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thatdammchickennugget · 6 hours

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One Of The Guys

pairing -james potter x fem!reader

summary - you have always been one of the guys, but what if you don't want to be anymore?

warnings - insecure reader, some teasing, fluff, gryffindor!reader

wordcount - 2.4k

a/n - first fic in months and the anxiety posting this is higher than ever! hope you like!

You’d always been one of the guys. Since first year, when you’d been sorted into Gryffindor with Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter, it just made sense. You spent your days causing trouble with them, sneaking into the kitchens for midnight snacks, planning pranks, and laughing at inside jokes only you lot seemed to understand. You were as much a Marauder as any of them, and you wore that title like a badge of honor.

In some ways, being "one of the guys" had always felt natural. You were never the girl who fussed with her hair, never bothered with makeup or cared much about fashion. While the other girls in your year experimented with nail polish and tried different spells to make their hair curl just right, you’d been happier wearing trousers and comfortable jumpers, getting dirt on your shoes as you kicked a ball around with the boys or plotted another prank.

The boys never treated you any differently. You were as rough and tumble as they were, always up for an adventure or a laugh, whether it was dueling in the corridors, sneaking out under the Invisibility Cloak, or hanging around the Quidditch pitch, watching James practice his broom skills while you tossed playful insults his way. They teased you, sure, but it was never about your appearance. It was always about how you accidentally hexed Sirius’s hair to turn pink that one time or how Remus beat you at Wizard’s Chess two weeks in a row.

But lately, something had started to shift. You’d been spending more time with the girls—Marlene, Lily, Alice, and Mary. It wasn’t like you abandoned your usual activities with the boys, but something about hanging out with the girls had made you realize that maybe you’d been missing out on a whole other side of yourself. They weren’t as concerned with pranks or causing trouble, but they had their own kind of fun—painting nails, talking about what charms they used to keep their hair shiny, and swapping makeup tips. At first, it had all seemed foreign to you, like you didn’t belong. But, bit by bit, you began to get into it. And even though it was obvious you were out of your element, they never made you feel left out because of it.

It started small. A dab of lip gloss here, a charm to make your hair lie flat there. Nothing too crazy. You didn’t want to completely abandon who you were. But when Marlene offered to paint your nails a deep, shimmery red one afternoon, you figured why not? It was fun, in a way you hadn’t expected.

The girls never treated you like you needed to change, and that made it easier. They were all for letting you do your own thing, and whenever you felt out of place, they’d remind you that it was about what made you feel good, not about impressing anyone else.

Still, there was one person’s opinion you couldn’t quite shake.

James Potter.

You weren’t sure when it had started, this nagging crush you had on him. Maybe it had always been there, buried under layers of friendship and pranks. But recently, every time he smiled at you with that lopsided grin of his, something inside you flipped. Every time his hand brushed yours when you reached for something at the same time, your heart would race a little faster. He’d never looked at you like he looked at the girls who swooned over him—like you were someone to notice beyond just being “one of the guys.”

And you hated how much that bothered you.

It wasn’t like you wanted to change for him. But some part of you wondered if he’d ever see you differently if you weren’t always running around in jeans and messy ponytails.

So, that Saturday morning, when you slipped on the dress Lily had convinced you to buy during one of your Hogsmeade trips, you felt like a fish out of water. It wasn’t anything too fancy—just a simple green dress that hugged your frame in a way your usual clothes never did. You’d even put a little effort into your hair, letting it fall loose around your shoulders instead of shoving it into a messy bun like you normally did. Your nails were still painted red from the other night, and you’d borrowed a light bit of makeup from Mary, who had smiled and assured you it wasn’t “too much.”

But as you stood in front of the mirror, you hardly recognized yourself. The tomboy in you felt like you were playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. It was so far from your usual style that you couldn’t help but wonder if you were making a mistake.

Still, part of you wanted to try it out—to see if maybe, James would look at you differently today. Maybe he’d see something more than the girl who could throw a punch as good as Sirius or outrun Peter when Filch caught you roaming the halls after curfew.

You took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of the dress one last time before heading down to the common room.

ੈ♡˳

When you reached the common room, you were immediately met with the sight of the boys lounging around like usual. James and Sirius were in the middle of some animated conversation while Remus read a book nearby, and Peter was munching on something from the kitchens. None of them had noticed you yet, which only made the nerves bubbling in your stomach worse.

It was Sirius who spotted you first. He turned to call for James, but his words faltered when his eyes landed on you. His mouth fell open slightly, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, standing up from the couch with a mock bow. "What do we have here? Y/N, in a dress? I never thought I’d see the day."

The others looked up at his words, their eyes finding you in an instant. You tried to smile, but the way their gazes seemed to linger made you want to shrink into the floor.

James was staring at you, his expression unreadable. His warm eyes widened just a fraction, his usual cheeky grin faltering as his gaze swept over you. But before you could figure out what that look meant, Sirius spoke up again.

"Blimey, didn’t know you owned anything besides jeans and jumpers," Sirius teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You sure you’re feeling alright?"

You forced a laugh, trying to shrug off the growing discomfort. “Yeah, just, uh, thought I’d try something new.”

Remus closed his book and smiled at you warmly. “You look nice,” he said, his tone sincere but still carrying a hint of playfulness.

But Peter, never one to read the room right, piped up from the couch. “Who knew you could look like a girl?” he said with a chuckle, and Sirius howled with laughter, clearly finding the whole thing hilarious.

James finally spoke up, his voice quieter than usual. "You do look nice, Y/N," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. But his tone—sincere as it was—couldn’t erase the sting of the teasing from the others.

You laughed along with them, but inside, the knot of unease tightened. You weren’t mad at them; you knew they didn’t mean to hurt you. But every comment, every joke, made you feel more and more like an imposter in your own skin. Like you weren’t really supposed to be this person, this version of you that wore dresses and makeup and tried to be something more than “one of the guys.”

"I—I’m gonna go change," you muttered, not trusting yourself to look at James when you said it.

Sirius frowned, his laughter fading. “Wait, we were only joking, Y/N. You don’t have to—”

But you were already halfway to the dorms, the sound of their voices fading behind you as you fled.

ੈ♡˳

You ripped off the dress the moment you were alone, tossing it onto the bed and quickly pulling on your usual jeans and jumper. The relief was immediate, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away.

There was a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” James’s voice called softly from the other side. You hesitated but opened the door anyway, finding him standing there, looking uncertain for the first time in a long while.

“You didn’t have to change,” he said, stepping inside. “You looked… you looked beautiful.”

Your heart jumped at his words, but the discomfort from earlier still weighed heavily on you. You shrugged, sitting on the edge of your bed, not quite ready to meet his eyes. “It didn’t feel right,” you admitted softly. “I just... I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of thing.”

James frowned, walking over to stand in front of you. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze lingering on the discarded dress. “We weren’t trying to make you feel bad, you know. We’re just not used to seeing you like that.”

“I know.” You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. “It’s just—” You paused, struggling to find the right words. “I thought maybe if I tried something different, I could, I don’t know, feel like... more than just one of the guys for once.”

James was silent for a moment, and when you finally looked up at him, there was something soft in his eyes—something that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve never been just one of the guys, Y/N.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “I don’t think you get it. You’re—” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You’re amazing the way you are. Jeans, jumpers, all of it. You don’t need a dress or makeup to make anyone notice you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you weren’t sure if you were reading too much into his words, but then James ran a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “I’ve liked you for ages, Y/N. And not because of what you wear. Because you’re you.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. He... liked you?

James let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re brilliant. You’re tough, you’re funny, and you’re always there when we need you. That’s what I like about you. That’s what matters.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and for a moment, some of the insecurities you’d felt earlier melted away. “You’ve liked me?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah. For a while now. Just didn’t know how to say it without mucking it up.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected to feel today—hope. "Well, you didn’t muck it up too badly," you teased, a bit of the old you returning.

James grinned, relief evident in his face. “So, what do you say, Y/N? Maybe next Hogsmeade weekend, we could go together. Just us?”

Your stomach flipped, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was excitement. “I’d like that,” you said softly, the smile on your face growing wider.

As the excitement simmered between you, a question began to bubble up in the back of your mind, nagging at you even though you were already starting to feel more at ease.

"James?" you began, your voice a little uncertain as you glanced up at him, still seated on the edge of the bed. He tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to continue. "Would it be... weird if I did want to wear dresses sometimes?"

James blinked, surprised by the question, but the soft smile on his face didn’t waver. "Weird? No, not at all," he said quickly, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. He knelt down, so his face was level with yours sitting on the bed, his eyes warm and serious. "Why would it be weird?"

You hesitated, unsure how to explain the knot of confusion that had been sitting in your chest all day. "I don’t know," you said, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. "It’s just... I’ve always been more comfortable in my clothes. I never really thought about wearing anything else. But lately, hanging out with the girls and seeing how much fun they have with it... I guess it made me curious, you know?"

James listened, his eyes never leaving yours, and nodded for you to continue.

"I don’t want to change who I am," you added quickly, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. "But I also think... I want to try new things, and I don’t want you—or the others—to think I’m not being myself."

There was a beat of silence before James reached out and gently placed a hand on yours, his touch grounding. "Y/N, you’re allowed to wear whatever you want," he said softly. "It doesn’t change who you are. Whether you’re in a dress or your favorite old jumper, you’re still you. That’s what matters."

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he replied with a grin. "Look, the dress was a surprise, sure. But if you want to wear dresses sometimes? That’s just another part of you we get to know. And trust me, Y/N, you could show up in a full ball gown, and it wouldn’t change a thing about how we see you."

You felt a smile creeping back onto your face, warmth spreading through your chest as his words sank in.

James squeezed your hand, his gaze softening. "Besides," he added, his voice a little more playful now, "if you ask me, you look great no matter what you wear. But you should do what feels right for you. Not for us, not for anyone else."

You laughed, a little embarrassed by how much his words affected you, but you couldn’t help the lightness you felt now. "Thanks, James. That... actually helps a lot."

He stood up, his grin returning to that familiar, cheeky smile that always made your heart race. "So," he said, offering you a hand to help you up, "how about we head back downstairs, and you can wear whatever the bloody hell you want, yeah?"

You took his hand, standing up. "Yeah," you agreed, feeling more like yourself than you had all day. "Sounds like a plan."

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauder x reader #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #mari writes

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aestheticpearl · 3 days

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— 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞

✧·˚what happens when xanthus turns you but you never wanted to be turned in the first place?

“what have you done to me?”

your eyes hurt with the bright lights that didn’t seem so bright moments ago, but then again you could barely feel your body moments ago, then all of a sudden you felt your once numb body feel so intensely that it was painful.

you lock your eyes with xanthus, his lips and fangs smeared with blood that you can tell if it’s yours or his, deep down you know it’s a mixture of both. you don’t want to accept that though, you don’t want to accept the reality of you being turned and now stuck as an immortal being.

“what did you do? what have i become?” you look down at your hands, they have a paler complexion that frightens you.

xanthus moves cautiously as if to not spook you, almost as if you’re a skittish baby deer that’ll bolt at any second.

“love, i had no choice—” his voice is soft as he cautiously reaches out to you, only for you to pull back almost immediately.

“how could you? you should’ve just let me die.”

“no!” he doesn’t mean to shout at you and he certainly doesn’t mean for you to flinch at his tone. “…no love please understand.”

“you’ve doomed me to an eternity of a life i do not want to live.”

“you don’t mean that, you’re confused.”

tears freely flow down your face as you come to terms with your situation. stuck as a vampire for the rest of your time on this earth, forced to drink the blood of the living, the thought of it almost makes you hurl.

you seek xanthus’ comfort but he was the cause of all this distress, but you feel beyond conflicted and these emotions are only intensified with this new you.

“i need you to be away from me.”

“i’m not leaving you love.” xanthus only backs away from you but his eyes never leave your figure.

it’s silent for undisclosed amount of time until you speak up.

“…i’m hungry.” you sniffle. “i don’t want to be hungry.” a hiccup. “i’m scared.”

xanthus moves close to you and gets down to your level.

“i’m right here love, i can find you something to eat okay?”

“i don’t want to drink blood.” you cry out through tears. “i’m not a vampire, i’m a human.”

xanthus’ crimson eyes are filled with empathy for you as he recalls feeling the same way when he was first turned. he does his best to comfort you by pulling you into an embrace.

“i know love, i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry.” he pets your hair as you cry into his arms.

you hate how comforting his embrace is and how it puts you at ease, like your body recognizes him. you want to be mad and scream and shout at him for doing this to you but you just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“you’re not going to go through this alone love, i will stay with you forever i promise.” he holds onto you tightly. “i love you, i don’t need a bond to tell me that.”

the bond. you had almost completely forgotten about the bond and then it suddenly hits you, xanthus had felt your death and had to push through the pain and emotions to turn you. he’s grieving you as much as you’re grieving yourself.

you look up at him and wrap your arms around his neck in a tight embrace that he returns with a passion.

“i’m sorry love, i understand if you don’t forgive me.” xanthus can feel his own tears prick his eyes, but he does his best to stay strong for you.

“if there was any other way i would’ve tried it i swear, i never wanted this for you my love. i just couldn’t let you slip through my fingers like this, i’m sorry.”

you’re scared and your whole body seems to be shaking with sobs or hunger, but you can’t really tell what it’s from and some how that scares you more.

“just please don’t leave me.”

your silence scares xanthus more than he’d care to admit.

“okay.”

i feel like i have too many xanthus posts but i just can’t help myself with vampire tropes man😔

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

#pearl’s ❤︎ works #zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva fan fic #zsakuva audio #zsakuva headcanons #zsaku #zsakuva xanthus claiborne #zsaku xanthus #xanthus claiborne fan fic #xanthus claiborne x love #xanthus fan fic #xanthus x love #xanthus claiborne #zsakuva xanthus #xanthus angst

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dunadaan · 4 months

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I’ve been feeling Créa creep up on me as of late and today I went back and reread my little document where I type up random ideas for scenes/fics and I was like. Wow who wrote this. This is really good. Why isn’t there more of this damn. But also wow I really put miss créa through the blender and she is a fine red mist a lot. But that is the life of a ranger…and even when she’s not a ranger anymore I press blend on high and she is sadly used to that

#(I forgot what made me think of it but I had this fantastic idea post war where Créa has tried to keep herself together)#(and it’s one specific incident that really makes her crack- I wrote a really compelling idea of her having PTSD and it unexpectedly)#(manifesting in a place where she didn’t anticipate it. and ofc it’s medieval medicine so they don’t know what PTSD is exactly but they)#(not like we know ptsd anyways. so it’s a really interesting exploration of grief and suppression and dealing with it- or not dealing with)#(it in this case. bc she’s avoided it for years and she’s like. god I fucking miss being a ranger so much. that was ME.)#(now I’m not a ranger anymore and I lost my entire identity)#(she can’t return to Evendim for a long time and desperately misses it. most of her friends are dead)#(or gone up north or treat her differently)#(she feels really isolated and alone even though she’s aware she’s not but it’s a lot to deal with!!! and I didn’t quite have an ending)#(but it was really compelling and I need to return to it one day)#(the other one I wrote ideas for and wrote a small scene was crea’s first experience meeting rangers)#(back when the angle was new. sighs. the potential…crea interacting with and learning ranger culture for the first time)#(after being alienated and kept away not of her own will. and her having a scene with faeron and standing on the bridge with him)#(but also of her thinking of what her life might’ve been like had she not been lied to about her heritage or had it hidden)#(she’s at a huge disadvantage-she barely knows dúnedain/elf history or sindarin etc. she could’ve had a whole different life)#(and AGAIN the theme of GRIEF- grieving smth that was kept from you. a life you’ll never have but could’ve)#(anyways. that probably all could’ve been in a post LOL and not in tags)#(but yeah damn!!! I was writing some good stuff!!!)#(now I wanna replay all the LOTRO areas again..)

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designernishiki · 2 years

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man i feel like the only guy on earth who doesn’t like or vibe with maji/mako At All. like. am i seriously the only person who thinks it feels forced and is played up like crazy for a relationship that wasn’t even a relationship and lasted like a month

#part of that month spent contemplating killing her #I have a specific headcanon/theory/??? about what his deal was with her actually #that ties into his development as a queer character as well as the development of him as a character period but uhhhh not sure #if i should talk about that yet to my. four whole followers #chjfcjdmmg #but yeah the forcedness isn’t narratively a bad thing particularly it can easily be explained and explain a lot #re: his feelings (or lack thereof) for women #and I don’t even think he necessarily didn’t have Any feelings for her I just think they were much shallower than it seems #and instead she more represents something he can’t have (normalcy- including orientation-wise)#but gahagshhdgh like I said I won’t get into it too much and maybe will make another post about it #point is though. for some reason or another their dynamic being treated as True Love or something just always feels so… offputting to me #idk man don’t kill me for this #yakuza #majima

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daydreamerdrew · 2 years

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Iron Man (1968) #8

#ooh ok I really like this #it’s salvaged this whole little plot for me #like Sitwell realizing that Whitney was conning him and acting the way he has been doesn’t actually make sense #but I’ll allow it because of the era this comic book was published in #I just really enjoy how Sitwell and Whitney’s relationship is being thematically connected to Tony’s issues #all of them are struggling with emotions they feel they’d be better off without #we got Whitney’s backstory where she feels that she’s been set on the path of becoming a criminal and has no way out of it #and Sitwell’s got the opposite situation where his feelings ultimately impeded him carrying out his duties as a respectable SHIELD agent #and Tony’s situation with thinking that he’d be better off as an Iron Man ‘from the heart out’ isn’t new #what I like about this all being thematically connected is that it’s keeping what I find interesting about Tony to the foreground #and though we didn’t get as much of Tony Stark as we did of Iron Man as I’d usually prefer in these last few issues #his personal problems are still relevant #marvel #tony stark #jasper sitwell #whitney frost #my posts #comic panels

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insanechayne · 7 months

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~ ~ ~

#this is a good one of these kinds of posts I swear #just wanna do a shoutout to my bestie even though I know he won’t see this #but I love him and feel like hyping him up anyway and don’t wanna make a whole actual post about it and annoy everyone #anyway yesterday I took my car in for an oil change and tune up thing and didn’t know how long it was gonna take so I set up a ride #with bestie back to my mom’s place if it was gonna be a while but then they said it’d only be like an hour and a half or so unless there was #actually something wrong with my car in which case we’d just discuss it and go from there. so bestie picks me up at the car place and I tell #him that and say he doesn’t have to stay and I can just wait there at the place if he’s busy but he says nah he gonna hang with me. asks if #I’m hungry and wanna get lunch and I hadn’t eaten yet so it worked out. went to the good Mexican place in town and order in their drive thru #I ask if he wants me to cash app him some money to cover my share and he very aggressively says ‘oh hell no’ which was honestly adorable and #really sweet. goes on to say ‘girl you know you don’t need to worry about money’ which is also super sweet and makes me feel all weird and #wiggly inside cause I’m not used to people being kind to me in that way or just buying me shit just because. and he’s always doing that kind #of stuff too just paying for my food or sending me money if I pick stuff up for us or whatever. dude got bucks at least good for him. but #yeah anyway so we got the food and then he went to a gas station to get us drinks then parked and ate and hung out with me until my car was #ready to go. even offered me money to cover the cost for the car if I needed anything major done and I could just pay him back little by #little. thankfully car is all good but his sentiment was well taken and much appreciated. gave me a big hug before we parted ways as he #usually does and bro gives the best hugs for real they’re so instantly comforting and you really feel the love they make me so happy. and he #even is gonna help me put together a new desk and chair at my house so I’ll have a place to do schoolwork at home and finally setup my tv in #my room. dude does so much for me and will then thank me just for hanging out with him as if I did anything special at all #this man deserves the whole fucking world and I’d do anything for him. love him so much #so ye that’s my hype post for my boy cause I just had to brag about him somewhere and get my feelings out #personal

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lavenderspence · 2 months

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Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife?

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy!

Requests are open for both Spencer & Hotch🫶

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were.

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years.

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you.

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester.

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose.

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it.

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped.

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack.

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it.

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more.

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again.

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though.

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts.

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.”

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through.

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow.

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes.

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath.

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really.

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop.

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly.

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes.

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door.

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad.

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work.

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch.

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours.

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words.

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there.

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too.

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise.

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up.

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe.

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down.

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?”

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper.

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved, thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband.

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment.

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care.

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid

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cherry-leclerc · 5 months

Text

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?”

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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kitten4sannie · 5 months

Text

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

His pointer finger drifted down your chest, along the seam of your blazer, gazing down at you. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve.

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place.

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.”

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.”

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?”

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.”

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.”

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over.

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side.

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks.

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum.

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear.

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip.

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez mingi #ateez x reader #san smut #san x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung smut #yunho smut #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #kpop smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut

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yamujiburo · 6 months

Text

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs.

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

#hanamusa #hanamusashipping

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obsessedwithceleste · 8 months

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The Cat Chronicles

(Or five times Theodore Nott *accidentally* stole your cat)

Theodore Nott x reader

word count: 5.9k

The first time your cat went missing, you didn’t think entirely too much of it. You knew many of the Hogwarts cats liked to gather behind the herbology greenhouse where a particularly plentiful patch of catnip grew. However, Gladys was never one to miss meal time, and when the time came to 30 minutes after her usual feeding time, you knew something was amiss. With a sigh, you made your way out to your common room where you saw Cho sitting by the fireplace with several other of your class mates.

“Has anyone seen Gladys wandering about? She missed feeding time and I haven’t seen her much today,” you say as you approach the group.

“I haven’t, sorry y/n. We’ll keep a look out for her though,” Cho tells you.

You let out a small sigh of disappointment.

“Thanks Cho,” you say before heading out to wander the halls of the castle, hoping to find your elusive, black cat.

You start out by the greenhouse where you see a whole gaggle of cats, but none with the sleek black coat that identified your furry friend. You then walked around the grounds a bit more with no luck, before moving on to the kitchens where several of the house elves promised to keep an eye out for the small black cat. You even checked several empty class rooms before coming to a stop outside the library. It wouldn’t hurt to check. Twenty minutes later, you were still completely out of luck. Tired and frustrated, you were about to call it a night when a loud chorus of voices turn down the hall. You look to see who it was and find a hoard of Slytherin boys making their way towards you. You recognized them of course, but didn’t exactly know them. What you did know however, was the mop of black fur one of the taller boys in the back of the group was holding.

“Gladys!” You exclaim, rushing towards the group of boys.

Their eyes all turn towards you and at the sound of her name, the fiesty black cat springs from the arms of the boy and runs towards you.

With a large grin of relief, you scoop the cat up into your arms, feeling her light purr as you scratch behind her ears. Feeling several pairs of eyes on you, you look up to see the group of boys still staring at you and your cat.

“Um, thanks, for finding my cat,” you say awkwardly, squeezing the cat to your chest lightly. The tall, brunette boy who had just been holding your cat only nods silently before turning and walking off, the rest of the group following, except one.

“Hey, sorry about Theo. He means well, really. Man really likes cats, but doesn’t have one of his own, so he sometimes makes friends with cats wandering the halls. We’ve all told him that he should probably stop, ah, borrowing, people’s cats, but he can’t seem to resist. Names Enzo by the way,” the boy says with a friendly smile, extending his hand out.

You take his hand, shaking it cautiously before a smile creeps it’s way onto your face.

“Thank you, Enzo.” You say, hesitating a moment before adding, “You know, Gladys is a picky bitch. Theo must be a pretty okay person if she let him carry her around.” You tell him before disappearing with your cat.

The second time your cat went missing, you honestly didn't realize she was missing at all. Theo had found his way down to the kitchens about a week after the original cat incident. That's how he thought of it anyway. The kitchens were one of his favorite places to lurk as not many students knew of the secret entrance behind one particular painting of a fruit bowl. The real attraction that often drew the brunette boy to the hidden sanctuary however, was the constant stream of cats that often visited the house elves who happily offered up dishes of cream and other treats. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a particularly populated bowl of milk, Theo's eyes were immediately drawn to a familiar set of glowing yellow orbs.

"Hello there, Gladys," he said hesitantly, decently sure that was the name called out by the pretty Ravenclaw girl who had stolen the cat from him a few nights ago.

Well, stolen in this case was rather relative, as the cat was technically hers, he supposed. Hearing her name however, the little black cat pranced over, nuzzling her head affectionately against his leg with a soft purr. Picking the sweet creature up into his arms, Theo stroked her soft fur, thinking back to his encounter with her owner, a grimace reaching his face.

He had been a downright bloody idiot. That was for certain. Theo was not usually one to be rendered incompetent by the mere presence of a pretty girl. No. That was meant more for Enzo. Or even Draco sometimes. But never Theodore. In fact, Theo had quite the reputation for his tendency to sleep around which made the idea of his mind completely blanking at the sight of this cat's owner all the more embarrassing. Matteo had made fun of him ruthlessly later that night. What had he said again? Right. Absolutely nothing. Just nodded like a right dunce.

The only solace Theo had gotten from that night was when Enzo pulled him aside quietly and told him what the pretty girl from earlier had said about him. "He must be pretty okay." It was hardly a compliment, but after the fool he'd made of himself, it really was the best Theo could hope for. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Theo once again focused on the little beast snuggling contentedly in his arms, carefully scratching behind the ears, a spot he'd found the cat quite liked.

The sound of the entrance painting swinging open startled Theo; and he honestly wasn't sure if he was elated, or absolutely mortified that the very girl who had been previously plaguing his thoughts was stepping through into the kitchens.

You honestly weren't entirely surprised to see the boy from a few nights ago sitting on the floor, cradling your cat, when you entered the kitchens. After Enzo had admitted to you that the handsome brunette had a soft spot for the castle's feline population, you figured it was only a matter of time until you bumped into him here considering it was a hot spot for the four legged beasts.

"Hello. See you've managed to find my cat again," you say, offering a small smile to the boy in front of you. After your encounter with that particular group of Slytherins, you did a bit of asking around, finding that Theodore Nott, while a bit known for his escapades with the female population, was actually one of the more talented wizards of your year. And one of the more level headed. (But in comparison to Draco and Matteo, you weren't exactly sure how much credit to give him there.)

The boy blinks up at you once before seeming to find his voice.

"She's a sweet little thing," he says finally, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but you.

You cautiously move forward, more worried about spooking the boy in front of you than the cats. Sitting down, you allow a pretty little Siamese kitten to wander into your lap. Gladys hisses with jealousy, but remains snuggled in the arms of the boy.

"She really seems to like you. Bit surprising. She's really not much of a people person," you tell him.

Theo nods at you, an action you found yourself growing familiar with.

"Enzo told me." He replies curtly.

You open your mouth to respond, but don't quite know how, so you let an awkward silence roll over the two of you.

"Well, I find that Gladys is a very good judge of character," you say finally.

Theo lets out a small smile at this, continuing to stroke your cat's soft fur. After that, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with Theodore continuing to shower your cat with affection while you distract the many other felines, crowding the kitchen floor.

"Theo?" you wonder finally, the question burning away at you. The boy looks up, and you find yourself getting lost in the surprisingly soft brown eyes staring back at you. Breaking from the trance with a small shiver, you ask, "If you like cats so much, why don't you have one of your own?"

Theo's eyes immediately fall, and his hand freezes mid pet, much to Gladys' dismay. A pang of guilt washes through you.

"My father isn't much of an animal person," He replies stiffly.

You give him a small nod in response before rising from the floor.

"It's getting pretty late, I should get going," you say softly. "Gladys can find her way back to the tower on her own just fine," you add when you see Theo make no move to release the cat.

Without another word, you move to open the portrait door. You enter the hall with a small smile gracing your lips as you hear his voice quietly as the door closes.

"Thank you, y/n."

He knew your name.

The next time Theo met Gladys was much sooner than he expected. He had left the kitchens several hours ago and was now laying in bed. The clock sitting on his bed side now read 1am. The deafening silence was about to finally lull him to sleep when an insistent scratching at the door caused his eyes to fly open. Sitting up, Theo glanced at the door warily before finally deciding to cross the room to find out what was causing the noise.

As soon as the door opened, a black shadow darted through, making a beeline for his bed. How it seemed to know exactly where it was going, Theo had no clue. Making his way silently back to his bed, careful not to wake either of his roommates, Theo was finally able to make out the dark shape of an ever familiar black cat.

"Hi there, principessa," he whispered, gently stroking the cat's ears before crawling into the bed next to it. Gladys seemed to take this as an invitation to curl up in the nook of his arm, and Theo wasn't about to object. The last thought he remembered before drifting off was how nice it would be if Gladys' pretty owner was there too.

"Theo, what the fuck."

Theo woke with a start, to the loud voice of Lorenzo Berkshire ringing out above him. His eyes opened to see the other boy hovering over his bed, a look of shocked confusion apparent on his face.

"Is that y/n's cat?" he asks, leaning down as if to get a closer look at the fluff ball still snuggled in Theo's arms.

"No way," Matteo laughs from the other side of the room. "You stole her cat again? What, is this some sick and twisted new way for you to lure girls into your bed?"

Theo launches a pillow at Matteo's head. He doesn't miss.

"You better go return that thing before y/n starts to worry," Enzo advises, going back to his own side of the room. "And maybe just ask her out while you're at it hmm?" He adds, quickly ducking behind his fourposter before Theo has the chance to send another pillow flying his way.

With a heavy sigh, Theo comes to a stop outside of what he's pretty sure is the Ravenclaw common room. He's about to raise his hand to knock, when the golden eagle head mounted to the door springs to life.

"What gets broken, without being held?" The eagle asks, blinking at him slowly.

Right. Theo knew about this. The most annoying of the common room doors because instead of a password, the bloody door required you to answer a riddle. Theo was about to turn on his heel to leave when he felt a light presence behind him.

"Hello Theo. Hello Gladys." The platinum blonde haired girl said, giving the two of them an airy nod, before turning her attention to the door. "Would it perhaps be, a promise?" she asks.

The door swings open and Theo quickly hurries after the girl, making his way up the staircase. He'd never actually been inside the Ravenclaw common room, and his breath hitched when they reached the top of the stairs. The main room really was magnificent, nothing like the dark, eerie dungeons of the Slytherin common room. Theo eyed the shelves of books lining the wall longingly.

"Her room is just there, up and to the left," the blonde girl he'd followed in says, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Y/n? Her room is just there," the girl repeats, gesturing to a door at the top of another small flight of stairs.

"Oh. thanks," Theo makes out, giving the girl a nod of gratitude.

"Name's Luna by the way. Luna Lovegood." She says whimsically before floating off.

With a deep inhale to calm his nerves, Theo makes his way up the stairs and knocks gently on the door. Gladys lets out a meow of protest. Absolutely nothing could have prepared Theo for what was on the other side of the door. He felt his throat go completely dry as the door swung open and you stood in front of him in what was probably the shortest, skimpiest set of clothing that could possibly be considered pajamas. Theo tried not to stare, he really did, but he was only a man. A very weak and smitten man.

"Oh! There you are Gladys. I wondered where you wandered off to last night!" you say looking at your cat and then back up at Theo, and then again at your cat before looking back up at Theo expectantly. "Um. May I have my cat back?"

Theo jolts back to life, realizing he'd been staring and looks at you sheepishly.

"Sorry, don't know how this little one found me. Snuck her way into the Slytherin common room and then into my dorm. Didn't want to leave her in the halls alone, so I let her stay the night," he tells you.

You stare at the boy in shock, realizing that was the longest string of words you'd ever heard out of him.

"Wow Theodore, I'm impressed. I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk. And here I was thinking you were secretly illiterate," you say with a playful grin.

"Please," the boy scoffs. "I'm the picture of eloquence."

Interested in where this sudden burst of confidence that you didn't normally see from him had come from, you take a step back, inviting him into your room. He hesitantly accepts your invitation, bringing Gladys along with him.

"No roommates?" he asks, perching on the edge of your bed as Gladys purrs softly on his lap. At the moment, you found nothing more attractive than this man absolutely pampering your beloved pet.

"Not many Ravenclaw girls in our year, we had the option to share, but most of us opted for solo rooms. Wanted the extra privacy, I suppose," you tell him, leaning on one of the posts at the end of your bed.

Theo nods his head at this.

"I have two roommates," he shares.

"One of them happen to be Enzo Berkshire?"

Theo nods again. "And Matteo. Riddle" he adds.

You cock your head at that with a grin.

"Interesting pairing," you comment, imagining the chaos those two must bring with them.

"It never gets boring," Theo responds.

A moment of silence passes.

"I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime. I hear you're exceptionally talented at potions. And Charms. And everything really." Theo lets out finally.

You raise an eyebrow at the boy, internally screaming.

Trying to keep your cool, you tilt your head, "I hear you are too."

It's like a switch flips inside Theo.

"Well, we're obviously perfect for each other than," He replies easily, a cocky grin beginning to spread across his face. "Meet you in the library tomorrow at 7? And bring the cat."

You let out a laugh as Theo rises from the bed, gently placing Gladys down on the pillow, before going to make his way out of your dorm.

"You only like me for my cat," you joke, shifting to watch as he crosses the room to the door.

"Not just for your cat," he assures you, "I love the outfit, wear it for me more often, hmm?" he says slyly before the door thuds shut behind him.

You look down at your outfit, jaw dropping open and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Theo's head was pounding. Music pumped through the Slytherin common room and Theo could barely see through the crowds of people around him as he pushed his way to the circle of sofas occupied by his friends. Collapsing into a spot next to Matteo, the boy offered him another shot of who-knew-what which he quickly knocked back.

"When's that pretty little thing that's been occupying all your time gonna join us at one of our little gathering?" Matteo slurs out, gesturing to the large crowd around them.

Over the past several weeks, you and Theo had grown significantly closer; your first study date quickly becoming a daily occurrence as you found that you each were able to easily keep up with one another. Something about having a partner who was actually able to challenge you was exhilarating. From there, you found yourselves often seeking each other out simply for the sake of good company, Gladys largely increasing the number of these meetings.

"Don't know that Gladys would like it. Cat's aren't supposed to ingest alcohol," Theo responded, not quite drunk enough to fall for his friend's taunting.

Enzo places another shot in his hand, and Theo raises a brow at him, before knocking that one back as well.

"Did you ever ask y/n why in Salazar's name, she choose to name her cat Gladys?" Matteo asks. "If my name were Gladys, I'd being running off constantly too."

Theo thumps Matteo on the back of the head.

"You leave our cat out of this, she ain't do nothin wrong," he says, glaring at his friend.

"So now she's our cat is she?" Enzo asks, a smirk growing on his face. "Didn't know you and y/n were so serious."

"It's our cat damnit! If marrying y/n is what it takes to finally have a cat of my own, so be it," Theo says decidedly.

Enzo snorts at his clearly, very drunk friend. "Careful, or one might think you're only into her for her cat. And not the cunty kind."

Theo scowls at this. "Y/n says that all the time, but have you seen that ass? And the way she mopped the floor with Draco in potions the other day? She's perfect."

"Yeah? Why don't you go tell her that then?" Matteo says, wanting nothing more than to see a drunk Theo try to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower.

"You know what? I will. And I'll pet Gladys too." Theo states. A look of pure, intoxicated determination set on his face.

Lorenzo eyes his friend warily. While not exactly sober himself, he didn’t particularly like the look his friend was giving them.

“Aw c’mon Enz, don’t you try and be the voice of reason now,” Matteo drawls, sensing the hesitation coming from his friend. “Don’t you want to meet the lil thing our beloved Theodore has been obsessing over for weeks now?”

“I’m not obsessing,” Theo snaps, taking a sip straight out of a random bottle he’d picked up from the table.

“Let’s go. I’m gonna steal her cat. For real this time.”

With a wide grin, Matteo jumps up, ready to follow his friend wherever the night took him. With a low groan, Enzo followed suit, knowing that his pair of roommates would need some sort of guidance to prevent them from walking themselves straight of the edge of the astronomy tower.

You didn’t have a lot of expectations for the quiet Friday night that you were spending curled up with a book and your cat. It was late, and after a long and stressful week, the time alone with Gladys was just what you needed to really recharge. You had spent most of your day lounging out on the lawn next to the Black Lake with Theodore, studying with and harassing the boy. A small smile crept onto your face, remembering the way his brown curls had floated about in the soft breeze.

You really hadn’t expected for the two of you to become so close, so quickly, but you weren’t complaining. You’d grown quite fond of the boy, especially once he started opening up a bit more. You’d initially thought that he was a man of very few words, but quickly learned he was in fact very sharp witted and even a bit snarky at times. Time spent with him had easily become your favorite part of the day and was something you were constantly looking forward to.

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit where you were sitting, Gladys letting out a yowl of protest.

You quickly cross the room and open the door to find a very miffed looking Cho, a frown imbedded on her face.

“Sorry to bother, but could you please come get your boy under control? He’s upsetting the portraits.” She says.

You blink once. Then again.

“Sorry?”

“Your Slytherin fellow? He’s out in the corridor with two of his friends harassing the door,” she explains, turning to lead you down the spiral staircase.

You’re not even halfway down when you begin to hear the voices.

“Who in the bloody hell would want to be in Ravenclaw with this blast-ended skewt ass looking-“

“Matteo you can’t curse out the door.”

“I’ll curse at the bloody door if I want to bloody curse at it.”

You grimace, looking at Cho who looks back with a similarly displeased facial expression.

“Sorry bout them. I’ll take it from here,” you tell her when you reach the bottom.

With a slight nod, she turns to retreat back up the stairs. With a sigh, you push the door open, almost taking out Matteo who had been leaning on it for support.

“Hi amore, fancy seeing you here,” Theo slurs, a grin taking over his face at the sight of you.

Enzo leans against a pillar, face in hands, looking like he wanted to disappear. You could smell the alcohol on all of them.

“Hi Theodore. Are you sober?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’m moderately functional,” he replies with a lopsided smile.

“I’m taking that as a no,” you say, glancing worriedly at Matteo who was currently laying spread eagle on the floor. “Let’s get you boys back to your common room.”

“I wouldn’t. Party’s not gonna end any time soon. They’ll just get more hammered and start wandering off again,” Enzo advises, head still in hands. “Like herding hippogriffs with those two.”

“And Theo hasn’t proclaimed his undying love for y/n yet!” Matteo adds.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and Theo glowers at his friend.

“It’s okay Theo, I know he’s drunk,” you say, not certain if you were saying it more to comfort him or yourself.

Theo ignores you however, turning his attention back to the door.

“Let us in, I just want to pet the cat,” he tells the door, swaying ever so slightly.

For Salazar’s sake. Man gets absolutely wasted and just wants to pet your cat. You go to grab onto Theo to steady him, but he has other plans. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair.

“Hi,” he mumbles, picking you up just enough that your toes barely touch the ground. “I missed you. Can we see the cat now?”

Not knowing what else to do, you glance helplessly at Enzo.

“Would you be able to get Matteo up the stairs?” You ask.

“I can try. He’s a stubborn bastard though.”

You turn back to the door, knocking once. The eagle once again moves to life, glaring at the scene in front of it.

“If the day before yesterday was the 23rd, what is the day after tomorrow?” It asks crankily.

“We’re too fucking wasted for this bloody bullshit,” Matteo moans from the floor.

You try to ignore Theo’s tight grasp on your waist and Enzo prodding at Matteo with his foot before answering. “The 27th.”

The door swings open and you try your best to haul Theo through, Enzo following closely behind with a very disgruntled Matteo. Dragging the boys up the staircase feels like the most difficult task of your life as you constantly tell Matteo to lower his voice and mind his mouth while also trying to ignore the very minimal distance between yourself and Theodore. When you finally make it to the top, you rush to herd the boys into your room before slamming the door shut behind you with relief. Theo immediately stumbles over to your bed, collapsing face first in the middle and snatching Gladys into his arms.

“No roommates?” Enzo asks, looking around the room and seeing the single empty bed that you had pushed into the corner at the beginning of the year.

“No, thank Rowena. I would not want to have to explain whatever this is.” You reply, motioning to Theo and Matteo who was now wandering about the room.

“Room’s a mess. Coulda at least cleaned up a bit,” he says, poking at the various books and blank scrolls lying about.

“Had I known I would be having guests at,” you glance at the clock, “almost 2 in the morning, I’m sure I would have.” You say dryly.

Retrieving your wand from your desk, you point it at the spare bed. “Engorgio.” The wooden frame creaks as it expands until it can comfortably fit 2 people. You look at Enzo.

“Good luck with that one,” you say, almost feeling sorry for the boy as Matteo flops onto the bed with a groan.

“Looks like you’re gonna need it more than me,” he replies, gesturing to Theo who was out cold, Gladys trapped and bug eyed in his grasp. With a sigh you and Enzo each resign yourselves to your respective charge.

“Theodore,” you whisper, giving the boy a light shove. No sign of life. You give him a slightly harder shove, allowing Gladys is wriggle out of her prison. Frowning, you sit down on the edge of the bed, using most of your body weight to shove Theo to one side of the bed before sliding under the covers. Now deeming it safe, Gladys hops back into the bed, nestling into your arms happily. You’re about to close your eyes when you feel arms snaking around your waste, pulling you into the very warm chest of Theodore Nott. You freeze, holding your breath, not sure if the boy is asleep or not.

“Goodnight mi amore,” he whispers into your neck, causing the hairs to prickle.

Definitely not asleep.

“Goodnight Theodore.”

You hadn’t had any expectations for the night really, but you definitely had not expected to have multiple overnight guests who were trying to steal your cat. And you most certainly did not expect to drift off in the arms of Theodore Nott.

The next morning you wake up missing the usual lump of fur weighing down on your chest. Immediately you bolt upright, eyes shooting around for any sign of your furry companion before the events of last night wash over you. Enzo and Matteo are both still out cold and when you look down, your jaw drops open. Theo is fast asleep, back facing you, Gladys snoozing contentedly while cradled in his arms. Even in his sleep this absolute tosser had managed to steal your damn cat.

Careful not to wake the boys, or Gladys, you silently sneak across the room and disappear out the door. Once you’re safely out of hearing distance, you make your way quickly down the kitchens. A little known fact about the Hogwarts house elves was that many had once served in the homes of different wizarding families at one time or another. This meant that many of the elves were all too familiar with the valuable hangover potion that you sought.

Ducking in through the portrait hole, it wasn’t difficult to persuade the elves into handing over 3 glistening blue vials. You had always been kind to them, often chatting with them during your visits with the cats.

Your task complete, you made your way back to Ravenclaw tower, taking your time as you didn’t expect the boys to be up any time soon. They really had been plastered. Not even Enzo had been completely sober you recalled.

You’re just passing the entrance to the dungeons when a voice calls out.

“Hey! You!”

You’re ready to continue on your way before noticing that there was no one else in the corridor they could be referring to. You turn to see two girls you recognized as the Greengrass sisters hurrying towards you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the shorter blonde girl says when they get closer. You’re pretty sure that one is Astoria. “You’re the girl Theo has been seeing right?”

You nod your head cautiously. You knew Theo had a reputation for getting around, so if that’s what this was about, things were about to become quite awkward.

“You haven’t happened to see him or Matteo or Lorenzo, have you?” The other girl, Daphne, asks.

“Draco said he saw the three of them leave the party together last night, but no one saw them come back,” Astoria explains.

You feel yourself immediately relax. Good. At least this was something you could help with.

“You two are lucky you found me then I suppose,” you tell them, gesturing for them to follow. “The three of them tried breaking into Ravenclaw tower last night, so I let them crash in my dorm.”

“Oh Salazar. Were they trying to steal your cat? I’m so sorry. When Matteo gets drunk he has a tendency to try and egg Theo on,” Astoria frets.

You give the girls a strange look. “You know about my cat?” You ask, surprised.

“Oh sure,” Daphne replies. “Whole group does really. Boys came back one night going on about how Theo was just smitten with some Ravenclaw with a cute cat. And I can see why. You’re gorgeous by the way.”

You blush at her statement, diverting the subject away.

“The boys should probably still be asleep. I just ran down to the kitchens to get these,” you tell them, brandishing the potions you had gathered. “Once they’ve downed these, they’re all yours.”

Astoria eyes the potions with jealousy and you realize the two girls were probably decently hung over as well.

“Oh you can keep Theo, we were really just looking to collect Enzo and Matt,” Daphne laughs, giving you a sly look. You open your mouth to reply, but stop realizing you had reached your common room door.

After a few attempts, you’re finally able to solve the blasted riddle and the door swings open.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had this many Slytherins in our common room before,” you joke, leading the girls up to your room.

Pushing the door open, you’re unsurprised to see the boys still passed out.

“This must be the infamous Gladys,” Daphne whispers, quietly approaching Theo who was still clutching onto Gladys as if his life depended on it. Again you’re surprised that these girls apparently even knew the name of your cat.

The two coo at the sight of your cat, coming to the conclusion that she was indeed worthy of warranting cat theft before Astoria finally decided it was time for them to get the boys out of your hair. They migrated over to the other side of the room where Enzo and Matteo were sound asleep, leaving you to deal with Theo.

You decide the easiest route, may just be to lure Gladys away, so you fetch her food dish before accio-ing her kibble container. At the sound of her food, Gladys was up and running, darting over for her morning feast. At the sudden loss of fluffy heat, Theo groaned, rolling over, face down into the pillows. After giving Gladys her food, you move back to Theo, giving him a rough shake.

“Come back to bed principessa,” he grumbles, reaching out and flailing his arm in your general direction.

“It’s time to get up Theodore. Come on, I got you three hangover potions,” you say, waving one over his head.

“Did someone say hangover potion? Give,” Matteo demands from the other side of the room. You look over to see Daphne and Astoria sitting on the side of the bed while Matteo and Enzo were groggily waking up.

Pulling out her wand, Daphne gestured for you to toss her the potions which her magic catches easily, levitating the vials over to the other two boys. Matteo snatches one out of the air, quickly downing half before offering the other half to Astoria. Enzo does the same, giving the second half to Daphne who graciously accepts. After a moment, the four of them are looking much more awake.

“Thanks for making sure these three didn’t drown themselves in the lake,” Astoria says, once the potion had really kicked. “And sorry you’re not having more luck with that one. He’s always been a late riser.”

“You’ll be lucky to get him up in the next hour,” Enzo agrees, rising from the bed. “Thanks again y/n.”

The four of them shuffle out of your dorm, a chorus is thanks and apologies strung along until they reached the door. Even Matteo gave you a nod of gratitude. Once they were all gone, you collapse once more onto your bed.

“They finally gone?” You hear Theo ask, as he rolls over to look at you. You nod, faces so close that your noses are practically touching and you can feel small puffs of air as he exhales. “Thanks for last night. I’m sorry for trying to steal your cat.”

You let out a snort at that. “Did you know when I woke up this morning, you had turned away from me completely, and stolen my cat away from me in your sleep?” You ask with a laugh.

Theo at least has the decency to look embarrassed as Gladys joins the two of you once more.

“I should do this more often,” Theo says finally, reaching out to stroke Gladys’s fur.

“What? Get downright plastered and break into my room, or steal my cat?” You scoff.

“Sleep in your bed with you.”

You freeze, looking up to see if the boy was being serious. His eyes blink back at you unwavering.

“You can come back any time,” you tell him, snuggling your way into his chest, ready to fall back asleep in the boy’s arms.

“Will Gladys be here?”

“Oh my god, yes she will be here,” you say dramatically throwing your head back.

Theo grins down at you, leaning in and pressing his lips softly against yours.

“I’m only joking amore,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your nose.

“Of course Gladys would be here, she adores me.”

“Get out of my bed.”

A/N

My biggest regret in life, is being highly allergic to cats </3

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