#and very much looking forward to whatever comes next

[furioussouls]

There’s a part of me that recognises you.

[yandere! oc x chubby reader]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Song: Chihiro by Billie Eilish

Warning: yandere behaviour( I dont condone yandere behaviour in real life, this is just fiction), chubby reader (uses she/her pronouns), cursing, lucid dreaming, spirituality

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Standing knee-deep in the ice cold water while the salty breeze of the sea hit your face, you stroked over the goosebumps that rose over your plump arms. The radiant full moon illuminated your face and your eyes took in the view of the beautiful beach in front of you. The beach that you’ve been seeing every single night in every dream you had. The beach where you met him for the first time.

You don’t remember when the dreams first started, nor whether the guy you met in your dreams was just a person you once saw passing through a crowd, or just a result of your brain coming up with the image of the most beautiful guy alive.

You are completely aware of the fact that you’re dreaming. Whenever you saw him, you knew that you were dreaming. Your very own personal man of your dreams. Whenever you woke up, a heavy sense of sadness and dread filled you. Not only because the most perfect man disappeared from your grasp yet again, but also because you weren’t sure what was happening. Was it just a weird reoccurring lucid dream? Was it a memory? Or something entirely different?

Completely lost in thoughts, you stared at the gentle waves when familiar arms wrapped around your plush torso from behind. The comforting scent of oranges, sandalwood and jasmine infiltrated your nose and your worries eased a little. You smiled while keeping your gaze on the reflection of the moon on the water surface.

“I missed you during the day”, you whispered and he chuckled and squeezed you firmly.

“Darling, I can’t even begin to describe how much I missed you. I wish I could just sleep forever so we can see each other all the time.“, he sighed and buried his nose in your hair. He inhaled deeply and let out a small groan.

You turned around and looked at him. He leaned forward and gently kissed your nose. You wrapped your arms around him and buried yourself in his chest. His smell engulfed you and his hands gently squeezed whatever they could reach.

He‘s not real, he’s not real.

After a long minute you spoke up, “Can we sit down?“, you asked him and pointed to your usual sitting spot.

He nodded with a gentle smile and both of you sat next to each other in the sand, and he started to pick up pretty shells for you.

“How was your day?“, he asked you and you sighed and leaned back. His eyes immediately found yours and he furrowed his brows in concern.

He‘s not real.

“It was the same as always“, you replied numbly and looked up at the stars.

He put his large hand in the middle of your stomach and tenderly rubbed your lower belly fat.

“I hate that you’re so stressed about your life. Every night you look more exhausted and unhappy and seeing you like that feels like I’m getting stabbed in my chest. I wish I could take you away from everything, Darling. ", he told you and for the first time tonight he wasn’t smiling.

Your heart fluttered but immediately afterwards a wave of embarrassment and sadness washed over you. You’re taking like this with an imaginary man. A man from your dreams. He wasn’t real. None of this was. You can’t keep going like this.

You stood up walked back into the water and looked straight ahead, his arms gently squeezing around you again.

“What are you thinking about? “, he asked you, his chin now gently resting on your shoulder. His slender, veiny hands engulfed your beautifully plumped one.

You turned around to face him again and admired his features; from his shoulder-long blonde hair that shone golden in the light, to his beautiful honey coloured eyes, which brought out the slight freckles speckled across his nose and eyelids and plump lips. His long and lanky body adorned in a white button up and black pants.

His tender eyes scanned you from top to bottom too, his eyes halting on your round hips and pudgy stomach, which were particularly emphasised in this white night gown you were wearing. His gaze softened even more and his hand tenderly stroked up your arm til his hand reached your cheek and he cupped your face in his warm, big hands.

”My precious darling. What’s going through your pretty head, hm?“ he hummed and gently rubbed his aquiline nose against your hairline. “You can talk with me about anything. You know that.“ His hands wandered up and down your back and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You’re not real.”, you replied quietly and looked down.

Focusing on his button- up shirt was easier than looking into his piercing, loving eyes, but before you had the opportunity to avoid his eyes for too long , you noticed his necklace; it was a crystal. A purple one at that. Was it an amethyst? Before you could spend too much time thinking about his necklace, his hands cupped your round cheeks and made you look up at him again. This time his eyebrows were furrowed and his plump lips pressed to a line.

“What did you just say?”, he asked you solemnly.

A pit formed in your stomach. You gulped and responded, “We‘re dreaming. No, I’m dreaming. You’re not real. You‘re just a man in my dreams that I made up. Our relationship isn’t real and I think we need to stop meeting here.“

You felt pretty stupid for “breaking up“ with someone from your dreams but it was the right thing to do.

The idyllic landscape suddenly turned into a nightmare; heavy lightning bolts struck the ocean and thunder rumbled all around you. Your eyes widened and you felt your pulse pick up.

Your eyes found his again and your jaw dropped open when you saw the tears running down his freckled cheek. You wanted to apologise to him, to comfort him, but before you could even get one word out, he fell on his knees in front of you.

“I don’t know what happened. Just yesterday we were talking about everything until you woke up and now you’re saying that what we have is not real? That our feelings aren’t real? What the fuck happened to make you change your mind?“, he asked loudly with tears streaming down his face. He took your hand and and kissed the palm of your hand and each individual finger softly while tears were dripping on your own hand.

Why would you dream this? Why would it feel so real? He looked at you from below his lashes, expecting an answer and kept your hand close to his mouth.

You felt the world crumble and blur around you. The light of the moon dimmed slowly while the ocean was drying up. This happens every night. This process was as familiar to you as was seeing him and this beach. It could only mean one thing; you were waking up.

He frantically looked around and held you by your shoulders. It was a firm but gentle grip nevertheless. “Please, baby. Please don’t leave me like this, okay? Come back tomorrow, hm? We‘ll talk it all over”, he begged.

Before you could answer, you woke up in your room. Blinking sleepily, your eyes scanned the room and you sighed and brushed your hair back. What the fuck was that about? Shit, you felt even more exhausted than before you went to bed. You were about to get up when you noticed something. The hand that he had kissed desperately, was slightly wet. It looked like the cause for it were small and irregular droplets of water; like his tears.

Goosebumps rose all over your body and your cheeks began to heat up while a cold shower ran down the nape of your neck. The heavy sense of dread expanded in your belly. No, you were probably just going crazy. Nothing extraordinary happening here. Nothing at all. Your eyes slowly drifted back to your hand and you picked your hand up and gently held it under your nose. His familiar scent invaded your nose again and you jumped up from your bed.

Suddenly you remembered his necklaces; the amethyst. Scrambling to your phone you looked up which crystals can help with lucid dreaming and… Amethyst was amongst the top five crystals.

Easy explanation, you were going crazy. You have nothing else going for you in your life so you convinced yourself that the man from your dreams is real. Easy situation.

You needed fresh air; walking outside in the autumnal weather while the dried leaves were crunching beneath you always helped clearing your mind. The refreshing breeze whirled around you and your tense body calmed a bit, when you accidentally walked against somebody. The person dropped their belongings and you apologised and picked up their things. Before you looked them in their face your eyes halted at their necklace; it was the same amethyst from your dream. You took a few steps back and your eyes immediately jumped up to the persons face and it was him. The man from your dreams.

“Hello, baby. We finally see each other during the day too. My name is Ellis“, he said gently with a lazy, soft smile and extremely deep bags beneath his eyes.

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Eight - Deep into the hole

“I can't believe this is happening. What do you think happened to him?” Amelie asks, looking more than a little worked up.

“I really don't know…” You lie. It feels awful lying to her, but telling her the truth would be far worse. Why did you ever have to cross paths with Lestat?

“I can't believe it.” She says again.

You focus on making the coffee. There was very little chance of you getting any sleep right now anyway. You pour two cups and hand one to Amelie. She takes it with a soft ‘thank you.’

“You know… you were the last person I saw him with…”

You look at her. “Please tell me you're not accusing me of anything. Amelie, I don't know where he is.” 

“I know. I was just saying…” The tone of her voice leaves you a little unconvinced. There's doubt lingering in your mind and for the first time ever you're left wondering who your real friends might be.

“I'm a lot of things, but a murderer ain't one.”

Amelie seems to realize how her words had sounded and moves closer to you. She reaches out for your hand and sighs loudly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I've just been thinking too much.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Please don't let whatever is happening come between us. You're one of the few people I have.”

Amelie puts down her coffee so she can hug you. You return the gesture, but doubt is still eating away at your mind.

‘Come to me, Chéri.’

You hear him in your head. He was probably disappointed you had left. You needed time to think before you went back. There was too much going on.

You wake suddenly. Light is illuminating your room through your curtains. Amelie is fast asleep on your couch and you're curled up in a chair beside her. Two forgotten cups of coffee sit on the table.

Your head pounds as you get up out of the chair. You take a few moments to gather yourself and then start cleaning up. Amelie only stirs after you start filling the sink with water to wash up with.

“What time is it?” She asks, stretching.

“Noon.”

“Oh no! I'm supposed to be at the theater to answer questions about Noah. Damn it. I have to go.” She scrambles to get up.

“Wait a minute.” You wipe your hands and walk over to her. “What do you mean?”

“The police were going to go back to the theater today to ask questions. I promised Jack I'd be there.”

You feel an uneasy feeling in your body. “I'll take you.”

Arriving at the theater, you only see one police car parked outside. It gives you a feeling of dread as you look at it. Amelie leads the way inside.

All the performers are gathered in the lobby. They're all talking amongst each other. Through the commotion you can see Jack talking to two officers. After a few moments he turns to everyone and steps up on a chair.

“Quiet!”

Everyone falls silent. Jack turns to the officers. The tallest of the two steps forward. “We're here to enquire about Noah. It would seem his disappearance holds more questions than answers. One by one we're going to take you into the theater and ask you questions. If anyone knows anything about where he may be, dead or alive, please come forward.”

It feels like it gets harder to breathe.

The shorter officer steps forward and calls the first name. While they go inside, the rest of the crew all begin talking again. They're all trying to figure out what's happening. Jack gets bombarded with questions.

You take a seat on one of the small couches in the lobby. Amelie turns and looks at you quietly. She walks over and takes a seat beside you. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just… can't believe this is happening. Do they really think something happened to Noah?”

“His sister certainly thinks so. She went to his place and all his stuff was still there, but the door was locked. Reckon he was taken or something before he even got home.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Was Lestat even going to do anything about all of this? He knows what's happening. He surely knows how much trouble you're in. Then again, can the police even connect you with Noah's disappearance. No one actually saw you with him alone. Lestat came in quick at the time and took him just as fast.

There's no evidence you were with him after the show.

One by one more performers were called into the theater. The ones who have been questioned already get asked to leave immediately. You watch each of them head on home.

Jack comes over to you after half the lobby is empty. He sees you with Amelie.

“I didn't realize you were. You don't need to be here.”

You look up at him. “Don't they want to question everyone?”

“Yes, but you're clear.”

You furrow your brows at him. “What do you mean I'm clear?”

“I already told the police that after the incident on stage, you left and Noah came to me. You were gone before the end of the show.”

“What?”

“Noah came to talk to me after you left the stage that night. I don't know where he went after, but when I came to your room, you were already gone.”

Jack doesn't know about the brief altercation in your dressing room. It really did happen too quickly for anyone to notice.

“Oh, I see.”

Jack places a hand on your shoulder in support. “You look tired. Go home.”

“No, let me stay.”

The short officer comes out to call for the next person when he sees you and Jack. He walks over and checks his list. “You're the pianist.”

“That's right.”

“Jack has already cleared up your whereabouts, but may we ask you some questions?”

Jack goes to interfere, but you're faster. “Of course. I'll come with you now.”

Jack looks at you with a column expression and watches you go with the officer.

Amelie looks up at him. “She'll be fine. She always is.”

“I know.”

Inside the theater you make your way to where the tall officer is. He's writing some things down. As you approach he looks up.

“This is the pianist Jack mentioned,” the other officer said.

“Oh. Wasn't expecting you here today.”

“I want to help if I can.” You tell him.

He nods. “I'm officer Michaels. That's officer Jackson. Take a seat, ma'am.”

You sit down beside him.

“Did you know Noah?” He asks.

“Not very well. He came to the theater to perform. Jack had suggested we do a duet, but I declined.”

“Yes, I heard as much. May we ask why?”

“I perform alone. I play solo.”

Michaels nods and makes a note of that. He looks at you again. “What happened that night?”

“I was performing. Same as I do every Friday. I was only just into my first song when Noah stormed the stage singing his heart out. I was furious, but only because he ruined my music. Not that he was a bad singer, just that I like my music to speak without the need for words.”

Michaels nods again. “Then what happened?”

Lestat happened. But you can't tell him that.

“I left the stage, ending my performance early. I was not in much mood to be made a fool of. I retreated to my dressing room to gather my things.”

“And then?”

“I went home. I was too embarrassed and furious to talk to anyone. I was gone before the show was over. Didn't even say bye to Jack.”

It wasn't a complete lie. It wasn't the whole truth either.

“I see. Jack said as much. He spoke to Noah briefly and then went to check on you after he had the next performer on stage. Your dressing room was empty. No sign of Noah either. You did not leave with him that night?”

“Not at all.”

Michaels makes a note. “Understood. Thank you for your time, ma'am.”

You nod and rise from the seat. However, before you get too far, you turn. “May I ask, what do you think happened to him?”

“I can't say for certain, but it is likely he disappeared after leaving the theater, but before reaching his home. Rest assured, We will find our answers.”

You nod and leave quietly.

By the time you're leaving the theater, Amelie is going in for questioning. You don't stop to talk to anyone, just like the others did before you. You're on your way home when someone comes up beside you.

“Hey there.”

You turn and see Eleanor has joined you. You had just wanted to go home.

“Hello.”

“May I join you for a moment?” She asks kindly.

“Sure.”

You walk in silence for a few moments before she talks. “My brother wrote about you in his letter to me.”

“He did?” You ask, almost worried about what he had said. You felt too involved in something you didn't actually do.

“He said he had the most beautiful piano piece he had ever heard in his life. He had said to me that he was going to sing to that piano one day.”

You look at her. “He really wanted that?”

“Yes. My brother is an admirer of the arts. Music is his passion.” She smiles. “He used to sing to me all the time.

“I see…”

“It's a shame I didn't get to see him sing with you. You'd make a good pair.”

Her comment makes you feel rather sick. You can feel your stomach turning as you walk. You just wanted to go home and disappear for a few days.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… tired.”

She seems to fall for your lie and loops her arm around yours. “Let me walk you home.”

You decide to just let her.

As you walk you drift away with your thoughts. It's still day, so Lestat will be asleep. Should you go visit him at nightfall? Should you just leave him be? Lestat seems like more trouble than he's worth.

Yet, the way he looks at you. The way he held you in his arms and kissed you. You can't deny your attraction to him. Lestat was like a drug you couldn't get enough of. You wanted to see him again.

Though he is still the reason this whole mess has happened.

You were confused on what to do.

Before you know it you're standing on your doorstep. Eleanor lets go of your arm and smiles kindly at you.

“Take care.”

You find yourself smiling softly. “I'll try.”

She walks away slowly, clearly lost in her own thoughts. You can't help watching her go. She shouldn't have come here. Everything would have been fine had she simply not come here.

Too late to do anything about it now.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4 @darkqueen1995 @bridkesby @caribbeangal @sarcasticandfangirl @missjadesfics @kaybart19 @whereismymindnow @chauchirem @angelrenee239 @ppureheroiine

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Saw this ask on another blog.

How would the ROs react if they fall from a high place and MC catch them. Like they where on top of a chair and fall in the MC arms.

Cassandra: I feel like this would be an instinct that she didn't really know she had, to move forward and reach out to catch MC. Her face would just as surprised as yours, she would have the strength to carry you; man or woman (If you were really heavy for her then she could carry you long enough to break the fall then put you back on your feet). I don't think she would really have any words to say afterwards either, just straight 😯 face. Would have you steady on your feet before asking if you're alright, dusts you off and looks you over for any injuries before nagging you to be more careful.

Valeria: LMAO, you both are falling to the floor. She might have strong arms but she misses leg day, everyday. She would reach out to try though, and it's the thought of trying to catch you that counts.

Tomas: Was hovering right next to you in case you fell anyway, catches you instantly and holds you tight in his strong arms for a moment. Low key does not want to put you down because he feels so overjoyed and satisfied at that very moment, he absolutely loves this feeling. When he eventually puts you down, he dotes on you for a good while; all cooing and fussing over you lovingly. It comes off slightly as babying but I mean... he finds you and this whole situation absolutely adorable!

-

Ludovica: ...You are also both falling to the floor. Like instantly, absolutely zero resistance. She would have been right next to you too, telling you to be careful. I doubt she even had the reaction time to raise her arms to try and catch you, she probably just squeaked and crumbled under you.

Aurelio: My man probably was a little ways away from you when you fell, he doesn't really hover so he had given you some space while you were doing whatever it was that you were doing. But he has decent reaction time and used his long as legs to cross the distance and catch you. Insert wack ass pun about falling for him and he puts you down. Would only make this a cheesy romantic moment if MC looks into his eyes all surprised and in love, if MC acts casual about it, so will he.

Elio: I would like to say that he would let you fall because I love characterizing him as an asshole with a cat's affectionate bipolar personality. But he probably would walk over if he thought you would probably fall, would react in perfect time to catch you. Cue the little bastard's smirk and cute head tilt, asking if you are okay. Oh, and he doesn't struggle or waver to catch you AT ALL; for how little working out and how much he dodges hard work like the plague, he is surprisingly strong.

[mizgnomer]

Hello :) What's your favourite David Tennant character?

Oooh, that's a hard one. I absolutely adore so many of his performances, but his Doctors (Ten, Tentoo, Fourteen - I'll take them all) are always going to be sentimental favorites for me. I've been a Doctor Who fan since I was a youngster during the Tom Baker era. When I started watching new Who in 2005 I figured no new-fangled Doctor would ever take the place of the fondly-remembered favorites from my childhood, but David absolutely shot to the top of my best Doctors list, then went on to become my favorite actor as well. My kids also became Doctor Who fans during David's time, so watching the show together became a fun family event! As much as I adore Crowley and Alec Hardy and David's Hamlet and Benedick and Richard II (and love to hate his Kilgrave), it's hard to top his Doctor(s) in my heart.

...but there are so many other characters I also love. So, so many. Objectively it's too hard for me to choose, so I'll stick with the sentimental Doctor answer. 😊

[wingsofaether]

hm this is a bit interesting to say the least. I'm not really iffy about time travel in general and parallel universes could be interesting if done right.. just a lot to think about

Link to article

https://www.eurogamer.net/naoki-yoshida-on-dawntrail-criticism-community-feedback-and-the-future-of-final-fantasy-14

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Summary: It can't be a coincidence anymore.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,411 words

Warnings: ANGST, emotional turmoil, panic and panic attacks, anxiety, drugs used for drugging, very brief mention of predatory behavior, author can't write call of duty missions for shit, withholding the truth, hints at betrayal, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, very much leaning into that AU now, brief mention of guns and bullets

A/N: Ummm...yeah. You'll see. Bit shorter than normal but my obsessive need for cliffhangers prevents me from shoving it all into one chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Her head is spinning. There’s a steady throbbing behind her eyes, her blood pumping in her ears. Her shoulder aches from the cold tile floor under her. She can’t quite bring herself to move yet, the deep ache in her bones still lingering. She pushes through the haze in her mind, trying to bring up the memories of what happened. 

Someone had entered her office. She hadn’t even had time to turn around when she was hit from behind. That explains the throbbing in the back of her head. Likely concussed, though it hadn’t been a hard hit. Not hard enough to do serious damage, not even hard enough to make her see stars. Just enough to incapacitate her so she couldn’t fight back. There had been a sting of a needle in her neck. Whatever it was, it was fast acting, maybe a minute before she lost consciousness. 

Ketamine...maybe fentanyl. 

She pushes herself up to sit, blinking back the dizziness and the nausea. Whoever attacked her wanted her out of the way, incapacitated for long enough to do something. 

A horrifying thought flashes through her mind as she comes back to reality. She’s one of the few on base that knows you’re completely alone. She’s likely the only one who would care if you went missing. She tries to keep herself calm, tries to slow her breathing as she feels her pockets, pulling herself up onto her knees, gripping the side of her desk as she fights the nausea and pounding in her head that nearly blinds her. 

Her phone is gone. 

Her legs shake as she forces them under her, pulling herself up. She needs to get to the barracks, needs to check on you. She stumbles to the door, pushing it open as she tries to keep her breathing under control. You’re smart. You’re going to hide, or run, from any threat. You’ve learned your lesson from the last time. You won’t go easily again. 

The walk to the barracks feels like it takes forever as she half stumbles her way across the base, fighting the wind still whipping through the open areas between the buildings. Her head is throbbing, the haze of the drug still lingering. It’s the terror in her mind, the horrible thoughts of what might have happened keeping her moving forward. She only gets glances as she crosses to the 141’s barracks. None of them even think to ask her if she’s alright. 

There’s no help from the others. 

She pushes open the door to the barracks, blinking through the burning of the bright fluorescents. She feels for you, having to exist in such a bright, clinical space. 

Dread begins to fill her as she reaches your door, finding it open. The door jam is broken, the wood around the lock splintered. Your dresser had been pushed behind the door, but it hadn’t stopped whoever wanted to get in. The window is open, and she can only hope you crawled your way through to safety. She steps up to your desk, books and snacks in disarray, some having fallen to the floor. She swallows thickly as she stares down at the wood, her fingers shaking. 

Her phone is sitting on the desk. 

She picks it up, the screen flashing on. There’s a missed call from you. Whoever had broken in must have made it look like she was the one responsible. She goes through her contacts, finding your number before calling. She doesn’t have hope that you’ll answer, but she has to try for her own sanity. 

The phone doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail. 

She steps out of your door, going through every room she can in the barracks, shouting your name. She doesn't have hope, except maybe that you doubled back and barricaded yourself somewhere. It’s not likely you would answer to her anyway, if you thought she was the one behind all of this. 

She heads outside, trying to catch any lingering hint of your scent, but the wind has dispersed it completely. There’s soldiers milling around, likely on their afternoon breaks. She doesn't hesitate as she approaches them, asking every soldier she sees in the area if they’ve seen you. 

“I saw her.” One finally says. Allen, his patch reads. “Running towards the trees.” 

“Was anyone following her?” She asks. 

He shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t stay long enough to see.” 

She feels the urge to punch him, to yell at him for not helping, but she knows they have strict orders to keep away from you. They might have not known any better, or wanted to risk a reprimanding if they disobeyed orders. 

She continues to take deep breaths as she glances towards the trees. It won’t do her much good to try to go looking by herself. You wouldn’t have followed the trail. You’re too smart for that. She’d need a whole army to search the base for you. 

Her hands shake as she searches through her contacts. She’s not expecting an answer. She’s probably busy with the 141 away on a mission. No one will know. No one will know until it’s too late. She’s not sure what to do. Would the commanders on base believe her? Would they organize a search based on her word alone? By then it might be too late. It might be too late now. 

“Laswell.” 

“Kate, Kate I can’t find her.” She gasps out, spinning around in the middle of the road, as if you might come popping out of thin air, or creeping out from behind a building. She’s panicking, speaking the words aloud feeling like an absolute truth, as if she’s speaking it into existence. 

“Who?” Kate asks, sounding confused. 

She chokes out your name, her hand pressed to her chest to try and calm the panic quickly rising in her. “She’s gone.” 

Kate takes a deep breath to keep her head clear and calm. It’s far too much of a coincidence to deny it now. The cameras, the sudden deployment, the call from Shepherd for the whole team, the discovery of the files. 

Now this. 

“Kate?” 

She’s never heard Christine so emotional, so uncomposed before. “I’m here.” She says, composing herself. One of them needs to be clear-headed and logical. “I’m going to contact command, alert base security. You look everywhere you think she might possibly be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Christine lets out a breath. “I can do that.” 

“I’ll call back as soon as I can.” She says. “If you find anything, I need to know immediately.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Kate knows she’s trying to calm herself, get her head on straight again. “Christine? We’ll find her. No matter what it takes.” 

“You don’t....you don’t think she’s...” She can’t manage to finish the sentence. 

“No.” Kate says, not even having to ask what she means. It’s not a lie, though. If the conspiracy that’s been brewing in her head is true, you’re more valuable to them alive. “If what I think is happening is actually happening, she has to be alive. She’s no use to anyone dead.” She says, speaking the thoughts aloud for the first time since the delivery of the cameras into her hands. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

Kate holds her phone in her hand, taking a breath. She’s not sure how it happened, how you managed to disappear out from under Christine’s watchful eye. Something must have happened that separated the two of you long enough for you to disappear. Christine wouldn’t just leave you like that unless it was something important, or if she sensed something wrong, something that might put you at risk. You wouldn’t have left the barracks on your own, not unless something forced the two of you apart. 

She should call them, make them aware. 

She can’t bring herself to. Not yet. She can’t distract them. The job comes first. She’s always hated those words in the context of the initiative. Why would they put an omega through this? What was the real reason? The idea of the initiative always left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it too much. She’ll know soon. She’ll get her answers as soon as her team finishes combing through those files. 

She won’t call them until they know for sure. Not until they’re positive, not until there’s proof. They’re not in a place they could easily leave, either.

Sometimes the greater good has to come first. 

Her hands are shaking as she dials the number for the base commander. They have an omega to find. 

Christine’s heart is pounding as she races around the base, checking everywhere she can think of. She’d gotten looks as she combed through the mess, wide eyed and nearly shaking with fear. Her scent must have been projecting, all the control she’d mastered slipping away. She’s never felt panic like this before, not even in the toughest situations with omegas. This is different though. You’re her only patient. She had been tasked with keeping watch over you, they had trusted her enough to take care of you in their absence again, even after everything had happened. 

Your mental state scared her. Seeing you like that wasn’t a surprise after everything you’ve gone through these last few weeks, but that doesn’t stop the worry, the concern as your doctor. Sure, whoever took you, if they took you, might want you alive...but can your mind keep itself alive for that long? 

She asks everyone she can in the mess, the kitchen staff and everyone sitting near the doors if they’ve seen you. 

No one. Not a single soul saw you. It was unlikely you’d run to the mess, but that would have been the logical move. Run where there’s a crowd, though if you thought they wouldn’t help you, you might have avoided it. 

She checks the med center next, combing every inch of it she can. She’s not sure you would have risked running there if you thought she was behind it. Did you see your assailant’s face? You must have, if they drugged you too. You wouldn’t go quietly, so they would have had to reveal themselves to you. 

You know it’s not her behind it. 

She tells herself that to make herself feel better. 

Would you think she was, even if evidence pointed to it? Would you think she would betray you like that? They would have taught you not to trust anyone, but why now? Why would she strike now when she’s been with you in your weakest moments over the last two weeks? There were plenty of times she could have done something, yet she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have. There was no amount of money in this world that would have convinced her to turn against you, betray you and your pack. 

She had been willing to fight tooth and nail to avoid sending those files to Shepherd if John hadn’t told her to do it. He trusted her. 

That trust will be broken now. 

She left you alone, and now you’re gone. 

Or dead. 

There would be no escaping their retribution. They’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth. Alex would never forgive her. Hell, he’d probably join them. 

She checks the gym, even though she doubts you’d run there of all places. She combs every corner she can, getting one of the soldiers to unlock the training rooms just in case, even though it was illogical to think you’d be able to get in with them locked. She can’t be too careful, though. Maybe they taught you how to pick locks. 

She even checks the pool, looking at every inch just to be sure. 

She’s not sure if it’s a relief she can’t find you compared to the alternative, or if it’s almost worse. At least if she found a body there would be closure. The panic could ease for a moment and she’d know. She’d be sure. 

She runs through the barracks once more, combing through every closet and toilet stall, but as expected there’s nothing there. Just your forced open door and the open window. Whatever happened, you did what you were supposed to. You called her and you ran. You learned your lesson, the lessons they’ve all taught you. You did your best, and that is enough, even if her darkest thoughts are true. 

You must have run for the trees. It’s the most logical place to run. There’s plenty of places to hide, lots of space to run and double back on your trail, to confuse whoever was following you until they gave up. 

Would they give up? Or was their motivations strong enough to keep them prowling, hunting every inch of the forest to look for you. 

What if they’re still out there looking for you? What if you’re still out there, afraid and alone. 

She hadn’t seen your phone in your room. She prays you grabbed it before you left. Maybe you’re out there trying to call Kate, trying to call anyone who might be able to help. She wishes you’d call her, but why would you if you think she’s still behind it? 

Whoever did this planned this out perfectly. 

It’s all premeditated. All of it. 

What if you’re out there distressing? 

She feels like vomiting, her stomach churning uncomfortably. You were already so worked up about your pack being gone, something like this might have sent you right over the edge. She curls her hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. She doesn’t know what to do. 

For the first time in a long time she doesn’t have a solution to a problem. 

She leans against the wall outside the barracks, taking deep breaths. She’s no good to anyone if she’s panicking. You need help. You’ll need her if they find you. She’ll be the only one that will be able to help you. She’s not even sure your pack knows yet. Could Kate tell them? It’s been weeks and there’s been no word. Kate hadn’t been able to give her anything as expected, only that she’d pass the word along once they had a moment. 

Had she been lying, or had they truly been off the grid completely? Has this deployment really been that serious? They had called in the whole pack. Or had that been premeditated too. Get you alone and wait for the perfect moment. It can’t be coincidence that they waited until you were distressed enough being separated from your pack for so long. 

None of it is a coincidence. 

Would Kate tell them this happened? Would she risk it now that your life is in danger?

Or is Kate in on this too? 

She shakes the thought from her head. She knows Kate. Kate had picked her specifically for this job. She spent weeks with Kate interviewing and being debriefed for this position. Kate wouldn’t do something like this, not with how close she is to John and the pack. They trust her and she knows them enough to pick an omega that fits in seamlessly with them. She wouldn’t betray them and you like this. 

Something is going on behind the scenes. Something has happened to cause all of this. It’s all related. It has to be. It’s all too convenient, all too orchestrated. It has to revolve around the cameras. There’s no other thing she can think of that might cause this series of events. 

Unless it goes even deeper than that. 

“Dr. Keller?” She looks up when she hears her name. 

“Yes?” She says, pushing herself to stand up straight as an officer approaches.  

“Lieutenant Colonel Woods, Base Commander.” The officer holds out his hand. 

She shakes it, her palms sweaty but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“We’re rounding up everyone who is still on base.” He says. It’s the weekend. A lot of them will have left. All the more easy to sneak you away. “We’ll search through every building and send out parties to comb through the forest.” 

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve checked everywhere I can think of. There’s no sign of her.”

“If she’s still on base, we’ll find her.” He says, far more confident than she feels. 

If you’re still on base. The words make her want to vomit. 

“The front gate guards are compiling a list of everyone who has come on base and left base within the last two hours.” He continues. “If someone took her, we’ll know.” 

“I’m worried about her.” She says, the only thing that’s coming to her mind. It’s true. She’s never been quite so invested in the wellbeing of a patient as she has you, but then again, she’s never been this involved in the life of a patient before. “A lot of things could go wrong quickly.” 

“We’ve got a lot of boots on the ground out there looking.” He says. He’s trying to be comforting. She knows this, but that stiff military mindset keeps it from sounding more than cordial and practiced. What if they’re all in on it? “We’ll find her, or we’ll get answers to what happened.” 

The wait is the worst part. She’s going crazy, waiting for any word. Anything that might hint at what’s happening. There’s been nothing yet, no sign of you, but it’s hardly been twenty minutes. She can’t stop the spiraling thoughts. She can’t take her own advice, apply her own knowledge and teachings. Not right now. Not while she’s bordering on a crisis. She needs to find you. She needs to know you’re alright. 

Don’t let them find a body. 

She’ll never live with herself. She left you alone. She let this happen. She was supposed to be watching you, taking care of you, and now you’re gone under her watch. 

They’ll never trust her again. 

Her phone ringing nearly has her jumping out of her skin. She fumbles for it in her pocket, her fingers trembling. Please let it be you. She lets out a breath of disappointment before answering. 

“Kate?” Her voice shakes. 

“Any news?” Kate asks. She sounds disheveled herself. 

“Nothing.” She swallows thickly. “They’re still looking.” 

Kate sighs. “I don’t think she’s on base.” 

Hearing it nearly makes her legs give out. She’s known that’s likely the case since she called Kate the first time, but hearing it out loud solidifies that as a fact. She’s been keeping a fool’s hope that you managed to hide somewhere, that you got somewhere safe, even if she knows better. 

“This goes a lot deeper than we all thought. It was never about the cameras or the initiative.” Kate continues. 

“The reports, the prying.” She says. “It wasn’t about tracking progress for the sake of progress.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“Sir.” A soldier approaches, saluting the Lieutenant Colonel. 

“We might have some news.” She says, putting her phone on speaker. She hopes it’s true. If they can get a name, then they’ll have an easier time finding you. 

“At ease.” Woods says. 

“We have the list of everyone who left base in the last two hours.” He says, handing over a tablet. “There’s only one.” 

“Colonel McKinney.” Woods says. 

“He left in his personal vehicle 50 minutes ago.” The guard says. 

“Give me every detail you can on that car.” Kate says. 

“It’s a blue Ford Fiesta, registration plate Papa Juliet 64, Hotel Tango November.” Woods says.

“I’ll get eyes on that car.” Kate says. 

“I’ll alert local police.” Woods says. 

“We will find her.” Kate says, and Christine knows she’s trying to reassure her. 

“Do they know?” She asks. 

“Not yet.” Kate says. “They’re not in a place where they can do anything about it, and the last thing they need is to get distracted.” 

“They're not going to like being kept in the dark on this for so long.” She says. 

“I know. But it’s for their own safety above all else.” 

And the greater good of the world, Christine knows, even if Kate doesn’t say it out loud. It’s always for the greater good. That’s why the job comes first, even if it’s at your detriment. She feels like screaming, like throwing her phone. 

It’s not fair. 

Her hands are still shaking as she ends the call with Kate, not feeling any more comforted than she had before. It’s possible Corporal McKinney was involved. It’s too coincidental that he left base within the time you went missing. Why would he take you, though? Was he involved in all of this too? She’s never heard you mention his name before, nor have you brought up any strange feelings about any of the soldiers on base. Omegas are good at reading others' energies. It’s a natural defense mechanism and with your pureblood status, it makes you all the more aware of things in your environment. 

Then again, you kept the cameras from all of them. What else have you been hiding? 

She pushes the thoughts away. Now is not the time for conspiracies she can’t get an answer to. They need to find you first and ensure you’re alright. That’s the most important thing. 

“Lieutenant Colonel!” A soldier says, approaching their makeshift headquarters. “We found something, sir.” 

“What did you find?” He says, standing up straight. 

“A bullet on the trail, sir.” He places the bullet in Woods’ hand. “About a quarter of a mile from the trailhead.” 

Christine feels like passing out. Her legs are wobbling, knees shaking as she stands there, staring at the bullet. She needs to sit down, she needs to breathe. 

Don’t let them find a body. Please don’t let them find a body. 

The tear that trails down her cheek is hot against her clammy skin. 

Kate sighs as she puts down the phone. She wants to put her head in her hands, scream, punch something, anything. She can’t, though, she’s doing double duty. She’s the only one she trusts to do both of these things. This pack is hers to watch over, hers to help, and that includes the entire pack. 

Not much can be done until Corporal McKinney and his car are found. There won’t be any leads until then, unless they come across something on base. She hates it, that she can’t do more. She knows if she tells John, they’ll abandon this mission and be on a flight home in a heartbeat. It won’t do anyone any good until they know more, until the 141 are in a safer position. 

She hates keeping it from them, but it’s for everyone’s safety. 

Especially if what she uncovered is true. 

She can hardly believe it herself. Her eyes keep flickering to the files her team had uncovered, the truth finally spilling out about everything. There is no initiative. There was never going to be an initiative. They were all pawns being placed for a move like this, for a situation that calls for such drastic measures. 

The last few hours have hardly felt real. 

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher 0-1 how copy?” John’s voice comes through the comms, almost startling her. 

She still has a job to do. 

“Loud and clear, Bravo 0-6.” She says, clearing her throat. 

“Kate, there’s nothing here.” 

Kate blinks at the screen, at the map that had been carefully laid out with exact points, confirmed visuals. “Come again?” She says, praying it was her overactive mind that misheard. 

“The warehouse is empty. There’s no sign of any missile having been here in the first place.” John says. 

What? Kate flips through files, scanning every bit of intel that had been given to her. 

They’re all pawns. 

There was no missile. There was no real intel. A red herring.

Separating the pack leaves members vulnerable. Take away the four and leave the omega alone and unprotected. Separate her from the one person left to keep watch over her, leave her vulnerable. 

It’s what they wanted all along. That was always the plan. 

“John, there’s...” She trails off as dots begin appearing on the map. She zooms in, her stomach dropping. “Four vehicles approaching your position.” 

“Friendly?” He asks, but she can hear the doubt in his voice. He knows they’re not. He’s done this enough times. 

“I don’t think they're meeting you for a picnic.” She says, trying to identify the vehicles. 

“We’ll dig in here. Keep them from getting in.” John says. 

“John...” Kate says. She should tell him. She needs to tell them before something goes wrong. If this was all a trap, then things will go wrong, yet she can’t bring herself to say it. Not yet. “Don’t come out of there in a body bag.” 

“Don’t give up hope on us yet.” He says before the line goes dead. 

Kate lets out a long breath, rubbing her eyes. It’s going to be a long next few hours. 

Your head is pounding. There’s a throbbing behind your eyes beating in time with your heart. It hurts, a quiet groan leaving your lips. The world is spinning and you haven’t even opened your eyes. Your entire body feels like it’s twisting and turning, your organs wringing themselves like a washcloth. You’re going to be sick, but you can’t even manage to lift your head. 

Everything feels heavy. Nothing is moving despite your brain telling it to. There’s a deep ache in your muscles and joints like you’ve been immobile for far too long and need to stretch. Your limbs try to move, yet nothing happens except a sharp pain in your left calf. You let out another groan, fingers curling at the sharp pain that radiates up through your leg to your hip. The throbbing behind your eyes intensifies as your head is moved, tilting up before falling backwards weakly.  

“Easy.” A voice coos at you, easing your head back straight. It flops to the side, none of your muscles coordinating like they should. “...know...dose...twice.” 

The words float in and out, muffled like you’re underwater and just barely bobbing above the surface. You do feel a bit like you’re underwater, trying to kick up to the surface of consciousness. Something is holding you under, keeping you from reaching that surface. 

There’s a hand on your face holding your head up as your muscles fight to activate enough to hold it up themselves. The hand is warm against your skin, rough and calloused. There’s two textures, skin and rough fabric against your face. Awareness begins to come back to you slowly, your mind clearing the fog the longer you’re awake. Your body hurts, muscles aching. You try to move your arms but you can't, something biting into the skin of your wrists as you turn them. 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” The voice says, calloused fingers brushing your arm. 

You flinch at the touch, muscles contracting painfully before they relax. You let out another groan, your brows pinching as you try to get your eyes to open. The haze hasn’t entirely lifted from your brain yet as you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. It’s cold where you are, goosebumps forming on your skin. It’s uncomfortable, your body too exposed. You want a sweatshirt, a blanket, something to keep the cold away. Something tickles in the back of your brain as you begin to pick up scents, several all at once, meshed together. It’s overwhelming, too much information flooding your brain all at once. 

The motion is automatic and instinctual as you turn your face to press into the hand on your cheek. You inhale deeply, trying to block out the overwhelming wave of senses, trying to get a sense of who it is in front of you, who is with you in the room. 

Woody. Soft wood. Cedar? It smells like a candle your mother used to burn. 

Sweet? Something sweet. Chocolate? Richer. Dark chocolate. 

Memories begin to float back as you inhale the scent. You know that scent. You’ve smelled it before. Your frown deepens as you hold your face there, nose pressed against the palm as your mind sluggishly digs through your hazy memory banks. You can’t even remember where you are or how you got there. 

“Good girl.” 

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before. Somewhere in the back of your mind it triggers something, some faded memory shoved deep into the depths of your memory bank. You dig for it, mining your sluggish brain as you try to figure out who it is, why it’s all so familiar. 

The other part of your brain focuses on your body, waking your muscles back up. With it comes the pain, the achiness: the throbbing in your calf, the pulsing behind your eyes, the ache in your muscles and joints. There’s a light somewhere in front of you, bright and shining through your eyelids. You don’t want to open them. It feels wrong, the bright light right in your face. You don’t like it. 

You pull your face away from the hand, your head drooping forward slightly as the muscles in your neck finally begin to engage. The scent is wrong. It’s not the right kind of wood. There’s no damp earth after a spring rain, no scent of petrichor. The touch isn’t right. It’s not soft enough, not warm enough. 

It’s not your alpha. 

The tingling in the back of your brain intensifies as you shoot into hyper-awareness from your sluggish state. Your instincts are awake, suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of scents and sounds. There’s voices all around, quiet and hushed, but they might as well be yelling in your ears. There’s so many scents blending together until you can’t tell one from the other. 

Except the one in front of you. 

Cedar. Dark Chocolate. 

Memories crawl forward from the recesses of your mind. Childhood. Texas. Summer heat. The charcoal in the barbeque. Cedar and chocolate always too close. You hated it. You’ve always hated that smell.

Your eyes force themselves open, eyelids peeling up like a damp window that’s been closed for a decade. The window had been hard to open, yet you managed it with the adrenaline pumping through your body. 

Your heart rate picks up at the thought, some fear you can’t quite conceptualize yet in your half-aware state burning in the back of your mind. You breathe heavily as you fight to get your eyes open, blinking against the obtrusive light. Fluorescent, too bright to be comfortable. 

White walls, bright lights. Boots on the floor. 

Your pack. 

Where is your pack? Where is your alpha? 

Where are you?

Finally your eyes open, squinting against the bright light. You can’t see anything, the light directly in your eyes. It burns, tears gathering on your lids as you fight against the oppressive, blinding sun being directed at you. 

Voices float in the background and suddenly the light is turned away. You blink away the bright spots left in your vision, a couple tears falling uncontrollably. Rough fingers wipe them off your cheeks almost tenderly, but not tender enough.

Rough fingers across your skin, gripping you tightly, anchoring you. A soft voice floats through the air, rough yet comforting with the soft words calming the panic in you.

It’s not right. 

Nothing is right. 

You’re breathing heavily as you finally get your eyes fully open, the muscles in your neck contracting as you slowly lift your head. There’s someone kneeling in front of you, arm draped across their knee. They’re like a shadow, hidden mostly from view as you blink clarity into your eyes. Your brows pinch into a frown again as you blink, your gaze focusing on the face in front of you. 

You know that face. 

“There she is.” 

You know that voice. 

It’s been years since you heard it last. Memories slam into you in an onslaught, memories from your childhood, back when things were fine, things were normal, things were as they should be. 

Family. Texas. Alphas.

Cedar and chocolate. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, blinking in shock. Your brows furrow in confusion, your still foggy brain trying to piece everything together. 

You know him. 

It’s been years but you’ll never forget. 

The light brown hair, bright blue eyes, dimples indenting with that too-friendly grin. 

Your mouth is dry, your tongue heavy as it opens, forming the name on your lips. The name. It comes out in a croak, barely audible and understandable, but laced with confusion and disbelief. 

“Phil?” 

NEXT ->

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[screampied]

ALEJANDRO! — GOJO SATORU. ☆

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. after an argument regarding gojo’s career, you two take a break and it hurts. you aren’t together, so why should you care? maybe the fame is getting to gojo’s head after all. because you see him get a new assistant the very next day.

word count. 6.9k (crying)

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo au, tiny angst ending, angst, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, you make up, squírting, implied multiple órgasms, overstim, dumbification, size kink, mixed feelings, impact play.

“satoru, are you even listening to me?” you furrow your brows in sheer annoyance. the popstar, more like the brat continued to look past you as he spoke. sometimes you questioned why you’d even put up with him for so long. of course, you grew a liking to him, as did he for you, maybe?

it was a brief silence and he rolls his eyes, burying his hands into his pockets. “i heard you. i just don’t care,” he replies before dramatically yawning. “i’m adding that track on the album whether you like it or not.”

you blink twice, he was so unserious. it was as if for a split second he forgot who he was.

the gojo satoru. the two of you were in public, currently outside of a shopping mall. he was secretly buying copies of his cds to get more sales before this meaningless altercation started. “i just think it’s not a good idea,” you sigh, feeling as if you probably weren’t gonna get through to him. “the label was strict on the duration, and—”

“you know what?” gojo abruptly cuts you off, trodding towards you. he leans forward, giving you a quick second glance before letting off a subtle scoff. “i can’t. we’re…this thing. whatever it is, we’re done,” and your eyes widen. him referring to whatever this thing was between the two of you as just something. perhaps it was foolish of you to think it would be something more.

without even thinking, you spit out, “fine. maybe you should get a new assistant then.”

“maybe i will, because someone doesn’t know how to fuckin' manage their client properly.”

oh.

it was an awkward dead silence after that. the awkwardness was so much, you could hear a pin drop.

as you glance up at the popstar, he looks unreadable. not a single thought through that brain of his. with hands buried in his pockets, he scoffs. “ya know how easy it is to replace you?”

“satoru, i’m trying to help you,” you furrow your eyebrows, briefly gawking around and trying not to make too much of a scene. you doubt lowering your tone a few notches would help. most likely, this little argument would be on the front headlines of tmz soon. “you don’t make the best decisions when it comes to things like this.”

“it’s gojo to you,” he rolls his eyes, and he turns his heels, staring to trod away. he pulls down his designer shades and he’s so dramatic. strutting down the sidewalk, he pulls out his phone before his lips curl into a pout. “address me right.”

you let off a sigh, purposely stepping right in front of him. he looks down at you, literally with a look of annoyance and slight vex.

“whatever, fine….gojo,” and you stare at him. honestly, the more you thought to yourself, why were you trying so hard? normal people would have taken the hint, but you…you felt the urge to keep testing his patience.

yet perhaps that wasn’t the brightest idea, because after all, you were dealing with a posh and snobby international brat. “firing me is only gonna make you look bad. besides, you know how the press-”

“princess, let me put it to you this way,” gojo mumbles, a toothpick casually sticking out near the corner of his mouth. the popstar gets right up close to you. you loathed how good he smelled—a rich cologne scent. specially, his own signature cologne from his very own brand.

the more he inches closer towards your face, the more you feel a tingly feeling creep its way inside your stomach. “i want nothing to do with you anymore, assistant,” and his voice, it had little to no emotion—you give him the same share of eye contact, trying to stand your ground but for some reason his words hit you like a gut punch.

a full blown gut punch to be exact. you’ve managed this brat for practically a various length of months, only for all it to go to waste from a stupid argument.

“you’re replaceable, and if you don’t wanna do your job then i’ll find someone else,” he shrugs, dusting off the shoulder parts of his leather bedazzled jacket. gojo tilts his head, studying your facial expression. in the midst of saying something, he continued, “besides, you said it yourself. to get myself a new assistant.”

“so you’re just throwing this all away?” you utter, a mere deadpan plastered on his face.

gojo grows quiet as you speak, yet he groans with a subtle eye roll. the secondhand embarrassment got to you too. again—why were you trying so hard? a question not ever you yourself could answer at that particular moment. “did me saying 'i love you' not mean anything?”

oh fuck.

you didn’t mean to say that. but at this particular moment, you kind of didn’t care.

maybe you were just a tad bit delusional but it couldn’t have been just you. out of all the times you spent with this popstar, getting to know him, saving him the trouble of getting himself hurt by fans….anything.

there had to be something there … right?

you did tell gojo you loved him out of the blue. just right after the grammys last week, it slipped out. one of the most embarrassing positions you’ve been in.

and the worst part was that gojo didn’t even say it back. more like he figured girls with him always said they loved him after having a mind-blowing orgasm from him. so you brushed it off, laughing it off awkwardly and he did the same. yet, you decided it’d be the smart idea and bring that simple reoccurrence up right now.

gojo runs a hand through his hair, pulling the tooth pick out of his mouth before scoffing. “not this again,” and with another sassy eye roll, he shifts his feet into the ground, “you’re not gonna win this argument, princess. it was fun, i’ll admit that.”

stupidity couldn’t have plastered on your face even more than that particular moment.

gojo left you there, unemployed and a total idiot.

for whatever reason, the strange ache in your heart tightened as you watched him walk away with that same fake-grin he’d have for the entire world to see. winking at his multiple die-hard fan girls.

although, it’s barely the next day before you spot gojo at some expensive shopping store reserved for only a-list celebrities. seeing him wasn’t what initially caught your attention, it was seeing him with another girl.

that made your eyebrows curl up into the biggest furrow imaginable. by him saying you were easy to replace, you didn’t think he’d be so quick.

giving her the exact same treatment he gave you, you nearly choke on your pretzel, observing the two of them.

gojo has an arm slung over her, his loud laughter that could be heard from just about a mile away.

was this jealousy you were feeling? it would be stupid, the two of you weren’t even together nor were exclusive—yet seeing your client, well ex-client made you feel a certain type of way. it was not to anyone’s surprise, seeing the numerous headlines of celebrity gossip headlines talk about the entire kerfuffle.

whatever happened to you…?

lots of people speculated the two of you were dating on the low, especially after what occurred at one of his most famous controversial performances. gojo fucking you whilst his mic was on the entire time. you’d probably never be able to live that down with him, neither would he to say the least.

you didn’t even know his new assistant’s name, but you already disliked her. the way she’d laugh at literally anything that came out of gojo’s mouth. he could let off an obnoxious belch and she’d think it was the most funniest thing in the world.

after a while, they end up leaving and you let off a irritated scoff.

maybe you were dramatic, but you wouldn’t lie and say that it stung a bit. the thought—no, the sheer reality of being replaced. you thought you were getting somewhere with the popstar.

out of the many myriad talks the two of you shared, including him even opening up about his past relationship—you figured maybe there was some kind of spark. but maybe, you thought wrong.

gojo said he was going to replace you, and that’s exactly what he did.

coincidentally enough though, you stayed over gojo’s penthouse the last time the two of you were together. you still had his key and forgot to give it to him. dragging your feet towards his residence, you grumbled.

how convenient.

you really weren’t in the mood to talk to him. besides from last time you could remember, he ended up ‘accidentally’ misplacing your panties too.

you decided to suck it up, making your way towards the popstar’s well kept home. you pause at the doormat that read in bold grassy letters, ‘home of a guy with a large dick’ and gibe. so unserious, to think he was one of the most popular pop artists known to date. he was always known to spend his money on the most witless things.

bawling up your fist, you prepare to knock on the front of the door. but instead, you just unlock it with the key. there’d be no point, besides, you’d be in and out, right? wrong…

because the moment you open the door, stood a real tall and shirtless satoru gojo. it was as if he knew you’d show up.

“mhm. just can’t get enough of me, huh,” gojo cocks his head towards the right, giving you a long four second glance. you felt your face get hot, the singer was in nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist. his figure, quite slim and well built. droplets of water raced down his v-line, and you couldn’t help but sneak a long stare. “should get ya arrested for trespassin'.”

your eye twitches, finding it hard to look at him in the eye before you grumble. “i’m not stalking you, idiot. i came to give you your spare key back,” and then as he’s blankly staring at you, you halt your speech a bit before mumbling. “…and i came to get my panties back.”

“girl…huh? you’re mumbling. can’t understand ya.”

gojo sneers, and you hated how flawless his perfectly toned body was. it was distracting you, your thoughts, words, everything. the way the white towel was just barely hanging onto his waist.

his waist…so slim.

he was perfectly sculptured from his hips to further down. with a hand of his, he tugs the fabric of the towel up a bit, you were just about to spot a few specks of white hair. his happy trail, one of your favorite things about his body. how the hair just ran down and down. his sharp v-line was a force to be reckoned with. it wasn’t much a surprise that gojo was fit though, he was a trained dancer after all.

“i said,” you start to repeat yourself, trying to snap yourself out of whatever lewd trance he had you in. “…i want my panties back.”

“you came to see me jus’ to get those back?” gojo smirks, intaking a sharp breath before running a hand through his dampened hair. “is this your way of telling me you’re not wearing any panties right now?”

“i—” you utter, being cut off by mere embarrassment. gojo giggles at your lack of response, raising his head just a bit whilst awaiting your response. “can you be serious? why would i show up to your house without any underwear?”

gojo smugly grins. “you tell me. besides, what makes you think i have them?”

you glare at him and he pokes his bottom lip out. “fine, whatever. geez,” and then he moves in front of you, closing the broad door shut. you make your way inside of his doorway, awkwardly shifting your weight with your feet as he took a few steps back. “it’s in the ah…laundry room. had one of my maid’s do the load ‘n they got your stuff mixed up with mine.”

you follow gojo towards downstairs, where his huge laundry room was kept. it’s not like you had to necessarily follow him. you knew the layout of his penthouse like the back of your hand. nevertheless you were on his heels, pulling down on your skirt at the awkward silence.

was he just gonna be quiet the entire time?

him walking in front of you gave you the perfect chance to stare at his back, his back muscles specially…

it was unintentionally sexy, each step he took you watched as his muscles flex and crook together. still, he wasn’t exactly dry. it was a few leftover droplets of water racing down his back. you could make out a few scratch marks near his back as well, you were trying to remember if that was your doing or someone else.

“watch your step.”

immediately, you get cut off with gojo’s words and you fall face first into a steep like area. he groans, catching you with quick reflexes. “still so clumsy,” he mutters, and you stare up at the popstar. he returns a gaze, and then he looks away, getting you back on your feet. “c’mon..”

it was gauche—being handed your own bawled up panties. “um, thank you,” you tell him with the most somewhat neutral expression. gojo studies your eyes for a moment before nodding. the silence was killing you, and right when he was about to make his way back upstairs, you tug on his arm. “wait.”

“yeah?” he sighs deeply, bringing a hand towards his face to wipe his eyes. “did you forget something else?”

“no,” you roll your eyes, dragging your words out slowly. “you know why i really came here.”

“do i?” gojo tilts his head, leaning against the dryer. his towel hung onto his slim waist for dear life. you hated how he was playing coy, he knew the exact words that was about to go past your lips. “help me understand.”

you glare. “you don’t even like your new assistant.”

“woah now, that’s not true,” gojo brings his hands towards his hips. such sassy mannerisms, it made your eyes roll into the very back depths of your head. “for your information, i actually adore april, vivian, eh…whatever her name is.”

you deadpan, and gojo simpers. “…oh,” and his voice pitches a deep low. it makes you feel a bit of tingles in areas you’d rather not disclose. “is this your way of telling me that you miss me? you miss us?”

“obviously you don’t.” you utter, meeting straight eye contact with the popstar. the smile that lingers across his lips, he inches a bit closer towards you and it makes you nervous.

“i never said i didn’t miss you,” gojo snickers.

each inch he creates towards you, gradually closing the inelegant distance between the two of you, he brings a hand up to your face. it catches you by the upmost surprise, and he strokes a thumb against your cheek. “it’s clear you missed me though. can’t last a day without me. maybe you really are my biggest fan.”

the nerve, it made you narrow your eyes and gojo only smiles. “mhm. but fine, maybe i did miss you a little. kinda miss being put in my place if i’m being entirely honest, princess.”

you look up at him, and he’s very much serious from what you can tell. gojo’s thumb stroking against your cheek was so undeniably sensual. you intake a sharp breath, and he’s giving you an intense stare. suddenly, you felt hot and that’s when you come to the hurried realization that you were completely cornered. 

you were pinned back against the front door of the dryer, he had you right exactly where he wanted you. “you didn’t have to be such an asshole, though.”

“maybe,” he says, and then you gasp once he leans right into your neck, planting a single kiss near your collarbone. you almost forgot what his touch felt like. if it was anything about gojo, it was that he could never get enough of your taste. “i didn’t mean it. i jus’ wanted to piss you off.”

“satoru—” you’d grumble, yet that’s when he softly cups your chin.

“yeah yeah. scold me later, baby,” he murmurs, and his voice was so raspy. it was as if he was longing to kiss all over you, coat your skin with a plethora of invisible markings. it’s exactly what he does. his touch felt so warm, the same smug grin never leaves his face—oh, how you hated it. although, the more you stared at his perfect lips, the more you wanted to kiss him. “you want a kiss?” he hums, as if he’s nonchalantly reading your mind again. you give him a nod, pressed right up against the cold dryer and his body—gojo swipes a thumb over your lips, inching closer and closer before he pauses. “mhm. i’ll give you a kiss if you tell me pretty please.”

you’re sending him straight daggers. as gojo presses right up against you, he’s so close that the soft fabric of the towel brushes all on your skin. it tickles, and you then feel it push up against you. his bulge, his bulge that stuck out despite having a lengthy towel shielding his pure nudity from underneath his torso. your lips quavered, desperately wanting to feel his own mouth mash against yours. “s-satoru.”

“mhm. for an assistant, ya don’t seem to like followin' instructions,” he whispers right next to your lip. the warmth of his breath wafts right beside your own lips and it makes a small whine fly right out of your mouth. “you missed me so bad. all like this for a kiss, adorable.”

“prettypleaseprettypleasee,” you’d pout, and you don’t even realize you’re pouting until he smiles, pointing it out. gojo gives in within seconds, squeezing your chin and bringing you into a deep passionate kiss.

it started slow like it always did, with that same thumb of his coolly skimming beneath your chin, you part your lips. chaste—the perfect word to describe the kiss, it was a mixture of sloppy and straight lust. gojo had a sweet taste of peppermint on his tongue, you moaned the moment he started to get handsy. a smile curls against his lips once he feels your failed attempt to yank his towel off.

gojo only then reaches down between your legs, past your skirt — pulling up your thigh, he hums right into your mouth once his fingers only feel nothing but soft skin. “ooh,” he briefly pulls away, sneaking a kiss near the inner part of your jaw. “i was right. no panties,” and then he tsks. “how unprofessional.”

“shut up,” you huff, and he lets you remove the towel. gojo’s dampened body collides against yours, and he’s almost grinding against you—you initiate the kiss this time. wrapping both arms over his broad shoulders, your tongue continued to battle for dominance with his. each nanosecond his breathing picked up, casually racing within itself. everything around you felt warm, you felt like you were floating, burning up hot, but floating.

it’s only been a day, perhaps half a day but it felt like years. you didn’t care if this made you appear to be obsessed or whatever. all you knew was that you wanted this stupid popstar.

gojo slips off a whine once he feels you reach for his length, giving him a few concise strokes. “f-fuckin’ damn, i’m a little sensitive from earlier,” and as he breathlessly speaks between kisses, gojo’s the one to grow a bit timid now and he gives you a dazed glance. “heh, don’t look at me like that. it turns me on when you’re angry at me.”

“you’re so weird,” you deadpan, and you shudder even more. feeling a hand over yours wrap around his length. gojo’s nostrils briefly flare up, and as he’s intaking a breath, he tosses the towel to the side. you glance down, staring at his bulge and it makes the popstar a bit…nervous.

“f-fuck,” he’d groan, and that’s the exact moment where out of nowhere—gojo lifts you up. he sits you on top of the lid of the dryer, spreading your legs open. with a big hand, he slowly but surely pries them open, taking a good peak between them. “such a bold girl. comin’ to see me like this,” and he presses his lips towards the inner part of your thigh. you moan, watching gojo then lap out his tongue to lick a long stripe right near the crevice of your leg. “taste just as sweet as i remember.”

“don’t tease me, ‘toru.” you’d whine, feeling him leave sloppy kisses and bites all over your thighs. he ran his tongue up your leg, stopping right once he reached near your slick entrance.

gojo hums, cerulean eyes meeting yours for a second. his gaze was forever attractive, the way his eyes would trail up and down your body. he leans up close towards between your legs, and uses two fingers to spread your folds apart. “don’t tease me ‘toruuuu, she says,” he mocks your whiney delivery, and the popstar briefly laps his tongue against your clit for about three seconds. those three seconds was enough to throw you over the edge. his tongue was so long and pretty — a pretty bright pink, and you stared at it the entire time. “hm. assistants shouldn’t be this soaked.”

“don’t e-eat me out, wait,” you breathe, grabbing a fistful of his perfect whitened strands. gojo looks at you with a pompous grin, just preparing to dig in before you pull his head up. “just fuck me.”

“well excuse me then,” he rolls his eyes, making a fake caught off guard gasp. gojo takes one look at your glistened slit, a tiny pout going against his lips. “but how else am i gonna warm up my vocals, princess?”

“…you can’t warm up your vocals by eating pussy, satoru,” you mutter, not even believing you have to say that…then again, it’s satoru gojo. you shouldn’t even be so surprised anymore. the cute scowl that plastered across his face only widened. he sits up, moving you closer towards him. you sat on the cold lid of the dryer, and you watch as he springs his cock out.

gojo grouses. “oh fineee, be boring. let me starve, whatever,” and he’s so sassy it’s cute, the way his eyebrows curl up into a furrow. his dimples press against both sides of his temples, and you gasp once he aligns himself against your sleek entrance.

“i can’t even be that mad,” he suddenly breathes, a bit of a shakiness nearing his tone. “you’re so wet f’me, damnnn,” and you bite your lip as he starts to sink himself in. his fat tip - it prods against your folds, squeezing itself inside with such ease. “missed her bad,” and he pauses, watching himself disappear inside your cunt. the loud welcoming squelch your cunt made as a response to gojo’s length was music to his ears. your legs felt like mush and he presses a hand down your thigh. “listen to her, how she talks to me all nasty.”

“h-hurry up, satoruuu,” you’d whimper, his dirty talk sending you straight shivers to roam all throughout your body. he’d always speak to your pussy as if it could talk back, one of the many filthy things he’s loved doing with you. you couldn’t wait anymore, you wanted him. one thing about gojo, he loved more than anything to take his time with you.

he wanted to make sure you felt every inch of him. your jaw dropped, feeling how thick he started to stretch you out. spurts of his own pre-cum coating all against your entrance.

he pants, starting to pant before he sinks a bit further inside of you. “uh—! don’t rush me. ‘s rude,” he creates a faux pout, and he briefly pulls out to slap his throbbing plump tip near the very front part of your entrance. he was teasing you so bad, you didn’t even register that you were laid flat on top of the machine, legs sprawled and your jaw nearly hanging. he was so big, such inches to leave you stuffed for many many for days. you hugged his cock much thanks to your walls, and gojo groans. “s-so warm..”

gojo was so hard and pent up, he gnaws on his lip before going in just a bit further. he starts to pant a bit, staring at how good you grip down on him. nice and snug, he brings a thumb towards the top part of your clit, smearing your own slick over your folds before he’s just about half way in. “you take sooo f-fuckin’ long.”

he giggles at the way your words were a bit slurred, your tummy heaved as he was gradually easing himself inside. “thought i told ya not to rush me, princess,” and you moaned once you felt him present you with an abrupt thrust that makes you jolt back—grabbing onto his arm. “mhm. what did i say last time? patience is a virgin, heh.”

“it’s virtue, you idiot.” you whined, your eyes nearly roll back from how good he splits your wetness into two. gojo was long, deliciously lengthy with such fat girth. he wasn’t particularly thick, but he had quite the height on him.

“virgin, virtue, same thing.” the popstar cheeses, and you moaned once he finally starts up a pace.

you had to cling onto his wrists, babbling off all kinds of pathetic whimpers. your sweet whines bounced off the walls—just reverberating across the entire room. you hope no one heard you.

his muscles, way near his ripped abs . . they clench and flex, and it’s so attractive. his body was almost dry, almost. however, he was just a bit damp near his happy trail and past his sharp v-line.

“f-fuckkk,” you’d swallow, barely being able to hold on. it only took a few pre-thrusts for him to figure out his pace and seconds later, you’re being ruthlessly drilled into. his hips, the way they struck into you at a sensual movement had your head spinning. nails of yours claw into his arm and he smiles, making sure to reach every spot.

regarding yesterday, gojo wasn’t necessarily lying. he didn’t mean everything he said, he just likes to talk and talk and talk.

much of that was quite apparent, and he knew you’d come running right back to him. misplacing your panties or not. although, the big question was forever a mystery with him.

…did he love you?

what do you even consider this ‘thing’ you two have? multiple unanswered ignored questions. gojo’s hips were smooth against you, jerking back and forth. he’s got a hand gripping onto your thigh as you’re sat up against the cold lid. you stupidly confessed to him, and he figured you were just saying it to say it.

unprofessional, sure. delusional, maybe…

but you knew you couldn’t be crazy. there had to be at least something between the two of you. the way he kisses you, friends don’t just do that. friends don’t kiss like that.

…is what you kept telling yourself.

his strokes had you losing your mind, sputtering nonsense—gojo watches you, and he leans up close to bring a finger towards your lips. a thumb of his pulls your bottom lip down, and he inches closer before giving you a fervent wet kiss. he ran his tongue against yours, and he was stuffing you so full that your legs merely gave out. “h-harder,” you’d whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. a smirk tugs on his lips and you spot his dimples poke out through your half-lidded peripherals. that’s when gojo then decided to deepens his hits. “harder, harder, harderrrr..”

“slower, baby yeah?” gojo teases, and he purposely brings his hips to a slowing halt.

the frown that goes against your lips was too cute. the popstar chuckles, his dick twitching inside you. he’s stirring up your insides perfectly before he stops his pace. you whine, scratching at his back this time and he hums. “ohhh. don’t like that? ‘m sorry,” he didn’t mean that apology. not in the slightest. he goes back to playing with hour bottom lip, stroking against it before sliding a finger into your mouth. “such pretty lips, so good for suckin’.”

you moaned, immediately sucking his finger before he adds another. he swabs all around your mouth before you briefly end up gagging.

“forgot how sloppy ya always get for me,” and he’s fucking you so deep, your warmth drives him wild. his base, the way it smacks and thwacks right against your entrance has your mind going in a loop. “get my fingers nice ‘n wet, good girl. coat ‘em real sweet. juuuuust like that, princess.”

his candied words, it had you pulsing.

the moment gojo starts up his vigorous pace again, you’re whimpering. he can never stand still though. one second you’re sat on top of the dryer, the next he drags you towards the cushioned sofa. you crave more of him, his dick reached all the right spot and oh, your maw was dropped.

“s-satoruuu,” you’d huff out, and he’d have you in a subtle mating press now. he’d have you on all fours, but he was a lazy man. he’d prefer to look you dead into your eyes the moment you were reaching your inevitable peak. “so d-deeeep.”

“perfect fit for you,” he murmurs in a husky rasp.

gojo’s balls deep, it’s a tight fit and he’s just ramming right into your dripping cunt. you coat him with so much of your slick, it’s messy.

exactly how he liked it too. you whine, feeling him drive such rough thrusts into you. this position, it was so lewd. the perfect angle to grab you by the chin and shove his tongue down your throat. it’s what he does too, sneaking various kisses near your lips, the very corner of your mouth, anywhere and everywhere.

gojo groans, feeling you start to grip and grasp a bit tighter against him. it’s his turn for his eyes to roll back, and he looks so pretty. your pussy’s got him in a trance. a trance he never wanted to escape out of.

“damn, y-you’re so soakin’ for me. makin’ me jus’ as messy as you, baby,” he pants, and you feel him continuously twitch inside of you. gojo lightly lifts up your leg, and he starts to nibble near your ankle. you whine, feeling yourself approach a nearby orgasm. the thought of leaving a slick mess on his cock made your mouth water.

you needed it.

he slams back into you each time, it gives you whiplash. sweetened murmurs of his name were the only words to leave past your spit-glossed lips, and you moan a drawn out, “t-think ‘m getting close, ‘toru. really close, fuckkk.”

“wait a little, princess,” he slyly remarks, and you feel his hips piston. you were dumbfounded, stupid even. his stamina, practically non existent. right when you think he’s finished he starts up again. you’re dumbly nodding your head in endorsement from the way he’s got you thumping back against the cushion. “wait for meee.” and he starts singing.

he’s mocking you, he strokes your chin before flashing you a teasing grin. it’s not funny anymore once his voice cracks and he clears his throat to play it off. “eheh.”

“i c-can’t,” you’d stammer, and you gasp once you feel a single coil within you snap. you’re an entire mess underneath him. his dick, so lengthy it made you salivate entirely. gojo reached every single orifice inside of your pussy, every edge, every corner. like most people knew the layouts of places, he knew the exact layout of your pussy. every single time. “oh my g-goddd.”

gojo’s jaw tightens, and as you’re being pummeled into the mattress. you end up squirting, gushing out so much.

gojo doesn’t realize it until he looks into your dilated irises, and pauses. “oooooh,” he purrs, his words sounding in the form of a curious question. “did you just squirt?”

silence was your answer, and he just hums. gojo stares down, bringing a thumb towards your swollen slit, massaging against the entrance and you shudder. “fuck. you fuckin’ squirter,” he coos, his voice grows a bit low, a deep deep low. you pulse, making a cute attempt to hide your face but he pulls your hands away. “awwww, baby, baby. don’t hide that face from me. i like my assistants messy anyway.”

you were drenched beneath him, gojo leans in to kiss you.

so sensual yet filled with the most passion. you whimpered, feeling his toned body rock against you. hands of yours roamed down his back, pulling him close and he allows his tongue to part right against yours. he didn’t know what it was about you but he knew for certain that you were addicting.

his taste, it was enchanted with sweetness. minty and all, you allow his tongue to ghost amongst your own — and that’s right when gojo moans into your mouth.

he’s buried deep into you, and he briefly pulls away, a pretty cobweb of glistening spit departs from your lips and he groans. “damnnn, ‘m cumming too,” and it was so abrupt. he didn’t expect it.

once goio’s load came, it was so thick.

stringy, multiple ropes shot inside you to make you permanently feel his warmth. mating press, the most perfect position if not one of the best positions to get stuffed full like this.

“s-shitttt,” he starts to whine, and it was far more then be intended for it to be. you were being pumped full of cum, it takes a lot out of him. quite literally, he pauses his hips and takes a moment.

there, you laid and lingering over you with the most feral look was gojo. his weight briefly lingers over you — and the look he’s giving you, you’re pulsing heavily. he starts heaving and heaving, beads of sweat racing down his and before he blinks. “milkin’ me s-so much,” and then be slowly lifts your leg up, throwing it over his shoulder. “still have more though. wanna see your tummy all plump. spillin’ everything out, just for me to see.”

and he does exactly what he says, gojo even pulls out just to watch his own cum spill out. it makes him pout, and he plugs his dick back inside once he starts up again. you moaned, feeling the stickiness all over your inner thighs. it was his favorite part. watching his own viscid cum run down your plush thighs, only to then shove some of it back into your folds.

the popstar was addicted to you, there was no doubt. sure, he’d be a drama queen and say he’s done with you — but you and him both knew the sheer reality. perhaps gojo shared the same feelings, he just didn’t wanna admit it.

falling in love in the entertainment industry was always a scary thing. especially for gojo. but part of you wanted to change that. if he’d let you.

gojo fucked you through numerous positions.

each one leaving you with teeth-shattering orgasms. it was never ending, it felt so good that you never wanted it to end. it was to the point where sweet cacophonies of, “s-satoruuu,” and “pleaseeee,” rang throughout his ears. only he could make you whimper out the prettiest babbles for him.

he’d have you riding him at this point, and he’s in the midst of dumping another warm load right into you. gojo stares in awe at how your hips grind and move effortlessly against him. he’s got a hand attached to your right hip, and he spanks your ass. “f-fuckkk, keep movin’ like that. make me cum, make me fuckin’ cum.”

and once he came inside you for probably the umpteenth time, you steady your hips, leaning in to give the popstar a kiss near his neck. he moans from your touch, pulling you close to him as your legs felt nearly nonexistent.

“good girl, easy e-easyyy,” he purrs against your ear, and you’re putty within his hands practically. he runs a hand down your back, moving a few strands out of your face before he’s panting right with you. he grows quiet for a moment before swallowing. “damn. that was,” and he’s breaking between each of his words, pulling you right into his bare chest. “. . so hot. you should really get more jealous like this, princess.”

“i wasn’t— i wasn’t jealous,” you huff out, leaning back to stare at him. gojo smirks, his eyes averting towards your lips before back towards your face. “but satoru. you still— you never answered my question from before.”

he raises a brow, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his palm. “hm? what question.”

“…okay,” you intake a breath, feeling as though you had ran an entire marathon. “what does this mean? you um.. never said anything about being exclusive.”

“do you wanna be exclusive?” gojo sneers, cocking his head towards the left.

“i’m being serious.” you mumble, he’s still buried inside you and you shift a bit on his lap.

the popstar rolls his eyes. “girl, so am i,” and he plants a kiss near the corner of your mouth. “the press already thinks we’re dating. especially after seeing us bicker like an old couple in public.”

“so...” you look up at him, returning a kiss near his lip. your eyes basically spoke for you and he understood what you were trying to hint at.

“sooo,” he mimics you, stroking a thumb against your hip.

“if we’re gonna be together, you need to fire that new assistant.” you grouse.

“oh right riiiight,” gojo snickers. “i’ll fire her extra hard just for you, baby.”

you pause with the most noticeable deadpan. “that doesn’t even make sense.”

gojo simpers. “geez, we gotta work on that sense of humor. anything i say is supposed to be funny to you,” and he wraps an arm around you—you feel warm, pulled into his strong warm embrace. “mhm. but now that we’re finally together, i do wanna start off by saying how much i love you.”

“huh?” you croak.

gojo smugly grins, nudging you. “you heard me. i love you,” and he kisses your lips for a split second, only to pull away to watch you fully register what he just said. after what felt like ages, he finally said it back.

“r-really?” you’d softly utter, starting to feel warm all over your body. it was all your mouth could mutter out, your eyes were slightly agape and you couldn’t believe he’d return the same feelings.

“mhmmm,” he nods, stroking your back. gojo brings you into a kiss, and you kiss back, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

you felt a weight get lifted off your shoulders, and you lean forward towards him, a brief body language sign that you wanted to start up again. his sweet taste had you whining for more, your legs locked over his waist…. and that’s right when he squeezes the right part of your ass. a good firm grip, leaning back for you to take control of him.

“so he loves you, huh.”

you’re interrupted by a low raspy voice, you break away . . . and everything was so quick, a blink of an eye. you’re staring at gojo and his reaction was just as yours was slow. he stares, not at you—but from behind you where apparently a tall broad figure was.

a loud bang rang throughout the room, and gojo choked out a gasp. again, your reaction was slow. for a second, it was like time stopped. you watched in front of you as gojo clenches his heart, a faint breathy gasp for air before he falls backwards. it was the screeching ring of a shot.

you heard what sounded like cocking in the background and you immensely crawl off of gojo’s lap.

“s-satoru?” you stammer, not even believing your eyes—you were far too scared to look behind you, let alone look near your peripherals. gojo grunts, his eyes flickering and you then after seconds later, you end up turning around to see him.

toji.

“hey girl,” he nods, that familiar smug expression never leaving his face, “miss me? i let you have your fun for a while,” toji snickers, blowing the smoke out of the muzzle. as he walks towards you, his footsteps were awfully loud. you froze, glancing down at gojo who had a awfully pale color starting to quickly take over his skin.

words couldn’t leave your lips for whatever reason, it was as if you were mute—lip locked.

you felt numb, entirely so. gojo’d just said he loved you back, and now he looked almost lifeless.

“what do you think would be a better headline? ‘famous popstar found unresponsive at the scene!’ or uh.. ‘popstar 'satoru gojo' gets into a fight with his assistant’s boyfriend and things get a little…messy’.”

“we aren’t even together anymore. fuck you, toji.” you spat, fat incoming tears blinding your vision practically.

“you did that a long time ago, sweetheart,” toji purrs, you could hear the enjoyment in his voice. “and technically, we never broke up,” he corrects you with a shrug. “oh boo hoo, enough with the tears. should be thanking me, really. no one can love you like i can. told ya i’d come back for you,” and then he chuckles behind your ear, a rough hand going on your shoulder. “now let’s go home, princess.”

[k3n-dyll]

☆F.U.C.K

Warnings...18+, wlw, not proofread, also, written at 2am, established friends with benefits, self-indulgent smut, dom!Abby, shower sex, strap on (r!receiving), strap referred to as a dick/cock Word Count:2.08k || MDNI Banner Creds. || Donations 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ The next fic I have based on a song will not be as fun! Just a heads up. Also, two works back to back within a few hours? We're so back

FWB!Abby who isn't known to be very open about her sexuality. Sure, there are rumors, and there are people she's told that she's lesbian, but that list is pretty limited to close friends. It's not that she's trying to hide it, anyone with working eyes who takes more than a second or two to look at her can tell, she just doesn't feel like it's anyone's business but her own.

And yours of course.

Abby's never been particularly sappy or romantic. Still, despite how intense her day-to-day is - fighting Scars, killing infected, being on high alert at every turn because there's no way of knowing what will be the next thing to try and kill her first - she's a bit of a thrill seeker in her own way. The idea of doing something seemingly forbidden, the rush of nearly getting caught doing something less than savory, has never failed to be a turn-on for her and it's something that, over time, you've become acutely aware of. She's gotten into the habit of dragging you into bathrooms, and storage closets, sometimes even taking it upon herself to get handsy underneath tables when in the presence of others just to see that nervous look you get.

It should be no shock to you that she'd do something like this and yet, you're still baffled.

The showers were peaceful today, it was late and most people were either asleep or just waking up for their own shifts. After a long patrol, all you wanted to do was turn on the hot water and let it soak over your aching muscles, washing the blood, dirt, and sweat that had accumulated on your skin down the drain. You weren't expecting to feel a large pair of hands gripping at your waist in the shower, and if you hadn't known better, you might have started swinging.

"Abby, what the hell?" You flinch a little under her grasp, and while you try to sound angry, the amused chuckle that forms with your words is hard to stifle.

"Nice to see you too" Abby mutters, already beginning an assault on your neck with her lips, trailing wet kisses down your skin as she speaks.

"I thought you said you were tired" You try and turn to face her but you're only met with a tightened grip on your body, forcing you to face the glass shower wall.

"I lied."

Before you can think up something snarky to say, Abby presses her front up against you further and you stiffen completely, the sensation of something that definitely isn't normally there now flush against your ass.

"What is that?" You question, turning your head in attempt to get a look at whatever it is she's got rubbing against you, but again she forces your eyes forward, grabbing your chin to make you face the wall again.

"I want you to guess." She purrs, nipping at your earlobe, unable to stop herself from letting out a low chuckle. "C'mon, baby, I know you remember. That shop we passed by the other day? You were all curious about it, but we never got the chance to really look around."

In order to somewhat jog your memory, one of her hands releases its grip on you, wrapping around what she has and pressing it between your soaked thighs, shallowly thrusting it between them. Your breath hitches at the feeling and the memory comes flooding back into your mind. It was a few days back - Manny had pointed out an old sex shop and being the man he is he just couldn't shut up about it. Mostly he'd bragged about how, as much as he'd like to experiment, his own hands and body got the job done just fine.

In the moment it was funny, and a little stupid. The three of you managed to catch a quick glimpse of the interior, seeing some of the different toys that hadn't been looted or destroyed and joking about all of the time people in the Old World must have had to be so experimental with their sex lives. Unbeknownst to you, one toy in particular had caught Abby's eye. She didn't point it out to you or Manny, but right before you all had to leave, the rest of your patrol group having already started packing up to head back to base, she'd hidden it so that she could go back for it later. And she did.

"Figured it out, pretty girl?"

Abby's voice snaps you out of your head and you nod, coaxing another low chuckle out of her.

"You wanna see it?"

The moment her hold on you loosens you turn around, eyes panning down her toned, naked frame to the black harness that was fixed around her hips and landing on the toy that had just been sliding up against your cunt. Your eyes widen at the sight of the thick, purple silicone toy dangling from her body, and as much as you'd like to deny the immediate heat that rises in your belly at the sight of it, you can't.

"I don't think that's gonna fit. And...and what if we get caught, Abs you can't just hide that thing"

You say it without much thought, your words forcing a genuine laugh out of your 'friend'. She shakes her head and playfully rolls her eyes.

"You worry too much, baby. I locked the door. If someone comes knocking, I can just get out and tuck it in my bag before we open the door" She reassures as she gently guides you by your waist to the fogged-up wall, pressing you against it. "And trust me, once I get you nice and warmed up, it'll fit"

Abby sinks to her knees in front of you without another word, settling herself between your legs and dragging her tongue along your slit. The doubt that was once present in the front of your mind quickly starts to fade as she laps at your dripping heat, your hands weaving into her wet hair and holding on to keep her in place. You feel the tip of two of her thick fingers dip into your pussy, coating the digits with your arousal before slipping them into you completely.

She never failed to have this effect on you, and if it weren't so sexy, it'd be frustrating. Your mind is so quick to go blank under her touch, hips unconsciously grinding against her tongue as she swirls it along your puffy clit. Abby's unusually slow about it at first, curling and scissoring her fingers in and out of you, making sure to prepare you as best she can, but by the time she slips in a third finger her impatience and excitement makes itself known. You're practically teetering at the edge of an orgasm when she pulls away from you entirely, a whine escaping you as you're denied a release.

"Abby..."

"Shh, baby I know" Abby murmurs, standing back up, smiling softly as she watches your brows fix together. "I want you to cum on my cock, not my fingers. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Something about the way she refers to it as her own, as if she'd grown it herself sends a shock of electricity through you, and you answer her with an eager nod.

"Atta girl, now be good for me and turn around" She instructs, pushing you flush against the glass when you obey her command.

Abby knows how badly you must be aching at this point, her own precum leaking down her thighs as her eyes rove over your back. Even so, she takes her time, fucking your thighs, calloused palms spreading your ass a bit to get a better view. She groans at the sight of your essence combining with the water, making the dildo glisten in the fluorescent lights.

"God, you're so fucking wet" She whispers. "So ready to get split on my fuckin' dick, aren't you?"

The desperate little whines and the way you wiggle your ass back onto her is all the confirmation she needs to slowly push in, though, to neither of your surprise with how soaked you are, it proves to be rather easy. The difference is almost funny to her. You looked so nervous when you'd seen it initially, and now you were sucking her in like you were used to it.

"There ya go, slipped in so fast baby, fuck"

The way Abby moans when the toy is all the way inside of you, the way she struggles to keep at a slow pace to make sure you're well adjusted to the girth - you'd think she could feel it. It's an adjustment for both of you, the task of keeping it from fully slipping out of you when she pulls back proving to be a tad more annoying than she thought it would be, but she figures it out. And, God, if it isn't fucking worth it when she does.

Each thrust is like a shock to your system, Abby's pace only increasing as she loses herself in the moment. She could probably - and likely will end up - cumming from this alone. It was already a bit of a fantasy in her mind, having often wondered what it would be like to fuck you like this, but she didn't think she actually could. Her vivid blues are transfixed on the way your ass jiggles with each hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin only made more intense by the water flowing along your bare bodies.

"A-Abby I- oh my god, please!" Words barely come out of you, and when they do, they're choppy breathless rambles with no real substance. Normally you were so careful about volume, but there are always times when she'd fucked you so stupid that you stopped caring. This, for example, being one of those times.

"So fuckin' pretty...you look so fuckin' pretty trying to take it for me" Her grip on your hips is bound to leave bruising, but all you can think about is how grateful you are for that fact. If not for her hands, you'd be on the ground by now, legs shaking and unable to hold your weight any longer.

Abby knows your tells well enough to see when you're about to explode - the incoherent sobs, twitching legs, your hands desperately trying to grab onto everything - anything that could possibly help ground you even a little bit. It only eggs her on, her arm snaking around your body to rub feverishly at your aching clit, almost impatient in her need to watch you come apart for her.

"Fuck, don't stop Abby, please, 'm so close...so fuckin' close" You manage to blurt out, damn near crying at the intensity, eyes rolled into the back of your head, head lulled forward against the wall. It's taking everything in you not to fall apart this instant but you want to drag it out for just a little longer.

"Almost there, honey, I got you... C-c'mon, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking cock"

The white-hot intensity of your orgasm sends you reeling, a string of curses and choked cries spilling from your lips, arousal further wetting your inner thighs as it spurts out of you. Abby can't help but moan loudly at the sight, continuing to pump in and out of you to let the base of the toy bump against her clit more, her own climax following soon after yours.

Somehow, Abby manages to stay upright despite her legs feeling like putty, knowing full well that if she falls you'll go down with her. Her strong arms wrap around you tightly as she pulls out of you, her sweaty forehead resting against your back as you both work to catch your breath.

"Fuck..that was..." She trails off, the actual strain of her actions hitting her body, making it difficult for her to get a word out between breaths. You giggle at the sound of her struggle, though you aren't doing any better.

"So fucking good.." Is all you breathe out, your mind still too fuzzy to think of something better to say.

Abby just nods, lacking the energy to say something snarky in response, the only sound remaining being the now cold water from the showerhead pitter-pattering against the ground, though eventually, she does force herself to speak up once more.

"Once I....catch my fuckin' breath...we're so doing that again"

Reblogs are appreciated ☆ tags: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒.

💞 — in which professor divus crewel is down bad for his spouse.

💞 — divus crewel x reader

💞 — warnings: none really, just fluff and ace and deuce being ace and deuce.

💞 — around 700 words!! not very long, but yk it came to me when i should have been writing my essay (due tomorrow) since that card came out. ive been hella offline, my cousin had a malwi (yemeni bridal party) yesterday, and the wedding is tomorrow, and my other cousin is in the process of having engagement parties all throughout july--hope you enjoy!

“No way you get bitches,” 

“What was that, Trappola?” Crewel shot a glare at his student who was staring at the picture on his desk.

The picture was of him and his spouse, looking very happy. He looked relaxed in the picture, his arm draped around you while you held his face in your hands and kissed his cheek. The best part was that you were dressed in one of his designs, looking ever so elegant in the fur shawl over your shoulders.

Ace stiffened up and was sent a concerned glance from Deuce, “Uhm, nothing… sir,” he quickly corrected himself.

He could not help it—all the time he spent in Professor Crewel’s class was filled with a certain strictness that he did not think anyone would find appealing. The redhead glanced at the picture again, before back at his professor.

Deuce was sweating, praying to whatever was in the sky that he would not get caught up in whatever trouble Ace would be in. He almost wanted to shake some sense in his dormmate.

Crewel drew the silence out, just for the sake of intimidating his students a little longer before his brows softened. He would not do anything further wreck his mood, not when the love of his life would come over and share lunch with him. He sighed, raising a red gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’ll let it slide this once, pup.”

The cyan-eyed student visibly slumped in relief.

He handed each of them their corrected worksheets. They both had detailed notes written in the margins on what they could do to improve. He pointed out how Ace could use his skills in Magic Analysis and apply them to Alchemy, and gave Deuce examples that could make more sense to him. He was a strict professor, but that did not mean he was a bad professor. He knew his rowdier dogs could improve—he expected them to. He laid out the resources, they just had to use them.

“Thank you, professor!” exclaimed Deuce, bowing his head in respect as he held the page to his chest. Deep down, he appreciated his professor's willingness to correct his work so thoroughly.

Ace nodded, as if sharing the thanks with Deuce, before following his classmate out.

Things stayed quiet before you burst through the doors, carrying lunch bags with you, wearing that smile he loved so much. Your clothes were a bit of a mess, but when were they not? You were always running about and doing something.

Crewel stood from his seat, a softer grin on his face as he stepped forward, his arms reaching out to adjust your outfit. Gentle hands tugged at the collar and fixed your mixed-up buttons, “Now, I wonder what circus you just returned from,”

You laughed and leaned into his touch, “Just the kitchen, nothing too crazy, Divus. I made raisin butter and homemade bread,” you told him, excitedly.

His thumb brushed over some flour left on your cheek, “I can see that much,” he muttered before he moved to your side and slid his hand down to the small of your back, “Come sit,” he said, guiding you to the seat across from his desk.

“You saved me from another lunch spent playing chess with Mozus,”

“Oh, come on. You act like spending time with him is a chore,” you replied, reaching into the bags to set the food on the desk for you guys to share.

He carefully moved his things out of the way, before taking his seat as elegantly as ever, “It’s only a chore when he spends thirty minutes deciding on his next move.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “One day you’ll be just as old and spending thirty minutes buttoning up your vest. When that happens, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

He let out a little laugh at that. Your joke just affirmed what he always knew, you would be with him forever, even when white became the natural color of his hair, even once his students were visiting him as adults with their own lives, and thanking him for his harshness. He let out a breath of contentment, before carefully cutting the bread you made for him, “How was work, my love?”

[reilemon]

🫧Love Don't Be Shy🫧

♡︎ pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex (as always), there's only one bed, sex toys, pulling out

♡︎word count: 2.9k

♡︎synopsis: Rafayel finds your mini "neck massager" while going through your makeup bag.

♡︎a/n: I hope you guys like how I wrote Rafayel.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. You have to share the bed with your friend (employee?) Rafayel. You just nod when Rafayel checks with you if it's okay, and of course you agree because you don't want to go around searching for another hotel.

The last time you had to share a room, and the bed, you barely got any sleep as he was tossing and turning all night, stealing the duvet in consequence. You couldn't be too mad at him as you know how messed up his sleep schedule is. Also, he was so sweet for remembering your comment how you wished to see a certain spot at that place.

This time is no different; he organized this little trip for you to make good use of your vacation days. He researched all the restaurants that you'd like, shops that he'd like, fun and interesting places to visit, and always takes the best seats in the airplane. But he always forgets to book two rooms in advance!

It's not that bad, you tell yourself. You're very comfortable around Rafayel; he makes you feel safe and he adores spending time with you. It's just that you have your own night routine. And you can't do it with him in the same room.

Oh well, the vacation will fly by quickly.

Even with this little inconvenience, you wish it won't. Not because you don't want to get back to work, but because you also adore spending time with him. And lately, with every meeting you hope to become more than just friends (more than just an artist and his bodyguard).

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

After unpacking Rafayel and you go outside to grab a quick bite at the city centre. Of course that turns into an impromptu shopping spree because the two of you stumbled upon a vintage flea market.

You drag your feet as Rafayel almost skips next to you, bags with little trinkets in his hands. It's a beautiful summer afternoon, with a refreshing breeze. You'd enjoy it more if there weren't so many people around.

He glances at your 'energetic' walk. "C'mon Miss Bodyguard, we had a good time there!"

You chuckle. "Sure, if you can call 'talking you out of buying everything you see' a good time."

"But everything was so beautiful!"

"Yes, but think of the luggage!"

He shifts his bags to one hand and offers you the free one with a soft smile. "Give me your hand. I don't want to get lost."

He says that, but he's the one leading you through the crowd.

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱��� ˚｡⋆

You had to take a little nap after coming back to your room, because Rafayel had more things planned for this evening, and you needed the energy. You wanted to look and feel good because you actually looked forward to it. You might've even bought some new outfits that you thought he'd like, even though he gives you compliments no matter how much effort you put into your appearance.

While you were asleep, Rafayel took a long shower.

When you awoke, you found him in your room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

You blush and avert your gaze, opting to just not comment on it. "Are you at least wearing underwear?" You commented on it.

He looks down, like he forgot about his state of almost-undress. "I do. Wanna check?" His hand resting on the towel knot.

Your hand immediately shoots up to cover your view of whatever he's about to show you. "It's fine! I just didn't expect this to be the first thing I see after a nap!"

He laughs and strolls towards the closet. "You saw me in a bathing suit plenty of times. This towel covers more."

You can't help but sneak a peek at his toned back while he's picking out an outfit. For someone who claims to hate working out, he's more than fit. You can clearly see the way his muscles are carved under his pale still damp skin and the way they flex as he moves. As he turns around, you can’t help but crave to graze your hand over his defined abs and those veins leading down to -

"Like what you see?"

Caught red handed, you snap your head in the opposite direction, your face burning with embarrassment.

"I'll go take a shower." You mumble as you snatch your underwear and a nightdress from a drawer and escape to the bathroom, blushing even more as you catch Rafayel's mischievous laugh.

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

Refreshed, and not at all embarrassed anymore, you emerge from the bathroom to get your makeup bag. You don't know whether to put the outfit on before the makeup, or the other way around...

Your brain short circuits when your eyes land on Rafayel holding your makeup bag in one hand - and your mini vibrator in the other.

He holds it up and studies it "Is this like a mini neck massager?"

You're frozen in place. Your body is discovering new levels of embarrassment.

Hearing nothing from you, his attention shifts to your figure. You don't register the way his eyes admire you in your little nightdress. "Well?" He presses the little button and the little buzzing sound hits your ears like crashing waves of sweat hitting your body.

He's teasing you. He has got to be teasing you. Like he always is. There's no way he thinks this is for his neck!

"Give it back." You croak, your throat dry.

"Why? You don't want to show me how to use it?" He's really going through with this little bit.

"Why were you even going through my makeup bag?"

He explains how he forgot to pack some cream and wanted to borrow it from you, or something like that, you barely listened because he was not letting go of the little bullet vibrator. He's put down the makeup bag, but not the toy!

The buzzing gets stronger as Rafayel's finger presses the button multiple times. "So, which setting is the best?"

He flinches as you basically hurl yourself towards him to take back what's yours. He holds it in the air, away from your reach.

"What's up with you?" his eyebrows knot, cheeks lightly red at the close proximity.

"Give it back!"

Finding your frustration confusing but at the same time cute and amusing, he continues to keep it out of your reach, letting you chase him around the room.

"Nuh - uh!" he laughs and turns to you, only for his face to be met with a white fluffy pillow.

You smacked him across the face, not too hard of course; you're still his body guard. You earn a little 'hey!' with a flushed face and to defend himself, he puts the toy in his pocket and grabs his own pillow. You didn't even notice how good his outfit looked.

The two of you end up in a brief pillow fight - mostly him taking hits while you managed to dodge most of them. But then Rafayel swiftly snatches your pillow, and pins you down on the bed, holding your wrists in his hand and resting his knees on the bed.

He asks, out of breath "Is it not a neck massager?" While you were in a pillow fight he caught on how red your face is and how that shape doesn't seem like it's for the neck.

You struggle under him, aware of how your nightdress lifted under the impact, and how your breasts are on the verge of spilling out. A small whine leaves your lips in frustration as he's so much stronger than you.

"Yes! It's my vibrator, okay?" you can't meet his gaze. You're sure you look so damn pathetic right now.

But you don't see the delight in Rafayel's eyes as he takes in your cute flushed pouting face. He can't help but take a peek of your figure under him, the way your tits are barely covered, the hem of your dress lifted to show off your plush thighs pressed together.

He releases his hold on you and sits back, still straddling you. "Is that why you were upset over one room? You could've just told me and I would've taken a walk or something. Maybe even get you a snack to replenish your energy."

You could not be more mortified. Your eyes are still fixed somewhere to the side and your lips don't move.

His fingers softly hold your chin and you muster the courage to look him in the eyes. You notice how messy his curls are. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." He reassures you with a soft smile, and hands you over the wretched thing.

And you loved that about Rafayel - he knew when to stop teasing and when it's time to give you reassurance.

Still, you needed your little revenge.

It doesn't matter that he's stronger than you, you still have your hunter skills, and in a blink of an eye, you switch positions, straddling his lap.

He opens his mouth to make some dirty joke but only a yelp gets out when you suddenly press the buzzing toy on his side while locking his wrists with your hand.

He pleads for mercy as you continue to run the vibrator on second to highest setting all over his torso.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks, and heat pools between your legs as his whimpers and gasps keep leaving his plump lips and his body squirms under you, his crotch grazing your bottom.

Flustered and out of breath, Rafayel had enough of the torture and pins you down again - pressing you in the same position you had him in, but with his knee so dangerously close to your clothed heat.

"You're being cruel, kitten." he breathes, his tone a little too calm for your liking.

He takes the toy from you and starts sliding it down the middle of your belly, the contact making you squirm and laugh a little. "I was being supportive here and you go and start torturing me."

"I was embarrassed!" you scream between laughs and pants.

He complains in his playful manner about how you attacked him while he was so confused, you can barely hear him over your involuntarily laughs. In your squirms and attempts to break free, your core grinds more than once against his knee and upper thigh.

And maybe he's inching his knee closer to you.

You open your eyes when you don't feel the tickles anymore. You're met with his soft hooded eyes.

"I want to make it up to you, darling."

He studies your face as his hand moves up and a gasp leaves your lips as it lightly grazes the underside of your breast over with the vibrating toy.

He repeats the same motion on the other breast. "Do you want me to stop?"

You sheepishly shake your head.

The grip on your wrists loosens, but you let him hold you down.

Finally, he gives attention to your already pebbled nipples, carefully rubbing circles around them. His eyes take in your flushed face - beautiful lips parted as you pant underneath him, eyes veiled with lust and desperation for more, sensitive nipples poking through the thin fabric of your nightdress.

Your panties are damp with the attention on your nipples and core grinding against his knee. And with Rafayel on top of you, with his cheeks flushed, messy hair and half lidded eyes gazing at you with adoration, you crave more.

He doesn't need to read your thoughts to know what you need. Your hips are desperately pressing against him, soaked panties leaving a wet patch on his pants.

A playful smirk stretches his lips, but he fights the urge to tease you. Instead, his hand trails down, avoiding your tummy this time, and presses the toy on your inner thigh, earning a jolt from your legs and a whimper from your lips. With his slender fingers, he lifts up the hem of your dress, exposing your panties.

You feel his knee move back, but still touching your clothed heat. Pressing the button for the lowest setting, he places the vibrating tip of the toy right between your folds, the familiar sensation of the vibrator making you moan. Only it's different now, because Rafayel is the one pressing it against you, the one making you feel so good, which makes you cream, your heart beating against your chest, your face and chest burning with need and desire.

With more confidence, Rafayel starts pressing and slowly rubbing your sensitive bud. "You like that princess? Does it feel good?"

You frantically nod, your pussy already throbbing with an impending orgasm. "Just like that!" You manage to breathe out.

His cock is painfully hard in his boxers, straining in his tight pants. He feels like he could cum just watching your beautiful face dazed with lust and listening to your sinful moans. Soft pants are leaving his lips "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

He releases your wrists to rest his elbow next to your head and he dips down, latching his lips with yours. You reciprocate immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck, relishing in the feeling of finally tasting his gorgeous pink lips.

Both of you are a panting mess, kissing sloppily, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as your tongue intertwines with his.

And all of this is becoming too much for you, and you already feel the coil in your stomach is about to snap any second. You snatch the collar of his shirt, probably ripping from how tight you're gripping it. "Don't stop, I'm cummin' - !"

He watches you in awe as you tremble and mewl underneath him, unable to kiss him back as the waves of your release overtake you. His lips latch onto your neck as he uses his thumb and knee to help you come down from your high. His breath is trembling as he sucks and licks the sensitive skin on your neck, his face burning and cock throbbing.

He almost whines in your ear "Please, please princess, I need to fuck you so bad..."

Your fingers interlace with his messy curls and he lifts up his head to meet your eyes. His cheeks and ears are burning red, eyes pleading and hooded with lust.

You softly whisper "I need you."

The same second he hears those words, his working hand frantically works his belt and the pants, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as his hot leaking cock is freed. He wants to take his sweet time with you, worshipping you, but he's already on the brink.

And you're so impatient; you pull your panties to the side and take his cock in your hand and tease the tip against your dripping pussy, the action making the man above you whimper.

"Fuck, princess!" He moves your hand away and squeezes the angry red tip. "Watching you got me so worked up, I don't think I'm gonna last long." He admits with a weak smile.

You pull him into a soft kiss "That's okay, you already made me cum so hard."

He kisses your lips and slowly starts sliding in, a gasp leaving both of your lips. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut as he eases into your sopping cunt.

You bite his delicious bottom lip as he buries himself to the hilt, your walls fluttering around his cock and you feel like you're about to cum again. You release his bottom lip and you move onto kissing his jaw and neck. Fuck, he smells so good.

He stays still as he tries to hold onto his sanity. His hot breath fans over your ear "You're squeezing me so hard, doll."

You wiggle your hips and press his lower back, urging him to start moving. Exhaling a shaky breath, his hips slowly start rolling, yours moving at the same pace. Mewls and moans are leaving your lips, as his cock keeps stroking the sweet spot inside you, glazing his length in your slick.

Rafayel needs to make you cum around his cock, but he’s already so painfully close, with your wet walls squeezing him so hard, your pretty lips on his neck and your bewitching voice in his ear.

He was so captivated by you that he almost forgot about the little toy lying next to you.

Your eyes widen when you see him snatch the toy and turns it on to a higher setting and props himself up, angling his hips to reach your swollen and twitching bundle of nerves. Intense shocks of pleasure take over your body as he starts rubbing the vibrator again, and in seconds you're a whimpering mess as his cock thrusts into you, repeatedly hitting that sensitive spot, and his hand pressing the toy on your clit.

"Raf - I -" Is all you manage to say before another orgasm overtakes you, your breath catching in your throat and for a second you think you're going to pass out. You can barely hear Rafayel's soothing and strained whispers of you how gorgeous you are and how pretty you sound.

But hear him whimper "I'm gonna cum, princess."

He tosses the drenched vibrator to the side and with a squelching sound pulls out of you, and your hips twitch as he presses the tip against your still throbbing clit as he jerks himself off, ropes of hot cum spilling all over your belly and drenched cunt. You’re thankful he pulled up your dress in the process, but you wouldn’t mind if he stained it.

After both of you take a moment to catch your breath, he puts his weight on you and you wrap your arms around his back squeezing him tight.

He peppers you with soft kisses all over your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. His fingers caress your face.

He chuckles with that playful smirk on his lips. "I should snoop around your stuff more often."

[lixiesfreckless]

Breathless | h. j.

➸ synopsis: Was it dumb? Yes. But when has that ever stopped you and Jisung?

➸ starring: han jisung x female reader

➸ word count: 2.5k

➸ general content: best friend!jisung, accidental Friends With Benefits reference, both characters are dorks, jisung is kind of a menace(uncharacteristically good with women), smut

➸ warnings: sexual content, swearing, fingering, protected sex, very tame bondage

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: watched FWB today and was gagged when the literal opening line of this fic was used in the movie in the exact same context. it came out in 2011! how does that even happen—anyways enjoy this old fic since it reminded me of it lolllll

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! Feel That - Junny

“What the hell are we doing,” he giggled into your mouth, peeling off your outer layer as he pushed you into the comforter. Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his flannel, desperately trying to get rid of the unnecessary fabric between you two.

“I don’t know, but I kinda like it.”

It had all happened so fast; one moment you and Jisung were lazily watching whatever talk show that the tv program was playing and the next, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

This was probably the most reckless decision you two had decided to make since you became friends in middle school. Why on earth would best friends be trying to undress each other in the late hours of the night?

“Wait.” You pushed him away slightly and let go of his shirt. “Is Hyunjin coming home anytime soon?”

“No.” Jisung chuckled, lifting the edges of your band tee. “Him and Seungmin are on Jeju Island, they won't be back until next week.” You nodded, raising your arms for him to take off the shirt before pulling his neck towards you again, resuming your heated kiss.

The rest of his buttons came undone quickly, your hands desperate to feel his burning skin under their fingertips. He leaned back to take the fabric off, chucking it to a random corner of his room, before freezing at the feeling of your hands tracing his abs.

“When did you get built Ji?” You whispered, staring at the subtle definition in his skin. A light scoff left his lips before he rolled his eyes, leaning forward to cage you with his toned arms.

“I’ve always been this way baby.” He raised an eyebrow, eyes trailing all over your exposed skin.

“Are you trying to be sexy?”

“Is it working?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, him attaching his lips to yours immediately and letting his hands roam your skin.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way his fingers traced foreign trails up to your jawline. Touching you like this wasn’t something you had previously wished he did, but now you felt like you should have been doing this all along. His skin felt so warm on top of yours, your fingers pressing around the back of his neck to gain leverage into the kiss as he groaned in contentment.

Your bra came undone rather quickly, and you’re reminded that Jisung is somehow very experienced, a thought that made you visibly shudder under his fingertips.

“Wait,” you broke the kiss, and he took this opportunity to kiss your jawline, each press leaving you more and more desperate for his touch. “I don’t really know any of your likes or dislikes…in bed I mean.”

His lips hovered over your neck for a moment, as if he were trying to decide what he should and shouldn’t tell you.

“I like hair pulling and scratching,” he answered, lips pressing under your ear. “And don’t call me anything weird.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you nearly moaned, trying not to lose your mind over how his thumbs were dipping under the waistband of your jeans and massaging your hip bones just right.

“And you?”

You fell silent, face blooming red as you remembered what turned you on the most. And he noticed quickly, stopping his leisurely painting session on your neck at your reluctance.

“Hey, this is a two way street you know.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes, seemingly ignoring the beet red tone covering your cheeks. “I’d feel horrible if I overstepped-”

“...bondage.”

“W-what?”

“I have a bondage kink-”

“I know what you said,” he laughed, leaning off of you to rest on his heels. “I’m just shocked that sweet little y/n likes being tied up-”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, looking away from the topless brat.

“If you insist.”

His leather belt came off next, nearly making you scream in both excitement and horror from his newfound knowledge about you. But he simply set it aside, climbing back over you and dipping back into your neck.

You instinctively let out a sigh as his lips went back to caressing your skin, his hands now smoothing their way up your waist as well as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“Hickeys?” He asked, though positive that you wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of doing so.

“Please.”

The boy wasted no time in landing one right at the curve of your breast, lips working hard to redden the skin underneath them to get the color he wanted. Your hands rushed to his head, holding him tight against you with tufts of his ash colored hair between your fingers.

He let himself relish the sensation of you tugging on his roots for a brief moment, humming against your skin before he stopped sucking, reaching for the belt that he left beside you.

You could feel your skin tingle as he removed your hands from his hair, holding them in one hand as he wrapped them with his belt with the other, before expertly tying them with the leather band. He then raised your arms so they were above your head on the pillows, leaving your torso completely at his mercy.

“Can you keep those there for me baby?” His voice had a sultry kind of quality to it; one that you couldn’t find in yourself to resist as you nodded breathlessly.

He then went back to the task at hand, licking and biting and sucking everywhere on your upper torso, making sure to leave enough marks for you to not think that what was happening was just a fever dream. And he made sure to revisit your lips every so often, swallowing all of your little moans every time he thought you’d earned it.

Working his way down, he tugged the rest of your bra off, letting it drop to the floor and kissing around your left nipple while flicking his thumb over the right. You gasped, immediately pulling on the belt restraint around your wrists.

“Sensitive, are we?” He smirked, and you’d sworn that if it were anyone else, you’d choke the hell out of them.

But this isn’t just anyone. This is Han Jisung, and guessing from the surprises this night had already brought, he’d probably like that.

So you settled for a moaned yes in response, and what a good decision that was; not even a second after he had his lips wrapped tight around your nipple while letting his fingers play with the other. Your back arched prettily off the comforter, pushing your chest further into his grasp as he chuckled against your skin.

Thighs pressing together as to provide yourself some friction, a senseless string of pleads left your mouth, begging Jisung to please get on with it because it felt like your body would burst into flames if he kept going. But he didn’t stop, no; the hand that was pulling against your nipple dipped lower to find the button on your jeans, a small indication that he did intend on going further tonight.

Even though you were already over the moon with what had happened already.

Whether he was being intentionally slow or it was just difficult to undo your jeans with one hand, you did not know; but he finally worked the button free, quickly pulling the zipper down afterwards to allow room for his hand that would need to fit inside momentarily.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here,'' he mumbled, smoothing his hand from your abdomen to the top of your underwear, pausing slightly to check for any hesitance before pressing on.

“Oh, god…already?” Your face couldn’t possibly have gotten any redder as he ran a lone finger along your slit, catching the wetness that pooled there immediately. “We’re just getting started-”

“Then hurry up, Ji,” you whined, clenching your thighs to get some friction.

He smiled, suddenly aware of his weak spot for your begging before finally adding friction to the place where you wanted it most.

This wasn’t his first time pleasuring a woman– you were aware of that much –but it took him a minute to figure out what you liked and where you were the most sensitive, essentially playing with you until you made the right sounds. Once he started getting it right however, it finally dawned on you just how much trouble you were in, your chest heaving and toes curling at his ministrations.

It wasn’t long before he changed the game, bringing two fingers inside of you and curling them just so, and an obscenely loud moan left your mouth to his delight.

“Good?” He questioned, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t moving too fast for you as he leisurely pulled his fingers out.

“G-Good, don’t stop-” You were cut off by another moan, and decided to give up on speech altogether as you felt another bubble up in your chest.

He took it a step further, lightly leaving pecks across your bruised chest, and then a step further, purposefully pressing his palm against your clit every time he delved into your core.

Not only was it good, it was also unfair and even embarrassing, considering how quickly he was bringing you to your peak.

He had you twisting, clenching, whimpering and writhing under his grasp within three minutes, and even if he stopped it wouldn’t prevent the white wave of euphoria that was approaching.

“God, Jisung, I-”

You broke under him right then and there, shaking and gasping as your release overtook you in blissful waves of pleasure. Jisung helped you through it, pressing his fingers into you until your moans turned into whimpers and your shaking into trembling.

It took you forever to completely come down from your high, but Jisung used this time to get himself ready, leaning back on his heels and unzipping his own pants as you tried to catch your breath. You could almost feel him smiling at you before you opened your eyes, chest still heaving as he flashed that shit-eating grin in your direction.

“That good, huh?” he chuckled, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough so his length could spring free.

“Oh fuck me.”

“One step ahead of you.”

A cold shiver ran up your spine as you finally registered what he was doing, your core clenching on nothing despite it being only a minute since you came. In any other situation, you would have snapped back at him for being so snarky, but with the hollow feeling in your core being somewhat uncomfortable, you figured that keeping your mouth shut would have him filling you faster.

One condom later and you were seconds away from the anticipated moment, watching through lidded eyes as he carefully brought your wrists down to untie them. Your pants were next to come off, and his soon followed, but only halfway; you assumed that your impatience had finally caught up to him.

And you couldn’t even blame him—he looked painfully hard after the show you had put on for him.

He pumped himself only three times before leaning over you again, and then a strange look crossed his face as he froze.

“Wait, I’m okay to do this right?” He asked, looking between your eyes and where your hips met. “I just realized I never asked-”

“Han Jisung if you won’t I will,” you pleaded, urging him on, and he gave you a crooked smile before drawing in a deep breath.

He pushed inside of you slowly, ignoring every painful urge he had to quickly bottom out inside you and alleviate the burning need in his lower abdomen. A string of hushed curses left your mouth; this wasn’t your first time, but it might as well have been with how much the feeling of being stretched out was overwhelming you.

He made it to the end with a small whimper, dipping his head forward into your shoulder as he tried to steady himself.

“Can I move?”

“Knock yourself out,” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut from the sensation of adjusting to him fully.

He started out slow, each drag of his cock against your walls eliciting a low whine from you as he rolled his hips against yours. One hand pinned your hips to the bed, while the other held him up next to your head, giving him the option to lean down and capture the skin of your neck between his teeth whenever he pleased.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he groaned, grinding deeper into your core with every thrust. At his words, you could only pull his face down to meet yours, silencing him with a kiss in hopes that he would talk less. Otherwise, his pleasure-ridden voice alone would bring you to climax.

He happily kissed away all of your moans and whimpers, sucking on your bottom lip until you both were panting too much to keep a cohesive liplock.

His hips were starting to slam against yours now, that erotic sound of skin on skin slapping finally reverberating around the room and joining the chorus of your moans. Your toes curled, body barely able to process the pleasure building inside of you as moans helplessly tumbled out of your lips.

“Tell me what I h-have to do to get you there,” he choked out, worried that he might not get you to finish again in time.

“Fingers- ah, please-”

He knew exactly what you meant, moving the hand that was on your hip to your clit and gently rubbing it in the way that had you moaning his name before.

His breaths became heavy and his thrusts started to lose their rhythm; both things that you were sure were signs of his release drawing near, but you could barely focus on that when yours was practically hurtling toward you, threatening to spill you over the edge before he broke.

“Jisung, I c-can’t—” Words finally left you as you felt your whole body start to tense up, and Jisung let out a loud moan from the sudden tightening around his length.

“Come. Come all over me baby,” He whispered breathlessly, using the last bit of his stamina to thrust harder into you, until you couldn’t take it for another second.

You came undone for the second time that night, shaking and moaning beneath him as he pounded into you twice more, before he caved as well, just barely holding himself off of you as he emptied his load into the condom. Careful to not wait until he was too soft, he pulled his length out of you, subsequently falling onto the sheets next to you as he caught his breath.

“So I take it we’re not just friends?” He mused, a cheeky grin poking out from under the sheets. You slapped his back playfully, rolling away from him before he caught your hips with his hands, pulling you flush against his warm chest.

“Shut the fuck up.”

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙

──  mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO

the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.

he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.

... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.

it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.

the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.

"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."

"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."

sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.

he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.

except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.

"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"

rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.

such as right then.

in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.

and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.

"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"

"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"

"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"

in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.

you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.

but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.

except, you reach down, and he's...

...not hard at all.

even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—

there's no reaction.

he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.

"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."

"...oh..."

over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.

the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!

but...

your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.

he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.

...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.

your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.

zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.

"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"

"....it's staring."

"..."

"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."

⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You're a stupid drunk and James Potter is very very bad at dealing with his romantic feelings.

Genre: Angst (happy ending), fluff, hurt and comfort (a little bit of everything honestly)

Warnings: jealous!james, stupid!james, swearing, screaming, arguments, crying, injuries, punching, blood, protective!James, protective!marauders, platonic!best friends!marauders, confessions, dangerous activities (reader puts herself in danger), mentions of dying

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You look towards the ground and your ankle bends a little in your winter boots as you try to control your movements. The cherry liquor you had drank earlier lingers in your mouth and in your drunken haze, the tower you're currently balancing on feels secure as you move forwards and the onlookers below continue to cheer. 

"Please don't stay out too late," Remus warned you.

You blush, shaking some snow from your hair as you outstretch your arms for better balance, biting your lip. You look up at the sky, the stars prominent this evening.

"And don't drink too much," James reminded you with small smile. 

"We'll see you there," Sirius promised.

What the hell did they know? You pout, now staring down at the snow on the ground. They hadn't even shown up!

You hear someone call your name and you look down to see Arthur Brown, a Ravenclaw boy you'd been talking with at a party. He's handsome with a charming smile and as you wave to him, you almost fall over. 

Arthur just chuckles and encourages you to continue whatever nonsense and liquid courage inspired you to walk on the castle roof in the snow this late at night. 

"Y/n?" you hear Remus's strained shout and when you turn your head, you're surprised to see Remus, James, and Sirius rushing over. They aren't dressed for the cold weather and they look extremely shaken and confused. "Come down from there," Remus shouts. You wonder how they'd known.

Sirius looks pale and James is frantically looking around to find some way to help you down safely. He looks more distraught than the others and Sirius has to calm him.

Your eyebrows knit together. You're afraid James might make a scene. Only, why would he? You know he'd let Remus, Sirius, or Peter do this in a heart beat, and he'd find it funny.

Bloody hell, James would probably do it himself so why does he look so worried when it's you?

"Bugger off, she's fine," Arthur interrupts as you take another step. Your boots slip on the snow again but you laugh as you move your arms out further to catch yourself. "See, she's fine. So, stop being her little guard dogs for one second and let her live a little," he says with unnecessary venom. 

"What did you just say?" Sirius barks, grabbing Arthur's collar. He looks furious now. 

"Y/n, come down, please, honey," Remus calls, occasionally telling Sirius to drop it and to concentrate on you.

You frown as Arthur's teasing riles up your friends and the crowd underneath you. Wind swirls around you and you gasp, feeling suddenly even more unbalanced and you start to realize maybe this wasn't the smartest plan.

"You fuckin' prick, don't talk about her like that, you hear me?" James suddenly swears loudly. Because you hadn't been paying attention to the boys under you, when you hear James and look down at him, you see that he'd pushed Arthur into the snow and was pinning him down.

Alarmed by their shouts, you accidentally slip as you turn around to make sure James's is okay.  

You let out a shriek and all the students suddenly look up, seeming to remember your presence. Momentarily distracted by your scream, Arthur slams his elbow into James's cheekbone and sends him falling off him. Chaos ensues as everyone rushes to crowd around both you and James separately. 

Remus kneels next to you, his hand coming behind your head to support you up. You're clutching at your ankle as you wail uncontrollably from the way you had fallen onto the snow. With nimble fingers, Remus cuffs your jeans and sees how swollen your ankle looks. "Oh, honey, that looks like it hurts," he whispers and caresses your cheek with his knuckles. 

From next to you, Sirius and other students are standing around James; James, who has scrambled up from the ground. His nose is bleeding and the crimson liquid stains the snow as he curses at Arthur. Sirius is holding James up by his shoulders and he uses his hand to pinch James's nose as his best friend winces in pain. Arthur, who has a prominent bruise under his eye, is pulled away by his friends. 

"What happened here?" The low drone of the Headmaster, accompanied by an anxious looking Professor McGonagall, is heard and you all turn your heads around.

* * *

Around an hour later, as Madam Pomfrey takes the time to heal your ankle, a disheveled looking James sits on the bed opposite of yours. He's holding a handkerchief to his nose and Madam Pomfrey hasn't tended to his injury yet. To her defense, James still looks extremely pissed and you wouldn't want to approach him either. You won't have that same luxury as the moment Madam Pomfrey is gone, James is staring.  

"What were you thinking?" he whispers, his tone quipped. Still a little fuzzy from how drunk you'd been, you blink at him and shift uncomfortably. 

"What was I thinking? What were you thinking?" you counter, defensively.

"What?" James drops the handkerchief and glares. 

"Why would you jump Arthur like that?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" James hisses, his eyes narrowing. He's your best friend, he knows you hate it when he swears but that doesn't stop him now. "You're fucking reckless, you know? How could you have been so fucking stupid?"

You stare at James as your eyes water painfully. No coherent words form in your head. You're grateful for an escape when Remus and Sirius pile into the room. 

Sirius rushes to your side. "Aw, poor sweetness, does it hurt terribly?" his sentence dies when he sees your tears and he wraps an arm around you so you can hug him. "Y/n, what's wrong?" 

Remus, always more intuitive than Sirius, looks at James and sees James's furious expression. He frowns and quickly walks over to his best friend and holds onto his arm. James pushes him away and you see Remus whisper something in his ear. 

However, Sirius pulls your attention away from them as he wipes your tears with his thumb. 

"I am not!" Your attention is pulled again and you hear James shout as Remus shushes him.

You sniff, and look at Sirius. "James hates me," you say and Sirius's expression falls. He looks behind and sees Remus and James's shushed argument. He turns to you and holds your chin in his hand as his gaze softens. 

"James couldn't hate you even if he'd been cursed to," he says so simply.

You shake your head and bite your lip. "No, he's really mad…like really mad, Pads."

Sirius chuckles and sighs, "Oh sweetie, James isn't really mad at you. He's mad at himself. Merlin, you should have seen him when he first saw you on that roof, the poor bloke looked about ready to faint." 

Sirius continues and turns to Remus and James only to see they've moved further away from you and Sirius, and James looks like he could burst into tears at any moment, "Jamie is madly in love with you, Y/n. Just the possibility of you and another guy makes him go absolutely bonkers. And listen, if he hadn't hit Arthur like he did, I don't know if you would have fallen, doll. James knows that too and he's simply mad with guilt."

You try to concentrate on Sirius's entire story but your mind stays stuck at the words; "James? In love with me?" 

Sirius's lips curl in amusement but he doesn't have the time to answer because he hears Remus shout an exasperated; "Prongs!" as James, his nose still very much broken and bloody, storms out of the Hospital Wing without a second word. Your chest tightens as you watch him and if you could, you'd run after him.

* * *

James has been avoiding you. Or more accurately, he's been avoiding everyone for the last three days. He's never in the common room anymore and he has evening detentions with Professor McGonagall so you don't see him at all outside of classes. Remus, Sirius, and Peter all tell you he's been quiet in their dorm too and that they don't know what's happened with him either. 

Remus won't tell anyone what he spoke to James about that night in the Hospital Wing.

By the fourth day of complete silence, you've had enough. You manage to catch James on his way to detention. You speed walk over to him and cut his path, spinning around to look at him. You gasp when you see him. His face is bruised and his lip is split. "James!" you gasp and stop him. James's brown eyes narrow and he looks angry. 

"Get out of my way, Y/n," he hisses as his fists clench. 

"What happened?" you insist. His burises look horrible, and you think that he hadn't got his broken nose healed properly since he'd stormed out of the Hospital Wing. Why handn't the boys told you James looked like this?

"Are you a bloody insane? What he fuck happened?" your voice comes out stern and James pauses at your curse word, his frustrated expression faltering for a moment. 

"What?"

You hold onto his sleeve and push him into the nearest girls lavatory. James almost trips as you make him lean against the sink. His eyes widen when you pull out your wand and firmly grasp his chin in your hands. You ignore his whinning as you point your wand at his wounds. "Episky—shush be still," you mutter sternly as you heal all of his wounds. "What is wrong with you, James Potter? Tell me who you've been tousling with this instant!"

James scrunches his nose and touches where his wounds had been. He leans away from you. "Nobody," he says, his voice high so you know he's lying. 

"James," you warn. You move away and shove your wand in your cloak. "Please, tell me."

James has never been able to deny you a thing, even at times like this. "Fine, just don't lose your head over it, bird," you scowl at the nickname with an eye roll. "Brown keeps pushing my buttons, is all," he says. 

"Arthur? The same boy who broke your nose?"

"Yeah, that little fucker, I'm pretty sure he's in love with you—or he has some weird obsession because he can't keep your name out of his fucking mouth," James suddenly pinches his nose and shuts his eyes, "Shi-sorry I keep curing, I know you don't like it when we curse." 

Almost like he's sulking, James leans against the sink and stares at you. He doesn't speak. 

"You're such a wanker," you mumble and look at him more closely, "Why are you acting like such a prick since that night?"

"Oh, since the night you almost fucking died?" James raises his eyebrows, his tone sarcastic and you ignore the curse word again. 

"Horrible exaggeration considering all I did was break my ankle."

"Could have been your neck," James deadpans. 

"Well, it wasn't my neck and that's certainly no excuse to be a such a prat," you say seriously. James considers your words and sighs. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair and looks away. 

"What do you want me to say?" he asks. 

You stare at him like he's absolutely mental. "That you're sorry?"

James laughs and you swear you've never met a boy as stubborn as he is. "Why would I be sorry?"

"Are you serious, James?" you whisper and press your finger accusingly on his chest, "Listen to me, I know I shouldn't have been on that roof, that's my mistake, but you know damn well I wouldn't have been on that roof if you'd all come with me to the party like you'd promised!" your voice comes out rushed, "And I wouldn't have fallen if you didn't have to knock down Arthur Brown and make me worried for you!"

James's cheeks are flaming. "You think I, out of everyone, don't know that?" he says, straightening up and moving closer to you, his voice harsh, "do you think I don't lay awake at night, going absolutely insane over every possible scenario that prevents you from falling?" James's voice cracks and he steps forwards again. 

You look up at him, slightly breathless. For someone so angry, James looks undeniably handsome. "I know we should have gone to the party with you, but Merlin, I couldn't bear another one! Another party I would have had to spend watching other boys fawn all over you! Fuck, Y/n, how could I have known you would decide take a drunken nightly stroll on a roof because we hadn't shown up!"

You listen to him, eyes wide, "You don't like it when boys fawn over me?" you whisper. 

James frowns. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes closed. "Of course I don't," he says, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

"Why?" 

"Because you should be mine," James's voice is smaller now, less authoritative, less angry. 

You stare at him and take in his expression with an inhale of breath. "But, James, I am yours."

James shakes his head quickly and tugs at his curls. "No, no. You aren't mine. You're ours. Sirius, Remus, Peter—you're our best friend. And I was okay with that, until I wasn't anymore and now everytime Arthur Brown says he wants to kiss your lips all I want is to punch something." James's fists clench and he looks away from you. 

"You're scaring me," you look at him, whispering honestly but you don't move away from him.

James looks down and this time he looks really remorseful, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I don't meant to scare you. I—"

"So, Sirius was right," you inquire, taking his sudden remorse as a widow for a civilized conversation. 

"Sirius was right about what?" 

"You're in love with me," you don't say it as a question, more like a statement and James's eyes round so wide you're almost afraid they'll pop out of his skull.

James tries to escape but as he backs away, he bumps into the sink and his heart sinks. His eyes are moving so rapidly around the room and his cheeks have turned a less aggressive crimson and into a more lovesick pink. 

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?" he mumbles to himself, feeling warmth on his cheek. 

"What?"

James rubs at his nape and looks less angry and more nervous. You smile. You had been right to strike this conversation now. "Moony, in the Hospital Wing. He said I loved you—which was why I was acting like a prick and I don't," he backtracks immediately, "I mean, I love you as a friend and n-nothing more."  

You expected to feel pain at the rejection but instead, you laugh. You stare at James and laugh harder. So hard, you clutch your sides and James's eyebrows crease with worry as you hyperventilate in front of him. 

"Because you should be mine," you repeat his words through your laughter, "That's what you said and now you want me to believe you aren't in love with me?!"

"What?!" James's crimson cheeks have returned and he sounds annoyed now, "I- listen, sorry to disappoint but I-I am not in love with you!"

"You aren't?" you look at him, your eyes flickering to his lips. 

"No!"

"Then why do you want me to be yours? What does that mean, hmm, James?"

You walk a little closer and your arms rest on the sink behind him. You ignore the way your heart is pounding your chest and screaming at you as you stand so close to him. James is staring down as you look up at him through your lashes. You expect another protest, maybe another incoherent defense, but instead he mumbles, "Fuck it," under his breath and takes your cheeks in his hands as he kisses you. 

Without a second thought, you kiss him back. Your hand tangles in his hair as you press your lips to his. It's almost animalistic the way James is kissing you and it only lasts a few seconds before he's disconnecting your lips and resting his forehead onto yours. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he pants, shaking his head, "I shouldn't have kissed you without asking you—"

     "Oh, shut up," you grumble and kiss him again. He accepts the kiss and spins you around. He uses his arm to hoist you onto the sink and deepen the kiss. You hold onto him and wince when your hip accidentally hits the faucet. James pulls away and looks at you like he can't believe what just happened. 

"Okay, so maybe I am in love with you," he finally admits and his chest is heaving from all the emotions. 

You crack a smile, "I'm in love with you too, James," you admit and touch his cheek. "Only, you can't act like a prick to me when you can't deal with your emotions. You should have told me all these feelings instead of sulking like a child." 

James nods and squeezes his eyes shut, "I was just so angry at myself," he whispers.

"I know, Sirius said that was the reason."

James chuckles with a roll of his eyes, "How does Sirius suddenly know my emotions better than I do? He's usually the emotional wreck!" 

You adjust his glasses a little, "He's just observant," you say, "and you're stubborn."

James pulls you in, holding you close to him as he dips and kisses your neck. He hums against your skin and whispers, "I'm such a fool, can you forgive me?" he asks, basically pleads, "I'm just, I was jealous."

You laugh, "Oh, I know. But, James, you know you have no reason to be jealous of anyone."

James whines and looks at you with his famous doe eyes; "I have every reason to be jealous. I'm jealous of the way Peter laughs at your jokes, or how Remus bonds over books with you. I'm jealous of Sirius and how he makes you laugh, and I'm jealous of every boy that looks your way. And worst of all, I'm jealous of the sun because it shines on you every day and I can't," he sounds like a lovesick idiot. He's barely making sense. 

You look at him seriously, "James. You are the sun. You're my sun." 

James looks into your eyes and bats his eyelashes innocently. He says, "So, you forgive me for being a wanker?" It's obvious he wants to make you laugh and he succeeds as you chuckle and playfully and lightly swat his cheek. 

"I'll forgive you," you say, "for now."

James pouts but he also lifts you and spins you around. He drops you on the ground, his hands at your hips and kisses your forehead. "I'll take it, love. Now, let's tell our friends we aren't mad at each other anymore."

"I was never really mad with you," you point out with a snort as James takes your hand. 

James squints, and looks behind his shoulder at you. "Yeah, you were," he says but when you shake your head he decides not to argue with you and just smiles, "Okay, fine, then let's go tell our friends I'm not being a baby anymore."

"Much better," you beam with a giggle and James realizes with a hopeless smile that he wants to be the only reason you ever giggle like that again. 

Merlin, he really is madly in love with you.

[astrow0rldx]

PAC: Who you are to this person in their life, mind & fantasies

૮ ˶︶^︶˶ ა🧸🐇<3

We are all just different concepts, roles, and versions to everyone in our life.

Pile One

Signs: Worshipping you. So Anxious - Genuine. INTJ? ENTJ? ENTP? xNTx. Dark Feminine, Unavailable Feminine vibes. CEO/office siren energy. Nonchalant/Distant. Self-Assured/Focused. Independent! One of you could have Scorpio/8th house placements or Earth sign.

They look at you as a strong mf. Very strong, physically but especially mentally. Your no one to be fw. Your extremely smart, and clever. Probably less naive. They see you as a confident, overcoming person who is loyal and committed to things you value and goals you set your mind to. Your courageous, intellectual, logical, and can be really good analyzer and straight forward. They think of you as whole, complete and someone that can guide them, teach them. Give them wisdom and hope.

Their feelings for you is very primal. Really Sexual or Thrilling. For some of you this person your asking about is a masculine energy between 16-29? You have a very powerful, transformative effect on them. A thirsty dog with their tongue hanging out. Ready to be satisfied, and you satisfy them. Your a satisfaction for them, kind of like someone they wish they had might literally be their type. They could be obsessive, tied to you. Possessive over you and just very demonic/low vibrational in their feelings, because its so intense. Its so exciting, and adrenaline inducing to them. About how they feel towards you, very chaotic. A lot rooting from desire and the root (action) chakra.

In their fantasy they could just fight any competition or barrier, win you over, and leave with you. Just start preparing and making plans for actions and next move. Their fantasy is having a choice and decision they have to make with you, a risk they might have to take. "Should I stay or should I go" having that courage!! They desire to hope and pray you guys can come together, celebrate. Be mutual and experience on another. They have so much faith in this. They already done wished upon a star. But their conscious thoughts about you is maybe feeling a little defeated, like a victim. and all up in their feels trying work it out & be emotionally mature about things. understand their feelings. If they aren't feeling defeated or like the victim, they might be like I said in that demonic, low vibration, desire energy where their trying to win you over by any means. they will do whatever, manipulate and be the bad guy on maybe your emotions, your emotional state, your romance, and your caring side.

Girl its half an hour past ten Got me waiting in my bed You’ve been busy in my head Since noon I got to feel you, freak you

come to my appointment

Now I feel the urge, I hope you feel it too Now imagine girl what I'mma do to you Girl the image of your body got me sprung Never felt like this about another one You are killing me girl cause is half past one My body trembles every time my clock agrees

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Pile Two

Signs: Earth Sign!! City Girl. High-Maintenance. Materialistic. Fashion Junkie. Hustler, Money Motivated. Good with Cosmetic things? Cosmetologist? Business Owner? Real-estate, looking for a home? Present yourself with class & value.

They see you as a very materialistic person, of this world. Someone who is stable, but not stable. Like a hustler. You might be insecure always chasing security or materialistic things. Working a lot, Starting a business. Focusing on home, cars, fashion, and items you want. Stingy with it to. Hoarding or Collector probably too. Just someone who builds the life they want around them, a reality creator, a manifestor.

(You and Pile One (so far) is asking about some people that's definitely ready to fuck) Their feelings for you is they might feel isolated from you, or need to be isolated from you to go within and focus on themself. Figure out what they want, because their stuck on something that they might not have had the time, or chose the time to think about. If they did their overthinking and working it out. But they definitely feel really lustful towards you, a lot of sexual energy. Hit it & quit it energy almost. A fun experience that they intensely desire. But they definitely feel a horny, exciting, drawn pull towards you. Could be intense.

Don't lower your self-worth now, even though it shouldn't be depending on this person anyways. They put you on a VERY high pedestal. Someone who they have to work for. In their fantasies, they will take on any baggage, and hardships for his empress. + The Lovers. which mean they definitely fantasize about loving on you, admiring you, being in a relationship with you. Winning you as a trophy. Their thoughts about you could be that their worried about your security and money and think its killing you, or its killing them. Making them feel inferior. They desire to leave something behind and create this little emotional, vulnerable, cutesy dynamic with you. Rush in and ask you stuff, tell you stuff, confront you on things. Again I'm scared this person is not a loyal, committed person in your life or planning to be but that's only for some.

I'm representin' for the bitches All eyes on your riches No time for the little dicks You see the bigger the dick The bigger the bank, the bigger the Benz The better the chance to get close to his rich friends I'm going after the big man My g-string make his dick stand Make it quick, then slow head by the night stand Like lightning, I wanna nigga with a wedding ring Bank accounts in the Philippines

I make him eat it while my period on A little nasty ho, red-bone but a classy ho Young jazzy ho and don't be scared If you're curious just ask me hoes And yes dick sucking comes quite natural Cause I'm da baddest bitch, what

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Pile Three

Signs: Water sign or Earth sign. Mysterious. Feminine. Have y'all met? New person in your life, from work/school? R&B. Throwback Music.

They see you as someone who might be hard to read. Hard to understand, and quite mysterious and unknown to them. Maybe manipulative, deceptive & delusional. They might even see you as spoiled, or someone who is given good opportunities. Blessed, and for some people its not always blessings from others, but they see you as someone who creates blessings for themself. A stable & grounded Person. But they definitely see you as a person on their own, and independent. Mysterious and Independent.

They feel again, hidden from you. Somethings unknown but they are willing to build with you, and work with you. Even provide for you. They might feel anxiety, nervous and a lot of overthinking limiting thoughts that prevent this connection from growing.

They desire to build some type of stability between you two. But they need to read you, and know something. The moon keeppsss coming out for how they view & feel towards you, but what they want & Desire is this High Priestess. With 10 of pentacles, this can be long lasting, stable. Is this like a job opportunity? Provider, Daddy Dynamic? In their fantasies, having you and being able to just be with you is their wish fulfillment. They want to get everything they wish from you. They fantasize about not being emotionally stuck, and flowing through, moving on, coming to better light. They really fantasize about starting this material project. Study Buddy? Work Project? I don't know but some type of goal and stability they fantasize about doing with you. Your mystery gives them time to fantasize, and in their mind they might daydream, and create these ideas and wishes. They think about letting loose, having fun with you. Being drunk with you maybe. But they might be focusing & thinking about the negative and sad side of the connection & what made them hurt.

Red light, you know I can't make this thing that official Believe, we had a great night but I ain't the type to tell you that I miss you, shit You don't like that, I make this easy, leaving After sexing on the floor Baby, I know you need me like I need you But I'm not the one you wanna love

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[almond-tofuuu]

Wanna sit on Zayne’s lap (innocently) facing him with my face buried in his chest while he works 😊 and then maybe after a while grind on him a lil, just enough to rile him up, and then keep doing it until he snaps and pounds me into the nearest surface 😊

anon you are not the only one who wants to do this!!! If I've said it once, I'll say it again: ZAYNE WANTS US TO GRIND DOWN IN HIM!! why else would he keep letting us sit in his lap 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also sorry it took so long for me to write this, work has been brutal 😭😭😭 hope you enjoy!!

Dangerous Game

Zayne x reader

Warnings: nsfw minors dni, grinding, orgasm denial, Zayne's big dick (it needs it's own warning), pet names (Angel)

Zayne was busy, always busy. Even when he came home after a long shift at the hospital, he still had more work that needed to be completed. And you understood, you really did, his job was very important and his meticulous nature was just one of the many things you loved about him. But right now you were cursing the seemingly neverending amount of paperwork stacked on the desk next to him. Hearing that he had actually gotten off work on time for once, you were looking forward to spending an evening curled up on the sofa with your loving boyfriend. But your plans were cut short the moment he picked up a pen and started filling out documents. Watching him from the doorway you let out a small sigh, resigning yourself to spending another evening entertaining yourself, when an idea formed in your mind. Hiding the mischievous smirk growing on your face, you tiptoed your way over to Zayne, stopping beside his chair, gently poking his shoulder. Zayne's eyes flickered over to you, pen halting mid stroke as he gave you his full attention.

"Is there something I can help you with, Angel?" His smooth voice never failed to make your heart flutter, honeyed tone soft and tender, a sound reserved solely for you. Your fingers play with the cuff of his sleeve, a small pout on your lips, one you know he loves. "Can I sit with you? I missed you so much and I just want to be close to you for a while." The corners of Zayne's lips curl up into a soft smile, and you knew he'd give you whatever you wanted, after all Zayne could never say no to you. You were his weakness.

An amused chuckle left Zayne's lips as he swivelled his chair to face you, one hand holding yours whilst the other tapped his thigh, inviting you into his lap. "How can I refuse when you asked so nicely. Come on then, take a seat, Angel." He gently pulled you closer, helping you to straddle his lap, another deep chuckle rumbling from his chest as he watches you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "Now be good for me, I'm almost finished with these reports. Then we can go watch a movie together." He gives a light squeeze to the plush of your hips before his hands leave you, picking up his pen and resuming his work.

You want to be good for him, you really do try, but your mind begins to wander. There's something about being surrounded by him, his scent overwhelming your senses, the steady rhythm of his heart, his muscular thighs below you, it ignites a fire deep within you, and with every passing second you can feel the growing ache in your core.

You start small at first, squirming slightly in his lap, little wiggles that you play off as "just trying to get comfy". And for a while it's enough, but soon the throbbing in your cunt gets stronger, your clit begging for more friction, something to relieve the pressure building up in your lower stomach. You give an experimental rock of your hips, freezing to wait for Zayne's reaction. When he doesn't respond you do it again, setting a steady rhythm as you grind down on his lap. The zipper on the front of his slacks rubs perfectly against your sensitive clit, the pleasure increasing with every roll of your hips, head burying further into the crook of Zayne's neck, his masculine scent filling your nose, pushing you even closer to your orgasm that is building steadily. Your pussy is dripping now, soaking your panties, your empty hole flutters and pulses as you continue grinding in Zayne's lap, too lost in pleasure to register the tiny whimpers leaving your mouth, forgetting all about subtly as your minds only focus is on your orgasm that is fast approaching. Speeding up your movement, hips pressing down harder into his, a breathy moan of his name falls from your lips as you're about to reach your peak. Just as you feel yourself tumbling over the edge, two strong, cold hands firmly grab your hips, halting your movement completely. You whine desperately at the loss of your orgasm, hips frantically chasing more of that delicious friction that would have your cunt gushing into your panties, but it's useless. Zayne's vice-like grip prevents any of your movements, cold fingers bruising as they dig into the soft flesh of your hips.

"Did you really think I would let you finish like that, Angel?" Zayne whispered lowly in your ear, dark tone sending a shiver down your spine. "I thought I told you to be good, but it seems my girl was just too desperate to wait." You let out a pathetic mewl as Zayne presses you further into his lap, only now noticing the large bulge that has formed in his pants, his cock hard and begging for relief as it grinds against your clothed pussy. "You wanted my attention, Angel? Well you've got it. And I'm going to spend the rest of tonight teaching you what happens to bad girls who don't do as their told." He chuckles darkly, hips rutting up into yours, mercilessly guiding your sensitive cunt along the length of his confined cock. "And I'm not going to stop until you're a begging, whimpering mess."