthday party their parents are throwing, the same party your parents force you to go to.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,054

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: we’re locked in on the series, folks!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 without seeing something along the lines of the sturniolo triplets, and it fucking pisses you off. your parents went to high school with theirs and were really close. your mom got pregnant with you around the same time marylou got pregnant with the triplets, your “best friends.”

the same triplets that left you months ago because of their career of being youtubers. the least they could’ve done was still message you, but no. they unfollowed you on everything.

you texted them multiple times, but all you got was one-word answers or no answer at all. as much as you didn’t want to, you stopped trying after a while because it was no use.

your parents still hang out with marylou and jimmy, sometimes even justin when he’s in town. at least you got one more best friend that you grew up with, nathan doe.

nathan is the youngest out of the four of you. nick, matt, and chris are turning twenty tomorrow and nate’s turning nineteen on the ninth. you’ve been nineteen since april, so you’re right in the middle.

you guys met him in elementary school and he was the last piece of the puzzle. you guys were even called the FOREVER FIVE, something you all made up at a sleepover in the fourth grade.

of course the three stooges didn’t drop him when they left. favoritism, i guess.

you scroll angrily on tiktok. it’s like the app senses your hatred for them and decides to put edits or clips from their videos on your for you page. this shit is definitely not for you.

then, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. “come in.” you call out, and your mother comes in. she sits on your bed and sighs. “what’s up?” you ask.

she gives you a face of sympathy, and it scares you a little. “the triplets are back in town.” she starts, and that gains your attention. “and i want you to come with me and your father to their birthday party tomorrow.”

“no.” you flat-out say. it’s no secret that your mom knows about your hatred either since you cried to her for a week straight about how they abandoned you.

“y/n, please.” your mom puts a hand on your knee. “marylou would love to see you there. she asks about you, you know. she misses you.”

frowning, you start to think. you miss her too. you never blamed her for what her sons did, but you haven’t seen her since they left. she is the sweetest lady you’ve ever met. “and they’re celebrating nate’s birthday, too. you have to at least show up for him, okay?”

you exhale sharply. “okay.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 party the next day with your parents, making your way to the backyard where it’s held. not a lot of people are there, just close friends and family. you scan the area at the top of the steps for nathan, getting disappointed when you don’t see him.

marylou engulfs you in a hug the moment you step on the grass. “hello, sweetheart!” she exclaims, pulling away with a big smile on her face. she places her hands on your shoulders. “how are you doing? you feeling okay?”

“i’m doing fine!” you reply in the same tone, putting on a fake smile.

“thank you so much for coming. i know it’s been a little… strange for you for the past few months. i’m sorry about that.”

“please don’t apologize. you did nothing wrong,” you say and she pulls you back in for another hug.

“if you want, the boys are standing by the chips and dip. if not, don’t be afraid to make yourself comfortable.” she points to the numerous folding tables set up.

god, you missed this woman. “i will. thank you so much.”

you walk over to the table where your parents are, placing your things down before joining them.

“twenty years old is fucking disgusting.” nick rants, dipping a chip in onion dip and popping it into his mouth.

the other two giggle. “yeah, well—” chris pauses when he turns his head and lands eyes on someone. “holy shit, guys.” he taps both of his brothers on the arm.

“look.” he continues, pointing at you from across the way when he gets his sibling’s attention. “we have to talk to her.”

“chris, no.” matt says. “do you not know that she hates us? it was shitty, what we did. that’s honestly my biggest regret.”

“we are petty losers for that.” nick chimes in.

chris crosses his arms. he would do anything to get you back into his life. there was no specific reason why they did what they did. they ghosted a lot of old friends ever since they moved to LA, and you got unlucky. “fine. if you guys won’t, i will. i want to get my best friend back.”

“chris, wait! that’s not a good idea!” the two scream at him as he starts to march over to you, who’s now pouring pepsi into a red solo cup.

you gasp out of shock when you turn around and see a brunette towering over you. “hi.” he says lowly. “i didn’t think you’d come.”

“i came for nate.” you say coldly. “where is he?”

“he has to do something before he comes.” you move over to start walking, but he steps in front of you.

“chris—”

“i’m so fucking sorry.” he apologizes. “we miss you.”

“should’ve thought of that before you woke up one day and decided to pretend i didn’t exist.”

his heart aches at your words. the three of them really are assholes. “can we just start over? please?”

“start over?” you scoff. “we can’t start over after all of that. i practically known you since birth, and you want to start over?”

“y/n, i’m—”

you peek over his shoulder and cut him off. “nate’s here.” you eventually get out of his way and start to head over to nate, but stop and turn back around.

there’s a hint of hope in chris that you changed your mind, but he was wrong. “i kept the note.”

he furrows his eyebrows. “what note?”

ouch.

you laugh to yourself. of course, he doesn’t remember. “never mind. happy birthday.” you mumble, walking off into the crowd.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho

[slyvieselkie]

A Man and His Family

After doomscrolling too much on Reddit and reading too many horrible family dynamics, I've come to the conclusion.

You marry a good man, or you marry a good family.

And this is what I imagine JJK families would be like.

Check out my masterlist for more!

Gojo Satoru:

I have no doubt that Mr Gojo here, would be the best husband. And I just know that his wife would fail to meet every requirement to become the Madam of the Gojo clan. You're normal in every way, and Satoru is obsessed with that.

Some will say to your face that your kimono seems too big, your hairpin too loose, your shoes too small. Satoru's anger bursts like a volcano when he hears this, all of this was nothing more than subtle digs to say, 'You don't belong in this household.' But you? You look down at yourself and smile innocently, "Oh I think they're just fine!". And everyone watches in shock as you walk off casually. Satoru merely chuckles, clearly your Limitless technique is superior to his.

And he sees the way you interact with the servants-I mean attendants. Yes, you've scolded him about calling them servants. "They're our retainers, Satoru! And her name is Fuyuki!", you growl as you force him to bow before the young girl. You never demand them for something, in fact, you go out of your way not to ask anything of them. And when you have to, it's always a sheepish question followed by an apology. 'But you're fine with kicking me out of bed to grab you a glass of water', he thinks bitterly.

And he loves the way you express yourself. In a household where everyone wears a mask, it's nice to see a smile, to hear a laugh, to wipe away a tear, to soothe your fury. When the elders call you 'childish' and 'emotional', Satoru makes sure to show what those words really mean. He literally flops down onto the tatami floor and wails about the ugly old men he has to see every day. When someone gets on his nerves, he'll trash the place and ban the person from his residence. Now that's what you call 'immature'.

So at night, when you two are able to finally rest, Satoru will turn to you with a smile.

And he'll say, "Thank you for marrying me. I promise to be your white knight, your keyboard warrior-". And he'll cackle as you attack him for ruining the sweet moment.

Nanami Kento:

Official job: Sorcerer, side hustle: defender of woman-kind. Especially, his woman. As can be expected, Kento's family is just like him. Reserved, aloof, 'uptight' as Satoru likes to say. And for someone like you, who wears your heart on your sleeve, it's a little intimidating and nerve-racking.

Since Kento is the only sorcerer in a non-sorcerer family, his family knows very little about his life. So when he brings you to meet them, they rationalise that you must be the reason why he's so secretive. They probe you with a million questions, what do you do for work, how did the two of you meet, what is your family like, what are your plans for the future. And when you return vague answers, they hum and murmur to each other, "It seems Kento learnt from her. I wonder what other terrible habits she teaches him?".

Your face falls, and you try to give an apologetic smile. His eye twitches. He knows they're just worried for him, and he understands their frustration, but it's not fair to blame everything on you. So Kento holds your hand and announces to everyone, "I don't like the way you're treating her. What happens between us has nothing to do with her. We're here today, because she encouraged me to go. I wouldn't have come here, if not for her."

After setting the record straight, Kento escorts you out of the house. You glance back at the fuming family and wonder if he should really be doing this. Opening the door for you, the blonde man smiles softly, "It's another habit you've taught me. To not take any shit from anyone."

With a grateful smile, you cup his cheeks and kiss him passionately. Thank god for this man.

Geto Suguru:

To anyone else, Suguru is the perfect man. Kind, sweet, gentle, calm, responsible, he seems like the perfect specimen. But I think his family can see pass that. They see the glint in his eye, they notice the way his smile changes subtly, they can hear the tone shift in his voice. Suguru's family sees the flaws that everyone else shrugs off. Meaning they'll never take his side so easily.

When you show up at his parents' house, upset and teary-eyed, they welcome you in. His mother helps you to the couch and speaks to you like you're a wounded animal. His father gives you some space by busying himself with tea in the kitchen. And you thank them for being so kind to a stranger. They reassure you that you are no stranger, that you became their daughter the moment you married Suguru.

When the home phone rings, your father-in-law picks up with a gruff voice. You smile as he immediately asks his son what he did this time, and Suguru grumbles how his own parents never takes their son's side. The old man scoff, "Don't take me for a fool, boy. If you treat your wife like how you treat us, then your marriage is bound to over soon!".

He continues his rambling, "I've never seen a boy lecture his own family as much as you! And I see the way you look at us when you think we're wrong! Tch, looking down on us like we're some monkeys! Guess what, you came from this monkey, you rascal!".

You and your mother-in-law giggle as Suguru gets a taste of his own medicine. When he shows up, a few hours later, Suguru holds your hand and whispers, "I'm sorry, I promise to treat you better. And if I don't, you can punch me as much as you want."

As they watch the two of you leave, Suguru's father clicks his tongue, "If only he would give me the same promise."

Fushiguro Toji:

There's one thing you need to know, Toji's children will never take his side. Even when he's right. They'd rather manipulate physics than accept that their father is right. Fortunately, they don't have to. Why? Because Toji is always wrong. That's why when you and Toji fight, Tsumiki and Megumi are so prepared to go and live with you.

"Oi, you two! Get in the car!", the two of them stand there and Tsumiki cross her arms, "What car?". Toji is about to snap when Megumi points at you, "That's her car, idiot. You take the train." Then the two of them stroll up to your apartment, where warm beds and home cooked meals are waiting for them. You stand there, speechless, before bursting into laughter. Toji sits on the ground, grumbling about his traitorous kids.

Your anger flies away with the laughter and you crouch down next to Toji, "Are you ready to talk like adults?". He's silent for a moment, before the man nods. With that, you grab his hand and lead him back home. Tsumiki and Megumi watch from the window, and high-five each other.

Another thing you need to know, the two of them are deathly terrified of you leaving. And if you don't follow your schedule to the exact second, they're pacing around and glaring at Toji. "You goddamn brats, she's just caught up in traffic!", he snaps and Tsumiki repeats him mockingly. When Megumi returns from home and sees you're not there, the boy drops his bag and sigh, "So she's finally decided to leave."

Ten minutes later, you open the door and sing, "I'm home~!", only to find Toji wrestling his kids. "DROP THEM NOW!"

Ryomen Sukuna: (smut)

If there is a single person who would take Sukuna's side, they are on the wrong side of history. For the King of Curses, the closest thing to family he has would be the numerous women of his harem. And they're well aware of what kind of person Sukuna is. Narcissistic, violent, rude, and huge pain in the ass. That's why when you fight with Sukuna, your first stop is the harem.

The women there, are like your best friends and older sisters. They coo and let you hide in their soft embrace. "Come here, sweetheart", "Tell us what happened", "Let us take care of you." They badmouth Sukuna to no end. "What an awful bastard", "I bet he died a virgin", "Even a man wouldn't bed that thing." Their gentle hands wipe your tears away. "Cease those tears, darling", "Why cry over that fool?", "I hear his new attendant is a charmer, why not check him out?".

As if Sukuna, or the harem, would let you stray away to another. For days, the King of Curses leaves you to heal with the harem. He eats alone, bathes alone, sleep alone, while you lock yourself away. And after a week, Sukuna has had enough. Servants stop and bow in fear as he passes, approaching the harem chamber, whilst thinking about what to say to coax you back home.

But Sukuna stops before the red doors, he hears the distant noises inside. Seductive voice cooing and giggling, your soft cries, and something that makes him see red. The door bursts open and all is revealed to him. His harem merely smirks as they crowd around your body, bare and glistening with sweat.

"O-Oh I'm cumming!", you squeal and thrash around. The women gasp excitedly as your juices splash everywhere, and they slither around you like greedy snakes. "Oh Uraume, you have to make her squirt again~!"

White hair lifts from in between your head, and his most trusted servant turns around. Their face is dripping with your juices. "As you wish."

Hi Lovelies, long time no see~! I hope you guys enjoyed this!

I was listening to 'Smosh Reads Reddit Stories' and the amount of terrible in-laws and husbands were absolutely shocking. I came to the conclusion that, marry a good man or marry a good family. And this idea was born.

Thanks for reading (๑♡ᵕ♡๑)

[ashyblondwaves]

Prompt? The moment Haymitch realized that Peeta was important to him. Because he could only bring back one tribute, and he chose his best friend’s daughter. So when he realized Peeta meant something too? Meant something for himself not a dead friend or a memory of a lost child? That had to be a big thing for him. Unlike Katniss, I think Peeta meant someone not tainted by his games and memories. Peeta was the first kind person he let into his life after he pushed everyone else away. Katniss too, but Katniss comes with old baggage and her own family to keep her busy. Peeta did not. I just feel no one explores that angle. Always how Katniss and Haymitch are a lot alike, not why those similarities would draw them both to the same boy.

Thank You for this amazing prompt! I knew I could go to sleep until I wrote this, so I hope you enjoy! <3

This Wasn't Supposed to Hurt

I don’t remember his name being called. I was a little preoccupied with being unconscious on the ground to notice the boy nobody would dare volunteer for. 

Could you blame them? Not many would put their own life on the chopping block for another, and after the spectacle that was Katniss volunteering for her sister, nobody was ready to repeat it. 

The first thing I remember about him was when he hoisted me up out of a pool of my own vomit and dragged me off to my shower. Nobody tells you how sobering it is to slip in your own sick and have a pair of kids take care of you. 

After dismissing Katniss, Peeta took the burden of cleaning me up himself, and that’s when I knew he would die. Nobody that gentle or kind, who would take a relative stranger and clean them up like that, would survive in the arena very long. 

But then, the very next day, he surprised me by getting aggressive when I wrote them off. He was pissed, and it surprised me so much, I couldn’t do anything but punch in him in the face. Then Katniss got involved, and I was forced to see them for what they could possibly be to this stagnant rebellion.

The problem was that two of them weren’t designed to be a team. Sure, they could become allies, stick together in the arena and take every one out, but the time would come when one of them would have to die if they both survived to the end. The Capitol is particularly cruel for rigging things this way. 

We even tried the team angle for a while, having them go into things as one, but Peeta got tired of that quickly. He had his own plans. Tactics to give it to the Capitol as good as they gave it. 

He’s a rascal, that one. And not in the way that I pretended to be one. He just is, through and through, without any sort of facade, and I admire that. 

Even with all of that, I knew there would still come the moment where I had to choose one of them. They couldn’t both come home, and Peeta made it almost too easy for me to choose Katniss, which he probably intended. 

After teaming with the Careers, the Capitol wasn’t too keen on him, even though it was plain to see why he did it. But Capitol folks aren’t the sharpest tools and during the games everything comes with a price, and it this was going to cost Peeta his life.

I don’t doubt for a second that his feelings for Katniss are genuine. I try to think of going into the arena with Lenore Dove, how I would have done any and everything to protect her and make sure she got to go back home and I know without a second thought that if I had to, I would have done the exact same thing as Peeta.

It’s when Peeta and the Careers have Katniss trapping in a tree that I have to make my decision. It’s relatively easy to negotiate with the sponsors to send Katniss the burn cream, something I could never negotiate for Peeta after allying with the Careers, which means I have my answer. 

Then Katniss drops a Tracker Jacker nest on them all, and there’s something in my gut that lurches when I see Peeta screaming at Katniss to leave as Cato closes in. Something that causes my head to spin that has nothing to do with alcohol, when Cato realizes that Peeta helped Katniss escape. The scuffle, the way Peeta holds his ground. It’s familiar to me. I see myself at that age about to go toe to toe with a Peacekeeper to keep him from harming Lenore Dove, and I wonder for a moment if I’ve made a mistake.

He’s lying in the mud now, covered head to toe in the thick, wet earth, injured and clinging to life. I wonder if I should have done more for Peeta, negotiated something for him, gotten the Capitol sponsors on his side again. It wouldn’t have been too hard with these people, but it’s too late now. 

I spend the hours with a gnawing feeling in my stomach. How quickly this boy showed me kindness, and I couldn’t even do the same for him. How easily I’ve been able to see myself in him, and I ignored it. How once again I was trapped into playing the game. I throw my empty glass at the wall, angry that Snow has forced my hand this way for yet another year, because the truth is, I want them both to come home. 

I wait and wait for the cannon to go off, to signal that Peeta’s gone, but it never comes. 

Then Claudius Templesmith announces the rule change, and everything changes. 

[wildernessworship]

Some thoughts on the Lottie and Travis dynamic in 3x9.

Lottie doesn't want the group to leave, but she doesn't do anything to make them stay. On the other hand, she also doesn't try to stop Shauna from forcing them. 

Thing is, nobody who wants to leave actually puts up a fight, despite having the numbers and two of them being armed with a gun and crossbow. They don't even try to get Shauna to back down (and you could write an essay on the psychology of that, but that's not my focus here). 

So Travis doesn't get to leave, and he specifically blames Lottie for it. He spends hours making an elaborate booby trap spike pit so he can lure her to her death. Sir, that is an escalation. That is premeditated murder. And the way he baits her is calculated. He plays on her desire to be helpful and uses the one thing he knows she's obsessed with: the Wilderness and deciphering Its communication to them. 

Their relationship is so fucked up, and Travis isn't a complete innocent in this dynamic like I've seen some people try to imply. He relied on Lottie and the idea of the Wilderness to get through the winter. He was desperate for something to make sense, for an ounce of comfort and stability, and he looked to her to provide it. He enabled her and fed into her delusions when it was what he needed to survive, but now those same delusions are in his way. 

Lottie pushed with the shroom-induced hallucinations, and her singleminded focus and indifference to his pain was scary, and it changed how he viewed her and broke his trust in her. But he went along with it at first because he was also looking for answers, and when it became too much and too traumatizing, he lied his way out and diverted Lottie's attention to Akilah, who had only ever been kind to him. He's so far beyond his limits, he didn't even think twice about ditching everyone and walking out with Kodiak. 

I absolutely get why Travis has made the choices he has, but I'm not gonna pretend he's standing on a moral high ground. It's not about who's good or bad; it's about survival. They're all making decisions under intense psychological duress, and it's a useless exercise to point the finger at any one person because they all have responsibility for their situation. No one is entirely guilty or innocent. It's messy. 

Lottie takes his bait and is successfully lured, but Travis hesitates and gives himself away. He's grown to fear Lottie and hate what she represents, but he's also still drawn to her and to the Wilderness. He's angry and scared and desperate, but he knows she's not a monster, and he can't bring himself to actually walk her into the trap.

Lottie sees he's upset. "Tell me, I can help," she says. The thing about Lottie is that she's extremely earnest. She's sincere in the things she says. She's sincere in wanting to help the group. She genuinely believes they're safer where they are, and she really does trust the Wilderness. Her earnestness draws people to her, but it's also what makes her dangerous. 

Travis really pushes back for the first time. Lottie can't help him because she is the problem. She and her bullshit are ruining their chance at rescue. She told him about shrinks and pills, but he doesn't know what it actually means. He doesn't understand why she can't let go of her belief in the Wilderness now that they have a way out. He just knows she's in the way of what he needs. 

Lottie apologizes to Travis, and she means it. She says she wants him to feel Javi there with them, and she means it. Because she feels Javi's presence all around them, in the woods and the wind, and it brings her comfort. 

Lottie had nothing to do with what happened to Javi, but she feels responsible. She was unconscious when he died, and she was horrified when Misty told her what they did. She could accept her own death if it would help them survive, but she didn't want them killing each other, and she feels a deep sense of guilt over it because she was supposed to be leading them. It's a big reason she pushed leadership to Nat. 

Of course Travis doesn't know that, he thinks Lottie approved of Javi's death, because that's what Misty told the group. Still, he can't bring himself to actually walk her into the trap. He can, however, live with letting her walk into it herself. Lottie steps forward, and he's conflicted, but he doesn't stop her. 

Lottie knows what she's walking into, but she trusts the Wilderness to make the choice. It will decide whether she lives or dies. She's so far into her delusion that self-preservation is not a consideration.

She told us earlier: "It's not me, it's what It wants." Lottie isn't really driving the car right now. The Wilderness is at the wheel, whether that be her illness or a supernatural entity influencing her or both. 

She stands over the pit, and the branches don't break. Travis is in shock, and she smiles a little knowing smile at him. I've seen people call it a smirk, but it doesn't look like a smirk to me. It's more gentle and understanding than that. It's an acknowledgement: I know what you were trying to do, and I don't blame you.

Lottie smiles, and she walks away unscathed. The Wilderness chose to let her live today.

[youronlydarlin]

Did "bit late" is with us in room? Because it was the fastest answer i got in my whole 10 years in fandoms!

And yeah if you can try to write Nikolai then i would be thankful! It could be anything just don't force yourself and if you can't just say or not :3 ( and I started thinking that I am "bit late" looking at how long it took me to write this 😭 )

Ohhh, one thing about the big, big Russian man is that it's dangerous to trust him. As he is an equally dangerous man. You shouldn't always agree to what he says, most often than not they'll have a hidden meaning to them. But you're so sweet :( unlike the others who walk on eggshells around him. Openly willing to converse with the scary man dawning a leather jacket, and aviators. And that's exactly what he loves about you. So soft n' pretty. He hasn't had anything supple to sink his teeth onto in a while. And the exposed skin of your legs from the shorts you're wearing are really doing him in.

So with a toothy grin, and lidded eyes he's cranking up his charm to a thousand. Convincing you to be his little helper around the workshop. You're so ecstatic, its positively adorable. The first few days were experimental to be sure. You had proper knowledge of tools, and how they work which made everything a whole lot easier. Though, Nikolai isn't surprised to know that you possess both brains, and beauty, only pleased.

He's really thought he was being slick though. Having pretty you traipsing around in one if his shirts after he "accidentally" spilled some oil onto your sweater. That plan soon backfiring as he wasn't fully prepared for the sight of you in the fabric.

By god's, you're breathtaking

Wether the fabric is too tight or too loose on your body he deems it as a perfect fit. The overall material of it is is dark, almost see through. Like satin on your skin, you could stretch at the sleeves without it tearing. Nik is too busy ogling your chest to make out your little 'thank you's' for the shirt.

It hasn't been the same from then on, you'd never know how he beats his cock to the scent you left behind on the piece of fabric, holding it up to his nose and roughly palming at his cock. Trying to mimic how tightly you would squeeze him, and he's all too suddenly closing his eyes. Jaw clenching as he sprays his cum all over the bathroom sink. Getting some of it on the mirror. He hopes he wasn't loud enough to have alerted you from behind the bathroom door. But the mere sight of you has him chubbing up in his pants. So he isn't to blame for the frequenting bathroom brakes, is he now, solnyshko?

a/n: AHHH m' sorry for making you wait, dear!! I had things that needed tending to. I hope this was to your liking!! S' my first time writing for Nikolai, I hope I did his character justice, and this was so much fun to do! He's just so 😳 N e way, I hope you enjoy this, lovely!!

Yours, truly,

–Dolly

[cozzzynook]

Bringing you part 3 for TFA insecticon Bee :D

Bumblebee hated lying, he truly hated it as every time he told a lie his spark burned with guilt. Unfortunately for most of his life Bee had been forced to lie over again and again, even now he was lying to his team mates. At first it was just about his past and who he truly was now...he had a bigger secret to keep.

Pacing back and fourth in his hab Bee let out a panicked sigh as he glanced back at the nest that sat hidden in the corner of the room. Inside the egg was brightly glowing as its hue had only gotten stronger as the weeks passed, it was due to hatch any moment now. Bee wasn't sure how'd he manged to keep the secret for so long but he knew the moment it hatched he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret anymore. Of course he can make up another lie about how he found a lone sparkling but if this bitty turned out to look too much like their Sire Bumblebee would find himself being asked some serious questions, especially from Prowl.

Falling back against his wall the yellow mech let out another sigh while his gaze drifted down until he was looking at his servos. "I fragged up big time. When boss bot finds out he'll- he'll..." he quickly covered his face with his servos trying to hide from the guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry..."

As to answer their Carrier's voice the egg shook for a few moments quickly followed by a crack. It would shake a couple more times before finally breaking open, a small chirp escaped calling out. Bumblebee quickly rushed to nest looking down at the tiny frame only to meet tiny bright optics looking up at him. Reaching out Bee scouped the sparkling into his arms, a small smile forming on his lips as he checked over his sparkling. The sparkling was a femme with bright gold optics, her frame was sleek with a dark smokey black base with thin yellow accents. A small chevron curved along her helm like a crown while on her back two long fragile wings softly buzzed. She was perfect in Bee's optics.

"Hey its okay, Carrier is here" Bumblebee cooed as he nuzzled his bittie's helm giving a gentle soothing chirp. "Its alright, I'm not going any where"

As the sparkling settled nuzzled closer to her Carrier's chest, Bee gave a soft sigh looking back at his door wondering what he should do next. Even if he told everyone the truth would his team even accept them, accept the hybrid bots they were? For now he can worry about later as for now he had a sparkling to bond with.

------

Meanwhile Prowl walked down the base's hall heading for Ratchet's office. Normally Prowl would keep these kind of questions to himself or meditate until he found the answer for himself, but this question was a bit more personal and rather difficult to answer. With a slow knock Prowl gave a sort huff as he stood outside the office waiting for an answer.

"Come in"

Stepping inside Prowl quickly found the spare seat quickly settling down on the chair while keeping his helm down. While Ratchet had put away his data pad he was currently reading only to give a sort grunt as he sat down at his desk.

"What brings you here Prowl, are you sick?" The medic grumbled as he crossed his arms scanning the sleek mech in front of him.

"No, I'm well Ratchet" Prowl spoke as he finally turned his attention to Ratchet while his digits tapped against each other nervously. "In fact, I wanted some advice..."

"I see, well gone on then" Ratchet raised a brow as he leaned back in his chair. It was rare for young bots to ask for advice other than medical so his interest was peaked.

"Its about Bumblebee, I can't help but feel like he's avoiding me. Normally I wouldn't think much about it...ever since his heat cycle its just been tense..." Prowl sighed as he allowed his frame to sulk a little. He let like an idiot for not seeing this sooner.

Ratchet rolled his optics giving a sigh, of course he knew what was going on he's seen this happen before to plenty young couples. "Ah, I see. Well I can't blame you both for being a little stiff around each other. Heats are rather personal things and dose take a great deal of trust between bots, however sometimes after a cycle ends you find yourself wanting more than a quick frag"

Prowl just blinked taking in the medic's words. His spark quickened in his chest while his tanks fluttered. "Are you suggesting that I might be...in love with Bumblebee?"

"Well, are you?" Ratchet scoffed giving his famous scowl.

For a moment Prowl paused as he begin to think. While both Bee and himself often butted helms due their different interests and personalities, he couldn't help but be found of the yellow mech. His face grew hot when he remembered their nights spent during Bee's heat, how he softly moaned and begged Prowl to be gentle as they kissed as their frames rocked in rhythm. "I-I think you might be right, Ratchet"

The medic smirked as he rose from his seat. "Well, take it from an old mech. Don't waste your time rusting away hoping or wishing for answer go and find out yourself, trust me you won't regret it that way"

"I will, thank you Ratchet" Prowl smiled warmly as he got up and headed for the door. He knew the medic was right he couldn't just sit and waited for a sign. He was going to talk to Bumblebee tonight!

As Ratchet watched Prowl leave his office, the old mech just chuckled to himself as he turned his attention to an old photo on his desk. "Young mechs, am I right Drift?"

^_^

Aaahhh smiley!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lskcoowicisaoikaiskdujwicocojvoxdvpbogxidby saw hupoghocpvuvguvtuugjgjfuh lh

I LOVE THIS!!!!

GO GET YOUR MAN PROWL!!!!

AND FIND OUT YOU HAVE A SPARKLING TO TOP IT OFF!!!!!!!!

Thank you for sharing 🥰

[c2-eh]

I just had a charlos thought (prompt maybe??) Charles writing things about Carlos in his note book, and then losing said notebook which results in a mini breakdown because he HAS to find it before anyone reads it and he’s freaking out but he can’t tell anyone why he’s freaking out either, everyone’s searching for the note book which causes him more stress, Carlos ends up finding it but doesn’t read it but Charles thinks he has

oh god this has been in my inbox for A YEAR and i randomly found it now... idek if you still follow me anon or if you even care about charlos (you should they are fruity and in love!), but i come with 2k as compensation <3 it was funnn to write this! enjoyyyy luvs! <3

Charles is freaking out. Rightfully, if he were to say so himself, as he just lost a very important thing in his life.

The whole garage of his is up and on their feet, trying their best to find an A4 blue notebook that is filled with details about Charles’ life – mostly racing, because Charles’ life is racing, racing and racing again, so it made sense to do that.

And well, that’s what he told everyone. Acted like the said notebook only holds the racing knowledge like data, strategies, technical stuff, Charles’ feelings about the car, possible improvements and such things. It is half true, however, not the full truth. Not in the slightest.

No one knows why he is freaking out so much. Only Andrea. And Joris. And Antoine. Because Charles can’t keep his fucking mouth shut about anything, ever.

The tell-tale rapid breathing of his was a hint Charles should calm down and not overthink this, but the fact he couldn’t reveal why the search was so urgent, made him lose a bit of sanity each time someone approached him a question about why it was so important.

Racing is important, was be his answer, but no one actually believed him, because everyone knows Charles holds all the information in his mind. The notebook is just a help. A boost if you may. He lives and breathes racing and he would think back to the imperfections (or the perfections, but there’s not many currently) on the whim.

Charles was surprised and wondered why no one seemed to be disturbed by the fact he insisted and nearly shouted at everyone that if they were to find the notebook, they could never ever open it, no matter what. He could blame it on wanting a privacy, but why would you need that big of a privacy from your team, if the things in the notebook were about the data the said team has?

“Nothing?” Charles asked in dejected voice after around 2 and half hours of searching. One look at his mechanics’ faces and he did not really need a vocal answer. He sighed and thanked everyone for their effort, sending them off in the process, retracting to his room with his head hung low.

It’s not like Charles was drawing his and Carlos’ initials in hearts into the notebook, no, but there were some things that would easily reveal his true feelings towards his teammate and he couldn’t allow it.

He wouldn’t be able to swallow down the rejection – Carlos’ big brown eyes so apologetic, feeling sorry for him and just because Carlos is such a good guy, he would try to force himself to like Charles just to make him happy.

Only if that was actually possible, Charles thinks and scoffs, the sound echoing around the hall.

Charles loves Carlos. It took him a long time to come into terms with it and it was honestly a big messy battle within him – one of his heart and brain and probably dick too – which in the end his heart won, no matter how much his brain tried (did it?) to resist the feelings.

Charles returned back to his driver’s room, his mood still sulky. He was slowly losing hope, but at the same time gaining it, because if his notebook got lost somewhere no one could find, then it meant Carlos couldn't either. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Charles’ brain was determined to convince him that was the case (or maybe it was Charles himself trying so hard to not get his feeling revealed to avoid the hurting).

---

Back in his hotel room, Charles still feels a bit down and paranoid, but it quickly disappears once he settles deep into his bath. Hot water sooths his muscles and he sighs – for the hundredth time today.

The rest of his evening routine passes by quickly and just as he’s about to climb into his bed, his face moisturized and hair washed, someone knocks on his door.

It’s Carlos. Looking better than ever.

Charles’ breath hitches when he opens the door, but he plays it off with a cough. He curses himself for not checking who it was before. His teammate looks sheepish, shy even, with how he’s looking at Charles with his big brown eyes. However, once Charles sees what Carlos is holding in his hand, he is done studying Carlos’ handsome face. His breath quickens and suddenly he feels like suffocating.

“What is that,” he says, voice flat. His eyes are zeroed on the A4 blue notebook filled with his handwriting talking about Carlos, his hands, hair, nose, eyes, and… Fuck.

How fucking stupid was he to write it into his work notebook? Charles needs to not be close to that thing during boring meetings ever again.

“Wow, I at least expected a simple ‘hello’,” Carlos chuckles and Charles can’t even appreciate the sound now. He only frowns and misses the way Carlos’ face drops.

“Carlos,” he warns firmly and then, without thinking, snatches the notebook from his hand, not caring it’s rude, nor that he still did not invite Carlos into his room. He immediately checks it, listing through the pages to make sure everything is intact.

Once he is sure, he takes a deep breath and turns back towards Carlos that is now standing in the middle of his room, the door behind him closed shut.

Carlos is looking at him – studying him, his expression scrutinizing – as if Charles turned into alien or something. His brows are slightly furrowed and his full pink lips are downturned. Oh no.

“Care to explain what the fuck was that?” Carlos asks, crossing his arms on his chest. And Charles is not the God’s strongest soldier. His eyes fly over Carlos’ whole body, eyes stopping on his bulging biceps, before he snaps out of it.

Out of nowhere, Charles’ blood starts to boil. Why is this man acting like Charles is stupid?

“Oh don’t act innocent, I know you did it,” Charles scoffs and clutches the notebook close to his chest. He’s never ever leaving it out there in the open.

Carlos looks confused and Charles is momentary startled. He shakes his head. No, he definitely did, he wouldn’t look so guilty other way.

“I am truly confused, Charles. Can you please talk to me and explain what’s going on?” oh and if Charles does not hate when Carlos is calm and rational, all while Charles is losing his mind.

He rolls his eyes – over exaggerating it.

“I know you read it. The notebook,” he says, his tone harsh, "everyone would, because that’s who we are. It is in our nature to be curious and do something we would perhaps regret later, but also never admit to. You read my notebook. Or maybe even took a peak.”

Charles chances a glance at Carlos and he doesn’t look confused anymore, no. More like a little hurt, but also amused, which Charles thinks is the worst combination ever. Partly because how the fuck is it possible to have 2 contradicting emotions battling on your face, but mostly because what is Carlos hurt for?

“The curiosity got the best of you, yeah yeah, do not even apologise, I know it all. We’ve all been there,” Charles waves his hand, but he can feel his throat tightening and he mentally curses himself.

“I didn’t-“ Carlos starts, but then shuts his mouth and waits. Charles finds it weird. Guess he gave up on the excuses.

Charles sighs, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, but to no avail, “just leave it. I know you don’t love me back, so there is no need to feel bad for me. God knows I am fed up with that sentiment,” he says and throws the notebook on his bed, turning away from Carlos, “can you just forget it and go now?”

It’s quiet, eerily. Charles is not sure if it has been minutes or hours, nor if Carlos is still there.

“Charles,” Carlos’ voice suddenly sounds way closer than before, “Charles,” he repeats, firmer now and he has no choice, but to turn to face his teammate.

Looking up into those eyes should come with a warning.

“I did not read your notebook. I really didn’t. I found it under the counter where you keep your helmets, when I was tying my shoes. I did not give it to you, because you were not in the garage, so I took it into my room. I wanted to give it to you in person, in case someone would be a jerk enough to read someone’s personal stuff,” Carlos says, emphasising the last part of the sentence.

Great, it’s safe to say Charles feels like shit now.

“Oh,” he says, averting his eyes, “so you really didn’t read it,” it’s phrased like a declarative sentence, not a question.

Carlos shakes his head still, which Charles can only see from his peripheral vision.  He feels like dying because… because he just confessed without a need to do so. He's so stupid.

Big warm hands land on Charles’ cheeks and he has no choice, but to look back on Carlos’ handsome face, “can you tell me more about the love you mentioned?”

“No,” Charles whines automatically and Carlos has a nerve to chuckle. Charles’ head thunks against Carlos’ shoulder and he immediately feels Carlos’ hand in his hair.

“It’s okay,” Carlos whispers and Charles feels like crying, because here it is. The pity, the rejection he was so afraid of- “I love you too.”

Charles giggles and nuzzles his nose into Carlos’ neck. He stays there, breathing in Carlos’ scent when he suddenly realizes what the fuck he just said.

“What?” he abruptly moves away, almost shouting.

Carlos looks smug, with the slight smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes look soft. So soft and earnest Charles feels like his knees will give out from under him. It is all it takes to believe him, because he knows Carlos. He knows Carlos shows emotions through his eyes more than anyone else, because he’s seen it so many times it is integrated in his brain.

“You heard me,” he says and his smiles transforms from smug to soft and Charles launches.

Their lips crash and Charles puts every drop of his willpower into keeping himself on the ground and not climbing Carlos like a tree.

Kissing Carlos does not feel like anything he’s dreamed of, because nothing of sorts can compare to the real thing. Carlos starts slow, with careful closed mouth kisses that after a while start to frustrate Charles. He whines, to voice out his displeasure.

Carlos gets the memo and finally starts kissing him and Charles finds himself on cloud nine. He’s turned breathless as Carlos goes from slow, to vigorous open mouthed kisses, his tongue prodding at Charles’ lips to let him in. Charles moans, loudly, into Carlos’ mouth, sending a message of how much he’s loving it.

The tips of Carlos’ fingers run down Charles’ spine and a whimper falls from Charles’ mouth once Carlos grabs his ass, squeezing it. The action brings Charles closer. So close he can feel the outline of Carlos’ dick against his hip.

“Carlos,” he whimpers, his own hard dick rubbing against Carlos, “I need you.”

“Let’s take this to the bed, cariño,” Carlos breathes out, guiding Charles there before he was even done speaking.

Later, when they are lying in his bed, Charles’ head pillowed on Carlos’ shoulder, does Charles finally feel fully relaxed. Looking up at Carlos’ freckled face, his strong nose and big plump lips brings a strange sense of happiness and comfort to Charles.

(What doesn’t bring comfort, is the drying cum on his ass and thighs, but he is content enough to ignore it and stay in Carlos’ arms. For now).

“Why did you look so guilty on my doorstep?” Charles asks, not able to help himself. He needs to know, because the only explanation his brain could come up with back then was ‘Carlos is guilty’, which apparently was not true.

Carlos sighs, his fingertips slowing down their tracing on Charles’ back, “I know you were looking for your journal. Ricky messaged me.”

Charles is confused, “and?”

Charles giggles, the sound coming out of his mouth freely. Carlos kisses his forehead and Charles brings his hand up to Carlos’ jaw to caress it. He kisses his nose in return, then cheek and then finally his mouth.

“I could have given it to you back then or send it through someone. I was not back here yet,” he pauses and Charles says nothing. Leaving him space to continue whenever he wants, “but I was selfish. I wanted to give it back to you in private. I don’t really know why, “he resumes his stroking, his voice getting quieter, “perhaps I wanted an excuse to be with you alone.”

“I’m glad you did.”

[hereghostslive]

Hi Rose! #5 please 💜

hi dalawa!! thank you for sending!

#5: help

-

Tommy tries knocking again.

But Eddie still doesn't answer.

"Eddie! Open up or I'm calling 911!"

"What's going on?"

Tommy jumps at the sound of Evan's voice directly behind him.

"Jesus," Tommy says. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Evan raises a bemused eyebrow. "Did you not hear me pull into the driveway?"

Tommy looks over Evan's shoulder, and, sure enough, Evan's jeep is parked right next to Tommy's truck. How he didn't hear it is anyone's guess, but he will solely blame Eddie for making him worry by not answering the front door.

"Uh, no, I guess I didn't hear you," Tommy says.

"Clearly," Evan replies. Evan's clearly laughing at Tommy and he would be annoyed by it but it's better ground he's been on with Evan lately, so he'll take it.

"So, what are you doing here?" Evan asks. "And why were you yelling?"

"Eddie texted me, said to come by his house as soon as I could because he needed my help. Put an SOS and everything, which is why I was yelling. He's not answering the door."

"Huh," Evan says, which is odd, considering Tommy just said Eddie might be in trouble.

"What?"

Evan sighs, and starts heading back to his Jeep. "Hey, since you're here, can you help me with unloading these?"

Confused, Tommy follows Evan. When he makes it to the trunk of Evan's Jeep, he's even more confused.

"Buck, what's going on?"

"Well, Tommy, it appears Eddie's trying to parent trap us. Here." Evan shoves a sack of garden mulch in his arms. Before Tommy can protest, Evan stacks another one on top with a little too much force.

Tommy's a big guy, so they're not really a bother, but Evan's clearly pissed, so Tommy's not gonna complain.

"And what makes you think that?" he asks as Evan pulls out another bag of mulch, but keeps it for himself.

"Eddie's not here, Tommy. He's in Texas. You didn't know that?"

Evan closes the trunk of his Jeep and starts heading to the side of the house, toward the backyard. Tommy follows again.

"No, I ... I didn't know that," he admits, and wonders how much else he missed by ignoring everyone in the wake of his breakup with Evan.

They make it to Eddie's backyard and Tommy throws the mulch down near a garden bed that Evan points to. There's a bunch of tools already laid out, and varying flowers already planted in the soil.

Evan doesn't reply to Tommy's admittance but he does roll his eyes, then bends down to start opening the mulch.

Considering they've been here for a little bit and no one's come out to yell at them, Tommy guesses Evan's right about Eddie not being here. Texas, he said? Eddie must have gone for Christopher. Feels like he should have known that. Then again, he ignored every one of Eddie's calls.

He should probably leave. It's clear he's not actually needed here, and Evan seems angry enough as it is. Except —

"So what are you doing here, exactly?" he asks.

Evan's started laying out the mulch in the garden bed, spreading it evenly across the ground. At Tommy's question, he looks up, hands on his hips. Tommy had been too worried about Eddie when Evan first showed up to really look but now that Evan's standing there looking at Tommy with a mixture of disdain and bemusement on his face, sweaty from whatever yard work he's already done, he sees it now. Evan looks good. Really good. Tries not to think about Evan keeping in shape, either by the gym or other ... activities.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Tommy?" Evan gestures to the entire garden bed like Tommy's not standing directly in front of it. To be fair, Tommy really only has eyes for Evan.

When Tommy shrugs his shoulders, Evan sighs again. "Eddie asked me to water his plants while he was gone."

"And that turned into you planting an entire garden back here?"

Evan glares at him from where's spreading the mulch around.

Tommy smirks. He recognizes that glare as the face Evan makes when he's trying really hard to be mad at Tommy but is losing the fight.

"If you're done making fun of me," Evan says, "I could use your help."

Tommy's not sure how long Eddie's been gone, but he and Evan obviously still talk. If Eddie sent Tommy here to have a run-in with Evan, then that has to mean something, right? He should probably call Eddie back, soon. To apologize. And say thank you.

He glances over at the flowers Evan's already planted. They don't fill the entire garden bed. There's room for more. Pictures what this garden will look like in a couple months time, when summer arrives. If they keep at it, it could be full of a variety of plants, of all shapes and colors by then.

Tommy picks up the other bag of mulch and drags it to the other side of the garden bed. Evan watches him, not giving anything away about what type of answer he's looking for.

"Sure," Tommy says. "I'll help. I'll cover this side and then we use the other one to layer on top of what's already on the ground?"

Evan gives a reluctant smile, and goes back to work.

-

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