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bisexual ass @agropuff
#hicktown#joby sawyer#edward harper#i fucking forgor jess last name#do the shoes look terrible no they don't#shittiest coloring job i've ever done?#shhh shh no it isn't#bobas art#eddies hoodie was a pretty color but the filter took it away :(#it's the best filter i have for this picture though..#i really need to get like a better camera or something#jessica diaz
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Trying to do something different
#sketchpage#i never do these bc theyre so hard#gwen stacy#spider gwen#spider ghost#spider woman#spiderman atsv#spider man: across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#spider man#also don't mention that this design has shoes rather than the ballet stuff#i know!!!! but i already made ballet inspired poses#and the shoes looked terrible#so I'm going for the ballet shoes!!
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god i just realized that king isat is like pmd darkrai if darkrai was actually well written and interesting
#bwark#isat spoilers#in the tags because im gonna ramble jere#like i don't bat for king or anything but he really is just darkrai done right#he has an understandable and sympathetic reason to his actions but you are Not supposed to feel bad for him#he's still doing terrible things and obviously the player is put into siffrin's shoes for pretty much all of the game bit the bonnie scene#is one of the best examples of that#the game is so interesting in how it handles him as an antagonist. there's so much nuance but by the end there's no wishy-washy shit about#him being redeemable#meanwhile darkrai is evil for. reasons. because he's a scary looking pokemon?#darkrai is the one thing the anime has over the pmd games because darkrai is so interesting in the anime#for all the shit i give journeys it canonizing darkrai and cresselia having a symbiotic relationship was fantastic#hell pokepark darkrai is more interesting than pmd darkrai with his role as sort of an antihero#the most interesting thing about pmd darkrai is him suicide baiting children and tbh atp that's just funny to me in how messed up it is#like it's so over the top dark that's it's just hilarious#darkrai: you should kill yourselves NOW#my eevee hero and shinx partner in the middle of having a minecraft date:
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Oh.
#according to facebook memories (why do i even have that still??) 12 years ago today i saw Linkin Park for the first time 🥺#in a few days it'll be 10 years since the last time i saw them#and. hm. there's a lot that surfaced this days since clancy dropped and i'm a bit more emotional / sensitive than usual#and this is. well. making me extremely sad.#12 years ago. i remember as if it was yesterday. i cling to that day so much and i'm scared of forgetting about it#i wonder how 14 yo me would've reacted if she knew.#they were my first gig ever! i remember the 2nd song was given up and the people around us started moshing pretty hard.#so much that my shoe came off and my dad had to shield me while i crawled and looked for it hahaha#it was so fun! i didn't really know that was a thing#that day was the first time they played Lies Greed Misery - it had been released just the day before#my videos are SO blurry but i still have them all saved 🥹#idk i've been in some typa mood these past days. not necessarily bad at all but.#me and a couple friends had a very important conversation 2 nights ago which was GOOD but. the bad thing about letting everything bottle up#is that once you spill it's hard to deal with. and yeah this is. idk. i'm just venting here like. ignore me.#it's just really hard for me. i miss him terribly and i'm really scared for myself because i *know* i'm back in the loop#and it feels so hopeless sometimes. maybe this is super silly but i'm so thankful that Clancy came out now because OH BOY i need it#maybe it's not the best strategy to put so much faith? importance? in like. music and other people but#man. i genuinely don't know if i'd be here if not for certain songs/artists etc#idk I'm rambling lol. i might delete this later#probably. maybe. i try not to talk too much about this here because i tend to deal alone but. sometimes it's nice to send things to the void#anyways. support your favs. talk to your friends - even if you much rather not. don't be like me and let things rot inside.#🤍#darya talks to herself
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I found socks with my favorite flowers on them (nasturtiums!), but they literally don't match anything I own, so making an outfit with them is difficult.. just all black with the bright shoes and a random stuffed animal for accents lol
#self#ootd#still unsure if I should do the like.. 'saying where stuff is from' section at the end of outfit posts like I think it's popular to do#but it just feels repetitive because basically for everything is just 'it's all thrifted' occasional 'shoes from ebay 10 years ago so I don#t remember the seller' or 'socks from a random sock store in the mall 2 years ago' etc.#even the stuffed animal is from the bins lol#Shoes and tights and wigs are the only things that it tends to be harder to get from the bins. Though I still find some#except wigs. I wouldn't really wear Bin Wigs since half the bins have like mysterious wet stuff and mold in them or etc.#I've gotten some shoes and stuff there though. But most of my shoes are from online. It's just that theyre also not from#like.. brands..?? Like 'converse' or something. It's more.. some random ebay seller in 2017 or something#so then that feels weird too because I thought the point of that being popular is so people can go find the things you're wearing and#buy them or whatever. but in my case that would never be helpful ghjbjk#since I also keep things so long. I have shoes and stuff Ive had since elementary school#good luck tracking down where I got these tights on ebay in 2011. good luck going to the bins or a thriftstore and finding the same#exact dress or etc. So then in that case does it even matter?? eh#The only sense I could see it being useful in is like. people seeing that they could make looks without spending a lot of money.#since I have had some comments on costumes or makeups before like 'omg I would love to look like this if I had the $$ for clothes *sad emo#ji*' or whatever. and I always want to message them and be like.. this entire outfit cost like $2.. you can do it. Don't get discouraged#I mean depending on the resources available to you. I know not everyone has a bins type place near the#m. but still. and all of my makeup and wigs are cheap as hell. Probably full of terrible chemicals. but I wear them like. once every 5 mont#hs or less since I dont do full costumes that often so hopefully wont get an infection or something. etc. etc.#ANYWAY. I could see it being useful I guess in just letting people know most of everything is secondhand#if that's meaningful to them for some reason. but also I feel like thats obvious since I talk about it. so#still just seems repetitive to me. ANYWAY. Love nasturtiums... aaaaaa... even though it's not my colors at all and I never#wear black or anything that would match them#I had to do it. I also normally would never ever pay $12 for socks but.. it's SO specific to my tastes and I had never seen anything#with nasturtiums on it before since they dont seem as popular as like roses or sunflowers. One of my once every 2 years#impulse buys at a mall ghjhjb.. (I never go to malls and also just rarely buy stuff in general since I'm evil miserly penny pincher etc.)#Kind of like how once a year I allow myself to have one steak from a restaurant or something but that's all. Once every few years#I will go to a large mall at a not busy time of day so I can avoid crowds. just to look around for fun. and will maybe buy like. One thing
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john k after making ren and stimpy and being praised and loved for decades for being an artistic genius and "one of the most important people in animation history" (everything else he will ever make is completely terrible or nothing of note) (ren and stimpy wasn't even good most of the time)
#not jojo related#shoe rants#normally i don't subscribe to the ''(x) popular terrible person's art actually was never good'' mindset but... i do say that for him#how did he get worshiped for decades genuinely everything about his work sucks#i mean sure (some) of his animations look good but his ideas are not funny or interesting enough for that to salvage it...#even if it's just r&s he was fired from that after two seasons for being an awful director to the point of absurd amounts of worker abuse#it's crazy. r&s did spawn a whole bunch of modern media with its huge influence but you watch it and 90% of it is just not that good#i think there are like a handful of episodes i do consider really enjoyable and understand the influence of#everything else is either just annoying to sit through or the good parts are muddied by worse parts#i do find it a fascinating phenomenon regardless#(just in case it's needed i do think that his IRL actions are more important than his art#even if i really liked his work i would condemn him as a person)#apc posting
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It Burns For You
𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ
𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ
Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.
"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears
A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.
"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask
He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.
"I already ate it." He lied
"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.
"Is it your first day?" He asks
"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said
Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.
You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words
"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."
The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.
"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.
"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said
Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.
"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "
And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.
"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.
Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.
He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.
"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds
"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.
"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says
"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks
He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.
"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."
His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.
"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."
Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.
He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,
"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"
He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.
Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.
"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking
You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.
"What're you doing?" You ask quietly
"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.
The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.
"Coryo...what was that?" You ask
"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip
"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask
"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."
Part 2 is out now!
Series Masterlist
#the hunger games#fanfic#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#katniss everdeen#mockingjay#peeta mellark#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#lucy gray baird#tom blyth#rachel zegler#jennifer lawrence#coriolanus snow fluff#coriolanus x you#sejanus plinth#tbosas#thg#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut
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Third Wheel
Dark!SatoSugu x reader
(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)
Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back
Word Count: 7.3k
When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV.
It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep.
It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates.
And you were just extra baggage.
You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted.
But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you.
It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did.
"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space.
Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you.
"Yeah." You give. "Rough day."
You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider.
You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all.
When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak.
You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever.
"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?"
He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys.
"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back."
Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders.
When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob.
~
I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore
That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out.
"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise."
You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being.
"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them.
"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other."
Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could."
You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left.
~
Satoru appears first.
You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting.
Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream.
When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry.
"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes.
You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?"
"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-"
He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat.
He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms.
"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you."
It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair.
You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to.
"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay."
You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused.
"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?"
He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter."
There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it.
"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word."
He freezes. You smile at Utahime.
"Could you give us some time?" You ask.
She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you.
"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room.
"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him.
"For what?"
He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories.
"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry."
You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-"
"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up.
"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker.
"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves.
"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did."
He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you."
Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again.
But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick.
"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru."
I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter.
Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying.
A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay.
"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him.
He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone.
"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer."
His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed.
"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't."
How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.
You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship.
"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand.
"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better."
You shake your head, slipping away from his grip.
"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now."
"You haven't even given us a chance to-"
"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods.
"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house."
He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare.
There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort.
"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you.
"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"
"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not."
You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you.
"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes.
"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic."
Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her.
Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown.
You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around.
"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear.
"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?"
Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes.
"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends."
Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs.
"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue.
Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side.
"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better."
You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better.
When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared.
He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure.
And so did Suguru.
You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first.
"How have you been?" He asks nicely.
"Good." You respond. "You?"
"Good."
Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long.
"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school."
"I bet you two were scarier." You counter.
He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not.
"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh.
It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable.
"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same."
"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine."
"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were."
That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to.
But now, you don't have that desire anymore.
And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest.
"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly."
Suguru frowns, troubled.
"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-"
"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable."
"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place."
He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift.
"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that."
You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru."
You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately.
"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?"
It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole.
You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you.
You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours.
"I love you."
It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse.
"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't.
You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding.
You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet.
He's miserable.
You did this. This was all you.
"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him."
They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru.
Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.
But Shoko was right. You deserved better.
"It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal."
Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this.
Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset.
"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought.
"But what?" You press.
Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face.
"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out."
You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation.
"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?"
You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach.
~
It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.
You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her.
"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long.
"You'll see!" You chirp back.
Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later.
"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."
"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise."
She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'.
As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy.
Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought.
Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass.
"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you."
Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!"
You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore."
Shoko freezes mid-sip.
"What?" She asks.
"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-"
You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears.
"What's wrong?" You ask.
"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?"
That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?
"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again."
They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces.
"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal.
Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand."
At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-"
And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time.
"Oh." You breathe.
"Oh." Utahime whispers.
"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass.
"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?"
"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!"
"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle."
"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties."
"I thought we were just doing friend things!"
"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified.
"I-I-" You give up.
All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot.
Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes.
"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko.
"Do you want us?"
You take a deep breath.
You nod.
She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely.
Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more.
You break away, panting.
"You good?" She asks.
You nod.
"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now."
"What?"
Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses.
"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks."
She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit.
"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh.
"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?"
"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy.
"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy."
Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next.
And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation.
"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you."
"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy.
They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes.
"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?"
There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush.
"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet."
When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself.
You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm.
When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair.
"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight.
You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime.
Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue.
When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go."
You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams.
"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always."
"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep.
Shoko slaps your thigh.
"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face."
Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much.
You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them.
Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper.
"Awake?" She asks.
"Yeah." You softly say back.
She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch.
"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist.
Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes.
"I'm gonna get food."
Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you.
"What do you want?" She prompts.
You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door.
The interaction makes your heart warm.
Still, it can't last.
When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist.
"And where are you going?" She prods.
You fumble. "Back to my room?"
"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now."
"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?"
"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?"
"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine."
"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly.
"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder."
You laugh.
"That's not a joke." She warns.
"I know." And you kiss her again.
It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place.
They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up.
Everything was just perfect.
And then, it just wasn't.
You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled.
"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone.
Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold.
You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay?
You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it.
The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about?
The living room is horrific.
They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels.
Suguru doesn't even blink.
"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal.
"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?"
Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth.
"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition."
You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos.
"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands.
"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that."
You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting.
But you know you aren't expecting...that.
His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore.
"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them."
You step back. They step forward.
Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far.
"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-"
"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already."
He smiles again.
"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores."
"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."
They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete.
The worst part is that everything was your fault.
Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.
And you speak.
"I'm sorry."
Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions.
"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two."
Satoru halts. You caught him.
"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."
Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder.
"You missed us?" He wonders.
The lie feels like sand.
"More than anything."
His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry.
"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault."
Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much.
Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh.
"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms.
"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands.
You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance.
I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry.
Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat.
"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed."
His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here.
"I'm sorry," you say anyway.
He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer.
"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells.
And then, he grins.
"But you will be."
Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely.
~
You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore.
The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much.
The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness.
They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you.
You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you.
Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share.
"You were out for a while." Suguru comments.
"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs.
You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.
"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."
"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.
"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."
You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.
"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.
"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."
Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.
"Satoru, please."
"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.
Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.
"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."
The door shuts, and everything goes dark.
#yandere jjk#yandere#dark jjk#dark gojo satoru#dark content#yandere gojo satoru#x reader#yandere x reader#yandere gojo x reader#yandere jjk x reader#yandere geto suguru#yandere geto suguru x reader#dark geto suguru#shoko ieiri x reader#utahime x reader#yandere satosugu#dark satosugu#yandere scenarios#shokohime x reader
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Muña | one shot
Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.
Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI
Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)
TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread
Words count : 8064
AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.
Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!
Enjoy ��
The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.
You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.
At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.
For now, you just needed to be left alone.
You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.
Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.
"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.
You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"
He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.
If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.
You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.
“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.
"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."
"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.
Everything he wasn't.
'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”
You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.
The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.
As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.
It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.
It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.
You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.
"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.
You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.
He was so predictable.
“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.
"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.
The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.
***
As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.
He had become a strong man, indeed.
But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.
"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.
"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?
To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.
His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.
Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.
But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.
You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.
After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.
"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.
“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."
You hesitated, suddenly unsure.
You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.
Fuck.
“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.
As if to unveil what he held within himself.
“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”
His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.
"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.
You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.
You knew men who were less patient.
Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”
You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.
An unpleasant heat.
A hint of irritation.
You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.
“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.
You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.
“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.
Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.
The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.
You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.
You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.
To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.
After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.
Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.
So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?
His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.
And all you felt was fire.
And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.
You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.
But you didn't care.
You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.
Jace almost choked.
He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.
And you hadn't removed your hand.
An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.
Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.
"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.
He cleared his throat and coughed again.
“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.
Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.
You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.
The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.
"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.
Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.
He was hard.
Perfect.
It was you who provoked this.
He responded to your touch.
You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"
He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.
As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.
"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.
Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.
And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.
You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.
***
It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.
It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.
Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.
No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.
The only problem was you were distant and elusive.
Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.
It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.
And that was something Jace hadn't considered.
He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.
Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.
He clenched his jaw.
All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.
Fuck.
His breeches were really becoming too tight.
You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.
Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.
He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.
Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.
This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.
He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.
His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.
Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.
And he needed more, infinitely more.
You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.
"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.
But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.
"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.
He wanted more.
He needed more.
More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.
Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.
“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.
Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.
Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.
You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.
You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.
But you could only admire your nephew's composure.
“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".
The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.
But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.
The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.
And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.
Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.
"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."
You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.
You hated that feeling.
You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.
You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.
He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.
You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.
You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"
Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.
He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.
But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.
Your eyes widened.
Jace.
Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.
Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.
This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.
Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.
Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.
Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.
"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”
And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.
Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.
This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.
"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.
And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.
Oh, but if she knew.
***
Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.
Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.
Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.
You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.
And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.
Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.
Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.
He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.
"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"
If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.
You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.
But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.
You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"
You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.
Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
You looked ravishing.
"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.
But you had no desire to be responsible.
His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.
"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.
You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.
To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.
And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.
He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.
Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.
You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.
So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.
The sensation was delicious.
The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.
You let your lips brush against his.
He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.
His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.
"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."
You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.
You could see through his game.
He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.
"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."
Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.
"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."
And with that, he pulled you into his room.
***
Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.
Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.
You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.
The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.
You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.
You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.
You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."
Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.
You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.
It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.
But Jace was your future husband.
You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.
"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.
And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.
One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.
When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.
You wouldn't last long, your release close.
Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.
"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."
And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.
It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.
Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.
You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.
A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."
His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.
"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.
After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.
You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.
Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.
But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.
So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.
"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.
He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.
It wasn't enough.
"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.
You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.
And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.
You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.
Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.
You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.
It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.
Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.
You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.
One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.
He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."
That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.
He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.
You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.
"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.
And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.
"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."
And he smiled.
#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x you#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jace x reader#jace velaryon#hotd x reader#jacaerys smut#jacaerys x y/n#jacaerys x fem!reader#jacaerys velaryon fanfic
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do you believe me now? | 3
in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded
series masterlist
18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!
You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.
It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.
You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.
“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”
He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.
“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.
Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.
“Uh… four hours ago.”
“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”
He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.
“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”
You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.
“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”
His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.
“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”
Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.
“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”
Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.
“But we made such good plans,” he laments.
You kiss his cheek.
“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”
It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.
“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”
You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.
“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”
The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”
“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”
“You seem exhausted.”
“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.
Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.
“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.
Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.
“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”
Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”
“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”
Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.
“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”
“Um…”
Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.
“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.
His eyebrows raise.
“I’m sure, honey.”
“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.
“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”
It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.
“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.
“Nothing. I just missed you.”
“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”
The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”
A slow smile spreads over your face.
“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”
You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.
“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”
“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”
“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”
“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”
You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.
“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”
Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.
“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”
It’s ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.
“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”
“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.
“Yeah? Like what?”
And just like that, you’re shy again.
“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”
“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”
And how could you ever deny him anything?
As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.
“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”
Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.
Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.
“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”
“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”
A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.
“You okay?”
You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.
“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”
It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.
“Do you want to?”
Woah.
Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.
You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.
“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”
Show you how?
Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.
“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.
“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”
You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.
“Got it.”
He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.
“Scoot back a little, angel.”
Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—
Your breath catches.
Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.
So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.
The size sinks in a quick second later.
You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?
No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.
“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.
Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”
Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.
“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.
“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.
“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”
It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.
“Okay. What do I do?”
“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”
You look up, alarmed.
“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”
“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”
“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.
Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.
“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.
“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”
Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.
“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.
“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”
“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.
“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”
Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”
You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”
“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”
Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.
“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.
“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.
For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.
“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”
“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?
“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”
You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.
“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”
“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.
“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”
“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”
“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.
“Because I like to listen.”
“What if I do, too?”
In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.
“Jesus, fuck.”
You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.
Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.
You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.
“Spencer?”
“Yeah, baby?”
He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”
His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.
“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”
“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”
Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.
“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”
Wide eyes dart up to his.
“Really?”
Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.
“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”
“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”
“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.
Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.
“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.
“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.
“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”
Spencer can’t help but laugh again.
“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”
You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.
“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”
“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”
Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.
“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”
“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.
You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.
From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”
You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.
“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.
Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.
You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”
You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.
“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.
“It’s okay, Spence, I—”
“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”
“Do you care what I think at all?”
Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.
“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”
It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.
“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.
“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”
He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.
“That was really good, baby. You did well.”
You blossom.
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie.”
“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”
I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.
Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.
Fuck.
He really wants to tell you right now.
“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”
“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.
It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.
“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”
“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”
You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.
“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”
Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.
“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”
“Oh.”
Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.
“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”
“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”
Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.
“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”
“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”
Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.
“What got you all excited?”
“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.
“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”
You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.
“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”
“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”
Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.
“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.
“Stand up.”
You frown.
“But—”
“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.
You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.
“Why?”
“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.
As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—
But no.
There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—
“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”
“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.
“Sit.”
“You want me to…”
“Yes,” he says, simply.
“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”
“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”
Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.
“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.
“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”
Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.
“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.
“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?
“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.
“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”
You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.
“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”
You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.
“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.
“Yeah? Does it?”
“Mhm.”
“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”
It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.
“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.
“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”
You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.
“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”
You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.
“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”
“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.
“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”
But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.
You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.
“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”
In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.
And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.
-
part 3.5
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE- L. HOWLETT
Pairing: Possesive! Boyfriend! Logan x Fem! Reader (grumpy x sunshine)
Word Count: 2.1k
Summary: Logan is always possesive of you, making sure the whole world knows you're his. He especially makes it known when any man tries to flirt with whats his.
Warnings: SMUT, possesivness, size kink, pet names, daddy kink, mocking? kink, dom Logan, mirror sex, swearing, implied violence/ death
"heartbreak is one thing, my egos another- i beg you don't embarass me motherfucker.."- please x3, sabrina carpenter
“Please Logan. Please, please, please just behave tonight.” you begged, pouting your lip as you gazed up at him with puppy dog eyes. It wasn’t often you had to beg Logan for anything.
He always gave you everything you wanted, no questions asked.
New purse? Chanell bag was waiting for you on the table when you arrived home. New shoes? He helped you pick them out, making you walk over to him seductively before perching you on his lap.
Anything you wanted, you got. Except for Logan behaving himself.
The older man was not known for being… caring.
To anyone but you, of course.
Where the sunshine lingered over your head like a halo, his stormcloud trailed behind at an arm's distance.
He was jealous… no, possessive. If a man stared at you for a second too long, he was no longer a man, but a boy sprawled on the ground with blood gushing out of his nose, ears and eyes. A violent, cold shouldered man with a harsh military past, but to you he would give the world on a silver platter if he could.
Which is exactly why he was dressing up for an event he very much did not want to go to- for your sake.
You stood on your tiptoes to adjust his tie, smoothing out his crisp, white undershirt that highlighted his strong arms. You wanted to kiss them.
“That's all I’m askin baby.” you pouted again, placing a gentle kiss to his neck as he bent down to your level.
“Now would I ever embarrass my girl?” he asked teasingly, brushing a warm, calloused thumb across your cheek, careful not to mess up the makeup you had so delicatly applied sitting on the bathroom vanity for hours.
“Hmm. Well sometimes someone gets a lil possessive..” you trailed on, his eyebrow cocking in amusement.
“AmI not allowed to protect my princess? There's so many terrible men out there you know baby.. That just wanna take my girl away from me.” he mocked your pout, guiding you around to face the standing mirror adorned with little lights around it, to “highlight your beauty” he had told you.
They glowed softly, pulsing against your skin as he leaned down, placing a kiss on your neck- the same place you had to him- only his tugged at your skin, just a little longer.
“And we don't want that now do we?”
Your panties damped at his condescending tone. God, why did his posessiveness turn you on so fucking much? You were adding fuel to the fire.
“No, but it's just a gala Lo. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
“I’m always protecting my girl.” he snarled, hands gripping your hips, giving them a squeeze over your velvet red dress, draping across your body like a Greek goddess. It was one of Logans favourites. Of course, he said that about everything you did, and did not wear.
You thought it was fitting for the event, supposedly just a “mingle and drink” was what Charles had said. A good way to connect with other mutants from other parts of the world. It was important to him, so you wanted to make sure it ran as smoothly as possible.
“You look so fucking beautiful. Fuck.” he murmured, running his hands up and down your body, tickling your skin. “You make me think such dirty, dirty thoughts princess.”
“Oops.” you giggled, feeling a bulge against your backside, rubbing against the fabric. You hated to leave him high and dry, but Charles would kill you if you were late.
It would cause Logan to be on edge even more so then he was, but if he had it his way, you’d constantly stay in his bed.
“Now we gotta go. Oh- and, no guns, no claws.” you scolded, shimming out of his grasp to snatch up your handbag, stuffing the contents that had spilled out back inside messley.
“Hgmp.” he grumbled, reaching for your outstretched hand, trailing after you to walk into his own personal internal hell. If it meant he could support you, and even just see you- he would do it.
Not without a slight fuss though, to make you pity him.
“Don’t think about it Lo. Charles wants this to go perfectly… and I’m just-”
“Hey. hey, I’m just teasing you baby. I promise, I’ll be on my best behaviour, I wanna be there for you. But if any man tries it…” He stopped you, turning you back against the doorframe, his palm in your cheek, stroking it lovingly.
You met his eyes, soaking in their gentle gaze he only revealed to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You just want an excuse to show off your hot date.” you teased, smiling softly.
He laughed, squeezing you close to his chest. You breathed in his cologne, smelling strongly of whisky and pine needles. It made you drunk, intoxicating you like white wine.
“You caught me there.”
---------------------------------------------
“Fashionably late” is what Logan called it, when you strolled into the ballroom of the old, castle-like manor, nearly twenty minutes past. You had urged him to pick up the pace, but he had distracted you with his lips whenever you tried to protest.
He had listened to you however, when you begged him not to mess up your makeup, only tugging on your lip with teeth instead of smearing it with his thumb.
Smiling meekly at Charles with your hair slightly out of place, you wiggled your way through the crowd, familiar and unfamiliar faces poking out at you.
You waved to Storm, smiling as she flirted with a mutant from out of town. Soaking in her shimmering silver dress, you gave her a big thumbs up, mouthing “you look so good!”, earning a stifled giggle from her as the man continued his conversation.
Logan watched you like a hawk from the side of the room, acting as a bodyguard. He seemed to sneer at anyone who you didn’t know get too close to you, even if they were just passing by.
He had showed up for you, so you let him sulk. It was the least you could do. You paid him no mind, occasionally looking over to see him nursing a whisky on the rocks in a fancy glass, adjusting his jacket as Rouge talked to him.
Giving him a little soft wave, you turned, bumping right into an unfamiliar face.
“Oh, my apologies- I should’ve watched where I was going.” you reassured, giving a curt nod and smile. You took a step, Charles popping into view- only an arms reach away.
“Hey, no worries. I hope I didn’t mess up your beautiful dress.” the stranger smiled, eyeing you up. It made you shiver in discomfort. “Oh thank you.” You tried to be as polite as you could be- hoping the conversation would end as quickly as it started.
“What’s your name?” he asked. “Oh- uh… Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m-”
“She doesn't care who you are.” a low voice growled, Logan slipping in front of you, shielding you from the stranger.
You could see the back muscles ripple through his tight jacket, threatening to tear in two. He must have sniffed out your immediate discomfort. You were grateful for it, as the hungry stares the man gave you made you uneasy.
“Woah bud. Chill out, I’m just saying hello.”
“You’re making my girl uncomfortable. And anyone who makes my girl-” he emphasised those two words. “-uncomfortable, gets fucked up.”
You felt Charles stare at the back of your head, and you frantically tried to pull him back before he threw a punch and made a scene. “Lo- let's go, lets just let it go.”
He snarled at the man, making him tremble slightly, trying to hide his discomfort the same way you had just done for him.
“I would listen to your girl.” he mocked.
“You shut the fuck up.” you snapped, stepping out from behind your guard dog of a boyfriend- finger right in his face. “I shouldn't even give you the time of day, you perv. I know what you're thinking about- and I would never be with you. Never in a million years.” you spat, turning sharply on your heel, not looking to see if anyone followed.
You felt heads turn as you strutted out of the ballroom, Charles being one of them.
He was a pervert. I’m getting some air. You telepathically told Charles, stomping towards an empty office down the hall- letting the door slam behind you. I understand, and I’ll take care of him, if Logan doesn't before me. He murmured, voice slipping from your mind as quick as it came.
You leaned against the mahogany desk, taking a deep breath. Trying to compose yourself, you unzipped your dress just a tad, to give yourself more room to take deeper breaths.
A moment later, you heard loud footsteps stomp down the hall, Logan appearing from behind the closed door he opened. His eyes glinted with anger- a hunger and possessiveness that had you squeezing your thighs together.
The lock clicked, and within two strides he towered in front of you. “Lo-”
He kissed you so hard you swore you tasted coppery blood coat your bottom lip, and you moaned into his mouth. Melting into his touch, his hands held your neck- not letting you go anywhere, before hiking you up in his arms.
Office supplies were pushed to the side clattering to the ground as you were perched at the edge of the desk, legs wrapping around Logan tightly.
“Youre so fucking hot when you get like that. So worked up, letting that lil cat out to scratch.”
He growled in your mouth, hand slipping down to grab your ass, smacking it hard. “Mghm f-fuck Logan, he just made me so angry… and you protected me like always..”
“That man is not gonna make it tomorrow when I’m done with him.” he promised, and you felt heat rise in your cheeks at his claims.
“You’re mine. Mine, and fuck I’m gonna make sure you leave this room with everyone knowing that princess.”
“Lo- need y’so bad..” you whined, hand slipping down his chest to tug at the button of his dress pants. His bulge taunted you, and a hiss escaped from his lips as you grazed it through the fabric.
“Ya? You need me baby? Come and take me then, my big, strong girl.” he murmured, letting you pull him out of his confinements, the sheer size making your mouth water.
You never got tired of him, never got over how big he was. You struggled to tug your dress fully off, and he chuckled at the sight of you.
“So desperate hm? Need help?”
“N-no.” you mumbled, finally finding a way to shimmy it down. You wasted no time with the extras- simply pulling your thong to the side, as you guided him near your entrance.
“Your hands are so tiny on my cock baby. All of you is just so tiny, you need to be protected, hm?”
You nodded mindlessly, sighing in relief as he slid his cock up and down through your soaked folds, before sliding in and hitting home. Your mouth popped open with an O- as he never fully slid fully in without guiding it in slowly first.
He was needy tonight. You both were.
“Oh fuck baby. Fuck.”
You squeezed your legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter, trying your best to fuck yourself on him. It wasn't as good as what he did to you. You needed him.
“You poor lil thing. You need some help, you need daddy to fuck ya princess?”
You nodded, moaning as his hand found its way around your neck, squeezing softly as he pulled out, then back home- hips snapping at a rough pace that had you seeing stars.
You couldn't help but let the noises escape you- trying so hard to stay quiet but they slipped out, mixing with the slap of skin.
“Yeah let it all out baby. Let them all hear how good I fuck you. How you're mine, and no one else's.”
You looked into his eyes widely, as they started to fog over with pure pleasure. He hugged your gummy walls like a glove, his grunts and praises spurring you on. You couldn't help but look down, watching the way his cock slid deep inside you, the outline poking through your stomach.
“Lo- you’re so big.”
“And you're so tight, baby. You like lookin at how well you take me? Look over there.” he nodded his head over to the right, where a full length mirror stood.
You turned your head, watching as he rammed into you, pushing your legs up across his big, beefy shoulders, bending you to his will. His eyes met yours in the reflection, a cruel smirk forming on his lips as you gasped and whimmered his name as he fucked you.
“Such a pretty princess.” he whispered, hoping everyone could hear you.
Knowing those noises you made were because him- for him, and only him.
#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman#hugh jackman fanfic#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlet smut#logan howlett#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine smut#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverpool#logan wolverine#james logan howlett#james howlett#wolverine origins#logan x reader#wade wilson
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your little angel of a son inherits katsuki's bad temper, and it manifests in his terrible fours.
there's an awful little shriek that echoes throughout the house and katsuki is on his feet and halfway to the living room before his eyes are even open—but the only danger awaiting him there is a pouty little brat.
his son is sitting amidst a swarm of toys that have been strewn about haphazardly, and his arms are crossed and big fat tears are in his eyes and he looks mad as all hell. you do, too, sitting across from him with a deep frown, holding the ripped page of a book from his little shelf.
"no sir," you warn, "we do not treat our things this way."
you incite a meltdown.
katsuki feels his own temper flaring—half from shock and awe at his little mini-me and also from the exhaustion wearing him thin—when your son kicks his legs out in a burst of rage, letting out another little shriek of anger. your cheeks puff up, wearing the same furious expression, and at the hiss of his name, the little brat jumps to his feet and snatches a toy truck nearby and launches it across the room.
"oi!"
your son's attention snaps to katsuki, startled, losing a hint of anger as he pouts at the floor.
"what'd she just tell you?" and when he gets no response, katsuki prods with a, "hah? answer me."
but the little boy only stamps his little feet and grunts out a furious, wordless sound that has katsuki's lip curling. you let out a heavy sigh, shaking your head at him before frowning down at the torn page in your hands, and then katsuki is planting a hand on the back of his son's head and steering him towards the front door.
"time to take a walk."
the boy goes, even though his arms are crossed and his eyes are downcast. he only resists once, as katsuki tries to shove his little feet into his shoes.
"i don't wanna." he mumbles, face scrunched and wet before promptly looking away.
"i didn't ask."
"hmm!"
katsuki has to resist the urge to pinch his own son.
they get out the door eventually, and the little boy stomps along for the most part, no longer needing a guiding hand on the back of his head once they get around the block a time or two. neither of them say anything.
fatherhood has taught katsuki a lot of things, which was expected, but the one thing that's surprised him is—he's learned all the things he doesn't want his son to be.
the first of them being angry. not the way katsuki was, mean and selfish, throughout his childhood; hateful and careless, in his teens; shut off and simmering, even now.
he waits until the tension has melted off his little shoulders, until his little face has dried and evened out. his arms swing at his sides, occasionally coming up to wipe his snot with the back of his hand, and he eyes the few wildflowers they pass with a little hum and a small smile.
katsuki tugs once on his ear, frowning down at the little brat when he peeks up at him. "that how you're supposed to treat your mama?"
he doesn't answer at first, leaning his head all the way back and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, until katsuki stops walking. "no, sir."
"how you s'posed to treat her?"
"with love."
"how you s'posed to treat your toys?"
"with care."
"uh-huh," katsuki squishes his son's cheeks in his hand, shaking his head lightly from side to side until he starts giggling. "that how you acted today?"
"no, sir."
"that how y'r gonna act again?"
"no, sir."
"okay," katsuki murmurs, nodding once before letting him free. the little boy bounces on his feet and sucks on his lip, grinning when his tummy is pinched. "now pick those for your mama."
and he does, carefully plucking a small handful of flowers from the grass as they make their way back home, and just before he runs up the steps to the house, katsuki's little angel of a son hands him the biggest one.
#cw children#i firmly believe katsuki just has to give the kid one look and he's like. oh shit.#LMAOOOO#dad's up.#bc katsuki isn't going to take him throwing shit around akfjeiqql#NOT IN A BAD WAY HE'S JUST. LIKE. ABSOLUTLY NOT HAPPENING BUDDY.#he's a firm dad but. he makes sure his son knows he's still loved ofc 😌#✿ thoughts: bakugou#✿ theme: dad bakugou
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It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.
He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.
Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.
"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.
it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.
And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.
"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.
"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"
"Eddie?" Dustin asks.
"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.
"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"
They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.
"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."
"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You weren't answering your walkie!"
"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.
Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.
"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"
"Mom and I were looking for you!"
"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.
"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.
"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."
"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."
He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.
---
A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."
"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."
"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"
Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."
Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.
"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"
"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.
He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.
---
Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.
The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"
"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"
"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.
"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"
Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"
"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.
Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."
The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"
He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.
"Shouldn't you be in school?"
Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"
"He started it!"
"I highly doubt that."
"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"
"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"
"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"
She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."
He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."
"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."
---
It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.
It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.
With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.
"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.
"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.
Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.
"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.
"I wanted to apologize."
"What for?"
"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."
"But--why?"
"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.
"What?" He laughs.
"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."
"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"
"You wanted me to come?"
"Dustin didn't..."
"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."
"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."
"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."
"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.
"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.
"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."
"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.
"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."
"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"
"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.
"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.
"So Dustin said."
It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."
"Too bad. He's a nice kid."
"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."
"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"
"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."
The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#fluff#meet ugly#misunderstandings#feelings confession#mutual pining#idiots to lovers#hero eddie munson#damsel in distress steve harrington#steve thinks eddie is disgusted by him#meanwhile eddie is down bad crying at dnd#the kids try to do matchmaking and only max is successful#bookstore owners steve and robin#bartender eddie munson
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are you stupid?
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: you come home injured and satoru isn't cool with it
warnings: literal hurt/comfort, descriptions of a wound bad enough to warrant stitches, little angst, fluff, slightly ooc satoru
last part | next part
*
year six.
“are you stupid?”
your hands are frozen to the touch, barely able to grasp the doorknob when his voice comes from nowhere at all.
you almost don't notice it when satoru opens the door. you have to blink to focus on him, but by the time you do, you're already falling against the empty space in front of you.
satoru is quick to catch your arm, righting you before you break your nose on the hardwood.
“that’s my line,” you tell him, slightly coughing--it sends shocks down your spine and you shiver. you shake his hand off of you, trying to walk forward, but there's a wall of a man standing there. you blink at him. "hey, satoru. would you mind moving?”
“i could smell the blood from down the block,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, completely still. “what did you do?”
you roll your eyes, waving a hand (even though it makes you a bit woozy). “there’s no way you could smell that. it’s not even that bad.”
“it’s dripping down your shirt.”
you pout, looking down. "i just washed this, too.”
it is a lot of blood, you realize suddenly. you would definitely get some looks if you were walking down the street in public.
still, you don't feel all that banged up. it's not really your fault that you were slightly distracted when that curse snuck up on you... or at least, you're pretty sure it's not.
satoru, shaking his head--maybe finally realizing that you're fine--moves out of the way, holding the door open for you. "what did you do?"
you step through, using the wall to keep you steady. “how do you know i did anything?”
you finally look at satoru, even though he's fading from your eyeline, in and out of focus. he's not wearing his blindfold or his glasses, and he's got a frown that rivals one of megumi's at the moment.
it makes you laugh, just a little, as you try to shake the shoes from your feet.
he was probably sleeping, you think. usually, you'd probably feel... at least slightly bad. but right now? you don't even care.
you're just happy to see him, right in front of you like your own personal greeting card. you've only been gone a day, but satoru feels much further away than that.
especially with his frown and his furrowed eyebrows. he's in a mood, you remember, frowning.
“why are you bleeding, y/n?”
you cough again, tapping his chest as you move past him. “jeez, lighten up, satoru. i’m good,” you say this as you limp down the hallway, wincing with every step.
you don't get to watch satoru's eye roll, but it takes less than a second for an arm to wrap under your shoulders, satoru forcing your weight onto him, and he practically carries you through the house until you reach the kitchen, where he sets you on the countertop.
he's looking at you like you're a fragile baby bird.
and he doesn't bother to ask--of course he doesn't--before he lifts your shirt from your abdomen, it slightly sticking (due to the blood) before it rolls up.
satoru's eyes widen as he inspects you. "woah," he whispers, paling just a little bit.
you don't look down with him--because that's a terrible idea--but you watch satoru.
you can barely feel it, actually. it's basically just a minor cut, nothing too--
you try not to gasp when satoru presses a finger near your ribs, not directly touching the wound, but far too close to it. it would be embarrassing to double over in pain, wouldn't it?
“is it bad?” you wonder, breathlessly, feeling a bit light-headed.
satoru’s head snaps up, “you didn’t look?”
“i was a bit distracted. the curse wasn't gracious enough to give me the chance to grab a couple of bandaids, the bastard."
“how did you even manage to do this?”
your eyes trail down unconsciously, but all you can see is your bunched-up shirt--drenched in blood. yeah, you'll probably have to burn it.
satoru is looking up and down, his face entirely disgusted, nose scrunched up and eyes avoiding your own.
it makes you laugh a little--because you're very familiar with satoru and his opposition to anything humanly--which then makes you wince with him.
it doesn't hurt that bad, really.
“can you get the first aid kit?” you ask him, pushing his hands away from you and your cut. but as soon as satoru isn't right there to lean on, you begin to tilt forward.
satoru immediately resumes his position as your pillar. “are you kidding? i’m calling shoko.”
“i know how to do stitches, satoru. it’s late.”
“you need, like, a stomach replacement for that.”
you roll your eyes, leaning even further into him. at least when you're pressed up against his chest, you don't have to breathe. “you’re so dramatic.”
satoru is still frowning. “doesn’t that hurt?”
“nope,” you lie, sitting up and pushing his hands away again. “i’m running on adrenaline. it’s not that deep, anyway.”
he gives you a hard look.
you sigh. “what’s wrong with you? you can drop the act.”
“what act?”
“the ‘i’m the caretaker’ act.”
“what if i came home with a hole in my stomach?" satoru's jaw is clenched. "what would you do?”
“i can't think about hypotheticals right now, satoru,” you whine. “please get the first aid kit?”
“should i get megumi too? might as well teach him how to stitch you up, he's getting to that age, you know.”
“funny,” you say, dryly. “do you want me to bleed out on our counter, or…?”
satoru sighs, but he walks out of the kitchen a moment later. hopefully to save you from dying.
you exhale, feeling your chest tighten. you can't feel much, for the most part. but then there's that feeling every couple of seconds, a memory of the whole thing playing out-- except your head is fuzzy, and everything looks sort of… colorful right now.
you can’t even remember how you got here. or the last time a curse managed to actually injure you.
it feels a bit juvenile, really.
especially because you’re in no position to be taking care of yourself—but in no world would you wake up shoko in the middle of the night for this. in no world would you wake up anyone, except for satoru, to deal with you, with your blood and your stubbornness.
god, you hate pain. you hate having to wash blood out of your clothes, and you hate sitting here by yourself.
you slump down. only seconds have gone by, but it feels like so much more than that. the wound burns, you think, in an unnatural way.
you probably got poisoned and you're probably going to die and satoru is going to stomp on your grave, and--
“do we even have enough gauze to cover that up?” satoru is asking you when he walks back in. he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, you realize, watching him.
his eyes are stern, focused, and the rest of him is morose. you should be able to gaze at him, to stare--but you can't because your vision has spots in it, and everything about satoru is too hard right now.
he’s been like this for days. casual but stuck—like he can’t find it in him to laugh about anything. his face has been a field of lines, with no breaks in between, and his eyes have been greyer than they should be, a sort of dim color that you hate.
satoru's eyes are wild, usually. they are blue fires and the vast expanse of the universe.
but not right now, when he's looking at you like this. and not this week--because he's barely been looking at you at all.
and it's unfortunate not just because you miss him, but because you're not as good at casting it all away as he is. you can't shove things aside and make light out of the darkest situations.
you can't fill his role, and yet you keep trying to.
it's an inevitable cycle of failing and never being enough.
“i’ll just cut up your shirt if there’s not enough,” you tell him, putting on a smile so he can’t tell how badly you want to start crying.
is this real pain, you wonder, or a dream?
“use your own shirts.”
you pout. “but yours are the best quality.”
satoru rolls his eyes, again, and begins to wipe off all of the well-used tools you have. a needle you've had for years, stolen from jujutsu high, and thread you can't remember taking.
“what are you doing?” you try to grab the instruments from his hands, clumsily, almost cutting yourself again in the process.
satoru is quick to hold them away, keeping them up and out of your reach. not that you were going to try very hard anyway.
“i’m going to stitch you up," he says, like he's scolding you.
“you don’t know how.”
“please,” satoru scoffs, shaking his head. he gets a cloth wet under the facet, and then holds it towards you. “i probably learned how to do this before you were even born."
“when you were nine months old?”
“clean it.”
you listen, holding the cloth to your wound and still not looking down. it feels sort of ticklish, and also like you're being tortured.
“you don’t have to,” you tell satoru after a moment, breathing through the nausea that comes with the pain. “i know you’re squeamish around blood.”
“i am not squeamish.”
you grin at him. “sure.”
satoru looks up, and finally, his face relaxes, just a little bit. you can even see the workings of a smile on his mouth—the first you’ve gotten in days.
he shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. sit up.”
“seriously,” you say, again, catching his hand just as he’s about to touch you. “i can do it.”
“seriously, i’m not letting you. your hands are shaking.”
you look down, releasing his wrist. “oh.”
“yeah, oh.”
satoru kneels so he can see your cut properly, his face narrowed in concentration. you focus on him as he touches the tender skin by the wound, featherlight fingertips trailing across your skin.
you shiver and apologize under your breath.
he hasn't been this close in days.
“does it hurt now?” he asks you, voice so quiet that it almost echoes through the house.
“not really,” but you look up towards the ceiling. somehow you know it’s going to be worse if you watch.
“i can call—“
“no, satoru. i already told you, if you don’t want to do it then i—“
“okay, i’m doing it. i’m doing it.”
you close your eyes when he punctures your skin, waiting for the feeling to subside. it's just a prick, but you still have to think about getting the mail, going to the store, taking a shower after this, or maybe just crawling out from your own skin and becoming a spirit.
but satoru seems to recognize this, maybe from your face, and he asks, “what kind of curse was it?”
“dunno?” you breathe out, mapping a picture on the ceiling in your mind.
“what do you mean?”
“i can't remember.”
satoru looks up. “what?”
“it’s all a blur,” you say, wanting to shove his hands off of you. you've been trained to kick people away, so it's really not your fault. “i think i won though.”
“i don’t think this is winning.”
“keep going,” you tell him, instead of arguing. “i’m fine.”
satoru tsks but does as you say, resuming the smooth movements of suturing. any normal day, you'd probably want to watch his hands work, want to inspect his job and make fun of him for the way he holds his breath while looking at an open wound.
“how were the kids?” you ask him, after a moment.
satoru breathes out, nodding. his hair is messy, his face slightly wrinkled from sleeping still. “they missed you.”
“it was only a day. did megumi get that book report back yet? he was worried about it before i left, but i told him—“
“i missed you.”
you look down, forgetting about pain or blood. “what?”
“i miss you,” he says, this time, like it’s any different. satoru keeps his eyes down, his hands moving. but there's a guilty look on his face--something that tells you he didn't mean to say anything.
“satoru…”
“are you still mad at me?”
you tilt your head. “mad? why would i be mad at you?”
“you haven’t been coming to bed,” satoru answers, obviously.
your eyes widen. “satoru—“ and there’s a sharp pain in your side.
“sorry,” he murmurs, softly, at your flinch.
“i’m not mad at you,” you tell him, trying not to double over. your voice is high-pitched and breathy. you feel like a child—ridiculous and foolish—but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “i was never mad at you.”
“you weren't?”
“you asked me for space. i was just giving it to you.”
satoru pauses, looking up at you.
“i… i didn’t want to push you into talking to me. i thought—i don’t know, that maybe things had changed. i mean, we don’t have to…” you wince, and it’s not because of the pain this time. “to sleep together. or in the same room. if you don’t want that anymore—“
“no."
"no what?"
he shakes his head. "i want that."
“satoru, you’re not going to hurt my feelings—“
“i was wrong," he cuts in, voice rough. you don't think you've ever heard him say those words before. "i don’t want space, i never did.”
you blink at him, brows furrowing. “then why did you…”
“i—“ he stops. looks around. “does it hurt?”
and you know, just as you know most things about satoru, that he can't continue. that the truth is going to cut just a little bit too deep--deeper than your injury--and he can't bring himself to say it.
so you only take another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of your skin being patched back together, and nod.
“a little,” you say softly.
an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you, and breathing gets a little bit easier all of a sudden.
maybe it wasn't the pain. maybe it was just the tension, the build-up of days apart.
it makes sense, even to your slightly fogged-over mind.
and then the two of you sit there while satoru patches you up, sharing a glance every couple of seconds—a glance with so many words, so tender and feeling that it succeeds in making you even dizzier. blood loss has nothing on the way satoru makes you feel.
you can't see his hands--don't dare to--but you can feel the softness of them, the care he's taking in stitching you up.
if it were any day, you would laugh at him for it. but right now, you just accept it. bask in it.
“how’s that feel?” satoru whispers to you, after he’s tied it off and wiped the blood from your skin.
you don't bother to look down. really, you don't want to see the freshly sutured line on your abdomen, but also, you just want to keep looking at him.
it's much more gratifying, at least.
“good," you say, voice stronger, easier. "is it going to scar?”
satoru scoffs. “if you wanted untouched skin then we should’ve called shoko—“
“shut up,” you interrupt. “i’m not listening to the medical advice of someone who’s never gotten a scratch in his life.”
“i let you scratch me.”
“well, obviously, i’m the exception,” you smile at him, exhausted and sweaty and still a little out of it—but home. with him.
and this time satoru actually smiles back.
it’s a bizarre thing, his smile. the first one you’ve gotten in days and it wakes you up immediately. almost like realizing you’ve been in the dark for weeks, just getting a glimpse of the light.
he's a peek into something more--unearthly. if the closest thing you get to divinity is satoru, then you won't complain.
“you okay?” you ask him, but you’re only teasing.
“that’s my line,” he says.
“you sure?”
satoru leans towards you, forehead against yours. “i’m sure.”
you sit there for a moment. satoru is usually the one clinging to you, but tonight you feel like if he moves away you might never get him back.
so you sit there, make sure to hold him to you, secure with your hands wrapped around his biceps, his arms grazing against yours as he leans against the counter.
you're probably a mess right now--your skin stained with blood that shouldn't be outside your body, your face covered in dirt, your hair and clothes drenched in sweat and rain. but satoru doesn't seem to mind, so you don't think about it too hard.
he deserves it, at least, for making ridiculous assumptions. you have to get him back somehow, after all.
after a minute, or two, or maybe even three, you clear your throat. “great. i’m alive, you’re… less annoying than usual. let’s go to bed.”
“‘less?’” satoru gapes at you, but his laughter is unmistakable.
“yeah, i know," you say, feigning shock, "i was surprised too.”
he flicks your forehead but you’re still smiling at him.
“okay,” satoru whispers, leaning back. “bedtime.”
you rub at the spot around your wound one more time, already feeling the days of sore skin and itchy muscles, and then you push satoru so you can hop off of the counter.
“hey,” he says, suddenly, stopping you. his voice is quick, almost lost. but his hands wrap around your wrists, keeping them between the two of you so you can't escape. and satoru's eyes are on your face, flickering between the different points of your skin, looking like he's just realized that he's lost something.
you raise a brow, but don't push back against his chest or try to pry his hands away. “what?”
satoru swallows, still watching you.
his eyelashes are long enough to touch his skin, and his eyes are blue enough to take up the whole world. you want to grin at the saturation of him--so much brighter than you've seen him in days--but you refrain. you don't want to scare him away.
but you're not so eager to move. it's easy to wait on satoru, really--to wait for his words, to let him collect his thoughts--because you've only spent nine years studying his face. you've only admired the slope of his nose and the tilt of his chin since you were sixteen, and there's much more to be discovered.
so staring at him is simple. especially when there's so much to look at.
you have plenty of unmarked territory you need to take over.
you keep a slight smile on your face while you wait, and eventually, satoru groans, hanging his head back.
“what?” you repeat, laughing just a little.
“can you stop looking at me like that?”
“like what?” you nudge your head against his chin, and satoru glares at you.
“i’m trying to be serious.”
“oh, okay,” you try to push away your smile, but you can't. it's glued where it is. “i’m serious.”
“you’re not.”
“what is it, satoru? i’m listening.”
his eyes meet yours, again, and you almost flinch.
everything about satoru is forceful, except for the way he looks at you. the way his eyes relax, his entire face falling when you're both eye to eye. it's a look you've only observed on one person, in only one particular moment.
and, you think, all of a sudden, it might be your favorite look.
but you're still fed up with waiting. you're tired of his consideration, his contemplative eyes. you want satoru back--with his ridiculous laughter and stupid jokes. you want him irritating the sanity out of you and simultaneously bringing you to life.
you don't tell him that though, because in this moment you'll take what you can get.
any version of satoru is better than none at all. you’ve learned that the hard way.
“hey,” he says, one more time. his smile is unusual, a frightened little thing. “i love you.”
you freeze.
your face falls flat, thinking of the words in a million different ways. you might've misheard him--but you're so locked in on him that it seems impossible.
at once, you consider exactly what he means, so many different variations of the same thing.
does he love you like your parents did, always too much but never enough?
does he love you like you love megumi and tsumiki—like your life depends on it? like you’d be wrecked without them?
or does satoru love you like you love him? does he love you like it’s breathing? like there’s never been a choice in the matter?
but, it's simple. a beat passes, three seconds of contemplation--just enough for the words to ring true throughout your body.
the way he’s looking at you is enough to answer any question you have.
satoru loves you like a promise, and nothing less.
“you idiot,” you say, a sudden, day-breaking smile on your face. “don’t you think i know that?"
*
"should we wake them up?" tsumiki asks, walking up behind megumi, staring down at you both. she's rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly messy.
megumi considers it for a moment.
neither of them have woken up like this in a while. you and gojo are getting better at falling asleep in bed instead of on the couch.
but, at this point, megumi thinks that it's probably a habit. or just to annoy him.
gojo's face is shoved into your chest and your hands are tangled in his hair. the both of you have silly smiles on your faces, and seriously. how do you both manage to fall asleep in such uncomfortable positions.
"no," megumi whispers, yawning. "i can make breakfast. mom probably got home pretty late."
"okay," tsumiki says, still staring.
megumi rolls his eyes and walks away. honestly, what did he do to deserve getting two idiots for parents?
*
next part | series masterlist
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#a typical family
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relief switch | sim jaeyun | m
pairing: switch! sim jaeyun x switch! female reader
genre: smut
au: established relationship
rating: explicit/18+, minors dni
word count: 7k
sexual warnings: switch/soft dom jake and switch y/n, oral (male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, head pusher jake, unprotective sex, non penetrative and penetrative sex, whiny jake, begging, swearing, slight size kink???, thigh riding, hair pulling, lots of praise (praise kink???), spanking, naked dry humping(??? idk what else to call it), pet names (useful girl, sweet boy, good boy/girl, sweetheart, babe, baby, my love etc i practically used them all), body worship, marking, biting, edging, choking, overstimulation, forced orgasm, creampie, a bit of nipple play, roleplay for like .02 seconds, lots of moaning/whimpering/whining, a smidge of degradation, jake is down horrendous, they're so in love it makes me sick, good aftercare :]
a/n: sorry idk what demon possessed me. also shoutout to my best friend @sungbeams this one is for you ♡ and no i am not jayunki biased i dont wanna hear it anymore k thanks ♡
Groans and jangling keys fill your small apartment as you and your boyfriend return home from your prospective jobs at the same time. No words are spoken as you both remove your shoes, throwing them haphazardly with a pout towards the shoe stand near the front entryway. Neither of you bothers to turn on the light, leaving your apartment in a calming darkness as the sun sets outside.
“Today sucked.” Jake finally breaks the silence, leaning against the front door. His eyes shut for a moment as he loosens his tie from his neck.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” you grumble, hanging up your jacket and sticking your hand out for his without a glance.
He hands it to you with a sigh. “I’m honestly in a terrible mood. Just a fair warning in case I say something a little mean. I just genuinely do not have an ounce of joy in my body right now.”
Normally, you would be comforting your boyfriend without letting another moment pass by; guiding him to the plump couch and putting on his favorite show, making him his favorite food, snuggling up with him and whispering sweet words in his ear while you run your fingers through his hair until he falls asleep. It’s a foolproof plan for when he’s having a bad day or just needs some extra comfort.
But, like him, you also do not feel even an ounce of happiness in your own body. And a part of you feels guilty for not being able to swallow it down so you can be there for him properly.
Noticing the difference in your behavior, Jake straightens himself, tilting his head to the side while he looks at you with furrowed brows.
“You okay, babe? Work doesn’t usually get to you like this. Do you want to talk about it?” He speaks to you with a low softened voice, despite his earlier proclamation.
Vigorously, you shake your head. “It’s just dumb stuff and I know I’m overreacting slightly. I just…I don't know…I kinda wanna just be in a bad mood? Does that make sense?” you chuckle, “I know it sounds dumb but-“
“No, I get it,” stepping towards you, Jake pinches your chin gently between his thumb and pointer finger, “Hell, take it out on me if you need to.”
It might be the way his thumb is lingering along your jawline now, hovering so his skin is only slightly grazing against yours, or the way his eyes darken as he looks at your lips, but something in his words sounds more like a plea than a simple comedic suggestion.
You narrow your eyes at your boyfriend, trying your best not to convey how instantaneously he takes over your mind and body. It’s dizzying the way he looks you up and down, consuming how you can feel the heat from every slight touch of his hand.
“How would you like me to take it out on you?” You question with a lowered voice, tilting your head down slightly to flick your eyes more up at him, batting your eye lashes in a way you know he can’t resist.
His thumb stops moving just below your bottom lip where his eyes also rest. “Well, depends on the type of day you had. Do you need to let out your anger? Pretend I’m your boss and raise your voice, say some absurd things? Or do you need to feel useful?” The more he talks, the lower his tone and volume go, his voice growing softer while his speech slows. To make it worse, at the end of his sentence he releases your lips from his gaze, his deep brown eyes flicking up ever so slightly to meet your own. And you instantly become putty in his hands.
“Useful,” you mutter, averting your gaze to the side to avoid the smirk you know is displayed on his handsome face.
“Oh, I can put you to use, my love. Knees. Now.” Jake commands with a snap of his finger before pointing it down at the ground and using his other hand to give your bottom lip a quick swipe with his thumb.
“Right here? In the entryway? What about the bedro-“
“I thought,” he cuts you off, removing his hand from your face to slowly start undoing his belt, “you wanted,” the belt’s on the floor, his hands now unbuttoning his slacks, “to be,” his eyes are locked on yours, “useful,” he growls.
Placing a hand on the back of your head, he leans you forward, giving you a swift tender kiss on the forehead before pushing your head down.
You fall to your knees quickly, your hands sliding down his torso until they rest at his hips where his slacks are barely hanging on by his growing bulge that you’re now eye level with.
Between clenched teeth and a sharp inhale of his breath, Jake commands, “Don’t make me have to ask you twice.”
Your hands move without any further hesitation to push his slacks and underwear down from his hips, his hardened member bouncing at the release of the constraints. How is he already this hard? Jake’s weeping cock is already fully stiff and alert, a small bead of precum glistening at his tip, begging for contact.
Looking straight up at your man, wanting to hold his gaze, you stick your tongue out and give him a long lick from the base of his member to just below the bulbous part of his tip. Jake’s head falls back against the door, his eyes fluttering to the back of his head as one of his hands reaches for your hair. He strokes it gently at first before giving a warning tug.
“Please,” he whines softly with an airy gasp, eyes still closed, “not today. Don’t tease me today, Y/n.”
Even though he’s not looking, you still smile up at him fondly. Just for a moment, savoring the desperate look on his face before swirling your tongue along his tip.
Jake’s body trembles, mouth open slightly as he sucks in a breath. Then suddenly, he opens his eyes. They narrow down at you with a darkness that loudly tells you he is not planning on warning you again. Jake places both of his hands around your head, palms brushing your temples as he lines your mouth to his cock.
You hold his eye contact as you open your mouth and wait for him.
You don’t have to wait long. Jake has never been the patient type. And when it comes to you sucking him off? He was never really good at playing around and teasing and for sure did not like to have that patience tested.
Slowly, but steadily, Jake pushes himself into your mouth until your nose brushes his abdomen. Stifling a gag, you moan against his body and try to maintain your focus. His entire body shivers as he holds you in place, hands still cupping your face lightly as your eyes flutter shut. It takes everything in you to try to remember to breathe through your nose, or really, to remember to breathe at all. Which seems ridiculous but, in this moment, every cell of your body is consumed by him.
Jake’s head falls back against the doorframe yet again, an intense inhale goes in through his nose and his lips form in a tight line. He may have tried to contain his moans but couldn’t suppress a deep, guttural groan from ripping out deep within his throat.
“Fuuuckkk, baby. How do you always take me so well?” His thumbs brush at the tears welling up under your eyes, a soft, fond smile forming on his face.
The softness of his features only lasts for a moment before he starts moving his hips with a perfect cadence, relentlessly fucking your throat.
“That’s my good, useful girl,” Jake slowly groans. With each thrust that has him hitting the back of your throat, you try to focus on your breathing even more. Your goal is to not gag, no matter how much your body wants to, no matter how much you know he would love it. He’s claimed in the past that hearing you gag on him alone gives him an insane ego boost. But feeling it? Oh he couldn’t contain himself. Knowing he’s too big for his perfect girl but she tries her best to please him anyways? One of the best feelings a guy could ever hope to experience.
And because of this, Jake knows exactly when you’re on the brink of hitting your limit. As much as he would love to chase his own pleasure, he’s choosing to think outside of himself and knows you need this more than he does.
One of Jake’s hands moves to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and your mouth off of his slick cock, leaving a string of saliva connecting the two of your bodies together.
Jake kneels down until he’s face to face with you, holding your face in his hands as he looks in your eyes. “That’s all I needed. Now, let me get a good look at you.”
His grip makes it impossible for you to look away. All you can muster out is a slight moan in protest, your bottom lip jutting out as you furrow your eyebrows. Thumbs catching some runaway tears from under your eyes, Jake lets out a low chuckle, peppering quick kisses along your face.
“As good as you make me feel,” he starts, guiding you up to your feet and leading you towards the bedroom, “it’s not how I want to come.”
“But I barely even-”
“Shhh,” Jake abruptly pushes you up against the wall in the hallway, his lust filled eyes combing over the spots where his hands roam all over your body, “it’s okay, baby. That’s all the use I needed from you. You did amazing. Let me make you feel good now.”
Gently and slowly, at first, he kisses your lips, moving your arms so they wrap around his neck. Muscle memory has your hands interlocking in his hair at his nape, giving a slight tug which elicits a sweet groan from your man. It doesn’t take long after that for the kiss to deepen, Jake moving one his knees to press against your clothed heat. He pulls away from you briefly to look in your eyes, looks down at his knee then back up at you, giving you an encouraging nod, his eyes wide and eager, swimming with excited anticipation.
You look deeply into Jake’s eyes as you lower your core down to his thigh, holding his gaze as you slowly move yourself along his muscle. You can’t hold in the soft whine that comes out as you finally feel some friction on your needy clit. Jake loves and hates when you hold eye contact and moan like this, claiming it’s an unfair use of power. He shakes slightly under your touch, gripping your hips tightly enough to surely leave some marks. He tries to hold your eye contact, but can’t help as his eyes roll back, his body moving closer to yours to grind with you.
“Fuuckkk, baby,” Jake lulls out, “you really needed me this badly?” He continues to grip your hips, now guiding you along his thigh. His assistance reveals his own desperation. Jake pushes you down harder against him while simultaneously moving you back and forth at a faster pace. Pretty little desperate whines come out of him as he stares hazeley at your lips.
“Mmmm, sweet boy, look at you. So desperate to make me feel good, hm?” It was hard to talk like this in this position you’re in. Too easy it would be to give into your boyfriend’s ministrations, too easy it would be to give in to your own wants and pleasures.
“Please use me now.” Jake’s grip on your hips tighten. Your wincing muddles amongst his moans as he grinds you harder against his thigh.
“Please, baby,” he begs again, his yearning glossed over eyes meet your gaze once more. A lightning shock shoots down to your already throbbing core, “Please need me.”
That is your last straw.
“Oh my- I need you so badly, Jake. I can't take this teasing foreplay anymore. I need to feel you inside me. Baby, please.”
Switch flipping yet again, Jake doesn’t hesitate and wraps both of your legs around his waist, now carrying you to the bedroom while you feverishly kiss along his neck and jawline, leaving a pretty trail of love marks as you go.
He walks towards the room with long confident strides, holding you up easily with one hand as he opens the door. And once you’re both inside, he closes the door behind him with a simple kick of his foot, not even bothering to look back as he does so.
Laying you down softly on the bed, Jake’s jaw clenches as he works to fully undress himself. As he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smiles softly at you and leans forward, connecting his lips with yours yet again. The kiss is soft, delicate, as his fingers continue to work against the stiff buttons of his shirt. Your body relaxes against the kiss, your mouths molding together with familiarity, tongues swimming messily with each other in a familiar dance.
Finally, his top is fully undone but he doesn’t take it off. As for his pants, he’s long forgotten those somewhere near the front door of your shared apartment. Jake doesn’t hesitate with removing your clothes, practically ripping them from your body. He’s fueled by his need to see you naked and needs to see you now.
Your chest rises even faster as your skin is now exposed, your boyfriend taking a moment to marvel at your physic.
“You are so damn beautiful,” he grumbles as he gets on all fours, crawling on the bed until he’s hovering over you, using one hand to pump his length a few times for good measure. He bites his bottom lip as he looks down at himself and back up at you, the sparkle in his eyes all too telling how excited he is to dive right in and ruin you.
“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” He holds himself at your entrance, body frozen in place as he looks into your eyes with those big pleading puppy dog eyes of his that always has you on your knees. You could never say no to him when he looks at you like this. How he manages to look so adorable and sexy at the same time will forever be a mystery to you.
“If we wait any longer I might actually lose my mind,” you huff, leaning forward to cup both of your hands on his cheeks, pulling him forward into a savory deep kiss. Jake’s eyes immediately flutter shut as you guide him down with you, his lips hungrily chasing after your own. Before your head even hits the pillows, Jake blindly inserts his tip inside your cunt, the sensation making you gasp against him.
Jake chuckles against your mouth, taking the chance to quickly pepper sweet kisses around your entire face. “Hmm? Didn’t think I’d be able to do it without looking? Darling I know your body better than anyone else. I could find this pussy anywhere.” The confident smirk on his face pulls you in even deeper to his charms.
His words make you clench around him, making your boyfriend wince slightly.
“So tight. Even though it’s just my tip. I guess I should have taken the time to prep you properly. I’m sorry, darling, this might sting.”
And, without another word, Jake pushes himself forward, his cock sliding into you painfully slow. Each inch stretching you further and further as your body desperately tries to adjust as quickly as it can. A mix between a choked moan and a gasp leaves your lips while Jake turns his head to the side to sink his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, small whimpers coming from him in return.
Wanting to hear more from him, you take one hand and intertwine your fingers in his wavy black locks, tugging slightly so his head is lifted from the crook of your neck. Now that he’s facing you, you can properly look him in the eyes while he whimpers again, this time from the tugging on his scalp. Jake’s bottom lip juts out at you, his puppy eyes are back, pleading for something unknown to you.
Despite his pouty demeanor, Jake is still rocking his hips back and forth, pounding into you at a satiable rhythm. The dynamic between you two might seem confusing to anyone on the outside looking in, but the satisfaction from being with someone who’s both submissive and dominant all at the same time is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Plus, it allows you the space to give the same in return. Taking turns between caring for each others needs to then be the one receiving fulfills you in more ways than you can even begin to explain.
“Aw don’t give me those eyes, pretty boy. You know how it makes me melt,” you sigh, eyes rolling back as you roll your hips in time with his thrusts.
“Let me leave marks on you then.” Jake doesn’t wait for a response. He quickly grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging softly before sucking. Words completely escape your brain as he releases you, smirking before diving back down against your neck. Your brain starts to feel dizzy as he adjusts his hips, fixing the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly to where he knows he’ll hit your g-spot. He nips at the flesh below your ear, right in the spot that sends chills down your entire body. At this point, your clit is throbbing and it’s your turn to become a pouty, moany mess.
“Use your words, Y/n,” Jake chuckles against your neck, giving one last bite before flatting his tongue on the sensitive area.
When he doesn’t hear you say anything in response to his command, he sits himself up so he’s looking in your eyes. One of his eyebrows quirks up, waiting for your response. When you still won’t give it to him, he stops his languid movements and slowly pulls himself out of you with a tsk tsk tsk.
“I know you know better than to ignore me.” He licks his lips slowly and leans forward, his face now hovering directly over yours. Your chest is rising and falling quickly, not realizing how out of breath you were from only such a short time of contact with him. Jake’s head tilts to the side, his eyes darkening ever so slightly as his impatience takes over. Suddenly, one of his hands is lingering over your throat, his thumb lightly brushing against your esophagus.
“Now, beautiful. Why are we being so stubborn all of a sudden? Why aren’t you talking to me?” He releases your throat by moving his hand upward just a bit, his thumb moves along your jawline then up some more to trace along the outside of your bottom lip. Tingles and chills naturally erupt throughout your body with every soft touch he leaves on your skin. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since you two have been together, Jake still has this unwavering affect on your mind, body and soul. Subconsciously your body communicates with his, going well beyond needing words at times.
But that doesn’t mean Jake doesn’t want to hear them still.
“I know you want something. It’s so easy to tell with the way you’re moaning and the way your hips are bucking up against me. Just say the words and it’s yours.”
It’s stupid to try to compete with him. No matter how hard of a stubborn fight you could try to conjure up, Jake always wins.
Always.
“I want you to play with my clit while you fuck me,” you whine, drawing out the last syllables in an unmistakably ‘you can’t say no to me’ way, shaking your shoulders, closing your eyes and jutting out your lower lip for extra affect. He might be the one to win every time it comes to stubbornness, but no one can deny the fight you put up when it comes to pouting, begging, and pleading.
“Ugh, baby don’t give me that look, please,” Jake rolls off of you, now on his back beside you with one arm covering his eyes, “I just want to hear you say what you want. I love listening to your demands. It's so sexy when you tell me what you need.”
“Would it be even sexier if I just do it?”
Jake moves his arm slightly to look at you with a questioning yet excited gaze. His hesitation and agape mouth is all the answer you needed.
Without letting another second pass, in one swift motion you’re now on top of him; both legs straddling either side of his thighs and your core hovering dangerously close to his cock.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, hands up in the air somewhat similar to a surrender pose. Jake’s eyes dart all across your body, genuinely not knowing what to do. His mind races with all the places he wants to put his hands on you, all the things he wants to do and say to you. It’s happening so fast that he’s stuck in a frozen state.
You place one hand confidently on his chest, making sure he stays put. It’s your turn to hover your face over his, taunting him with what looks like is going to be a kiss, but you pull back at the last second, smirking at the dumbfounded look on your boyfriend’s face.
“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” You tease.
“Oh yes, I have,” he nods quickly, eyes wide as he licks his lips hungrily, his hands now resting comfortably (and cockily) behind his head, “but I think I could still use a demonstration.”
With a smirk, you lean down and kiss his plump lips. It’s slow and intentional, setting the pace of not wanting to get too lost in the moment. After a few languid exchanges, you lower your hips down until finally, finally, your still sopping cunt makes contact with his length. You know he expects you to be just as impatient as him, to just grind against him a couple times before finally letting him back inside you.
But that would just be too easy.
You slowly start to grind against him, moving back and forth slowly. You press down harder against him when you get close to his tip, making the poor boy moan louder and louder each time you do so. Almost immediately your slick is coating him, the friction now even more satisfying the more you grind against him.
“Ugh…Y/n…baby…put me in already,” he begs, his eyes clenched tightly shut, “Put me in so I can start playing with your clit like you wanted.” Beads of sweat start to trickle down his temples, his cheeks flushed a glowing shade of pink. You silently ignore his pleas, wordlessly picking up your pace and pressure. Jake’s hands fly to your hips, nails digging into your skin at a satisfying grip. At first, you thought he was going to attempt to stop your movements. But, to your amusement, he’s only assisting you more. He guides your hips along his length while bucking his hips upward. You’re desperately trying to revel in the absolute mess of a sight your boyfriend is below you, but the friction against your clit is getting harder and harder to ignore. Jake’s eyes are still shut tight, his bottom lip now quivering as a slew of please’s and an array of petnames leave those pretty lips of his. At this point, your brain is so hazy you can’t even make out anything he’s saying.
Eyes focusing on those quivering lips, you lean in once again, this time more hungry and desperate than before. Going straight for that bottom lip of his, you pull it between your teeth, groaning with him as you feel his cock twitch between your other lips.
“Baby, please. If you don’t slow down I’m going to come.” His legs are starting to tremble beneath you as he desperately tries to find relief and restraint in the same action. His composure is cracking more and more.
And you only want to do as you're told.
So, with a smirk, you slow your pace to a painstakingly slow one. From quick and harsh movements to slow, drawn out romantic ones, Jake is immediately regretting his word choice.
If it’s any consolation at all, it’s just as torturous for you as it is for him. The moans and whines you’ve been trying to trap within yourself are letting loose and competing with the whimpering man beneath you. The longer you draw this out, the harder it is for you to keep your own composure, quickly forgetting the punchline to the joke you’re playing on him.
“Fu-fuck, oh my god. I can’t- I can’t take this anymore, baby. Please, let me come. I need to come,” he pleads with a shaking voice, head thrown back against the pillows so that the muscles in his neck strain. In this position he’s proudly displaying the bright love marks you’ve left along his delicate skin. Seeing those marks ignites something truly primal within you, knowing that he is all yours and everyone, stranger or familiar, will know it without a doubt. Jake always wears your marks proudly after the fact too, claiming that if anyone has an issue with it they’re just immature and jealous that he gets fucked so well and they don’t. It’s a part of what makes marking him up even more arousingly special. Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t do the same to you. The running joke at both of your places of employment is that whenever either of you come in with a new scarf or turtle neck it’s to maintain what little bit of professionalism you have left. But if anyone asks about it…neither you nor Jake are shy of pulling down the garments and displaying the pretty bruises in any coloring stage they may currently be in.
“You want to come now?” You finally speak up. Jake’s muscles start to twitch all throughout his body at the sound of your sultry tone. You watch as he bites down on his bottom lip hard, gripping your hips even tighter as he desperately tries to hang on for just a little bit longer.
Jake finally opens his eyes to give you that irresistible pleading stare. “Yes, please.”
“Such a needy boy, all ready to come without even being inside of me,” you coo and Jake just whimpers in response. You lean your head down next to his ear, making sure he feels the warmth of your shaky breath as you tell your sweet boy to come for you, eliciting a quick bite on his earlobe.
Of course, you do this while guiding your cunt only along the tip of his cock now, thankfully (in Jake’s mind at least) picking up speed once again. Jake’s mouth falls open in the perfect ‘O’ shape, his moans coming out in gasps and he looks in your eyes. Mere moments later you feel his cock spasm beneath you, his hips bucking up as he sits up slightly, spurts of cum shooting past your folds and onto his stomach.
He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close against him as his chest rises and falls quickly. Jake whimpers and nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, leaving soft desperate kisses where he can. In turn you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your head against his. Soft murmurs of praise and comfort leave your lips as you rub your thumb in small circles against his bare skin. You both stay like this for a moment, you not caring about the pause in intimate physical action. In your relationship, this moment of sex is the most intimate you can be with one another and it’s something you cherish deeply. Knowing that the both of you put the other person's needs and comforts before their own is something unique to you both.
The heartfelt moment doesn’t last as long as it usually does though, because before you can even blink you find yourself with your back now on the bed and Jake with a devilish smirk looming above you.
“My turn,” he snarls, grabbing your hips roughly and flipping you onto your stomach. Time isn’t wasted with your impatient man as he pulls your hips towards him, placing a hand between your shoulder blades to keep your head down.
A loud smack followed by your body wincing, Jake rubs his hand soothingly on the mound of your ass that he just spanked. He’s cooing something under his breath, but your heart beating loudly in your ears keeps you from hearing what he’s saying exactly.
You’re about to ask him to repeat himself, turning your head so you can see him properly, when he smacks his hand across your butt harder than before.
“Did I say you can move? Face back down.”
The growl in his undertone sends shivers down your spine, eyes widening as you turn back and do as you're told.
Not long after that you feel three of Jake’s fingers push deep into your cunt, pistoning in and out at an insane speed, especially considering he hasn’t properly warmed you up.
You cry out in surprise, gasping into the bedsheets while the friction and lack of proper build up confuses your body. All the tension from before blooms inside you and you can't believe you’re already feeling that white heat about to burst inside you.
“You’re already clenching around my fingers,” Jake chuckles in surprise, not relenting on his speed as he continues to scissor his digits inside of you, “oh my poor needy baby, you’re absolutely soaking me.”
You shut your eyes tightly, trying to think of anything to hold onto your sanity. You absolutely cannot come this quickly, you’ll never hear the end of it from Jake. You wouldn’t put it past him to brag to everyone and anyone he knows about it too, it must be some kind of record, right? Making your girlfriend come in less than a minute? Maybe even less than thirty seconds? Yeah there’s no way you can let him have this one. But fuck, he really knows how to curl those fingers perfectly within you, beckoning your release with aggressive tender strokes.
Tears prick your eyes and you can’t stay still, grasping at the bedsheets frantically while you try to adjust your body to avoid the inevitable.
“Not so funny when the tables are turned, huh?” Jake chuckles menacingly, speeding up his pace and flicking his thumb against your throbbing clit. It feels like he’s about to split you in two with his fingers alone and your entire body is at war with itself – unsure if it loves the contact or wants to get away.
“As soon as you come I’ll give you my cock again. That’s all you gotta do.” He states plainly, almost nonchalantly, eyes focused as he watches his fingers drill in and out of your hole, unknowingly pushing you right over the edge and perfectly into his trap.
Everything blurs as your release erupts. Moans of pleasure and surprise fill the room while Jake grabs ahold of your hips, rooting you in place.
“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you. Just needed to hear my voice to get you to come undone, hmm?” His one hand roams over the mound of your ass while he murmurs to you, fingers still languidly pumping in and out of you. Your muscles are finally starting to relax, legs still shaking as your breath catches up with you. Just as you’re about to collapse into the bed, Jake says one word that has your eyes opening wide in surprise.
“Ready?”
You open your mouth to ask ‘Ready for what?’ but before you can get the words out your cunt is deliciously stretched, now filled to the brim with your boyfriend’s throbbing cock.
“Ah-aahhh,” Jake sighs, “you’re still so tight holy shit.”
You jolt forward as you feel his tip kiss the edges of your walls. Pulsing around him, you’re still sore from the damage his fingers did just moments before. Jake’s hands move from your hips and roam your body, admiring everything about you as he gives you a moment to adjust to his girth. His hair tickles between your shoulder blades as he leans forward to plant chaste kisses across your skin, groans singing out between each one that he leaves. His cock twitches inside of you and you know it’s taking everything in him to keep calm and still. Even his breathing is becoming rigid and off beat.
Wordlessly, he lifts himself up and slowly pulls himself away from you until just his tip is inside. It’s like you can hear his brain churning with thoughts and ideas, but you know his brain fog can get just as bad as yours and he’s probably lost in the moment.
Now that you’ve had a taste of him, though, you’re not letting him off so easily.
“Jaakkeeee,” you whine, wiggling your ass slightly to get his attention, which only backfires and makes your body flinch with the feeling of him still partially inside of you.
“I’m trying not to go crazy here.” He laughs. You turn your head to look over your shoulder and see your boyfriend's eyes glued to where you’re both connected.
With a warning bite to your tone, you mutter his name again and he groans in response, biting down hard on his bottom lip before chuckling to himself.
“Alright. You asked for it.” He snaps his hips forward and slams his cock deep into you again. Instead of starting a slow rhythmic pace he thrusts quick and hard. Your body is pressed firmly into the mattress with the way he’s holding you down, his grip stronger than you’ve ever felt in the past.
The pace he’s set is dizzying, pounding you deep into the mattress as the sounds of your squelching wetness fills the room. Your body doesn’t even get a chance to fully appreciate the bliss he’s bringing you before your system is shocked again and again and again.
“Gonna fuck you till you’re good and dumb, all you’ll be able to say is my name,” he grunts, giving a deep smack to your ass before grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth with his thrusts.
Normally you’d giggle at him in response, but fuck he might actually be fucking you stupid. Moans, whines, and his name is truly all your lips can form. You want to scream out how good he’s making you feel, but each time his cock slams against your sweet spot your eyes roll to the back of your head and you lose any coherent thought that was trying to form inside your brain.
None of it goes unnoticed, of course. Jake is a very observant and attentive boyfriend in every sense.
“What? Five seconds with my dick inside you and you lose your mind? Who knew you would be such a cock hungry little slut.”
“Just…just for you.” Is all you manage to gasp out knowing how much Jake loves to hear how you only go crazy for him.
“Fuck.” His thrusts quicken despite his already relentless pace. Jake pulls your hips upwards ever so slightly, but it’s enough to change the angle, his tip now hitting a perfect bullseye against your sweet spot. The force of his body slamming into yours doesn’t give you a chance. Before you know it, you’re coming undone yet again, body shaking as you gush all over his cock.
“You’re coming so quickly tonight, baby. Work really has had you all pent up. Don’t worry, just hang on a little bit longer and then you can rest, okay?” Jake kisses the spot between your shoulder blades again, one of his hands reaching around to grab at your breasts. He tweaks at your perked nipple as his pace becomes sloppy and uneven, his head resting on your back as his hips continue to snap back and forth. Small whimpers leave his lips as he chases his second release that he’s been holding onto for so long now.
“Mmm, fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he whines, lifting his head up and placing his hands back on your hips.
Three more thrusts is all he has left in him. On the final thrust he grinds his hips harshly against you, making sure his cock is as deep in your cunt as it can possibly be as he spills his seed deep within your clenching walls.
The warmth weirdly soothes you through your overstimulated body. Being full of him like this makes you feel even closer to him and it’s something you’ll never get tired of. Feeling his cock twitch relentlessly inside you is addicting, your body trembles with satiated pleasure around him, wishing this feeling never had to end.
“Fuck that was a lot,” Jake mutters to himself. You feel him spilling out of you even with his cock still stuffed inside of you. You chance a look back at your boyfriend and marvel at the sight of him; wavy hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his eyes fluttering slightly from bliss and tiredness, and his beautifully plump lips parted slightly as he tries to regain his breath. It’s a breathtaking sight, and one you’ll never truly get used to seeing.
All too soon, Jake slowly pulls himself out of you. The loss of contact from him has you wanting to throw a mini fit, but you’re too tired to fight for it. Plus, it’s not like you’ll be feeling this emptiness for long. The likelihood of you being woken up in the middle of the night with your boyfriend between your thighs, lapping up the previous night's leftover reminiscence, is very high. Once is never enough when it comes to Sim Jaeyun.
After a moment, your boyfriend helps you flip over onto your back, nessling himself against your warm body as you try to catch your breath. Your arm wraps around him automatically, holding him as close to your beating heart as you can muster.
Silent minutes pass by. Both of your chests finally fall into a calm and matching rhythmic beat and his skin isn’t feeling as hot to the touch as it was moments ago.
With a groan, Jake sits himself up and stretches his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh as he brings them back down.
Turning to you, Jake leans down and presses a light kiss to your forehead, his lips quivering slightly as his body still recovers from the intense orgasm. Wobbling slightly, Jake leaves the bedroom and flicks on the bathroom light, returning in a short minute with a paper towel. Wordlessly, he tilts your chin up with a delicate hand, fingers tracing outlines of your skin as he carefully collects the sweat from your face. And he continues this down your entire body, even opening your legs to gain access so he can clean the cum from between your legs.
He leaves again, probably throwing out the paper towel, obviously. Jake doesn’t return empty handed though. Water droplets intertwine between his fingers as the condensation slips from the water bottle he has in hand. He sits down on the bed again, smiling at you softly as he uncaps the water bottle, motioning with his head for you to sit up.
You do as you're told, wincing slightly as you truly get a feel for how sore you are. Everything hurts. The muscles in your legs, your still pulsating clit, your insides, literally everything. You scoot backwards so you can rest against the headboard and reach for the water bottle in Jake’s hand. He pulls it away, shaking his head as he tells you to open your mouth.
How could you not smile slightly as you tilt your head back, water dribbling down the sides of your chin as your boyfriend giggles next to you, cupping his hand under your face to catch the escaping water, as if that would do anything.
Cheeks full of water and eyes twinkling, you take a moment to look into Jake’s eyes. Something pangs lovingly deep within your chest as you’re met with the same look of adoration on his own face. It’s a moment where it feels like time has stopped, the world spinning by as you two live comfortably in your own little world.
Jake sighs as he tilts his head, a sweet innocent smile painted on his face while his shoulders relaxe, still holding your gaze. “I love you.”
All you can do to keep yourself from getting too teary eyed is jut out your bottom lip and hold out your arms to him. Jake smiles again and crawls towards you, the water bottle now resting on the nightstand, his head finding solace on your chest while the rest of his body sits like a weighted blanket between your legs.
Like magnets, your fingers instantly go to his hair, softly running along his scalp while lightly tugging on the wavy strands. Jake sighs with relief and you just know his eyes are already closed. His arms wrap around your waist, squeezing slightly as he buries his face upward to rest in the crook of your neck.
“I love you too,” you whisper back followed by a gentle kiss to the top of his head. You feel his lips brush against your neck in a lazy and comforting reply.
Your hands move lower, massaging the muscles of his back as you both go back and forth mumbling and murmuring about how you appreciate each other. The horrid day long forgotten as you lay peacefully within each other’s arms, knowing no matter what tomorrow or any future day may bring, you’ll always have a safe home with one another.
a/n: ♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist all rights reserved jayparked 10/18/24 do not copy, repost, or translate want to be added to my tag list? click here
#svnet#jake smut#enhypen jake smut#jake x reader#jake x you#jake x y/n#jaeyun smut#sim jaeyun smut#jaeyun x you#jaeyun x reader#enhypen smut
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LIKE OR LIKE LIKE.
𝓢. ㅤㅤthis is the the first time you've ever gotten drunk and of course you go and confess to your best friend.
SJYㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀femreader⠀) . . . best friends to lovers (kind of, they don't explicitly start dating), fluff, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk, not proofread.ㅤ1428 words
“i’ve never seen her drunk before,” sunghoon points to where you’re leaning against the wall.
jake turns to look at you, watching as you talk to chaewon. you’re continously taking sips of your drink, a sleepy smile on your face as you listen to your friend’s (most likely) drunk ramblings. he can tell you’re tipsy, at the very least; your body is swaying, it seems like you’re having a hard time staying upright.
“yeah.. i’m gonna go lay her down before it gets worse. i don’t want her to wake up sick,”
sunghoon gives jake a knowing look, shrugging as he takes a sip of his own drink, “predictable,”
“what?”
“nothing,”
sunghoon grins, patting jake on the head before walking away to—jake assumes—bother his girlfriend. the older boy shakes his head, running a hand through his already messy hair, turning around once more to watch you.
this is the first time you’ve ever gotten drunk, he thinks. you’ve mentioned before that it’s because you’re scared of how you’ll act, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of them. he’s glad that you’re more comfortable now, and at least you’re only here with them, your friends, and not at some party full of strangers and weirdos.
he watches as chaewon pats your back, albeit a little forcefully, before she leaves to find someone new to bother. he also watches you attempt to follow her but give up halfway through your first step. he smiles to himself, heading over to where you’re standing—or leaning.
“oookay, no more for you. you can’t even stand straight, dude,” jake takes the red solo cup away and out of your reach, giving you an amused smile. you pout but you don’t put up a fight—you can’t, not fully anyways. if you could, though, you would tell him that he’s being dramatic; six shots and half a cup of jungle juice is hardly anything.
“c’mon, you can go lay down in my room, you look tired,”
“okay,”
you make a move to walk by yourself but jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your waist so that he can guide you away from your friends. it feels like your senses are heightened to a dangerous level because why do you get goosebumps the moment he touches you? you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your heart to calm down.
somehow you make it to his bedroom without stumbling a whole lot (this is 100% thanks to jake; you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to do it yourself), and he taps your side, signaling for you to sit down on his bed, which you do.
he kneels down and pulls your shoes off, setting them on the floor. he pats your thigh, leaving yet another wake of goosebumps on your skin, “stay here, ‘kay? i’m gonna go get you some water,”
“i don’t want any,” you whine, “i’m tired, not thirsty,”
“yeah, well, you’ll be thirsty in a little bit,”
“no, i won’t,”
“yes, you will. you’re drunk,”
you huff, throwing yourself back on the bed, “am not. also you’re so annoying. i don’t want water, i always drink water,”
jake snorts at your antics, tucking his head away as he tries to keep from laughing too loudly. after a few seconds, he calms down and looks back at your figure, smiling fondly. you can’t see him, your eyes closed as you hum some random song that he hasn’t heard since he was ten years old.
you look so serene, he doesn’t want to disturb you. he figures he can just tell sunghoon or someone to come bring some water or he can wait for you to fall asleep.
“i’m sad,” you huff, sitting up slowly.
“why are you sad, hm?” he rests his head against your knee.
you frown at him. his words felt slightly condescending. not that you really cared, in fact it kind of made you feel dizzy. wow, he’s just terrible. looking at you all worried, taking care of you while you’re (not) drunk.
“because of you,”
he sits up at that. he looks like a dog who heard the word ‘snack’ or something. of course, he wasn’t happy. he looked more worried than before, in fact.
“me? what’d i do?”
“you’re just annoying,” you whine, “you know, i like you and it’s kinda funny ‘cause i’m, like, so obvious about it,”
“you like me? like like me?”
“well, actually, i love you,” you pause, “you’re not very smart, now that i think about it. how’d you even graduate? did you cheat? i think everyone knows but you. this is so awful, i can’t believe i had to go and like someone so oblivious. you’re lucky everything else cancels that out,”
“wait, wait, wait. you love me? that’s..” jake asks, his face flushed, completely disregarding everything you said after your confession, “yn, you’re.. you know, you’re drunk,”
“oh, okay,” you push his head away, “look, i’ll tell you tomorrow, ‘cos i really mean it and you’re so annoying and it’s, like, oh my god,” you say something else after that but he can’t tell what. not with you speaking as fast as humanly possible paired with drunken slurring.
he nods slowly, processing your words, “yeah.. okay. you can’t forget, alright?”
you grin, poking his cheek, “duh, i have an amazing memory,”
your amazing memory may be your downfall. surely, you had drank enough to wake up the next morning with zero memory. isn’t that what usually happens when someone gets so drunk they tell their best friend that they like them? not even like, you said you loved him.
and now you’re laying in his bed, face pressed into his pillow, absolutely mortified at your past self’s actions.
you’re never going to speak to him again. you’re going to get up, put your shoes on, and sneak out. yeah, it’ll seem like you’re doing the walk of shame, god forbid anyone catches you, but that’d be less embarrassing than having to talk to jake.
you don’t get the chance to attempt to escape, though, because jake walks in right as you’re weighing your options.
“hey, are you awake? it’s two in the afternoon,” you hear him place a glass on the nightstand as he sits next to you.
you could pretend that you forgot.
you feel his hand rubbing your back, “i heard you groaning, get up,”
“i don’t want to,” you mumble into the pillow, pressing your face into it harder.
“i can’t hear you, you know,”
you groan loudly, picking your head up, “i don’t want to get up,”
“why? are you embarrassed?”
“i didn’t do anything embarrassing,” yes you did.
he nods, “nah, you didn’t. i was just checking, you get embarrassed easily,”
you’re quiet for a moment after that. his hand is still rubbing your back and you can feel your heat beating against your chest. you want to pretend that you forgot about last night but for some reason you can’t. you want to bring it up despite feeling nauseous at the thought of being rejected.
“i like you,”
he smiles, “yesterday you said you love me,”
you gape at him and he laughs loudly. you want to kill both him and yourself.
“i’m sorry—i’m kidding.. i like you too,” he hums, tilting his head, “no, actually, i love you,”
you frown, “you’re embarrassing me,”
he laughs again which makes you want to both laugh and hide away from him, “god, you’re so cute. i kinda wanna kiss you, is that okay?”
you almost say yes before you remember that you just woke up not even twenty minutes ago and you are not going to kiss him with bad breath. especially not when you were drinking the night before.
“i just woke up,”
he leans forward, close enough that you can just barely lift your head and you’ll be able to kiss him, “so?”
“no,” it pains you to do so but you turn your head away from him. you know he won’t kiss you if you don’t want him to but you’d probably fold and kiss him if he kept staring at you like that, “you can.. uh, later. after i brush my teeth,”
he turns you over onto your back, smiling above you brightly. you gasp at the sudden movement, your heart racing yet again (you should go to the hospital), “promise? i really wanna kiss you right now,”
you laugh, reaching your hand up to move his hair out of his face, “yeah, i promise. i really wanna kiss you too.”
#ㅤ⠀ ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა ♡ ㅤ⠀#enhypen x reader#jake sim x reader#jake x reader#jake x you#jake x y/n#jake fluff#enha x reader#enha x you#enha x y/n#enha fluff#enha scenarios#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#sim jaeyun x reader#jaeyun x reader#enhypen scenarios#jake headcanons#jake sim fluff#jake sim imagines
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