#f in chat for missing link

[maryse127]

How it feels to be a Kingdom Hearts fan rn

[notjustjavierpena]

Dream

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A little Acacius piece to jumpstart my brain again!

Summary: Out on a war campaign, Marcus wakes up in the middle of the night to a dream of you. Oh, how hard it is to be apart.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18, YEARNING, kisses, piv sex, emotional and passionate sex, slight breeding, creampie

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60742789

Dream

The Roman encampment lies quiet underneath the starry sky as Marcus startles awake, his legionnaires long ago having extinguished fires with dirt, downed the last goblets of drink, and found rest in their cots. It is in the middle of the night, the general judges by the silence around him that’s only disturbed by the hoot of an owl somewhere. Along with the warm sun, early mornings also bring the sound of a bustling camp - its soldiers chatting and preparing for the day’s march across the country - but right now, all is still. 

Marcus also deduces that it is way into the night because the moon hangs high and silent on the horizon, its pale and beautiful light shining into his tent. With sleep still clinging to him, he realizes that he has been woken up by a warm breeze catching the flaps of the tent, the entrance repeatedly opening and closing with a whipping sound.

His first instinct is to reach for his dagger, sure of the fact that he secured the entrance to his makeshift bedchambers before falling asleep, but the second he wraps his fingers around the hilt, he sees you standing there with the moonlight bathing you from behind in a bluish glow that makes you seem almost ethereal. 

You approach his cot, and he lets his hand fall from the dagger and drop onto the chest of his tunic. You are so beautiful, radiant in the same nightgown that he saw you in the night before you parted ways and he went to war. It is a memory that keeps him going even through the hardest of days; the way you had kissed him so deeply, sprawled out beneath him. This was while you had looked at him pleadingly and with tears on your face that he tried to catch with his thumbs before they rolled down into your hair. The way he had made love to you is burned into his mind, keeping him warm when temperatures outside drop along the seaside. He promised you that he would return to you as soon as he could but here he is in your company much sooner than he anticipated, and he knows it cannot be real. 

Your gown flows around you with each step you take, draping so perfectly along the curves of your body as if you’re the personification of Venus herself. He knows what the white fabric hides, even if it weren’t for the rounding of your breasts being outlined or the peaks of your nipples poking against the front. You perch yourself on the edge of his cot, leaning over him and smiling tenderly down at him. 

“This is a dream,” he says quietly. He reaches out to curl his fingers into your dress, wondering if you’ll evaporate into thin air if he touches you. He doesn’t think he can handle it if you disappear from his grasp.

“If this is a dream, then I wish never to wake," you declare and the sound of the melody that is your voice has Marcus’ heart nearly leaping out of his chest. You stay with him as he tugs you down for a kiss, solid against him and nowhere like the mist surrounding the tents in the morning like he had feared, “Yet some say that we must be thinking of one another at the same time to be meeting like this.”

“I am always thinking of you. I miss you more than I can bear,” he says weakly, a lump having formed in his throat, scratchy from sleep. You rest your forehead against his, the both of you sighing softly in relief at being so close. Then you place a hand on his cheek, and Marcus feels a whole universe of emotions inside of himself, expanding so fast that he can’t breathe, that it threatens to overwhelm him. 

“You have me,” you reassure gently, opening your eyes to look at him even as you kiss him softly on the lips. Your scent envelops him, jasmine flowers - his favorite - from the garden where he took his first stroll with you. And there his heart and mind go once more, feeling relief yet longing, happiness yet sadness. 

“This war,” he whispers and his gaze is fleeting, “It feels meaningless if I cannot be with you, beloved wife. We are parts of the same soul, you and I. What good am I here if I am merely a puzzle missing its pieces?”

“Shh, look at me, my love,” you soothe and it’s like his body is draped in the warm blankets of your shared bed, hearing the sound of his home bustling with happiness. You brush your fingers across the stubble on his cheek. He leans into the touch, knows that his eyes are wide and pleading as he returns them to you. You scratch his beard again, “You are whole, Marcus Acacius, even here. You carry me with you, just as I carry you.”

“My clever wife, yet again you are right. It is my weary heart that speaks. Of course, you are always with me, always in my thoughts even when it feels like the skies will tumble down upon me and the world will end,” he replies, taking in the way you look to the version of him that dreams. He wonders if the picture before him will etch itself into his mind, so deeply that his thoughts will conjure up fresh images tomorrow during broad daylight. 

“Those skies are skies we share, always under the same sun and moon,” you smile, and he sighs, closing his eyes as you trace his face with your fingers. You draw invisible lines across his features, gently over his cheekbones and carefully down the length of his nose, fingertips dancing across his eyelids with featherlight touches, “Do you remember nights spent under the stars? You love that spot close to the river back home.”

“Tell me of home," he asks of you, a bead of desperation rattling around in his chest, "Tell me of the river, the fields, and the stars, of the songs the birds sing at dawn."

“The river flows like it always has, my love. The fields stand golden and the wind makes it seem like they are one with the water surrounding them. Can you see it?” You sound like a lullaby. 

Marcus nods, the sight is painted on the back of his eyelids. He knows each hue of blue and golden, each curve of the bending riverbanks, and he can almost feel his heart beating slower at the mental image. He finds peace in the idea that nothing has changed back where you are waiting for him, the familiarity more soothing than any draught or potion. For a moment, he is home with you and all is well. 

You peck his lips while brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “And the birds. Can you hear them? The way the larks greet each morning?”

“I hope the Fates are not so cruel as to keep us apart for much longer. I want to hear them again soon,” he murmurs, opening his eyes to find himself staring into yours. He reaches up to cup the back of your neck, feeling how warm you are despite not actually being here. 

“Sleep,” you encourage gently. 

“I can’t, not with you so near,” he whispers and draws you nearer to his mouth again. He captures your lips in a longing and deep kiss, a quiet urgency rising in his chest when you sigh the way he loves. As you thread your fingers through his graying hair, he reaches for your waist and guides you to sit on top of him. 

Your dress pools around your thighs and him like the mountains and valleys he crosses each day. He pulls back to drink you in, committing you to memory as his eyes dance over the curves he had noticed beneath the fabric as you entered his tent. 

"Then touch me," you let out a little breath of desperation, a fire having ignited in your eyes while you stare into his. He feels the flame within himself too. 

One of his hands moves slowly up your bare arm, the other tracing the length of your spine on top of your dress until you shiver. He lets both hands grab at the straps of your gown, guiding them off your shoulders until your chest is bare to him. You lean down for another kiss but he grabs your soft shoulder to stop your advances, his thumb resting against your pulse point. He marvels at how real you feel, can feel your heartbeat underneath the tip of his finger as if you are truly here. 

"Marcus," you plead him quietly and he doesn’t hesitate. He sits up slowly until your breasts touch his chest and then he finds your mouth again, his fountain of youth. He slips his hands underneath the skirt of your gown and feels that you are already ready to welcome him if he wants. He touches you there for only a moment but you still beautifully furrow your brow with pleasure from how much desire Cupid has sent through your veins. However, he decides that he has no time to prolong this moment with you because only Somnus will know when he’s going to wake up. 

“Lift your arms,” he guides after hearing you make a feeble noise when he removes his digits from your slick core. 

You do as he says and he lifts the waves of fabric over your head, throwing the discarded gown onto the ground with a smile on his face. In return, your hands find the hem of his tunic, sliding it up and over his head. The tunic joins your gown on the floor, the both of you finally touching each other’s naked bodies with soft chuckles. There’s something euphoric about simply being naked in each other’s arms before making love, something so vulnerable and private that it’s reserved only for each other. 

Your palms roam over his broad, strong chest and your fingers thread through the coarse hairs there. His hands mirror yours but instead, they feel the softness of your skin that prickles his with warmth. He skims them over the swell of your breasts, the touch full of worship while he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. 

“My beautiful wife,” he murmurs while he showers you in kisses from neck to collarbone to the top of your breast. 

“Make feel whole,” you moan and cradle his head, holding him against your chest while his mouth trails across the valley of your breasts. He doesn’t need to be commanded twice, already helping you to sink down on him to the very hilt of his length. 

The connection has the both of you gasping and chuckling further in relief, none of you moving as you get used to having him so deep within you. He stares up at you as you’ve elevated yourself slightly to sit down on his cock, blown away by your beauty that’s enough to make him twitch inside of your pulsing heat. 

"I love you immeasurably, my wife.”

"And I love you, my husband.”

You move against him for the first time and he groans low in his throat, already feeling the stirrings of pleasure. With his hands on your hips, the two of you slowly begin moving together, your bodies finding a rhythm that is instinctive and familiar. He finds that he doesn’t need to intervene in your sinful ministrations on top of him; he knows the pattern of your hips’ movements like the back of his hand, knows when to leave you to do as you please and when to help you. Right now, you are an expert in driving him to madness. 

His hands are everywhere as you take what you need from him. He touches where he can reach - your thighs, your hips, your back - as if he cannot figure out where he wants to hold you the most. Eventually, your hands find his to anchor him, entwining your fingers together to ground him in his longing for you. 

However, Marcus is not a man of restraint when it comes to you. He needs you in ways that make him yearn for you even when you are on top of him. 

“Faster,” he brushes his lips against your jaw, kisses your chin when he was supposed to find your mouth. You hold his hands and oblige, the rolls of your hips quickening to a pace much faster than how you’ve been imitating the waves of the sea. Your skin is glistening in the moonlight coming through his tent, sparkling like you are a goddess descended from the heavens and into the arms of him, a mere mortal. 

You’ve closed your eyes as you near your crescendo, your lips parting in a breathless moan while the world outside is lost to the both of you. He can feel you choking his length, tightening around him like a fist. In his belly, heat is tightening like a rope about to snap in two. He feels it within you too, both of you teetering on the edge of unmatchable pleasure. He wishes it was real and not in the realm of dreams, wishes that this was the moment he created a family with you and made you his entirely. There’s so much to look forward to in his return. 

“Let go, my love,” he says in an almost commanding tone, “Let your general feel you.”

And you do. Your peak hits you like a bolt of lightning to the point where he has to keep up your pace, his hips thrusting up to meet yours while you lose yourself in the sensations running through your veins. He drags your entwined hands to his chest, placing your palm on his pounding heart, and mirrors his own hand on your chest too. Your hearts beat in unison and he can’t take it anymore, can feel his control slipping from his grasp. 

He comes with a quick intake of air and then a growl, his hips stuttering before he spills inside of you. His body tenses up for a moment before it relaxes thoroughly, chest heaving and head swimming with the intensity of it all. You say his name and he finds himself saying yours, repeating it like were they prayers for the Gods. 

Eventually, your body slumps against him and he slips out of your spent heat. Your breaths are synchronized, even as they slowly start to calm down in your bliss. He holds you close to his chest, feeling you stick to him but he doesn’t care. He’ll take anything you have to give when his body and soul miss you so thoroughly. 

“Sometimes I wonder if the Gods are punishing me for loving you so deeply,” he murmurs with a trail of kisses along your shoulder. A loud, satisfactory sigh leaves him when you slide your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. 

“Your ability to love wholly and completely is yours alone. Do not let the Gods take credit for what belongs to your heart,” you whisper back to him, stealing a kiss when he looks up at you. 

“Stay with me,” he begs of you, “Don’t ever go.”

“I will stay as long as the night prevails,” you reply gently, “But come dawn, I have to go.”

It is unbearable but it makes it more precious. He reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your forehead as it has fallen into your face during your intimacy. He smiles as he takes in the sight of you, how beautiful you look with heated cheeks. 

“Tell me about home again,” he requests, “Please.”

And so you do.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[orphicsun]

˗ˏˋ BOTTOM BITCH ˎˊ˗

pairing: chatroom frequenter ellie williams + femdom!reader

warnings: 18+ content, chatroom depravity, brief interaction with a horny weirdo on a chatroom before reader meets ellie, voyeurism, sexting, video/phone sex, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, use of a dildo, nipple play, use of names (ma'am + mommy + good girl + slut), both reader and ellie are at least 18 (ellie is described to be 21 but feel free to imagine her as any adult age), praise and slight degradation kink, reader is just bored at night and ellie is implied to be chronically online (as she is a chat room frequenter and, well...)

a/n: this is purely a work of fiction. i'm not encouraging anyone to go interact with people in sketchy chatrooms.

loose inspo creds from this vi artwork!

summary: you're a bit of an insomniac, not a desperate horn-dog on chatrooms. it's too late to talk to your fellow normal people, so you resort to sites you wish could be cleansed of the horniness. only, you fold the second a certain freckle-faced lesbian puts a forum post out for a new dom to talk to.

www.chitchat.gg. 

The link stares at you without much appeal. You haven’t touched Omegle in years, nor do you miss it. At least, you don’t miss the incels you’ve encountered in those horrific chatrooms. 

It’s safe to say you don’t miss the dicks, don’t miss the M42 horny, and you surely don’t miss the weird kinks the users hold shamefully behind doors, laptop screens bright with crickets’ ambience as a backdrop between the hours of 1-4am. You don’t miss the men, is probably what you’re really feeling. 

It’s too late and you have a busy day tomorrow–you promised yourself you wouldn’t need to take a shower tonight, that you’d make sure to tuck yourself in your bed with the sleep aid of scrolling through nostalgic minecraft youtuber content until you felt a content type of exhaustion, not the usual five-hours-of-sleep and so forth.

You would take a shower in the early hours of the day. You’re not a night owl; you enjoy the early, productive mornings. You don’t take desperate naps after a day shift and then fuck up your sleep schedule, but maybe all of those affirmations are deluded with your lack of self control. 

It’s late and you’ll regret it in the morning, but here you are for the first time in years, staring at your Google browser’s selection of links. Some are so obviously the darkest, the ones proudly advertising “share pics without registration!” or “connect with men and women for one-on-one fun!” 

No, you’re really just bored. It’s far too late to send the infamous “wanna call n play fortnite” text to everyone you talk to on a regular basis. You’re not desperate enough for social contact that you’d ever scrounge around discord servers, and you definitely wouldn’t join a server full of randoms. That is a disaster waiting to happen, not even a weak affirmation. 

It’s just your late-night logic telling you that clicking on this seemingly safer link would be any better, but here goes nothing. 

↵ enter

With a few forwarding clicks, you’re in. You could opt to find something with your interests, but you’d like to explore the entirety of people available to you first, and still, you stay hopeful that the days of horny chat room men dominating surface-level sites like these are in your bitterly nostalgic past. 

You are now chatting with untroubled porcelain. Say hi!

untroubled porcelain 

M

You can already tell where this is going, but you save an ounce of hope for humanity within you. You begin typing, soft keys clacking underneath your fingertips, hardly lit by your shitty laptop’s brightness. You make a few typos at first, oh well. 

cunteater reader

F. How are you? :) 

untroubled porcelain 

good. wyd? 

cunteater reader

just chilling in bed. hbu? 

untroubled porcelain

what are you wearing? 

You immediately groan and close the tab. You can’t say you’re surprised, but your hope isn’t completely dwindled. You instead open a new link within the browser: www.freechatnow.com

You hope to be able to weed out the sexual from the harmless bored, scrolling through forums and various selections of chatrooms. It’s already quite promising when the website requires age identification to actually talk to anyone through it. 

Live Cam Chat 

Adult Chat

Sex Chat

Singles Chat

Lesbian Chat

Gay Chat

Cam Chat 

Roleplay Chat

Video Chat

Intrigued by the lesbian chat option, you swiftly select it. After scrolling through what seems to be men dominating the chat, you sigh and exit out of the chat. You’re about to completely close the tab and your laptop and call it a night, but suddenly a forum stands out to you. It’s contradictory, but you click it.

21F lesbian. dm me please. 

That should make you close your laptop altogether, but something inside you feels a small pang of arousal. Maybe men are the problem, not sex chats. 

So, you send the first message; you’re a bit cautious at first. 

cunteater reader • 1:56 PM

hi. I saw your post on the forum. 

You hit send and stare at the screen. You feel a bit perverted, and a small bit of self shame bubbles up inside you. Is this really what you’ve resorted to to pass time?

You would never say you’re chronically online–you’ve got a part-time job at Taco Bell 15 minutes from your apartment, you frankly just don’t have the time to keep up with the revolving door that is the internet. So, you ask yourself: what type of person are you even reaching out to?

However, the moment your laptop audibly dings with a response, those feelings fade rather fast. 

subbydyke21 • 1:59 PM

hi<3 my pussy is so wet rn and i want 2 touch myself. tell me how? 

Your face feels hot now, and the slight tinge of arousal that was sparked when you saw the forum turns into wetness clinging to your underwear. This person can’t be anything but another desperate, horny person, and yet you find yourself suddenly in the same predicament. Maybe it’s the overtime, the lack of availability to simply download Tinder and find a normal person to have sex with. You mumble something about dignity as you type. 

cunteater reader • 2:00 AM

yeah. just start slow for me.

You cringe to yourself. You feel so out of your element with this, like a small sense of logic and shame is holding you back. 

subbydyke21 • 2:03 AM

wishing it were you. can i show you?

You panic for a moment–here you are, hair messy in nothing but a baggy t-shirt and underwear. Your mind runs through random what-ifs. What if this person is a level 10 weirdo? What if they doxx you? What if they stalk you?

You’re thinking with your cunt, though. 

cunteater reader • 2:07 AM

yeah 

(-)

Waiting for the call, even just the 10 second wait, is anxiety-filling. Your foot taps against your carpet until subbydyke21 finally answers. 

You hope your eyes don’t widen too much on camera, but you can’t stop yourself from slightly gawking. There she is, and she doesn’t at all look like a weirdo.

Her camera is a bit blurry, but her features make up the face of a woman who is actually quite attractive. Shaggy auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun, a soft nose covered in splotchy freckles as is the rest of her face, green eyes that you can barely make out the tone of in the dark of her room, and generously full lips. She is gorgeous, almost in an androgynous way. 

You take each other in for just a moment, and then she speaks. “Are you comfortable with, like, seeing me and stuff? You don’t mind?”

Her voice is rougher, raspier than you would’ve expected from the person you initially reached out to, but you also can’t help the heat it sends through your body, specifically down below. 

“Um, no. I mean, I don’t mind.” 

She nods. It’s a bit awkward, especially after what she had said to you, but neither of you comment on the previous desperation. It’ll build up once again. 

“Okay. Name’s Ellie, but I think we should call each other by names or somethin’ like that.” 

You spin a strand of your hair between your fingers, not exactly looking at the camera. “Like what?”

“Anything you want. You can call me a good girl, a whore, a slut, baby. I’m whatever you want me to be.” She clears her throat and you’d like to comment on the blush spreading all over her cheeks, but you’re too flustered yourself. “And I’ll call you something like.. mommy or ma’am.” 

“That’s fine.” You adjust in your seat, pulling your rolly chair close to your desk. 

“So, ma’am.. would you like me to touch myself?” 

“Go ahead,” you guide. You know you’re quiet, almost shy with it, but Ellie doesn’t mind. 

“Would you like to see me squeeze my tits for you, ma’am?” 

You nod. The general insides of your thighs rub together, craving friction; you’re glad Ellie can’t see anything below your torso. 

Ellie carries her laptop to her bed, giving you the entire view of her body. Clad in undergarments, she tosses the bra over her head, leaving her pert breasts on display for you. You don’t comment, but she can see the way you stare through the camera, watching her squeeze and roll her nipples between her fingers until they stiffen at the attention. You can only barely catch the way she pants as her actions intensify, and you’re completely mesmerized. 

“Call me a good girl, please.” She stares at you straight through the camera, and the awkward feeling you’ve been clinging to is tested. 

“You know you’re a good girl. Look at you, though. Do you show everyone on that chat site your tits, or am I just lucky?”

You hear the whines through the laptop audio, Ellie pulling at her nipples while squeezing her thighs together. “Only you, I promise. It’s only been you, ma’am.” 

“Good girl,” you repeat softly, your voice still a tad shaky with nerves. “I wanna see you rub your pussy now.” 

She quickly nods and lays down on the bed in front of the laptop, hastily shedding her boxers. You can’t see the amount of arousal that was pooling in the crotch of the fabric, but there is a visible shine of slick all over her pussy. And fuck, if that isn’t the prettiest pussy you’ve seen in a while. 

You don’t even see where the last piece of clothing lands nor do you care. You can’t take your eyes off of the exposed slice of heaven between her parted thighs. Her head rests against her bed as she begins to touch herself, just hesitantly, as if waiting for your guidance. 

“Atta girl, just like that.. keep your fingers on your clit and just rub it for me, baby. Slowly.” 

“Fuck, mommy,” she moans, trying her hardest not to just rub her pussy raw. It already feels overbearing for the poor girl, but she wants more. 

“You like getting yourself on camera? Makes you feel good, huh?” You coo, eyes not leaving her body. 

“It’s not enough..” she whines. “Please, I wanna use my dildo. Can I fuck myself with my dildo for you?”

Just the thought of seeing her dripping pussy stuffed full with a dildo makes your clit throb with need. You’re quick to shove your own hand down your underwear. “Yeah, baby. Be a good girl for mommy and fuck yourself.” 

You miss her body the second she stands up, but soon, she is laid back on her bed, a bright purple dildo in her hold. It’s pleasantly large, with much more girth than you expected it to have.

“Just tease yourself for a little bit, baby. Rub your clit with it for me.” 

Ellie eagerly rubs all over her swollen, reddish-pink clit with the flared tip, and your own fingers slide between your lips and into your cunt. You groan, nearly closing your eyes at the feeling. 

“Are you touching yourself, ma’am?” She asks, voice already ragged. 

“Couldn’t help myself,” you admit. That confession only turns her on more. 

“Can I please fuck myself? I need it right now. I need to cum with you.” 

All you can do is nod, but Ellie is already lining the toy up with her hole and shoving it deep inside her hole. She hardly takes a moment to adjust to the sudden stretch before she begins fucking herself with it, making sure to open her legs wide enough for your viewing pleasure. 

“Oh my god,” you moan at the sight. “You’re so fucking hot, you know that? Taking it in your pussy so easily. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Ellie laughs shakily. “Of course I have. I’m a whore.” 

“That you are,” you easily agree. You fuck yourself hard with two fingers as you watch her slide the dildo in and out of her hole, always leaving just the tip nestled inside before ramming it until the base is flush to her skin. 

All you can hear are the wet sounds of her wet pussy as she pounds it shamelessly and her noisy moans, and you’re sure she can hear your own wet sounds through her laptop. 

“Touch your clit, baby. I wanna see you rub your clit while you fuck yourself,” you tell her, working your own with your thumb. 

She uses her free hand to frantically rub at the beating nub, fucking herself so fast the camera nearly blurs her movements. “Fuck, feels so good. I need to cum, please. Please let me cum,” she desperately begs you. 

“Yeah, you wanna be a good slut for me and cum? Go on, let go. I wanna see your pussy cum on camera.” 

Your words easily have her hole squeezing the dildo, cum seeping out of it and visibly coating the toy. The sight, paired with her slutty moans sends you barreling towards your own orgasm. You throw your head back against your chair and moan as you practically hump your hand, trying to milk your peak for all its worth.

After a bit, you and Ellie both calm down, breathless and satisfied. Ellie throws the dildo on her bed and sits up, sheepishly looking at you. 

“Umm, that was..” 

“Yeah.”

“Wanna do it again sometime?”

“Yeah.”

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @tombstonergirl, @sawaagyapong, @lucyaries, @caitlynthighs, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @tphmnv, @raindroprose23, @liztreez, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs, @mysexy-anxiety want to be tagged? click here!

[darknight3904]

tommy going down on fem reader for first time (Jackson era) she’s a little nervous and he reassures her💗

Nerves

Jackson!Tommy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Two years into your relationship with him, Tommy Miller realizes he's missing a crucial part of any good relationship.

Warnings: Language, Smut so 18+, oral F! receiving, Tommy is a munch.

TLOU Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k

You’re not sure when you got so comfortable around Tommy Miller. 

Perhaps it’s because he makes you feel safe, always looking out for things you didn’t even notice, just yesterday he’d caught you after you stumbled on the last step, your shoelace getting caught up between your feet. Or maybe it was because he’d lazily lie in bed next to you, running a warm hand through your hair as he read from a book you found on patrol. 

All you know is that you’re comfortable around him, trusting him to take care of you and in return giving him all of your love. 

Tommy likes to watch you. Not in a creepy way, just in a, make sure you’re safe kind of way. He’ll stroll around Jackson, keeping an eye on you as you pull crops up and harvest the vegetables and fruits. He’ll make sure that if you’re ever on patrol, he’s the one with you; if not, you’re not leaving the safety of the walls. 

Tommy knew he was in love with you the moment he saw you. Fresh out of the Fireflies, he’d stumbled across Jackson by accident, or rather picked up by a patrol that probably wanted to kill him. You had somehow convinced the council that he was harmless, despite the Firefly pendant that hung on his neck, along with the backpack with their symbol sewn into it. Fast forward a few months and he was chatting you up in the Tipsy Bison, eventually winning you over enough that you agreed to a dance. Since then, he’d been hooked.

Tommy knew you loved him, you said it often and regularly showed him through your actions that you were just as mesmerized as he was. Each night before bed, he’d regularly whisper those three little words into your skin, content with telling you over and over again so you wouldn’t forget it. 

Despite this little slice of paradise and your love for him, Tommy got the sense you weren’t entirely comfortable with him. It was nearly two years since you and he had gone official, linking your hands together as you walked in Jackson, and about a year ago moving in together. 

It wasn’t that he went out of his way to make you feel odd, he could just tell you weren’t fully on board with some things he did, particularly his love for physical touch. You’d gotten more used to it in the past months, probably because the two of you now shared a bedroom but Tommy couldn’t shake the fact that something was amiss. 

Now, most people in Jackson would probably tell him he was being crazy, making a mountain out of a mole hill but they didn’t know the inner workings of you and Tommy. 

Yes, there was certainly something wrong, Tommy knew exactly what it was, and he was going to address it tonight. 

You sip at the broth in your bowl, the chicken noodle soup you’d made turned out perfect. There was even enough for you to scoop into a thermos for Tommy to take out tomorrow when he left for patrol. You think about what you should cook for dinner tomorrow or if you and Tommy should just go down to the community hall and get dinner there. 

“Why don’t you let me go down on you?” 

The crass question leaving your oh so blunt boyfriend’s mouth has you sputtering into your bowl. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You sheepishly ask, of course, he’d eventually notice your aversion to receiving oral sex. 

“Y’never let me go down on you. You’re always the one givin’ me a blowjob but you never let me return the favor.” Tommy says 

Your eyes flick away from him and down to your lap, your soft grey sweatpants staring back at you.

Tommy reaches across the table, taking one of your hand in his bigger ones, “Do you…not want me to?”

“No!” You blurt out, “It’s not that, it’s just…” 

“Just what?” The kind eyes of your boyfriend stare back at you as you try to find the right words.

“It’s just…you don’t think it’s gross?” You ask timidly 

Tommy snorts, a laugh escaping his lips as he shakes his head like you’ve just told him the funniest thing in the world. 

“Gross? Baby I’ve been fucking dreaming of it since we started sleeping together.” 

You shake your head, no that can’t be right. What man would want to put his mouth between your legs like that? You’d had three boyfriends before Tommy, all of them were still here in Jackson, and none of them were ever interested in you like that, always pushing your head down to their own crotch, asking you to open wide. 

“You’re lying.” You breathe 

“Wanna go upstairs? I can show you how much m’ not.” He softly says 

“But what about the dishes?” You squirm, hoping he’ll drop it 

“Dishes can wait,” Tommy smiles, standing up to offer you his hand, “Let me show you how much I love ya. Let me worship you, sweetheart.” 

You let Tommy guide you upstairs, hand on the small of your back as he pushes the door open to your shared bed. You fall back onto the soft mattress, Tommy planting wet kisses down your body as he pulls your clothes off. Soon, you’re down to just your panties, arousal pooling in the cotton fabric as Tommy looks up from between your legs. 

“You sure?” You ask breathlessly, too turned on to think clearly 

“I should be asking you that, pretty girl.” Tommy hums, “Are you sure?” 

“I think so…” You look at him where he eagerly awaits your consent, “Yes, M’ sure.” 

You want to do this for him, Tommy seems like he wants to so badly, who are you to deny him? Besides you bet he’s going to regret it and stop after a few seconds anyway. Your underwear inch off your body slowly and your hand flies down, grabbing Tommy’s. 

“Wait! I haven’t…I haven’t shaved, let me go to the bathroom quickly.” You sit up on your elbows 

Tommy is quick to push you back down, a dark glint in his eye as he stares at you, “Stay right where you are. Little hair never killed anyone before.” 

“You don’t think it’s gross?” You sigh 

Tommy smiles down at you, softly like he can sense your nerves and the way your heart pounds. 

“First off, nothin’ that has to do with you is gross. Second, this isn’t some shitty porno, we’re real people baby, I don’t care what she looks like, hair isn’t gonna bother me, I’m not those shitbags you used to date.” 

Tommy pulls the last bit of clothing from your body, hooking your legs over his shoulders, you’ve never felt more exposed. You shiver and feel your cunt clench as he blows air onto it. 

“There she is, pretty little thing,” He presses a kiss to your folds and you let out a soft sigh, “Needy too, never had a real man to take care of her.” 

Tommy’s ramblings has your face heating up in embarrassment, you wiggle your hips, “L-Let’s just get this over with.” 

“Get this over with? Actin’ like m’ gonna cut your leg off or something.” He teases, “Get this over with..,you hear what she’s saying? Doesn’t even know how badly this cunt needs my mouth.” 

“Tommy, you’re being weird just–oh”

His patchy facial hair tickles your delicate skin as his tongue licks a wet trail from your hole to your clit. A kiss is pressed to your thigh, whispering something that sounds like praise before he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

Your hips jump at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, his name leaving your lips as you fist the sheets. His tongue slips down to your hole, a groan leaving his lips as he laps at your wetness. Tommy’s thumb draws circles over your clit as your hips begin to stutter into his face, your mind a clouded mess. 

“T-Tommy, fuck…” You whisper into your room, you’ve never felt quite this good before, your climax is coming, fast.  

“C’mon baby, fuck my face, give it to me.” He encourages, his deep voice and southern drawl sending a chill up your spine.

An embarrassingly loud moan leaves your lips when your cum, your hips pulling up off the bed as Tommy slings an arm across your stomach, keeping his sinful mouth pressed to your center. 

You push at his head as you come down, his tongue sending painful twitches across your sensitive cunt. Tommy falls down on the bed next to you, chin damp grinning like a mad man as he looks over at you. 

“Still think I don’t like it?” He coyly asks 

You roll your eyes, he’s too damn smug about this whole thing, “You do know you’re going to be doing that alot more now, right?” 

Tommy laughs, wiping at his messy face before pressing a kiss to your lips, his facial hair smelling of you, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

TLOU Masterlist

[pseudowho]

Reader Comes Home Drunk

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Nanami Kento manages his drunk fiancée, you, like an absolute champ.

A sequel to Kento Comes Home Drunk (link here).

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, bondage, mutual masturbation, throat fucking, thigh fucking, m!receiving oral, f!use of toys, stripteasing, BDSM

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"And one more twirl for luck..." Kento sang to you, pinching your pointed fingers above your head as you laughed, twirling obediently, feeling dolled up in your little black dress, building up for your evening with Shoko. Winding down, and drinking you in with lovesick eyes, Kento leaned down to press a long, slow kiss to your hairline, fingers grazing your jaw longingly, careful not to smudge your make-up.

"I love you," you said in unison, laughing with light apologies tumbling over one another. You held your finger to Kento's lips, biting your lip as he took your finger between his teeth, licking and teasing. You crooned at him to stop, I'm going to miss my taxi, and he sighed, stepping back with glinting eyes, still pinching your fingers between his.

"Be safe," he implored, "and call me when you're ready for pick-up."

"You don't have to pick me up--"

"I want to pick you up--"

"But Shoko can't go home alo--"

"Gosh, I wonder if someone will drop her home too--"

"Kento, I really mean i--" A curt finger pressed to your lips. Your heart fluttered as Kento leaned down, his amber eyes narrow and flicking between your eyes and lips, hungry and determined.

"I really mean it," he pressed, leaving no room for argument, "I'll get you both home safely." Rolling your eyes affectionately, you blew Kento a kiss, and he felt a pang of disappointment for being denied your cherry-red lips. Winking at you as you skipped through the doorway, he settled in for a night in his own company.

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Kento had spent a slow night, preoccupied by the anticipation of your call. His mind had wandered to your little black dress, the soft curves of your legs and arse, the barely-there underwear he knew you had paired with it. At points, he was distractingly half-hard at the thought of your painted lips on his skin, trailing down his belly, wrapped around hi--

Kento's screen lit up, a glimmer of gold in his vision as your name and face popped up. Unlocking it, Kento snorted at the blurry selfie of you accepting a sloppy-lipped kiss on the cheek from Shoko, accompanied by a message; "Readyyy!"

Grabbing his keys, and kicking into some slippers, Kento locked up as he stepped into the crisp night air, heading down to the car.

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"Christ, what have you been drinking?" Kento huffed, hauling a warm and floppy Shoko onto his back as you teetered along behind them, laughing, waving goodbye to your new best friends (two women whose names you didn't know that you had met in the club bathroom that night).

Delicately bending down to open the car doors, he placed Shoko onto the back seat, tutting at her as she moved to slump sideways, sitting her up and buckling her in instead. You had flopped, chatting about your night, into the front seat and Kento smirked as you and Shoko laughed uncontrollably at a joke he didn't understand. Dutifully, Kento had been a graceful designated driver, and carried Shoko to her door, not leaving until she was safely inside.

In the car again, Kento stared determinedly ahead as he felt your gaze across his body, wanton and sultry. He was used to you, drunk, and horny beyond belief. He would manage you with the same sexless affection he always did--

Kento felt your toes, suddenly un-shoed, glide across his lap; you were sideways in your seat now, your legs bent with the supple flexibility afforded to drunk women. Kento smiled indulgently, otherwise outwardly unaffected, as your toes glided up and down his crotch, catching occasionally at his zipper.

Your head was warm and fizzling with the unbridled confidence of intoxication. You were not so drunk that you didn't feel Kento's cock twitch under your toes. Your eyes glimmered, arousal thudding and deepening at Kento's feigned disinterest-- a challenge. Kento grasped your foot, moving it firmly off his lap as he stopped at traffic lights.

"Sit forwards," he commanded, "and behave yourself."

"I am behaving," you whined, sweet and breathless and completely ignoring his instructions.

A twang of annoyance glanced across Kento's vision as he grabbed your foot again, hardened to your drunken advances and stubbornly not participating in them. Kento frowned, tense, irritated by how his own body betrayed him; there you were, draped in his car like a silk chemise, liquid and malleable, your legs parted just enough for Kento to see your translucent underwear, flush and damp against your pussy, your thighs plush and full and--

Kento coughed once as his cock swelled, twitching in its uncomfortably tight confines. You knew, your drunken arousal like a heat-seeking missile. You smirked, goading and taunting Kento, your foot squirming out of his hand and rubbing softly against his hardening length pressed to his thigh. Kento gritted his teeth, focusing stubbornly on driving.

With a flash of alarm, Kento could barely keep his eyes on the road as you sighed, biting your lip, coy and seductive as you let your dress slip down just enough for your pebbled nipples to peek over. Kento didn't realise his jaw had dropped until you leaned to him, slipping two fingers into his mouth, and bringing your newly wet fingers to your nipples, rolling them, lubricating them with Kento's saliva as you keened, mewling at him, another hand slipping between your legs.

"You-- you are unbelievable," Kento rumbled, disbelieving and furious with himself for being so mesmerised by your performance. He gulped, spit thickening as you rubbed your pussy with two fingers, still coating your nipples with his spit. You moaned, high-pitched and airy as you masturbated in the seat beside him, shamelessly provocative.

"My fingers aren't as good as yours...Kento...they're not-- want you inside me, please," you begged, fingers slipping under your sheer panties to find your clit, shuddering as the alcohol turned every touch into a buzzing pleasure.

"Fuck, you're-- don't do that, how the fuck am I supposed to-- to--, " he breathed, white-knuckled on the steering wheel as you rocked your hips into your own hand, eyes half-open as you viewed him like pornography; cock twitching beneath your toes, Adams apple bobbing, veins pulsing in his neck and temples as he scowled at the road, angry with you for forcing him into this moral quandary.

His anger thrilled you, your orgasm building as Kento denied you and himself, feeling his thread snap fibre by fibre as the slick wet sounds of you pleasuring yourself filled his car.

As your moans increased in urgency, with your fingers quickening, Kento somehow managed to park smoothly in the driveway. Pulling up the handbrake and clicking out of his seatbelt, Kento shunted over to you, caging you in. His anger hit you like a sandstorm as he glowered down at you, jaw clenched and twitching.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact, he removed your hands from your breasts and pussy, raising your fingers to your lips. He pressed them into your mouth, pre-cum dampening his boxers as you licked your fingers clean, giggling.

"Clean yourself up," he forced through gritted teeth, "before bed." You hummed, nose rubbing against his neck, sinking your teeth into the taut skin of his throat.

"Bed?" You asked, sweet, suggestive. Kento's scowl deepened, reaching down to unclip your belt, reaching past you to throw open your door.

"Bed." Your lips puckered in disappointment, chastised and mulish. Trailing down Kento's shirt buttons until you reached his groin, you squeezed Kento's cock through the thin trouser fabric, and he groaned in anguish and shock, his elbows almost buckling beneath him. Kento snatched your hand away and left the car, stalking round to your door, hauling you out.

You teetered barefoot, and Kento sneered, throwing you briskly over his shoulder.

"You make it fucking hard to be moral, young lady," Kento fumed, kicking the car door shut and landing a bruising slap to your arse, and you squirmed against his jaw as you squealed at the sharp tang of pain.

You giggled again, still wiggling as he carried you through the front door, slamming it shut. You moaned theatrically and felt his forearms tense around you, the aphrodisiac smell of your arousal on your underwear and dress making Kento feel faint with want.

"Harder, Daddy--" Kento slapped your arse again, much harder this time, and tears stung in your eyes as you cried out, snapped out of your teasing. You pouted, nose pricking as you whined at Kento; "You promised."

Kento tensed, rendered immobile. There was a brief pause as he dropped you into a dining chair--

"I promised you nothing. Go and get ready for bed." You glared up at him, both of you knowing he was lying, both of you remembering the night you had given in to his drunk begging until he came in your hand in the shower, shaking and moaning your name. Kento turned to walk away, corded shoulders bunched with unfulfilled need.

"Make me." Kento stopped, silent. You gulped, arousal still thumping through you, and as Kento turned back, leaning down slowly, he trapped you with his massive hands squeezing the arms of your chair.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, low and dangerous, nose-to-nose. You gulped, your mouth suddenly dry as Kento smirked, humourless and wolfish.

"Any lesser man would fuck you, drunk and sloppy like this," he mocked, mean and sharp, fingering the edges of your dress, "but I doubt he'd be able to fuck the entitlement out of you like I could."

You trembled, feeling a trickle of arousal seep through your panties and onto your dress. As Kento brought his mouth to yours, your breath mingling, you parted your lips to kiss him-- and he pulled away, jaw clenched, denying you again as he walked to your bedroom. You felt bitter disappointment and humiliation trickle down the back of your throat.

"Coward."

You heard Kento go rigid with fury. Drawers snapped shut. His shadow edged in the doorway.

"What was that?"

You couldn't stop yourself, stupid with inebriation; "Perhaps you are that lesser man who couldn't fuck the entitlement out of me," you taunted, terror rushing through you as you heard heavy footsteps slamming towards you, "and you're too much of a coward to find o--"

Your words caught in your throat as one thick hand clenched around your neck, your taunting reduced to a squeak.

"I'm a coward, am I?" Kento clicked his tongue, words deceptively light, "I suppose anyone would look like a coward compared to how fucking brave you're being right now." Kento let go of your neck and lifted the whole chair, frighteningly effortlessly, and began to move you towards your bedroom.

"'Make me'," he mocked, dropping your chair and you to the bedroom floor, slamming the door shut behind him, "As you wish. I'll make you go to bed, and fuck the attitude out of you along the way."

Kento caged you into the chair again, his lips hot and dominating as they crashed into yours, his tongue plunging into your mouth as you whimpered into him. Your hands grabbed his tie to hold him to you, and you heard him rummaging blindly in the drawers beside you.

As they snapped shut, Kento dropped to his knees in front of you, placing his hands under your thighs as he yanked you forwards to the edge of your seat.

"Why-- what are you going to do to me?" You begged for answers, equal parts thrumming with desire and dread. Kento regarded you coolly, hooking your panties down your legs. You shivered with anticipation, feeling the cool air hit your folds. Kento raised your underwear to his face, ghosting the fabric against his lips and nose, breathing in deeply, and out with a low, shaking moan.

"Only what a woman as beautiful and determined as you deserves." Kento reached behind you, grabbing a bundle of items in his long-fingered hand. Your stomach leapt, face flushing with embarrassment as Kento held your dildo and rabbit vibrator, usually hidden, reserved for when he was away. You stuttered, opening your mouth to explain yourself as he wiggled it at you, thin eyebrows raised in an unimpressed grimace.

"Eventually, anyway," he goaded, "first we'll see if we can teach you a little patience." Spitting on the dildo, licking and coating it with lubrication, Kento forced your thighs apart with his elbows, groaning at the sight before him.

"God, what I wouldn't give to take you right now," he groaned, drinking in your desperate little mewls as he kissed and licked at your sensitive soft inner thigh, his breath fanning over your core, and you involuntarily bucked towards his face. Kento chuckled, smooth and mirthless.

Silently, Kento uncoiled three ties from his other hand, his lovely brown eyes darkening as he tied your arms and legs methodically to the arms and legs of the chair; his own spotted tie, the last to be unravelled, formed the final bond. Your hands clasped and unclasped against the arms of the chair, lips parted and glistening as your chest heaved in the low light.

"Because you really are..." Kento held your trembling thighs open as he slid the dildo into your quivering pussy, tantalisingly slow, thrusting a few times, captivated by your white creamy arousal coating it as it slid deeper and deeper into you, "...spectacular," he breathed, shaky with restraint.

Kento played with you, his neglected cock throbbing in his trousers; he thrust the dildo in and out of you, some long, gentle strokes, some harsh and fast, and his hips bucked upwards into nothing, imagining fucking you to the pace of his ministrations. You trembled and cried out, pleasure building uncontrollably at the irregular pace.

Kento seemed to forget you were even there, mesmerised by the bouncing resistance in his hand as the dildo pumped insistently against your cervix. Kento pushed against the resistance slowly, firmly, licking his lips and releasing a gravelly moan as you tried to chase your hips away up the chair, whimpering with the overwhelming stimulation.

"Kento, please-- please--" Your cries rolled off Kento's back, uninterested unless you used your safe word, grimly determined to give you exactly what you wanted.

"Don't give me that shit," he scoffed, tugging the front of your dress down so that your half-exposed breasts bounced free, pressed up by the tightly stretched cups of your bra.

"Stroking yourself in the car just to the thought of me, trying to make me cum with your foot while I drive..." Kento cupped your breast in one large hand, squeezing with restrained biting indignation, flicking your nipple in his work-roughened fingers while fucking you with your own 'secret' toy. Your head spun, gasping, wrists and legs straining against your restraints.

"All because I had the audacity to be a good man?" His voice was soft and threatening in your ear, his feathered breath sending shivers through you, and he rumbled a humourless laugh, "Well...I tried to be a good man. Sit back and be a good little cock sleeve, darling. I'm still not sure if you even deserve me." He thrust the dildo into you sharply, and you squealed, begging him for release, your orgasm trapped deep in your belly.

You were so distracted by his voice in your ear, that you didn't notice his hand at your pussy slowing...before turning the vibrator on, immediately positioning the base of the dildo so your pussy was full and your clit felt the blessed relief of stimulation so powerfully that you almost sobbed.

Kento stood, stepping back slowly as he watched you twist and pant in the chair. With trembling hands, holding your gaze intently, Kento began to stroke himself, his own hands caressing the thick muscle of his neck and shoulders, down his chest, fingers teasing at his buttons, with a wolfish grin. You bit into your lip with a guttural groan, head swimming with tequila and frustration, so desperate to see more of him, jealous that he could touch himself where your hands usually roamed.

Kento was glorious in his striptease; the peaks and planes of his mountainous body illuminated by sharp light and deep shadow. He panted with self-deprivation as you leaned eagerly forwards in your chair, breathless as one deft hand began to undo his shirt buttons, and the other stroked his V-line, palm flat as his fingers plunged under his belt. His lips quirked into a lopsided smirk as a trickle of your creamy arousal ran out of you and onto the chair, your thighs trembling with need.

"You're such a fucking mess," he spat, laughing at you as you blushed, humiliation pulsing through your cheeks and pussy, "and you're in way over your head."

When Kento's wandering hands reached his zipper, he teased you, stretching the fabric over the outline of his throbbing cock, a patch of pre-cum soaking through and darkening the beige fabric. Walking back to you, one hand running through his hair, the other unzipped himself, and Kento reached through to grasp his cock, wet with pre-cum.

Your mouth watered, lips parting involuntarily as he sunk his fingers into your hair, gripping harshly at the roots to bring your mouth down, pumping himself firmly, holding your mouth not quite close enough to wrap around his red, angry cockhead. Whining, your tongue darted out, and Kento hissed as it swiped against his slit, a spurt of pre-cum dripping out in response.

"Let's put that tight little mouth of yours to good use, hmm?" With one hand tangled in your hair, Kento stood behind you and tilted your chair back onto two legs, as you gasped, your head tipped backwards and neck outstretched, mouth pulled open in shock at the sudden weightlessness.

Kento stroked languidly from your throat to your breasts, and back up, before gripping your hair again.

"I think...I'll make you clean me up, seeing as that mouth is so filthy already." Kento teased his cock against your lips, glossing them with pre-cum, gulping and shuddering as your tongue swiped out to suck him in. Tilting your chair back further so your throat was parallel to the floor, Kento pressed his cock along your tongue and cheeks, holding you still as he hit the back of your throat, fucking it slowly, feeling every ridge and wet suck of your mouth around him, seeing stars.

"Fffuuuuuck," Kento moaned, cock twitching in your throat as you swallowed and gagged. Kento moved slowly as you whimpered around him, taking intermittent wet deep breaths, "More tongue...more-- aaaahhh-- that's it, good girl, behaving so nicely for me now."

Your thighs shook, and Kento stroked your throat tenderly as your hands clasped and unclasped the arms of the chair. A painfully hard orgasm built in you, your muscles aching with the effort of carrying you to completion. Your pussy clenched around the dildo, wet and slippery, the buzz against your clit curling your toes.

As Kento squeezed the sides of your throat, feeling his cock moving smoothly inside it, your breath caught and you bucked, spasming violently as your orgasm surged through you. Your lips gasped open, lights flashing in your eyes, and you cried out silently as Kento pressed into you, squeezing your throat with a raggedy groan, sweat dripping to his collar with the effort of delaying his own orgasm.

Pulling out of you, gripping his cock at the base as pleasure threatened to rip through him, Kento stepped back, panting, to enjoy the show. Now carried into wild overstimulation past your orgasm, you twitched and juddered-- "I can't, s'too much-- Kento please please please--" -- and Kento hissed his restraint, cracking his neck from side to side as he almost came in his hand. He refused to waste his seed like that, never letting on how thrilling he found it to cum inside you, wondering at the glorious image of your belly, swollen with him.

Another orgasm ripped through you and you humped the dildo with fervour, thighs desperate to clamp closed around it, head tossed back and sobbing with overwhelming, uncontrollable ecstasy.

Kento's eyes bored through you, smug and drunk on dominating you. His hand pumped along his wet length, continuing to edge himself to the sight of you. He left you this way for a few more minutes, shaking and desperate, pussy soaking wet and clenching on the chair; he swallowed thickly as you shuddered and mewled, unable to tell where one orgasm ended and another began.

"Have you had enough yet?" Kento sneered, continuing to pump his throbbing length, grasping your chin and jaw harshly in his big hand. He squashed your cheeks together like this, your wet lips plush and cutely pouted; with a surge of cute-aggression, he gave your cheeks a shake and gentle slap, smirking down at your squished, tear-stained face. He planted a hard, nipping kiss to your squashed lips, moaning against you, and laughing heartily as you shook your head urgently in response to his question.

"Is this what you want?" Kento hummed against your jaw, and you continued to nod frantically, sniffling, weeping, mascara streaking down your cheeks, lipstick smeared to the side, your glossy eyes needy and begging.

"Then ask nicely," he growled, cock weeping with anticipation for you to beg for him. You continued shaking your head, sniffling and babbling nonsense, no longer able to string a sentence together as electricity rattled every nerve and fibre of you, mewling again as Kento gripped your hair, tipping your head back to look at him.

"Then you get nothing," Kento snapped, glaring down as you as his pace increased on his cock, his hand squeezing and twisting at the top. He tilted your head thoughtfully from side to side, examining you;

"Where do you want me to cum?" He panted, his impending orgasm threatening ruin after edging himself for so long, "Your tits? Your mouth? Your pussy's already so wet, after all." You cried out in disdain, clenching pussy neglected, desperate to feel Kento inside you. Kento laughed richly again, verging on cruel.

"Come on, my love," he crooned, suddenly soft and loving, giving you whiplash, "beg."

Desperate, you forced the words out, shaking like a leaf; "Please Kento-- you promised you would-- I helped you--" You jumped, as Kento reached down between your legs, pulling the dildo out, the sudden loss of stimulation and exhaustion making you feel heavy and loose, still whirring as alcohol bounded through you.

"You are right, of course," he cooed, stroking tears off your messy cheeks, "I was only playing with you." You sobbed an appalled, indignant sound as Kento grinned down at you again, wicked and hungry. Making quick work with clever fingers, he completely released you from the chair, throwing your ankle ties over his shoulder, but keeping the wrist ties attached to you, he helped you to stand, like a baby deer on wobbling legs, offering you one sincere, brisk smile.

You felt like you were falling through space as Kento lobbed you face down onto the bed, flat on your belly, with Kento kneeling over you and undoing his belt as he chased you up to the headboard. As your hands grasped above the pillows to pull yourself up, Kento's hand pressed the back of your head so you were face down, muffled against the pillows.

"Stay down," he growled, and you sniffled, obedient as he stretched your arms out, tying them to the headboard, then tied your knees together so your pussy was clamped, tight and wet between the soft fat of your thighs. You lay prone, arched upwards by your outstretched arms, bound.

You quivered as you heard the clinking of Kento's belt, and you felt his throbbing cockhead brush against the arousal-soaked plush of your clamped thighs. Kento was flush to you as he whispered in your ear; "Is this what you wanted? Out of control, fucked, pathetic and wet for me on our bed?" You nodded, dumbly overstimulated, eager for more, to be fucked so hard that you couldn't remember your own name.

Kento hummed, groaning with shaking relief as he slipped between your thighs, gripped by your hot, wet plush. You felt Kento slowly fuck your thighs, jolting as the length of him stroked between your folds, catching your bruisingly overstimulated clit. Kento sighed, biting the back of your shoulder, lost in your wiggles and the press of your curvy arse against his hips. He reached up, gripping his fingers into your bum, placing a single harsh slap there as you cried out, before rubbing the area with soothing hushes.

"Just fuck me already Ken--" You cut off with a strangled gasp; Kento's last fibre of restraint snapped and he rammed his cock into your clenched pussy, bottoming out in an instant, slamming against your spongy deep walls. Leaning on his thick forearms he hammered into you with total abandon, tired of denying you, eyelids heavy and teeth sunk into the back of your neck. Divine ecstasy ravaged through him like wildfire.

Your muffled cries into the pillow spurred Kento on, his shirt soaked with sweat and sticking to his back as he fucked you to delirium and back again. Low, jolting grows rumbled through him in interrupted streams, his heady warm voice alternating with the strength of his thrusts. Kento's cock ached with bittersweet need, finding your wet friction so delicious, and he reached up to your bound hands, squeezing one affectionately to ground himself and you.

Kento's orgasm approached, seeping down his spine towards his cock, hot and urgent.

"My name," he growled into your ear, biting it as you whimpered, pussy fluttering weakly in bliss around him, and you mumbled. Kento punished you, hammering into you as you squealed, "Louder. My name."

"Kento," you sobbed, "Kento Kento Kento-- aaaahhhh!"

Kento came with a bark, legs failing him as he crushed your hips to the bed under his weight, splashes of hot cum spurting through your cervix, leaving Kento as drunk and intoxicated as you, ruinous pleasure tumbling through him.

He shook above you, his vision coming back to him in patches as he released his ties from your hands. Grasping your hips, he rolled you sideways with him, keeping his cock deep inside you, a glint of hope skipping through his mind, picturing you, full and round, his own captive goddess.

Humming, he nuzzled into your neck; "Too much?" He mumbled, droopy-eyed and concerned.

"More than enough, thank you," you reassured him, sated and dropping into a hazy sleep. Kento gave you a little shake.

"I'm not finished with you," he scolded, "We need to have words about your frankly dangerous behaviour in the car--"

"Custard," you cried, "custard, custard, custard--"

"-- don't try to safeword me while I'm telling you off, you absolute terror."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Phew

[orfeoedeuryice]

remmick x f!user bot

warnings: kidnapping, toxic relationship, user has baaaad stockholm syndrome, very mild, implied cnc, getting used for your blood

“Darlin’, it’s me.” The oh so familiar drawl spoke, from the other side of the door.

You froze, halfway through making dinner, the bustle of city life still foreign to your senses. It’s been three weeks since you stumbled out of the woods, and while Remmick ran from the men on horses, you stood there trying not to shake. Dress sullied from mud and blood, neck still stinging, your memories splintered between terror and tenderness. The Choctaw were kind to you—gentle hands, warm blankets, steady voices. They believed you when you said you weren’t like him. That you didn’t want to be his wife. They freed you.

You didn’t miss the runaway life with Remmick. Often feeling faint and drained as he convinced you it’s what was best for both of you, that you were sweet, that your blood was the most wonderful thing he had tasted in his long existence…

“Open the door, mo grá.” He spoke, not a request, a demand. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t take a step forward. He was a successful vampire, and with that, came a manipulation that could only come with the many years he had lived.

“I know they fed you lies. Sayin’ how I stole you, how innocent you are in all this.” He ‘tsk’ed in disbelief. “Darlin’, with how you looked at me, held my hands, how you took me, lord, I just find that hard to believe.” He chuckled, a hint of darkness behind it.

“I hear your feet creepin’ their way over to this door, I know you missed me bad, baby.”

As if controlled by someone else, your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, twisting, and pulled it open, almost involuntarily.

“Atta girl, let me in. I won’t bite if you don’t want.” His eyes and mouth were completely mismatched, his eyes held an odd tenderness that you had never seen in him before, and that signature smirk gracing his lips.

Deep down, he probably did care for you. He wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if you were just another human lover, and there were moments of softness between you two, but your entire relationship began when he stole you, seduced a lonely girl into running away.

“I’ve been ransacked and ravaged my whole life, baby. My kin, my people, my songs, my language… But nobody can ever steal you from me. Now don’t make me beg, a chuisle.”

bot link: https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/6m3z4txg

[cyn-write]

"She Blazes Me Beyond All Control"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Azul, Idia, Melleus x F!reader (Y/N)

warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation and obsession (Rollo), established relationships, romantic ~

Note: This came to me while playing Glorious Masquerade! Let me know if you want a part 2 or any other characters. I really enjoyed writing this and hope to do more! Enjoy!

Edit: Click this link for Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil!

Click Here for Rollo!!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet she offered her hand as well and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip."

Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied.

Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave she and her Boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor and they started chatting. At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul could sense Rollo's eyes on you since your arrival. He tried to be civil as Rollo was a possible future ally, but even a merchant has his limits.

He walks with purpose from his hiding place and places a firm hand on Rollo's shoulder.

"You are quite mistaken Rollo." Azul said with his business smile hiding his true rage, "You see, y/n is deeply loved at NRC and she needs no sanctuary when she has me to look after her." He moves Rollo to the side with surprising strength and takes his beloved's hand, pulling her to him and grazing her fingers with his lips, "Isn't that right, Anglefish?"

Y/n smiled so bright that Azul might have mistaken her for gold, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Azul held on to his Anglefish as he gestured to the ballroom, "it is simply criminal that we have gone this long without a dance, especially when you look this~"

Y/n nodded with a giggle and as they left Azul gave Rollo a final glare.

"One last thing before we return to the crowd." Azul pulled in y/n for a passionate kiss. All in view of Rollo who was revolting at the sight of his pure beauty being kissed by a sea mage.

After a breathless kiss, Azul led his beloved away, sweeping her onto the dance floor. They danced the night away and during a particularly romantic number, Azul leaned into his beloved's ear, pushing away her h/c hair, and whispered.

"I am sorry for letting this get too far. But I can assure you, once we are alone, I promise to show you how much you set my heart ablaze~"

Idia Shroud

Idia was never one for confrontation, but when his girlfriend was being stolen from him, well he did hate to lose.

"Where did you get the villain monologue from? A crappy kids movie?" Idia strode into the balcony and grabbed y/n out from under the creep. "The whole leave them and stay with me thing only works in ottoman games or one-off episode romances and I know y/n hates those subplots." He held y/n close to his chest. "Now, you leave my girlfriend alone, everyone knows in love triangles that the girl always chooses the hero, not the villain."

Y/n looked at Idia in awe. Her boyfriend hated confrontation, but he swooped in like Prince Charming and saved her.

"Idia's right. I love NRC. I could never leave." She said firmly and held locked her arms around his waist, "besides, I could never leave my knight in shining armor!"

Rollo stood in furry as the shut-in stole his beauty. He was shocked that the introverted mage confronted him, or that he was y/n's partner.

Idia glared at Rollo as he guided y/n away from the creep. "See ya Creep."

The moment they were out of Rollo's sight, Idia released a breath and melted into his beloved's embrace.

"Ohmysevensthatwasthescariestthingihadeverdoneinmylife." Idia nearly collapsed into y/n, but he held her tight.

"Idia, you were brilliant! I never thought you could do that, you were like a prince swooping in to save the princess." Y/n hugged Idia back. her anxiety and fear she felt from the situation finally settled in and a few tears started rolling down, "I was so scared idia..."

He pulled back slightly to look at her teats. He whipped away her tears and kissed her forehead, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, He was just so... scary. But when I heard him talking to you like that, i-it got my blood boiling." He placed a hand on her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers, "I know I don't show it as often as i should, but I really do love you... uhg I sound stupid..." Idia's face was burning as pink as his hair.

Y/n smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to Idia's lips, "I know what you mean... I love you too, my star hero."

Idia smiled and kissed y/n again with a deep passion.

He smiled a toothy grin as he heard the enchanting melody seeping from the ballroom. "I know it's lame, but we are all done up in festival cosplay... care to dance?"

Y/n pressed a kiss to Idia's cheek, "I'd love to!"

The couple didn't go back to the crowd. They instead danced right there, just outside the ballroom.

As the music played, Idia leaned into his beloved and whispered,

"I wouldn't be much of a Knight in shining armor if I let my princess think she was unloved... how about I show you how much I burn for you?"

Melleus Draconia

Dragons were possessive creatures, and Malleus was no exception. He did not think much of Rollo and y/n's interaction, but this blatant display of affection towards his perfect. The sky cracked with thunder as Malleus glared down at Rollo from his place lurking spot. Rollo had the audacity to steal the first dance, now he was trying to take away the woman he loved. This would not do.

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of Draconia, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

"I think you misheard. Y/n said no." That is when Malleus stepped in. He floated above the two and threw Rollo off his perfect. He swooped y/n into his arms, carrying her like a bride. Oh, how he wished she was his bride, but not now, not yet.

Rollo scowled at Malleus, "You daemon, you and all your kind!"

Malleus' anger flared and another crack of thunder filled the air. He floated down so he was at eye-level with this monster. "If you dare touch another hair on her head, I will show you my true capabilities."

Y/n places a hand on Malleus' chest, "Tsunotarou, remember, we are guests here. What would Trein say if he heard of this?"

Malleus looked at y/n's e/c eyes and sighed. He stepped back, turned on his heels, and left the balcony and the angry monster on it.

Once they were a safe distance from the balcony, out of sight from the crowd, Malleus put y/n down and hugged her close to his chest. "Y/n, I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner. Did he hurt you?"

Y/n could feel the worry in Malleus' voice reverberate in his chest. She placed a hand on his cheek and stocked his soft skin "You saved me just in time Mal." She kissed his other cheek and said, "Thank you, my Prince Charming."

Malleus, in a surge of passion, kissed y/n deeply. He held her so close as if she might disappear if he let go. Y/n reciprocated the kiss.

Malleus parted and looked at the child of man's eyes "I hope you know how much my heart burns for you. Seeing you in the arms of another, it pains me more than anything else." His eyes were filled with a deep love for her. "I know how difficult it is to be an outcast, but I promise I will always be here for you. Even if the world is burning around us, I will hold you close and keep you safe until my dying breath."

Y/n felt her eyes water at his words. "Thank You Mal, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Y/n," Malleus pressed his lips against hers in a fiery passion. They stayed like this for a few minutes exchanging passionate kisses as the music played. Then another symphony started to play and the calls of their companions grew louder.

Malleus chuckled and stepped back, taking one of her hands and bowing to press a kiss to it,

"We can continue this later in private. For now, may I have this dance, my flame?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P1]

(Yandere × F!Reader)

[Series link]

[Warning: obssessive, workplace/academic discrimination, xenophobia, mention of SA, slowburn, dense plot, not even sure if its dark romance, not sure if its romance at all]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

You knew his type. Rich, spoiled, and never told no. In college, you would see them flocking down walkways in goofy polos, or if there were events, in color-coded suits and ties as if going to their first communion. They were never alone, stuck in bubbles of laughters and champagnes and vape vapors. You were not there besides them. You sat rooted in the library chair, dropping in and out of kickbacks of other students who also never fit into their puzzle of oxfords and high heels. You didn't resent them. You had your own little life. You found comfort in turning it up in the weekend with your fierce eyeliner and fishnet when your bank balance was full, or sitting in your friends' living room greening out on Mexican weed when you were broke.

So when you graduated side by side with them, ordered by names, you didn't feel as if you missed the school spirit. Your ex was chatting up with his crowd a couple rows down, arms in arms with a known rapist. In a sea of them you treaded in your scuffed heels and walked the stadium to your fine, leather-bordered diploma and took a half-hearted photo with the dean before sneaking out early, never to see any of them again. Sure, you missed your friends, but you could always call and catch flights (when your bank balance so permits). The rest of them slipped off your mind easily like vapor.

You moved country. That was the right move. Sure, you could stay in the States and try out a desk job, but you didn't find it in you to belong. Plus, with the recent development of AI  technology coupled with the impending economic recession, you weren't too optimistic about finding a position that lasts. So you packed up and left, missing barely anything. 4 years of your life remained in the tissues your cried into in the dingy airport toilet. You called your family to let them know your ambition. They scoffed, trying to talk you out of it for the last time yet, before their persuasion became discouragement. Before they told you that the corporation needed an heir, and that you were stubborn just like your father was. You turned off your phone and boarded. Your 20s seemed wide open, soaring with you, louder than the plane engine that roared even in your sleep.

3 years later, in your little cubicle in a Japanese high school, you didn't feel like you were soaring anymore. Perhaps your wings got caught somewhere, shredded in the engine just before you landed. You buried your head into piles of notebooks, your red pen gliding. The power to decide who passed and who failed was in your hands, and the soft-hearted nature you carried with you squirmed as you had to mark down zeros and ones. You found yourself smiling at your students and encouraging them, as well as enduring the resistance from the rebellious ones. Little by little, the spark of hope in you matured into a quiet resolution. You learnt to be calmer, to hang your head more, and to speak less of your opinions. In the mirror, you saw a new face.

You pushed on, narrowing your shoulders in the subway, cooking your dinner in your modest kitchen, and packing your own lunch at five in the morning. Sometimes you went out with your coworkers, sometimes you remained indoor. Settling in a monotony as Tokyo raged on with its flourescent storm, you feel, in your quiet moments, as if you were half asleep.

Then one summer morning just before another school year ended, the head of the foreign teacher department walked in. Walking by her was a face you didn't recognize.

"This is Mr. Lukas."

As customary, you stood up and greeted with a polite smile.

"Yes, good morning Mrs. Tahara. Good morning Mr. Lukas."

"I know this is late into the school year", Tahara said, "but Mr. Lukas is the perfect fit for our school. He has plans to stick with us for the next 2 years, so I was hoping he would get the training he needs by trying out at our summer program."

"That seems like a lovely idea", you acknowledged.

"Since you have the most experience in our department so far, and also the only one left since the rest of the team has taken an early vacation as customary for them", Tahara continues, finally building up to her point, "I was wondering if it is not much trouble for you to mentor him this summer. I know that you have said that you would take the summer off this year, but there is nobody else we would trust quite as much!"

You felt a knot of frustration in your chest. After 3 years of dedicating yourself to the summer program, you did finally decide to take the summer off to have some time for yourself. Truth was, you had found yourself growing weary of the monotony in your life which had lulled you into a state of daydream. This summer was supposed to be for you to travel and visit your family. Plus, with the money your had accumulated by pinching your purse, you were hoping to finally fly to LA to meet with a long-term friend you had been dying to see.

But you knew this was not a request. It was an order. Though Tahara was smiling, she was not going to take "no" as an answer. The woman did not climb to her position in this expensive international high school in the heart of Tokyo by being softhearted like you.

"I see", you nodded, the blank smile yet to leave your face, "Very well, then. I will do my best."

Tahara also did not let hers falter when she tried to soothe you, "I heard the staff vacation is to Thailand this year. How exciting, right? It is the 10th year anniversary of our school after all. Tell you what, I will lobby for you the best room there is!"

The pang in your heart did not go away as you chuckled, "Oh, there is no need at all. Please, I am happy to do this job."

"Nonsense", Tahara insists, "Best room there is! Please leave that to me. All you need to worry about is Mr. Lukas."

You bowed your head.

"Thank you very much. I will do my best."

With that, Tahara turns to the newcomer: "Your cubicle is right here next to her. Please get settled in, and she will show you around. You have her full attention for today- I checked, there are no classes today, right, Miss?"

You nodded at the last part. Tahara briskly walked away, leaving Lukas standing in front of you.

You finally turned your attention to him, getting a good look for the first time yet. Lukas was tall, black haired, with a strong nose and freckles. His defined body was complemented by his white button-up and slack pants. The way his body opens up by his wide shoulders and his face held up high told you that he was a stranger not only to this work environment, but to the country as a whole. He still seemed alert, yet to be lulled into sleep like you.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lukas", you held your hand out for him to shake. His hand was soft, and his grip was gentle. You could tell clearly now... he hadn't been a working man.

"Hi", he smiled, "I'm so excited to be here. I'm all yours now, so... lay it all on me!"

American, you mused in your head, noticing his accent and the loud, overly friendly manner. He reminded you of the people you knew from college.

"Of course. Let me give you a quick tour of the school before we get started!"

"Great! It's a beautiful school. Can't wait!"

The moment you and him exited the teacher lounge, Lukas couldn't help but immediately make small talks.

"So... how long have you been working here?"

"Oh, for 3 years now", you replied absentmindedly.

"Woah, that's a long time. To be honest, I just graduated college last December, so this is all totally new to me."

You hummed and pointed out to him the nurse's office, letting him know that he could find assistance there in case of student injuries. Finding it difficult to simply ignore his attempt at a conversation and partially feeling sympathetic at the assumption that he may feel alone in a new country, you picked up the small talk.

"I understand it may feel intimidating at first. I was just like you... moving from an American college to work here is a big change."

"Oh, you were in the States, too? Where at?"

His head turned toward you. He seemed intrigued.

"Yes. I was studying in Texas. X Univerisity."

"So you are smart, then. I was in T University. Your rival school."

"That's a good school, too. What did you major in?"

He sheepishly grinned.

"I was in their business program. What about you?"

You didn't want to divulge more information about yourself, so you directed the focus back on him: "Business? Then what makes you decide to teach here in Japan?"

"Well, I wanted a change of pace... My family, they have a job lined up for me already, and I can come back for it whenever I want. So right now I guess I'm just, like, trying to live my life, you know? Figuring myself out. I thought Japan would be a nice start."

A part of you felt that you could relate to him. Indeed ... if you wanted, you could simply go back to your own family company and work toward inheriting it. But from the way he was talking, it seemed he had a better relationship with his folks.

"That's a great way to challenge yourself", you nodded, now leading him to visit the indoor gym. Your indifference toward him left you with a lukewarm response.

"What about you? You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

It was your turn to look at him now, a bit bewildered. You didn't expect him to show interest in what you do. Most people usually got caught up in talking about themselves, especially with you who knew to ask more questions to evade the attention.

"Oh... well, I guess I've been interested in linguistics ever since high school. This place put me into curriculum development and researching, so I figured it would be a great addition to my CV."

He narrowed his eyes barely.

"So you have a plan?"

"I do."

"You wanna get a Master's?"

"Well, higher, if I can."

"Ahhh... so you are smart smart."

Uncomfortable now that the topic was you, you quickly looked away: "Not really. Tell me, what is the position your folks have lined up for you?"

He chuckled.

"Business consultant. It's nothing special, but it's steady."

"Where are they based?"

"New York."

Right. So they have money money.

"Are you perhaps a nepo baby?"

He laughed.

"Well, I guess you could say that. But I don't want to be defined by them. I want to create my own ... my values, you know?"

You almost felt yourself sympathizing with him, but the feeling of seperation came back. You remembered the looks you received and the empty seat next to you in classes filled with his type. You remembered being talked over and put aside when you wanted to speak on team projects. You remembered the blatantly perverted things you were told, the arms that linked with rapists, the lack of protection that you and your friends got from anyone when one of them had laid his hands onto a girl you knew.

"Anyway... would you be free for dinner sometimes this week? I'm totally new and alone here, and I could use someone to show me around, you know?"

You held back a sigh as you looked at him who had stopped in his track. He still was younger and, as he said, new and alone in Tokyo. When you were just like him, your coworkers indeed did you the same favor he was asking of you.

"Yes, I can arrange that."

"Does tonight work? If you don't mind, of course."

Against the strange aftertaste that lingered on your tongue, you agreed: "I can do that."

You knew that it wasn't in your nature to ignore someone who felt lost. But you decided that you would not be too close a friend with him. After all, you knew his type.

[pedropascallme]

Slow Down, Lie Down

Pairing: Shayne Topp x f!Reader

Summary: “‘I’m fucking exhausted, Shayne, it’s like I have to be so high-energy all the fucking time, and I’m burnt out and stressed for no fucking reason and I just—…you!’ You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch. ‘You…’ you looked at him through damp lashes, and he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish your thought, not catching on to your statement. You cocked a brow, ‘I want you, Shayne.’”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), Shayne's gold chain is a warning in and of itself but it also comes into play here so take that as you will. If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: This is based off of a requested prompt from the lovely @slaydoggg who asked for a Shayne fic quite a while ago and I just got around to finishing it! Hope you all enjoy <3

The last day of any shoot week was the only time in your life that you’d ever felt genuine burnout.

When you were in school, you’d had a sort of leniency policy with yourself; long days never turned into long nights, you’d stuck to a schedule that allowed for grace periods, you’d been confident in your ability to ask for help.

But when it came to working in such a high energy environment, where you felt like you had to be on all the time, where quiet always seemed like a synonym for bad, it was hard to grant yourself any clemency from just going, going, going all day.

Not to say you didn’t like what you did—you wouldn’t trade your place at Smosh for the world. The office was a safe space above all else, and even though it was your place of employment, most days it felt more like a high school cafeteria, where you and your friends gathered and chatted and made each other go red in the face from laughter until milk shot out of someone’s nose, or whatever.

Still, shooting a TNTL at 7PM on a Friday after a week of filming felt like some kind of sick joke. Did you even have any ideas left? Improv was one thing, but improv with zero social battery left was a completely different story, one you were unsure you wanted to know the end to.

“You alright?” Shayne pulled you from your thoughts while you gathered in the studio to film.

“Yeah, yeah. Just…y’know, little tired.” You smiled, an offering he returned, “But I’m alright.”

He could tell that you were teetering in the space between apathetic and completely exhausted. It was hard to keep things from him. Goddamn psychology degree. Even before you had started dating, it seemed like Shayne had a sixth sense for the feelings of the people around him, especially when it came to you—and Damien, but they might as well have had their own telepathic communication link, as far as you were concerned.

“Ok,” he rubbed your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you despite your denial of any discomfort, “We’ll go home soon. Go be funny.”

~~~

“Good! Cut!” Shayne called from behind the camera after Courtney wrapped up the video. You had never felt more relief in your life; the promise of a bed and a weekend of relaxation awaiting you at home made you feel like a huge weight was in the process of being lifted off your shoulders. You felt like you were floating, completely dissociated from the world around you while your friends giggled as they recalled jokes they had made not even 20 minutes ago.

You gathered your things and met Shayne outside in the car. You stared through the windshield, still tuning everything out and unaware that he was addressing you.

“Hey,” he squeezed your thigh, “did you hear me?”

“Mm, sorry,” you shifted to look at him, realizing you were still unbuckled and quickly correcting your indiscretion.

“What do you want for dinner?” He was doing that thing where he studied your features as if you were a doll, seemingly unaware that you could see him scanning your face.

“I dunno,” you sighed, “let’s just order something when we get home.”

“Ok.” He fell quiet and peeled out of his parking spot. The ride was quiet for the first ten minutes before he spoke again. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m just ti—”

“‘Just tired,’ I know—but is there anything else?”

You shifted uncomfortably, running your hand over your seatbelt. “I dunno.” You knew you sounded repetitive, childish, but it was hard to communicate the exhaustion you were feeling to someone who did the same thing as you all week and never seemed to fall victim to the same sort of fatigue that you did. “Really tired.”

“Do you feel stressed?” He pushed.

“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?” The words came out with a harsher edge than you had meant, and you saw him briefly furrow his brows in shock before regaining his composure.

“No, I’m just worried. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.” He parked in front of the house and turned to you, “I love you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep anything from me.”

You nodded, and the floodgates threatened to open as tears pricked your lash line. You sniffed. “I know,” another sniffle, “I love you, too.” You felt ridiculous, like a toddler overdo for a nap with the way you were acting just because you were really that tired. You just needed a little reassurance; to remember what it was like to feel rested and sated.

Shayne unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the center console to take your face in his hands. “What do you need, baby?” His thumb caught a tear that had slipped over your cheek. “Tell me. You’re…freaking me out, a little.” He chuckled, still retaining the sympathetic look that painted his face even when his eyes creased up with his small smile.

“I’m fucking exhausted, Shayne, it’s like I have to be so high-energy all the fucking time, and I’m burnt out and stressed for no fucking reason and I just—…you!” You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch. “You…” you looked at him through damp lashes, and he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish your thought, not catching on to your statement. You cocked a brow, “I want you, Shayne.”

“Oh—oh. Oh!” He lit up, eyes wide and smiling like a kid in a candy store.

One thing you appreciated was that no matter how often you two were intimate, no matter how many times he saw you naked, he still managed to make it seem like a miraculous, once in a lifetime event when you fucked.

Talk about validation.

He all but jumped out of his seat, waltzing over to open the door on the passenger side of the car and waiting impatiently for you to unbuckle yourself and step onto the sidewalk. You’d never seen him open the door to the house so fast.

Before you had the opportunity to remove your jacket, your shoes, or put down your bag, you were pushed against the now-closed-and-locked door by Shayne, who immediately found your lips and pulled you into a deep kiss. It was gentle, reminiscent of the first time you two had kissed in that it was exploratory and slow so as to adapt to the needs of the other; but no matter how he did it, kissing Shayne always felt like perfection. You dropped your bag at your feet before bringing your arms to rest on his shoulders, lazily pulling at his flannel while he dragged his tongue over your bottom lip. He rested his forehead against yours when he pulled away.

“Feel better?” He let his nose bump against yours as he spoke.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “But I think I could use a little more…remedying…” You brought one hand to the collar of his shirt, dipping under it and trailing your finger back and forth.

“Thought so.” He pulled your hand away momentarily to pull you into him, hands on your waist, and you got the hint, jumping so he could lift you, wrapping your arms around his neck while your legs found purchase around his hips. You licked a stripe up his neck and felt him shiver underneath your tongue.

He hesitated to drop you on the bed. “I could just fuck you like this, y’know…” He made a show of how easy it was for him to pick you up, bobbing you up and down in his arms momentarily, miming how he’d fuck you.

“Fully clothed?” You pointed out, and he relented.

“Next time I’m getting you naked before I pick you up.”

“Buy me a drink first, man.” You laughed, peeling off your jacket and shirt and unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the fabric from your body; it felt freeing in so many ways, the removal of a week of work from your skin, your limbs able to breathe without the constricting material, the knowledge that Shayne was there to see you in all your nude glory—it was incredibly satisfactory.

His shirt was off when you looked back up, now in just your bra and panties. The chain around his neck glinted in the low light of the bedroom, and you felt a wave of lust crash over you; crawling towards him to the edge of the bed where he stood, you let your hands trace up his abdomen before landing on his shoulders. You peppered kisses over his chest, taking in the taste of his skin and inhaling his scent. His hands came up to grip your waist, squeezing gently to get your attention.

“Not about me right now,” he reminded you, somewhat stern in his cadence.

“You don’t want me to go down on you?” You purred, goading him.

“As much as I would love to see you wrap your lips around my cock right now…” he spoke while he pushed you back onto the mattress, pulling you towards him by your ankles, “I’d much rather be making you feel good.”

“Yeah?” You breathed, and he planted a kiss on your thigh.

“I’m a giver.” He kneeled in front of you, "Lie down." You leaned back, letting yourself melt into the comforter under his touch. He let his hands roam your body; thumbs brushing the curve of your breast over your bra before dragging his palms over your stomach, dipping under you slightly to squeeze your ass. You let out a huff of contentment at the feeling, and he did it again, before his fingers dropped under the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down your legs.

When you felt the first swipe of his tongue over your core, your drowsiness was replaced with a tingling pleasure that started in your clit and spread to the back of your neck; you feathered your fingers through his hair to coax him onward.

“Poor baby,” he muttered, dipping his head down into you and licking up from your slit, gathering your slick on his tongue, “you just needed some help relaxing, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned when he used his tongue to circle your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure to help you unwind; you bent your knee, effectively trapping him face-first against your cunt.  

“It’s ok,” he flattened his tongue against you, keeping pressure on your clit until you started to squirm, “I’ll help you, baby. Don’t worry.” He licked through your folds before slipping his tongue inside of you, contorting the muscle to curl in and out as he saw fit. You tugged on his hair, a silent message telling him not to stop amidst your quiet moans and the subtle roll of your hips against his mouth.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently until you arched your back, muscles relaxing when he let up on the pressure before he repeated the motion just to watch you squirm for him.

“Shayne…” You whimpered, one hand coming up to grope yourself through your bra, drunk off the feeling of his tongue.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered into you, alternating between sucking on your clit and lapping up the mixture of his spit that trickled down your entrance and the wet that dripped from you. He snaked his arms underneath you, resting them under your thighs with his hands gripping the plush skin, giving him a better angle to watch you come undone. He fucked you with his tongue again now, unable to ignore the way you bucked your hips against his mouth and the filthy moans that fell from your lips, before he licked a long stripe up your cunt and began sucking on your clit once more.

Your orgasm crashed over you, a calming tide that came in and out with no fanfare, but was still so beautifully curated to your needs. Shayne watched your breathing pick up and then slow down as you sank deeper into the bed. He rested his head against your thigh.

“Was that helpful?” You could feel him smiling against your skin.

“Maybe a little,” you rolled your eyes playfully, and he stood, leaning over you and kissing your cheek. “Got anything else that might help?”

He laughed quietly, briefly kissing your pulse point. “Anybody ever told you that you can be real needy?”

“Is that a bad thing?” You let your hands wander over his stomach and chest, dropping down further to play with the waistband of his jeans, and he groaned.

“Not in the slightest,” he clarified, before straightening himself up to remove his jeans. You closed your eyes, still enjoying the comfort of the bed, the undisturbed joy you got to experience with your boyfriend away from the chaos of work. When you opened your eyes, Shayne had one knee on the mattress, boxers still on—much to your chagrin—and beckoning you closer to him. You sat up, shuffling towards him on your knees, and he guided you forward so that he could unhook your bra and let it slide down your arms.

“Your turn,” you bent down to tug at his boxers, and he smirked at the difficulty you had trying to get them off of him at this angle. He gently shooed you off, taking them off on his own, before pulling you in for a long, slow kiss. It was somewhat needier now than the one you had shared at the door, but it still felt just right; his tongue broke through your lips and, after sucking gently on it for a few seconds, you pulled back, too desperate for him to fuck you now to focus on anything else.

He pushed you down onto your back gently, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed and propping your legs on his shoulders. Fisting his cock, you watched him spit down onto you, letting the saliva trail over your hole before he ran his cock through your folds, gathering your wet on himself. You squirmed, eager and impatient, and he raised an eyebrow, smiling down at you.

“Needy.” He reiterated, before pushing into you. You felt the initial stretch, the blissful pressure of his cock plunging into you, and in this position, with your legs raised above you, you could feel him nestled deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you heard him mutter when he bottomed out, and one of his hands came down to your side, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your hip bone. “God, maybe we both needed this…”

“Mhm,” you sighed dreamily up at him, eyes half-lidded and lips parted.

He pulled his hips back less than an inch, focused on staying close to you and drawing your pleasure out, before pushing back in—not rough, but certainly hard; the force pushed you up the mattress slightly. Caught off guard by his movement, combined with the feeling of his cock pressing into you even deeper than it had before, you couldn’t help the moan of his name that was knocked from your lungs.

He kept fucking you like that, slow and deep, hands sweeping over your skin like he wanted to remember every curve and bend of your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shayne managed to speak out between low moans, “So fucking beautiful.”

You placed a hand over his where it sat on your thigh, still holding your legs above your body and against his chest. “All for you.” You squeezed his hand gently, and he leaned his head back.

“God, yeah—that’s right,” his thrusts started to get rougher, just enough for his cock to push against your most sensitive spot and keep you hovering over the edge. “All for me.”

He leaned forward, pushing your legs back with his body; he had even more free reign like this, thrusting into you hard and fast, and you mewled underneath him, letting out whimpers of delight at the way he pushed you closer to your high.

Propping himself up with one arm, his other hand resting on your waist, he dropped his head down to your chest and licked messy stripes over your breasts, capturing your nipple in his mouth and sucking on it before alternating to the other. You arched your back, struggling to decide whether to focus on the way his cock felt brushing against your g-spot or the way his tongue felt teasing your nipples.

You quickly decided that now wasn’t the time for decision making, allowing yourself to succumb completely to the way his movements worked in tandem to bring you satisfaction.

When he came up to kiss you again, you grabbed at his chain, pulling him further into you, and he moaned into your lips, tongue immediately seeking refuge in your mouth and licking into you. You returned the favor, eager to taste him. He moved his hand, positioning his thumb over your clit and kneading it in time with his thrusts, and you gasped at the friction. Mouth open and unable to tear your gaze from him, you yanked on the chain around his neck again, and he growled, pushing into you with less regard now—nice and rough to get you over the finish line.

“Fuck me just like that—oh my god, Shayne!” Your legs trembled from the strain of the position and the orgasm that built in the pit of your stomach, and when he licked his lips, panting, and you felt him press harder against your clit, you were engulfed by the electricity that seemed to shoot from him straight into your bloodstream. You cried out his name, throwing your head back and letting the pleasure take over.

You heard him hum above you, the combination of a contented sigh and a desperate groan as he watched you cum on his cock; panting, you placed a hand gingerly on his cheek, the other still toying with his chain, pulling his face towards yours, ghosting your lips over his.

“Cum in me,” you whispered into his mouth before kissing him, and you felt his lips part against yours with a moan, stuttering your name and spilling into you.

His head rested against yours, both of you breathing hard and trying to regain your composure. He kissed your ear, then your cheek, your nose, your other cheek, your other ear, before finally placing a sweet kiss against your lips, soft and full of love.

He took a deep breath before pulling out of you, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

“I know. Come here, baby” he helped you straighten your stiff legs before scooping you up and placing you properly along the bed; you curled up instantly, satisfied and relaxed. Shayne crawled into bed behind you, a box of tissues in his hands that he pulled from to wipe the excess mess from between your thighs. He was gentle, quiet, kissing your back while he pulled your legs apart to clean you off.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, turning over to face him, “I feel…much more relaxed.”

“Glad I could help.” He kissed your forehead, tossing the box of tissues across the room and cringing when they landed awkwardly in the middle of the floor instead of on the dresser he had been aiming for. “Never want you to think that you can’t tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I know,” you trailed your fingers over his chain, looking up to meet his gaze, “I’m sorry I was grumpy.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I’m sorry you felt so exhausted.”

“I’m still exhausted,” you smiled, “just in a much more enjoyable way.” You watched him break into a smile, pulling you against his chest and kissing the crown of your head.

“You can sleep in tomorrow.” He stroked your hair.

“Only if you sleep in with me.” You nuzzled into him, already feeling sleep tug your eyes closed.

“Can’t pass up an opportunity like that.”

[shadowtriovibes]

fever (what a lovely way to burn)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: M

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, friends to lovers, character with fever/illness, mild sensual content

Summary: request: "since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly."

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–” He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.” “N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

Monday, October 5, 1891

Even a month after the start of term, it’s unseasonably warm in the Highlands. The heat from the dog days of summer persists well into the arrival of autumn, permeating the ancient stone walls of the castle and settling like a thin layer of fog across Hogwarts’ students.

Professor Sharp’s N.E.W.T.s-level Potions class meets promptly at nine o’clock every morning. Despite the early time slot, the dungeon-level classroom starts to become warm rather quickly thanks to the heat of two dozen bodies and six potion stations, each with their flickering flames preheating the students’ pewter cauldrons.

Your little trio is usually the last to arrive from breakfast. Sebastian sidles up to the doorway just as Professor Sharp is preparing to close it, gallantly offering to hold it open for you and Ominis as you take your time sauntering down the hall, arms linked together and chatting happily about the latest gossip to have surfaced in the Great Hall.

Then you settle in at the potions table squarely in the middle of the classroom, which you’d unabashedly claimed at the start of term. (Ominis can hear Professor Sharp most clearly here, and Sebastian, as always, gets to remain the center of attention.)

Finally, with Ominis’ dictation quill hovering over his parchment, Professor Sharp begins his daily discourse.

“Dittany, as you’ll recall, is one of the most useful herbs for creating a wide range of healing draughts,” he explains, showing off a tendril of the fiercely pink plant clipped from Professor Garlick’s greenhouse just that morning. “Can anyone give me an example of one?”

“Wiggenweld Potion, sir,” Amit chimes in.

“Very good, Mister Thakkar,” Sharp replies with an approving nod. “Another?”

Adelaide Oakes timidly raises her hand. “Essence of Dittany, sir?”

“Well done, Miss Oakes,” he murmurs. “Though not as effective as a properly-brewed bottle of Wiggenweld, dittany on its own can be used to craft a powerful restorative tonic – especially useful in preventing the occurrence of scars. Five points to Hufflepuff.”

Then Professor Sharp glances around the room expectantly. “One more, perhaps?”

“Moustache paste, sir?” Sebastian mumbles under his breath, and you quickly elbow him in the side.

“What was that, Mister Sallow?” Professor Sharp drawls.

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek. “Er, the Antidote to Common Poisons, perhaps?”

Professor Sharp levels Sebastian with a dubious look. “I’m afraid not. While dittany is a broadly useful herb, its powers are generally limited to healing, not curing. When considering its uses, think ‘paper cut,’ not ‘influenza.’”

You raise your hand and ask, “Sir, are there any potions that do cure illnesses?”

“Yes, in fact,” Professor Sharp answers. “The Pepperup Potion will quickly resolve any common colds or cases of the flu, with the enigmatic side effect of generating steam that will pour from your ears for hours on end.”

You wince a bit. “I suppose that’s worth being over a cold in a day.”

“I should think so,” he replies with a slight grin. “So has the majority of the wizarding world since the twelfth century.”

As Professor Sharp segues into a lecture on the history of healing potions, you pull out a piece of parchment and start to take down some notes.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “What does Pepperup Potion taste like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I’ve only had it once, and it was a decade ago.”

You frown. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t drink it,” Sebastian says simply. “I’m allergic to bicorn horn.”

You blink, surprised. “You’re… allergic? How did you even discover that about yourself?”

“Oh, it was gruesome,” Ominis chimes in gleefully.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Well, I had my suspicions as a child when my parents gave me Pepperup Potion and steam poured out of my ears, nose, and mouth for a full week. Simply suffering through the cold would have been better.”

“And then?” you prompt.

“Well… in our third year, Anne and I made some Polyjuice Potion,” Sebastian admits, glancing around furtively. “We wanted to see if we could attend our classes all day as each other without anyone noticing the difference.”

“And Polyjuice Potion has bicorn horn,” you surmise.

Ominis looks delighted. “They were both in the Hospital Wing for three days, stuck as half-formed versions of each other.”

You gasp in disbelief. “That sounds awful!”

“It was the one and only time in their lives they were truly identical!” Ominis crows. “‘Sebastianne,’ we called them.”

You can’t help but giggle at Ominis’ delight while Sebastian sulks.

“In any case,” Sebastian grumbles, “I can’t take Pepperup Potion anymore, but luckily I never get sick.”

“Really?” you ask skeptically. “Everyone gets a common cold once in a while.”

“Not me,” he says proudly. “I haven’t been sick since I was a child. At the very least, if I have been sick, it must have been so mild that I wasn’t slowed down in the slightest – no need for Pepperup, thanks.”

“I’d be careful, Sebastian,” Ominis demurs. “Wouldn’t want to tempt fate, would we?”

With a lazy shrug, Sebastian turns to his potions station and begins to roughly chop some dittany leaves for a new healing potion Sharp intends to teach that afternoon. He glances up surreptitiously while you tie your hair back with one of those green ribbons you like to keep around your wrist for when the Potions classroom becomes especially humid with cauldron steam.

Though it’s unwise to lose focus while holding a knife, Sebastian has become quite skilled at multitasking while tending to his lovesick heart with stolen glances and half-formed daydreams.

He becomes so distracted staring at the column of your neck that when he suddenly feels a bit dizzy, he merely attributes it to the thick, heavy air in the room.

—

Tuesday, October 6, 1891

“You look dreadful,” you tell Sebastian cheerfully as you take a seat at breakfast.

Across from you, Sebastian looks a sight. His generally unruly hair is sticking up in every direction, and his face, which until this morning had still been sun-kissed and freckled from his time carrying out summer chores in Feldcroft, is ghostly pale.

“Cheers,” he grumbles, his head in his hands as he stares down at a plate full of untouched tattie scones.

You know for a fact they’re his favorite. In fact, you’ve stolen countless scones from the Great Hall on weekends when he treats himself to a bit of a lie-in just to make sure there are some left for when he finally emerges, hair rumpled and cheeks creased with pillow lines.

“Late night?” you ask him as you pour yourself some juice.

“The opposite, actually,” Ominis explains. “Sebastian was asleep before I even finished my Runes assignment last night, and I practically had to drag him out of bed this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” you comment, frowning. “You’re usually up half the night reading. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sebastian shrugs weakly. “I’m fine, I just… It’s dreadfully warm in the castle, and my head is aching.”

Without thinking, you reach across the table and press the back of your hand against his forehead.

“You’re quite hot,” you mumble.

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers, his eyes going wide. “What did you do that for?”

“You have a fever,” you explain to him. “Old Muggle trick. And your eyes are quite glassy. I think you might be coming down with something.”

Ominis unsubtly slides further down the bench.

“I’m not sick,” Sebastian protests. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired.”

You eye him warily, and as if to prove that he’s not ill, Sebastian lifts one of his hoarded scones to his mouth and takes a bite.

“See?” he asks with his mouth full. “M’fine.”

You grimace. “Lovely.”

Sebastian determinedly joins you and Ominis for Potions and manages to remain upright until the very end of class. He sways just a bit as he gathers up his belongings, and you offer him your shoulder while you make your way toward the stairs to Divination.

He balks when he sees the twisting spiral steps.

“On second thought,” he mumbles, “I think I’ll skive off today and get some rest.”

“Will you be alright?” you ask him concernedly. “I can come with you…”

“No, it’s fine,” he insists. “I’ll just lie down for a bit and then I’ll be grand, I promise. Save a seat for me at dinner, will you?”

Later that evening you linger in the Great Hall until the last of dinner melts through the tables down to the kitchens below, but Sebastian never shows up.

—

Wednesday, October 7, 1891

“You do not want to go in there,” Ominis tells you warningly. “Trust me, he’s a mess.”

You scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sebastian still hasn’t emerged from his dormitory in nearly eighteen hours, and you’re starting to worry for him. Ominis had brought him back some food from dinner the night before, but according to him, it had gone untouched.

When he’d failed to show his face at breakfast, you knew you had to step in.

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this,” Ominis tries. “Sebastian is hardly a gentleman, but some things are sacred.”

“He’s our best friend,” you remind Ominis. “I really don’t care if he’s not entirely put together.”

Ominis opens his mouth as if to say more, and then seemingly changes his mind.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll tell Professor Sharp you’re tending to Sebastian, and I’ll ask Amit if you can borrow his notes.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ominis,” you breathe, quickly pulling him in for a hug. “What would we do without you?”

“Rot in Azkaban, most likely,” he grumbles, which… is fair.

Once Ominis leaves for class, you gently knock on the seventh-year boys’ dormitory door. “Sebastian? Can I come in?”

Through the door, you hear him whine, “Go ‘way.”

“Sebastian,” you call out patiently. “Ominis told me you’re sick, and you haven’t gotten out of bed in too long. I’m coming in.”

He protests weakly from his bed as you open the door and slip inside, carefully pressing it closed behind you. As you’d expected, his other roommates have all gone for the day. Only Sebastian remains – or at least, you think it’s Sebastian.

All you can see sticking out from underneath the pile of pilfered blankets on his bed is a mess of curly, brown hair.

“Oh, dear,” you sigh.

“Jus’ leave me alone,” he mumbles from beneath the covers. “...I think I’m sick.”

“Finally facing the music, are you?” you tease him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed over,” he groans. “I’ve never been this ill before.”

“Should I take you to see Nurse Blainey?” you ask him. “I know you can’t have Pepperup Potion, but perhaps she has something else that would help.”

“No,” he sighs. “Ominis already sent for her, she said I’m a dafty and I’ll be fine in a coupl’a days.”

You bite back a laugh at Sebastian’s deteriorating accent; for how posh he usually sounds, apparently that rougher Feldcroft vernacular tends to slip out when he’s feeling poorly.

“Poor lamb,” you croon. “Can I do anything for you? Have you eaten?”

“M’not hungry,” he sulks. “Ominis made me drink some water before he left.”

You hum softly as you start to slowly pull his piles of blankets down low enough that you can see his face. Quickly you realize that Ominis had been exaggerating – Sebastian doesn’t look entirely a mess.

His eyes are a bit wet and glassy, you observe, and his nose is bright red from persistent rubbing with a handkerchief abandoned on his bedside table. He looks a little swollen beneath his jaw, but otherwise, he looks like he’d merely stayed awake all night, and you’ve seen a sleepless Sebastian countless times throughout your friendship.

There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw that you’ve never noticed before; it’s the same rich brown color as his wild, unkempt hair.

(Honestly, how dare he still look handsome even when he’s ill.)

“Hello, you,” you tease him in a voice just above a whisper. “Was beginning to wonder if you were even there under all those blankets.”

“I’m cold,” he complains.

“That’s the fever talking,” you tell him. “You should probably–”

But before you can tell him that he’d be better off with less covers, the blankets shift lower and you realize he’s not wearing a pajama shirt.

(Your disobedient mind immediately raises the question of whether he’s wearing anything at all, and subsequently, if you could get away with having a look. Immediately you scold that particular thought away.)

“Er, you should… don’t overheat yourself,” you finish lamely.

He’s flushed down to his chest, fever-pale skin burning red where the blankets had been piled on top of him. You discover that he’s got a thin smattering of hair here, too; he’s grown into the body of a man much sooner than many of your classmates, you imagine.

Sebastian watches as you swallow, your own eyes raking down his body.

“You’re missing class,” he observes. “You never miss class.”

“It’ll be alright, just this once,” you say softly.

For a moment you aren’t sure if you’re talking about missing class or being in Sebastian’s bed.

Then Sebastian suddenly starts to cough and hastily reaches for his handkerchief. He sounds utterly pathetic as he coughs and groans in discomfort, rolling onto his side and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“My chest hurts,” he whimpers. “I’ve been coughing all night.”

You reach across him and gently stroke the backs of your fingers down the middle of his chest. His skin is noticeably hot to the touch and damp with sweat.

“I can put some Muggle herbs in a warm compress for your chest,” you offer. “I know they’re not as effective as a potion would be, but it always helped me feel better when I was a child.”

“Alright, I suppose that’d be nice,” he mumbles.

But when you move to stand, he quickly snags your wrist.

“Wait,” he says. “Er… where would you go? For how long?”

“Well, I’ll have to go see if Nurse Blainey has any, and if not I can go look at the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” you explain. “It might take a bit of time, I’m afraid.”

“Then, just… stay,” he whines. “Keep me company? That’s better than some plain old herbs.”

You shift onto the bed, curling up on your side behind Sebastian. It’s a tight fit, and you’re dangerously close to falling off the edge, but you’re able to leave enough space between your bodies that you can make the argument that it’s friendly, and it’s fine.

“Can I rub your back?” you ask him softly. “It might help with the soreness.”

You have no idea if it will help his aching body, but you’re eager to try it nonetheless.

“Go on,” Sebastian rasps. “I… I might fall asleep.”

“You should,” you croon. “Your body’s telling you that you need to rest.”

“S’pathetic,” he grumbles. “I never get sick.”

“You had a good run,” you tease him. “But the common cold comes for us all eventually.”

He falls silent after that, his leanly muscled arms curled around a pillow while you stroke your hand up and down the length of his back. He’s so warm, and you’re a bit anxious about letting him ride out a fever as long as he has, but soon he drifts off to sleep.

You learn two things while he rests: he snores when he’s on his back, and he frowns whenever you take your hands off of him.

—

Thursday, October 8, 1891

Ominis had managed to talk you into returning to your own dormitory for the night, promising to look after Sebastian while you got some rest. When you return the following morning, you find him in even worse condition.

His sheets are bunched down to his hips, and he’s still bare from the waist up. His entire body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and the bags underneath his eyes have worsened – despite how much rest he’s getting, he seems more fatigued than ever.

“What happened?!” you ask Ominis.

“He’s had a fever all night,” Ominis says grimly, looking just as worn out as Sebastian. “He hasn’t eaten a thing, and I’ve barely been able to get him to drink some water.”

“Oh, Seb,” you sigh, taking his clammy hand and resting it in your lap as you sit on the edge of the bed. “You poor thing.”

“I think I’m dying,” he rasps. “This is it, right?”

“Hush now, there’s no need to be so dramatic,” you gently scold him, pressing your hand to his forehead. “You’re quite warm, but I’m not worried about your imminent demise.”

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–”

He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.”

“N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

“You’ll feel better,” you promise him. “And I swear I won’t, er… look, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You argue back and forth until Sebastian, utterly depleted of his typical stubbornness, loses energy and gives in. Ominis promises to stop by J. Pippin’s to see if the shopkeeper has any draughts suitable for Sebastian’s allergies before leaving to go to class, and you help Sebastian get out of bed with his arm around your shoulders and your own around his waist.

(He’s got pants on, thank Merlin, but you have to help him into a pair of pajamas to make the walk to the Slytherin baths.)

Sebastian balks when you enter the boys’ baths, but you both quickly learn there are no enchantments in place to keep you from joining him. You offer him an arm to lean on while he takes off his pajamas and coughs – this time pointedly – for you to turn around while he sinks into the lukewarm bath you’d drawn.

“This does feel nice,” he finally says once he’s settled in the opaque, murlap-scented water.

“Good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice how your voice has gone up a bit higher than usual. “I’ll be back in a few moments with some fresh pajamas for you.”

“I’ll try not to drown while you’re gone,” he drawls, and even though he still sounds exhausted, you smile to yourself knowing that the bath is already helping him feel more like his usual self.

Hogwarts’ house elves were exceptionally fast in tidying up the boys’ dormitory while the two of you were out, so when you finally lead a clean, dry Sebastian back to his room, you’re thrilled to find freshly laundered sheets and a new pair of pillows waiting for him.

“Gods, I love magic,” he groans as he collapses into bed.

You stay all afternoon and into the evening. Ominis returns shortly before dinner with a brew from Parry Pippin himself, similar to the Pepperup Potion but with cinnamon instead of powdered bicorn horn.

(Sebastian seems to emit thin tendrils of steam straight from the top of his head after he drinks it, but he perks up all the same.)

Feenky herself brings a tray of soup and some leftover scones from breakfast once Sebastian regains his appetite. While he eats, he tells you about how he used to sit with Anne during the summers when she was particularly ill from her curse.

“At the time, I wondered if my being there was more of a help or a hindrance,” he says ruefully. “She was… hard to read, then. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by me or appreciated me staying.”

You pause before shyly asking, “Am I helping? By being here?”

“Of course,” he says without thinking.

“Then I’m sure you were helping Anne, even when she was annoyed,” you tell him reassuringly. “That’s all we ever want to do really, isn’t it? Help the ones we love?”

Sebastian glances up at his tray with an inscrutable expression on his face. His eyes are still glassy and he’s a bit peaky, but the cinnamon-laced, not-quite-Pepperup Potion has restored some of the usual warmth in his gaze.

“Right,” he echoes. “Help the ones we love.”

You end up staying the night in the boys’ dormitory. Only Ominis knows you’re there, as he draws the curtains around the both of you before the boys’ other roommates return from the common room. Given that Sebastian seems to be feeling better already, it’s not strictly necessary.

But it feels nice all the same.

—

Friday, October 9, 1891

Sebastian’s fever finally broke during the night.

When you wake up he’s wrapped around you from behind, one of his legs jammed between yours with his arm curled possessively around your waist.

You’re sweltering, but he’s cool to the touch.

“Sebastian,” you whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Judging by the way sunlight pours over the top of Sebastian’s bed curtains, it’s well past when you’d usually wake up during the school week. You can’t hear any other snoring boys around you, either.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “Wake up.”

He groans tiredly into your hair as his arm tightens around your waist. “No.”

“N-no?!” you sputter. “It’s morning! We… we should, er.”

You trail off when you realize you aren’t quite sure what you should be doing. Evidently you’ve missed breakfast, and you’ve likely missed the start of Potions for the third day in a row. Professor Sharp will have no choice but to give you a detention; just as well, you suppose, as you can use the time to make up what you’ve missed.

But now that the damage is done…

“How are you feeling?” you ask him softly, your eyes still fixed on the green curtains in front of your face.

“Loads better,” he says, only this time his lips are pressed against the sensitive spot behind your ear.

You gasp as he rolls more of his weight toward you, pressing you more firmly into the mattress.

“Sebastian…” you sigh.

“I had a dream about you last night,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper beneath your ear. “I’ve heard Pepperup Potion can give one strange dreams.”

“St-strange?” you whisper back. “Why was it a strange dream?”

“I suppose it wasn’t really ‘strange,’” he acquiesces. “But it was nice. Really nice.”

“Tell me about it?” you ask breathlessly.

“Perhaps I’ll show you instead,” he asks, and when you nod, he slides his hand down to your hip and turns you onto your back.

Then quite suddenly he’s leaning over you, one knee still between your thighs. He rests on his elbows so his face is just centimeters from yours, and it’s the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him since the boys put out last night’s fire.

Sebastian looks so much better. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are clear and bright, and the sickly sheen of sweat he’d worn for days is entirely gone. (His hair is still a bird’s nest, but that’s to be expected.)

“We were like this,” he tells you.

“Were we just talking?” you ask him, but you’re met with only silence.

After a beat, he asks you, “Why have you been so kind to me this week?”

“You’re my best friend,” you tell him softly. “I – I wanted to help you feel better.”

“Is that all I am?” he asks. “Am I simply your friend?”

You bite your lip hesitantly and his gaze dips down to your mouth, his brown eyes nearly black in the soft morning light.

“Do you want to kiss me, Sebastian?” you ask.

Rather than answering, he surprises you by leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he lifts one of his hands to gently tip your face toward his, cradling your jaw while he deepens the kiss into one that’s hardly sweet at all.

It feels like it’s perhaps the first time in days that Sebastian has felt hunger.

You gasp his name into his mouth and then he’s the one biting your lip, just a quick graze of his teeth before he soothes your ensuing whine with another slow kiss. He shifts his weight onto his hip to rest on the mattress beside you, using that leg between yours to coax you into lying next to him. He rewards your body’s assent with a filthy kiss – the kind you’ve only read about in those Muggle romance novels you hide under your pillow, the kind where the hero kisses the girl with his tongue in her mouth and his hand in her blouse.

“Seb,” you moan.

“I didn’t know,” he confesses against your lips.

“Didn’t know what?” you whine.

“I didn’t know you loved me until last night,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours.

You’re so distracted by how red and swollen his lips look that you nearly miss him saying, “You stayed with me all week, you held me, practically healed me, and I still didn’t know.”

“Of course I love you,” you tell him.

“You love Ominis, you love Poppy,” he counters. “This – us – is different. Right?”

And the truth is, you would have done anything you’d done for Sebastian for any one of your friends. You would have helped Poppy into a warm bath and back into bed, and you would have sat at Ominis’ bedside all day and torn up pieces of scone to float on the surface of his soup.

But you would not have let them press you into their bedsheets and trace their lips along your neck, and right now Sebastian is eagerly doing both.

“Yes,” you whimper, both in answer to his question and as a plea for more.

“I love you, too,” he sighs against your jaw. “I have for ages, and I didn’t want you to see me all pathetic and poorly, but you still love me anyway.”

“I’ve loved you through worse,” you quietly remind him.

He nips at your throat for that remark; you’ve both agreed to speak of your fifth year as little as possible. Truly, the only reason you’d ever bring it up now is to remind Sebastian that you’ve long since made your choice – him, over duty and the law and perhaps even reason.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “We have all morning, we have the dormitory to ourselves. Let me take care of you now.”

He pulls your thigh across his own and tangles his fingers in your sleep-mussed hair, holding you against his warm, bare chest.

“That’s tempting,” you breathe. “B-but perhaps we should check with Nurse Blainey, to see if you’re ready to return to–”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he grinds his hips against yours. There’s no mistaking that he’s aroused, and that alone convinces you that he must be feeling well – you’re positive that he would’ve been too weak for this type of debauchery yesterday morning even if you’d gotten fully nude before him and begged.

“Trust me, I feel excellent,” he moans into your mouth. “Love, please.”

You don’t come up for air for a long while after that. By the time Ominis stops by during lunchtime to check on Sebastian, he nearly trips over your skirt, hastily tossed near the doorway.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” he deadpans.

“That potion of yours worked like a charm, Ominis,” Sebastian drawls. “Cinnamon, who would have thought?”

“I don’t suppose I mentioned that Muggles find cinnamon to be an organic aphrodisiac?” Ominis says innocently. “At least, that’s what Mister Pippin said. He told me you might have some rather amorous dreams while you recover.”

“No, I think you forgot to mention that,” Sebastian replies just as innocently.

Ominis simply hums and says, “Well, now that you’ve been made aware, I’ll be off to Herbology. I’d recommend locking the door if our dear friend is going to be keeping you company this afternoon, Sebastian.”

You’re too embarrassed to say a word, but Sebastian cheerfully thanks him as he pulls the door shut and reaches for his wand on his bedside table to magically lock it behind him.

“We’ve become menaces,” you whine as he rolls on top of you once more.

Sebastian grins wickedly down at you. “Not yet we haven’t, but thank Merlin we’ve got all afternoon.”

[toriaaniin]

No, It's Not FaceTime

Hey! Me again 😜

Shortly after I published my Lock It Down post (link at bottom of the page) I heard from a post-reader who said:

I think (Nicola) was video chatting with Luke while the music was going. You can make the box smaller when you are video chatting. Just a thought. But yes; has to be them

I love getting feedback from post-readers, so thank you to this person for sharing their thoughts!

Okeydoke... here's why I stand by this being Nicola's lock screen and not a FaceTime (FT) chat...

Let's start with this image because oh my, what a sweetie!

This is my lock screen, and my pup Juno. She passed away 3 years ago now, and I miss her terribly!

I'm sharing my screen with you because it has something in common with Nicola's lock screen: the date and time at the top. Note that the date and time do not display in this fashion when the screen is unlocked. For that reason, we must assume that Nicola's phone is locked when this photo of her holding her phone was taken.

To test out the FT theory, F @mrsfingertondepanini called me. There are a few things to make note of here (refer to photo below. The screenshot of F on the left is mine, and the one of me on the right is F's)

I answered the FT call from my lock screen. Meaning I didn't unlock my phone to answer. F DID unlock her phone to call because she needed to access the FT app.

My screen (left) does not display the date and time. My phone is locked. I didn't reduce the size of the video image of F because it didn't occur to me to test that... SO I don't know whether if I had, I would be able to see the date and time display. What I do ask is "why would I make the video box of F smaller?" That action would require me to do the whole 2 finger reducing-size maneuver. There seems no point to it. There's nothing about the image of Luke that suggests it's been made smaller (left/right image is to the edge of the screen)

Yes, we each had a little tiny video image of ourselves in the bottom right corner. Note however that our wee video isn't quite 2" tall and less than 1" wide. I did try to make mine larger, but it reduced itself back to this size moments later. On Nicola's phone, the image looks to be at least 2" plus in size, square. Further, Our little videos sit about 1/2" above the bottom of our phone screen, and there's a border to the right of our image box too. On Nicola's phone, the image is tucked right down to the edges of her screen, bottom and right side.

I've circled a little green dot at the top of F's screenshot. There's one on my screenshot that lives in F's hair. In both cases, the green dot (indicating that the camera is operational) is on the right side of centre. You'll note that Nicola's green dot is on the left side. I'm not sure what that indicates. It will not indicate that she is recording or in live video call like our right-side green dots do.

The two most important findings of all...

The primary image of Luke suggests that he's outside and in the sunshine. Nicola's Neutrogena event is in the evening. If Nicola truly was FTing with Luke, he would have to be in North America (likely West Coast) to reflect time zone differences. Possible... but probable? Even though Luke is currently MIA, I would suggest that it's not likely he's in NA.

Nicola wore black to the Neutrogena event yet the image in the bottom right corner of her screen is wearing white (blurry with pixels, but you can still see the white). If the image on the bottom right was a live recording, we'd see Nicola in black.

F and I had fun (as evidenced by our laughter) when testing out the FT theory. Because of our findings we are confident that Nicola is not FTing Luke.

One last thing just for the heck of it. Another reader asked me if I thought the primary image of Luke on the lock screen was also taken in Brazil. Bottom line is I just don't know. I do, however, have a photo that - while different - is also very similar... enough so that perhaps it can lend weight to my (your?) belief that the primary image IS Luke. Here you go...

Luke looks really puffy in this photo! It was taken back on mid-April 2023 - allergy (polin!) season. I suspect his seasonal allergies had a very bad hold on him that day, poor guy!!

I hope this information helps you to set the FaceTime theory aside😘

Aaniin Xxx

[love--and--venom]

Had Your Fun?

Summary: A mishap at the studio leaves you and your boyfriends waiting impatiently to record. Jooyeon decides it would be fun to do a livestream, so you all hide in a dance practice room for a couple hours. Unfortunately for you, the songs you were dancing to, live for thousands to see, showed off a bit too much for your boys' liking. So now you have to face the consequences

Warnings: Oh god where do I start, smut, oral (m + f receiving), anal sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (dont), double (triple??) peneration (p in v, a, mouth), possessive xdh, a few spanks, objectification, dubcon if you squint but safewords are in place, i think that's everything? lmk if i missed any

i don't have an explanation. i was apparently possessed by some kind of horny demon and wrote the nastiest smut i've ever written so far. and it's 12 fucking pages. anyway stream george the lobster

Based on this hard thought

also i did not proofread this i'm sleepy

Links to fancams for each song mentioned in the fic: ⬩Crazy Form⬩Teeth⬩Cyberpunk⬩Taste⬩Wake Up⬩GGUM ⬩

“What do you mean ‘the studio’s flooded’?!” Gunil shouted, making all of you pause in your tracks. Ten minutes ago, their manager texted the leader to wait in the lobby for a bit due to some “technical issues” they were having in their reserved recording booth. That did not sound like a technical issue. Gunil stormed a few feet away, whispering angrily into the phone while you and the other members shared a wary look.

“Fuck,” the drummer cursed after he hung up, running a hand through his hair.

“Everything alright?” You asked as you grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“No,” he sighed. “A pipe burst, so they had to close five of the recording booths, including ours.”

“Does that mean we can’t record today?” Jiseok grumbled, shoulders drooping with disappointment.

“We can, it’ll just be a while. We have to wait for one of the other booths to open up.” The boys all groaned. It could take hours for another group to finish up.

“So do we just go home until then?” Hyeongjun asked with a slight furrow in his brow.

“We can, but our manager also said that one of the dance practice rooms is open if we want to wait here,” Gunil explained. The group fell to silence as they weighed their options.

“If we hang out in the practice room, we could do a live,” Jooyeon suggested. Well, hanging out with the Villains was definitely a better option than sitting around at home. You made your way to the practice room, stopping briefly to grab a tripod. Gunil snagged one of the two chairs in the room and began setting up his phone to stream on Instagram. The other chair was quickly stolen by Jiseok, leaving the others to spread out on the floor.

“Will you get in trouble if I play music?” You asked, eyeing up the speaker against the wall. After getting the go-ahead, you connected your phone to the aux cord and pulled up your dance playlist while Gunil greeted the Villains and filled them in on their current predicament. You threw your hoodie onto your bag, leaving you in a tank top and joggers so you wouldn’t overheat while dancing to your music.

“Ah, that’s Y/N.” You perked up at the sound of our name. Jungsu had the chat open on his phone and was responding to comments. “She’s our sound tech, so she has to wait just like we do.”

“And she gets the zoomies,” Jiseok teased. You rolled your eyes at him before returning to half-heartedly performing the choreo to the current song.

“You’re in frame,” Gunil warned. “Do you want me to move the camera?”

“Nah, I don’t mind. Hi Villains! I hope my dancing isn’t too horrible,” you smiled and waved at the camera. For a while, things continued just like that: you absentmindedly answered questions thrown your way while the boys chatted about upcoming recording plans. You interrupted Jungsu as he was reading a comment with an excited scream when the intro to Crazy Form began playing. 

“I think she likes this song,” Jooyeon laughed as you put way more effort into the choreography. 

“Villains are saying we should be worried about Ateez,” Jungsu noted while scrolling the chat. Seungmin peeked over his shoulder, but the chat wasn’t offering any clarification. The first body roll hit and the boys had to fight to contain their surprise. Hyeongjun hid his mouth behind his hands when you did Wooyoung’s butt wiggle. Teeth came on next, and while the lyrics raised some concerns, the dance wasn’t as bad, so they relaxed a bit. That was a mistake on their end.

“Oh my god!” You froze, frantically looking for a chair while Cyberpunk started. “Jiseok, I need your chair now!” You hurriedly kicked him to the floor, knowing he was more lenient with you than Gunil was. You hopped on just in time for the lyrics to start. The warning looks began with Seungmin, but you were blissfully unaware as you continued to dance to Cyberpunk, then Taste. By the end of Wake Up, Hyeongjun was staring in horror with a bright pink flush while Jungsu, Seungmin, and Jiseok gave you the look. Jooyeon was absolutely delighted.

“Why are they so mad?” He whispered to Hyeongjun. “She looks good, dude.”

“Jooyeon,” the guitarist looked at him incredulously. “We’re on a live. We’re not the only ones watching her.” The smile immediately dropped from his face and now he, too, joined in the glaring contest. Gunil managed to remain neutral through all of this despite his growing annoyance. But he was fed up and turned to you once GGum started, completely ignoring the stream. You were in the middle of the first verse when you finally noticed them. 

Oh, shit, you thought, faltering momentarily to consider your options. Fuck it, I’m in trouble anyway. You jumped right back into the dance, ignoring the ‘don’t you fucking dare’ eyes from the group as you finished out the choreography.

“Had your fun?” Gunil asked in between songs, raising an eyebrow at you since the camera couldn’t see his face. 

“Uhhhh, yep!” You laughed somewhat nervously. You, in fact, did not have a death wish so you opted to switch to an alternative playlist and bring your stolen chair up to sit next to the leader. “So, do you guys have any questions about sound production?” You hoped to turn the attention away from yourself. It worked, since all six band members started reading the chat. You leaned forward, squinting to try and find some comments you could answer. Gunil’s hands shot up in front of you, palms to the camera, as the boys made various noises of shock and panic while your eyes widened at their reactions.

“Y/N, sit back.” You tilted your head at the drummer, confused until Jungsu handed you his sweater.

“Put it on,” he instructed and it dawned on you that you were in a tank top and leaning forward had put your tits on full display for the stream. 

“T-Thanks,” you cleared your throat and pulled his sweater on. Several people in the chat were questioning the interaction, calling the boys out on their use of their ‘dom eyes’ throughout the stream. Gunil steered the conversation back to their production process, and things went normally for the next hour until the Villains pointed out how much you did to make sure the recordings were successful.

“Oh, trust me, these boys would be lost if I wasn’t here,” you bragged while they all rolled their eyes. 

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a bit?” Jiseok scoffed and crossed his arms.

“Nope! I am the literal backbone of your production team. You’re lucky I haven’t gotten sick or anything, cus if you had to deal with everything on your own, nothing would get done correct–”

“Okay, princess, we get it,” Seungmin interrupted, covering his intentions with sarcasm. Your jaw snapped shut and you immediately sat up straight, knowing exactly what that particular pet name meant for you.

“O.de, be nice,” Gunil warned the younger member. A knock on the door stole everyone’s attention as the manager for the freshly-debuted KickFlip poked her head in the room.

“We’re done in studio 7 if you guys want to take over,” she informed you with a bright smile. Gunil nodded and thanked her, then turned back to the stream once she left.

“All right, back to work. Thanks for hanging out with us, bye~!” You all waved goodbye to the stream until Gunil ended it. As soon as the camera was off, the leader squeezed your thigh, staring you down with an extremely unimpressed expression. Seungmin and Jungsu moved to stand in front of you, arms crossed and looking much more annoyed than the drummer.

“Oh, fuck,” you swore and drooped in your chair, hiding the bottom half of your face in the collar of your sweater.

“Yeah, ‘oh fuck’ is right, sweetheart,” Jungsu mocked while impatiently tapping his fingers on his bicep. The chair screeched against the floor as Gunil yanked you closer to him while Seungmin grabbed the back of the chair to loom over you.

“Did you have fun showing off what’s ours?” Seungmin asked as his eyes bore into yours.

“U-Uhm…” You trailed off, looking to the other three for help. They rapidly shook their heads.

“Nu-uh, babe. You did this to yourself,” Jiseok denied while making an ‘x’ with his fingers. Gunil turned you to face him, squishing your cheeks in his fingers.

“You’re lucky we need to record,” he chastised with a click of his tongue. “You better hope our Villains don’t post any screen recordings of you.” He patted your thigh and stood, signalling the other to back off, for now. The air was tense in the studio, but your (thankfully) clueless production manager quickly diffused the tension.

Villains certainly lived up to their name. Many, many videos were posted of the stream. Most of them gushed about how well you performed the choreography, but there were some that clipped together all of the moments where the boys slipped up. 

‘Am I insane or were they staring at her a little too hard 👀’

‘Oh shit, they were giving her the same look my dom gives me when i misbehave’

‘I would pay real money to have o.de look at me like that’

These were just some of the comments under one of the videos, and you didn’t even know they were being made. Not until you got back to your apartment.

“Knees,” Gunil ordered once the door was closed. You immediately scurried to the living room with Hyeongjun moving to do the same.

“Not you this time,” Jungsu stopped him by grabbing his wrist. “Sit back and watch or do as we say, up to you.” He nodded slowly, following the others to sit on the couch while you sat on your knees in front of Gunil.

“Villains made edits of you already,” Jiseok said while scrolling through tiktok. “You should see some of the comments.” 

“I’ll ask again,” Seungmin began while leaning on the arm of the couch next to the drummer. “Did you have fun showing off what’s ours?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you argued quietly as your nails dug into your knees. “I didn’t realize—”

“Yes you did,” Gunil cut you off and you pressed your lips into a thin line. “Maybe not at first, but you knew toward the end.”

“But you disobeyed anyway. Why?” Jungsu asked, arching one eyebrow expectantly.

“Uhm, well, y-y’know. I knew I was in trouble anyway…” you trailed off as your heart beat wildly in your chest.

“So you decided to make it worse,” Seungmin scoffed, shaking his head while Gunil leaned forward to hook a finger under your chin.

“You know the deal, baby. Bad girls get punished. So,” Gunil paused when Jungsu tapped him on the shoulder, prompting the drummer to move closer. Jungsu covered his mouth as he whispered, making you squirm in place. The corner of Gunil’s mouth twitched up. He nodded, relaxing into the back of the couch with one arm crossed behind his head, the other draped lazily across his lap.

“Hyeongjun,” Jungsu turned his attention to the three members sitting on the other end of the couch. Hyeongjun tensed slightly.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Strip her for us.” He immediately jumped off the couch to pull you to your feet, stopping with his hands curled around the hem of your shirt to glance between Gunil and Seungmin.

“Can I kiss her? Please?” 

“You’ve been good, so you can do whatever you want without asking permission this time,” Gunil answered. “Just one rule: don’t let her cum.”

“Yes, sir,” Hyeongjun mumbled before crashing his lips into yours, squeezing your hips as he licked into your mouth. Jungsu swatted the back of your thigh when your hands fell naturally onto Hyeongjun’s shoulders, making you whimper into the kiss.

“Hands to yourself, sweetheart. You don’t get to touch us until you’ve earned it,” Jungsu instructed, slapping your ass at your hesitation. Your hands dropped to your sides, curling into fists and digging your nails into your palms. Seungmin’s eyebrows raised as he finally caught on to Jungsu’s plan. 

“Arms up,” Hyeongjun whispered against your lips, practically tearing your sweater and tank top off before your arms were fully raised. The rest of your clothes followed suit, crumpled in a useless pile on the floor, leaving you the only one fully naked. Hyeongjun’s eyes flicked between you and Gunil apprehensively.

“Go ahead, baby. Do what you want,” Gunil reassured him, making a devious smirk grow on the guitarist’s face. He bit his lip, looking back at you while nearly bursting at the seams in his excitement.

“Sit between Jiseok and Jooyeon,” he instructed as he took a step back. You hesitated again, earning another sharp slap on your ass, this time from Seungmin.

“You better listen to him, princess,” he warned you with a slight tilt of his head. You sat down and let Hyeongjun maneuver your legs, draping them over one knee from the boys on either side of you to keep you spread open. He dropped to his knees, giving you no warning before licking a thick stripe over your clit. Your hands instinctively threaded through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as your hips bucked forward.

“Hey, brat, put your hands to better use,” Jungsu ordered, gesturing to Jiseok and Jooyeon with his chin. “Jerk them off.”

“You don’t get to cum until you make us cum,” Gunil noted. “That sounds fair, doesn’t it, princess?” You nodded, whining when Hyeongjun’s tongue circled your entrance. You hastily shoved down Jiseok’s sweatpants just enough to free his cock. You turned to do the same for Jooyeon, only to see that he had beaten you to it. You spat into your palms, pumping both of them with as much coordination as your fucked-out mind could handle.

“Hyeongjun,” Jungsu said to call the guitarist’s attention. Hyeongjun hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending a spark of pleasure down your spine. “Get her ready for me, sweet boy.”

“Mkay,” he slurred and pulled back slightly, pulling a broken whine from your throat as the fire building in your lower belly died out from the lack of contact. He sucked on two of his fingers, then using a mix of his saliva and your arousal, he slowly pushed one into your ass while leaning back in to lap at your clit.

“Breathe, baby,” Jooyeon softly encouraged as he noticed you subconsciously holding your breath. You took a deep, shuddering breath, giving yourself more fuel to moan pathetically. Jiseok’s head tipped back, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips rolled up to meet your hand. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he panted. Your hand tightened around his cock, twisting your wrist at the base in a way you knew drove him wild. On your other side, Jooyeon pushed Hyeongjun’s hair out of his face to watch his tongue and fingers disappear in both of your holes. The bassist lost all composure when he noticed Hyeongjun’s unoccupied hand slide into his pants, palming himself to the taste of you and the sound of your whimpering. A few more pumps had Jiseok spilling ropes of cum over your hand, followed quickly by Jooyeon, their moans sending a rush of heat straight to your pussy.

“Enough, Hyeongjun,” Seungmin warned him when you showed all the signs of your own orgasm approaching. Hyeongjun either didn’t care or didn’t hear him over his heart pounding in his ears, cus he didn’t pull away from you. 

“I said enough,” Seungmin growled and roughly yanked Hyeongjun back by his hair. A high-pitched whine escaped his throat, and he panted as a wet patch grew on the front of his sweatpants. 

“Poor thing just needed a little pain to cum,” Jungsu cooed with mock sympathy. Seungmin rolled his eyes, releasing his hold on Hyeongjun’s hair before returning to his place next to Gunil.

“He’s lucky that she fucked up way worse, otherwise I’d be punishing him, too,” Seungmin scoffed and crossed his arms. 

“Come here, princess,” Gunil beckoned you with a wave of his hand. You stood on shaky legs, letting the drummer pull you down to straddle him once you were in arm’s reach. He shifted so his back was against the arm of the couch, putting your face level with Seungmin’s still-clothed cock. 

“You’re going to keep my cock warm in your pretty little pussy while Jungsu and Seungmin have their way with you. Understand?” Gunil asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, sir,” you replied without hesitation, nodding rapidly. He smirked and patted your hip to get you to rise up on your knees. He pushed his pants down his thighs before lining himself up and guiding you down to sit on his lap, this time with his cock buried deep in your cunt. You barely had time to adjust before Jungsu’s fingers thrust into your ass.

“Hyeongjun did good with you, huh?” He mumbled absentmindedly, removing his fingers to spit on your back entrance. Despite their harsh words, they still made sure to help you relax as Jungsu sank his cock in your ass. Gunil’s hands ran up and down your sides while Jungsu used his thumbs to trace gentle circles on your hips.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Seungmin cupped your cheeks as he praised you, swiping away any stray tears that dripped down your face. “Taking your punishment like such a good girl.” 

“I’m in, sweetheart. Let me know when I can move,” Jungsu murmured, pressing kisses down your spine as he waited patiently for you to adjust to having both holes filled. 

“What’s your color?” Gunil asked.

“Green. Bu-But I need to hold myself up, and I-I don’t know where to put my hands without touching,” you replied while flexing your hands where they hung at your sides. Gunil brought your hands up to rest on his chest, making your eyes go wide.

“It’s okay, baby,” he softly reassured you. “Just keep them here.” You nodded, taking another deep, calming breath to help regain some semblance of composure.

“Move, please.” With your confirmation, Jungsu dug his fingers into your hips, pulling out halfway so he could snap his hips against your ass. Your nails scratched down Gunil’s chest through his shirt as Jungsu fell into a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” Gunil moaned as his eyes momentarily rolled back. “God, I’ll never get tired of feeling him fuck your ass from inside you.” You whined in response while Seungmin gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail. 

“Open.” You looked up with watery eyes, nearly drooling as he stroked his dick inches from your face. He raised an eyebrow, tugging your hair as a reminder to listen. Your jaw dropped, letting your tongue hang out. He tapped his tip against it, giving you a taste of his pre-cum before pushing your head down far enough to briefly trigger your gag reflex. Unlike Jungsu, Seungmin lazily fucked your mouth, watching the saliva drip down your chin through hooded eyes. 

“Shit, ‘m close,” Jungsu panted as he leaned down to suck dark purple marks along the side of your neck, supporting his weight with one shaky arm on the back of the couch. Gunil’s hand shot up to press against Jungsu’s shoulder to keep him from collapsing on you.

“Easy, babe,” the drummer gently warned.

“Good, ‘m good. I got it,” Jungsu insisted through breathy moans. “Gonna cum in you, sweetheart. Gonna pump your pretty little ass full of it, fuck.” HIs teeth dug into your shoulder as he continued to fuck you through his orgasm, prolonging his pleasure and making you whimper around Seungmin’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Seungmin cursed, tightening his grip on your hair as the vibrations from your moans sent him abruptly over the edge. Your mouth was flooded with the salty taste of his cum. He pulled out, hooking a finger under your chin. “Let me see.” You opened your mouth to show him the white liquid coating your tongue. He smirked, then pressed his lips to your forehead. “Swallow,” he mumbled against your skin. You obeyed immediately, shuddering at the sensitivity from Jungsu pulling out to collapse into the couch cushions. 

“One more, baby. Then it’s your turn,” Gunil promised while rolling his hips up. You squealed at the sensation, fire running through your veins from getting stimulation after staying wrapped patiently around him for so long. He propped himself up on one elbow, dragging his tongue from between your breasts up to your collarbone. He pressed heated, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, adding to the marks Jungsu left earlier. Your thighs trembled with the effort of holding back your swiftly approaching orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long with you squeezing me like that,” Gunil admitted with an airy laugh. “Seungmin–”

“I know, I got her,” Seungmin cut him off as he moved to Jungsu’s previous position behind you. His chest met your back while his arms wrapped around you. His chin rested on your shoulder as his fingers trailed feather-light up your inner thighs and across your tummy before roughly cupping your tits. Your eyes clamped shut so you could focus on holding back rather than the warmth of Seungmin’s hands and the way Gunil’s cock brushed against your cervix. You gasped, eyes snapping back open when one of Seungmin’s hands abandoned your chest in favor of rubbing tight circles on your clit.

“F-Fuck, I can’t-! Let me cum, please. Wanna be good for you, bu-but I can’t hold it,” you helplessly begged, throwing your head back onto Seungmin’s shoulder since neither of them stopped or even slowed down. 

“You can and you will,” Seungmin borderline growled in your ear. His breath fanning over the sensitive skin on your neck sent another shiver down your spine. 

“Please,” you whimpered, completely forgetting about the ‘no touching’ rule as your nails dug into Seungmin’s forearm.

“Please, what, princess?” Gunil asked after pulling back far enough to watch you writhe against Seungmin’s chest. Tears now freely ran down your cheeks as you attempted to speak between broken whines and high-pitched moans.

“Let me cum! Please, fuck, wanna cum,” you cried. “Please, pleasepleaseplease–”

“Jiseok, shut her up,” Gunil ordered, shooting a pointed look at the guitarist. He shot out of his seat, crashing his lips into yours to messily swallow your pleas. He threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling slightly to give his tongue more room to lick into your mouth. Your chest heaved while Jiseok dragged his tongue along yours, making more spit pool at the corners of your mouth. 

“Fuck,” Gunil swore under his breath as his thrusts got sloppier the closer he got to his orgasm. His hips stuttered after a few more harsh thrusts, flooding your pussy with his cum. You whined into Jiseok’s mouth, gripping his bicep desperately with both hands.

“Cum for us, princess,” Seungmin encouraged while pressing down on your clit- hard. All of your muscles tensed as the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashed into you. If Jiseok wasn’t there to dampen your screams, you definitely would’ve gotten a noise complaint. You winced as Gunil pulled out, vaguely registering him and Seungmin maneuvering your body to a more comfortable position. The two of them whispered praises while running their hands along your skin to help bring you down from your high. Once you came back to your senses, you looked up at Gunil from where you sat in his lap.

“There you are, pretty girl,” he grinned when he noticed your bleary eyes on him. “I want you to sit with Seungmin and Jungsu while I grab some stuff to clean you up, okay?” You nodded, prompting Gunil to place you between the two keyboard players before heading toward the bathroom. 

“You did so good for us, sweetheart,” Jungsu smiled fondly as you pressed your cheek into the palm of his hand.

“Is Hyeongjun okay?” Your voice was muffled from your squished cheek, making you a little difficult to hear. Since you were so cute, though, none of the boys really minded. 

“I’m good, love,” he reassured you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to relax until you knew that both of you were being taken care of.

“Alright,” Gunil started as he returned to the living room to scoop you off the couch. “Let’s get you in the bath, then we can watch that movie you’ve been talking about.”

“Yay,” you cheered quietly. He shook his head with a short laugh.

“You’re lucky I love you, that we love you.”

“I love you, too. All of you.”

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[notjustjavierpena]

just thinking about taking a late night bath with hubby when the kids are asleep. just intimate moments and quiet chats about nothing in particular. that man has rotted my brain

R&R

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here you go, nonnie ❤️ Gave you smut too, whops

Summary: You return from an emergency at work to Javier who wants to spoil you.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic bliss, fluff, alcohol consumption, body insecurities, javi loves and worships his wife, kisses, rough passionate sex, dirty talk, light choking, multiple orgasms, siggy wrote doggy (an achievement), creampie, explicit description of come, hint at a breeding kink

Word count: 4.5k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59136853

R&R

You fall back against the door with a huff after entering your house late at night, sighing deeply while dragging your hands down over your face in exasperation. There’s the familiar prickling feeling in your nose as your body threatens to let tears fall from your eyes but you swallow thickly and try to focus on the comfort of being home. You hadn’t wanted to go into the office at this time of day but it had been an emergency meeting that meant you couldn’t be there for Lucas’ bedtime. 

As you undo your jacket, shrugging it off your shoulders, Javier enters the hallway. He is the only person you want to see right now, his mere presence easing your mind and body. 

“Where was the fire?” He asks, taking your jacket from your hands and hanging it up for you. 

“A project had fallen through today without the boss telling us,” you groan, not even thinking - like always, switching to autopilot - when you push yourself off the door to walk into Javier’s arms when he opens them for you. You mumble tiredly into his shoulder, “It’s going to delay my team’s progress for the next three weeks.”

“Your boss is a fucking idiot,” Javier thinks out loud. 

“I actually agree,” you laugh softly into his skin, and he turns his head to peck your cheek. There’s something so satisfying and sweet about coming home to someone who is your unwavering supporter, letting you vent about the messes that you reluctantly get involved in. 

However, it’s not what you want to talk about right now. Instead, there’s only one thing on your mind, “Is Lucas asleep? Was he a challenge without me here?”

Javier pulls back to look at you with an amused expression, “Luke’s fine, mi amor (my love). He’s been sleeping since 7:30.” 

You chew your bottom lip at hearing that he didn’t fuss about you not being there to put him to bed and kiss him goodnight. There’s a pang of frustration at not being needed, and your husband seems to notice it quickly. He continues, “But he did miss his mamá. He asked for you and I told him you’d come upstairs to say goodnight when you got home.”

You smile with slight relief, spurred on to finish taking off your outerwear and therefore going for your shoes so you can head upstairs to kiss your son on the forehead, “Really?”

“Sí, sin duda (yes, no doubt),” Javier tells you, sinking to his knees to help you remove your boots. He pats the leg that he wants you to lift, “And I thought of something.”

“Hm?” You hum, enjoying the warmth of his hand on your calf. 

“How about I open up a good bottle of wine and run you a bath?” He sweetly suggests, looking up at you from the floor in a way that makes your head spin. 

“Will my considerate husband join me?” You purr and run your fingers over his hair as you tower above him. 

He tilts his head back as you push his hair back and there’s almost a submissive glint in his eyes but then he slowly rises to his feet again, his hand skimming up the back of your leg as he does. He purrs right back at you, his lips close to yours and making you realize you haven’t kissed him in greeting, “If that makes my wife happy.”

“Very happy,” you press a lingering kiss to his lips which he gladly returns, making the feeling of the stress of tonight start to fade into the background already. 

“Go say goodnight to our son and I’ll get everything ready,” he whispers as he only pulls back an inch. 

You smile as you feel him hold onto you until his hand is forced to fall to his side, then feel him watching you ascend the stairs to the bedrooms upstairs. He looks at you until you have left his line of view, then heads to the kitchen.

You can hear him take wine glasses out of the kitchen cabinet as you open the door to Lucas’ room gently so it doesn’t creak. You find your son sleeping on his side in the soft glow of his nightlight, facing the door with his blanket still tucked around his torso.

You tiptoe over to his bed, watching the way his mouth hangs open as he snores ever so slightly before crouching down to kiss his forehead. Lucas stirs slightly, his eyes fluttering open just a crack.

“Mamá?” He mumbles in a sleepy whisper.

“I’m here, mijo (my son),” you whisper back, brushing a strand of hair away from his face so you can kiss him there a few times more, “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“I miss you,” his tiny voice melts your heart, his language still not grammatically advanced yet. 

“I missed you too, baby,” you smile softly, “Go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be here tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mamá,” he is already drifting off, eyes blinking slowly as he struggles to stay awake. You run your hand over his hair one last time before leaving the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

You find Javier just outside, him not having wanted to disturb your moment, “He okay?”

“Missed his mommy,” you tell him with a pleased smile as you walk into his arms like earlier.

“Daddy missed Mommy too,” he kisses your cheek. 

“My boys need to learn how to share,” you pull back, grinning at him because of the dirty intention behind Javier’s nickname for himself. You feel his hand rest on your back for a moment only to slide down to pat your ass. You bat it away with a tut.

“We’re already so good at it,” he insists and starts to guide you further down the hallway, the smell of lavender becoming stronger with each step. The hand stays on the small of your back, “Come on.”

When he opens the door to the bathroom, the tub is steaming into the dimly lit room and looks so inviting that your shoulders slump. There’s the baby monitor and an open bottle of wine on the sink counter, which you recognize as one of the more expensive bottles that you’ve had for a while; Javier hadn’t been joking when he said a good bottle. 

He pours you a glass while you slip out of your clothes, and you watch him undress too with a little smile while sipping the red liquid. 

“You did all of this in the few minutes I was in Luke’s room?” You ask as he eventually stands naked in front of you as well. 

“Doesn’t take that long,” he shrugs. He clinks his own glass against yours. “A toast to incompetent bosses.”

“Ugh,” you groan, already stepping over the edge of the bathtub. Javier follows behind, stopping you when you want to sit opposite of him in the water. 

You sigh as Javier guides you to lay down against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around your waist after he has taken a sip of his wine and placed the glass on the widest part of the edge of the tub. He kisses your shoulder tenderly, rubbing off the red stains made by his lips afterward. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone tonight,” you say quietly after a few moments of simply enjoying the warm water lapping at your body, the bubbles sitting around your breasts like you’ve seen in many romantic movies. Javier rests his palm on your stomach. 

“Sorry for what?” He questions without judgment and moves his hand across your belly in a soothing gesture, “Are you not home now?”

“You know what I mean,” you place your hand on top of his and take a sip of your own wine, swallowing what feels like a life-saving drink, before setting down the glass next to your husband’s, “I just hate missing out on Lucas’ bedtime. I know you’ve got everything under control, but… I don’t know. I just want to be there for him so he doesn’t forget me.”

“Forget you? You’re being silly now, baby, eres su mamá (you’re his mom). He asked about you. I told him you’d be home soon, and he smiled his big toothy grin,” he reassures and holds you a little tighter against his chest.

“Stop,” you drag out the word, “You’re making me jealous of you getting him all to yourself.” 

“You still get baby-jealous of me?” Javier seems puzzled by this.

“All the time,” you groan and reach for your wine again, knowing it’s irrational, “I want you to hold him too but that’s my baby. I can’t believe how much I miss him when I don’t spend every goddamn second with him.”

“Even when he begs for pancakes ten minutes straight?” You can hear the smirk on his face. 

“Try half an hour,” you reply with a chuckle. 

“Shit,” Javier laughs and you can feel his chest vibrate behind you as he does it. You turn your head to look up at him with your own grin, and he dips down for a lingering kiss that turns into a few tender pecks. God, you love this man so much that it is ridiculous and he does whatever he can to make you feel better. 

“Although,” you continue as you return to your previous position of lying against him, “No more pancakes for me. My thighs have doubled in size since Lucas was born.”

“What are you talking about?” Javier tuts. 

“You’ve got two working eyes,” you tell him while bitterly taking a sip of your drink, “I can barely fit into my jeans anymore with these thighs.”

“God, you should stop saying stuff like that if you don’t want me to imagine your jeans bursting at the seams. I might not be able to handle that,” he teases, both hands going down your belly to lay flat on top of your thighs. He jiggles the flesh slightly, making the water slosh against the edges of the bathtub, “You think I don’t want you every time I see you in those jeans?”

“You’re exaggerating,” you pout and nestle into him. 

“No estoy exagerando. Eres tan sexy (I’m not exaggerating. You’re so sexy), and your body is just proof of how fucking tough it is,” he rubs his hands up and down your thighs, massaging gently, “So what if you allow yourself some pancakes once in a while? You’ve given birth to our son.”

You feel another protest bubble up in your throat but it fades from your mind when Javier kisses your neck gently. Instead, you sigh gently, “Thank you… You know how to make me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful, esposa (wife),” he insists and takes your wineglass from you to place it back on the edge of the tub. He wraps both his arms around your torso and arms, trapping you against his chest and holding you tightly, “You shouldn’t allow the stress of today to let you talk about yourself like that.”

“Then let us talk about something else,” you protest his squeezing touch at first but then relax, melting into him and resting your head on his shoulder. His chest rises and falls steadily behind you, and his cheek presses against yours. You close your eyes to enjoy the moment, feeling the warm water gently sway in the tub and hearing the bubbles crackle quietly around your body. 

You talk about little things; about Lucas’ new favorite book, about what you should have for dinner tomorrow, about the funny thing your colleague said at work. The conversation drifts back and forth lazily, like the water around you, and before you know it, wine glasses have been emptied and refilled, and an hour has passed, making the world feel a little bit brighter, a little bit softer.

“Even better,” he says softly as the conversation comes to a natural halt, “How about that for the last few minutes, we just lay here together and don’t talk? Not about stress, not about work, not about what we’re doing tomorrow.”

“You love talking about work,” you argue teasingly. 

“Shh…” He shushes you playfully, pressing his nose into your cheek and blowing a raspberry. You follow orders with a theatrical sigh but finally, relax fully and let your mind drift to comfortable nothingness. You listen to him breathe quietly, hearing him occasionally drinking his wine until he has finished the second glass and is pressing lazy kisses to the parts of your skin that he can reach. 

“See?” He says after what feels like an eternity, “Isn’t this nice?”

“We’re turning into prunes,” you mumble because you’ve been close to drifting off from the soothing warmth of the wine and the water. You cover his hand with your own, yawning towards the ceiling. 

“I don’t want you catching a chill either,” he replies while reluctantly letting go of you so you can rise to your feet and step out of the bathtub. It takes you a moment to pull yourself together to actually do it. 

He follows a moment later and the best part of your night becomes the comfortable silence that occurs when you enjoy the sight of each other as you dry yourselves off, Javier draining the tub and reassuring you that the cleanup can wait until tomorrow. 

There’s electricity in the room as you move around each other, and the way that Javier talked about your body earlier is still lingering in the air. It’s there in the back of your mind with every look, every smile, and every brush of your skin as he passes you while getting ready for bed. In the end, you confront him about it, playing at the subtlety of his actions.

“You’re thinking about something,” you note while moving into the bedroom next door, not in your pajamas yet. You walk to the dresser in the room, opening the right drawer that has your underwear, and feeling the anticipation of his reply. When he follows you into the bedroom, you’re holding your breath. 

“I’m thinking about you,” he murmurs with a small smile. It’s the simplicity of his answer that heats up your thighs, the fact that it is nothing grand and dramatic but enough to tell you that he thinks you are the most desirable woman out there. When you reach for a pair of panties, he lays a hand on top of your wrist, “Don’t.” 

You let him twirl you around to face him, sleepily leaning into him while he moves in for a long, slow kiss that releases some of the tension in the air. You sigh against his mouth and link your arms around his neck, feeling like everything has led up to this since you stepped inside your shared home. 

He has his hands on your waist when he deepens the kiss, taking your breath from your lungs as he kneads the flesh in his hands. You let warmth settle in your belly, let shivers run down your spine.

Suddenly, he pulls back from your mouth. He says nothing as he reaches for your shoulders and gently guides you to turn your back to him. You shiver in anticipation, even more when his hands travel down to rest on your hips and he ushers you towards the bed. 

You kneel on it as you reach the edge, crawling forward until you’re in the center of it. Despite losing his touch for a brief second, it’s worth missing him for just a few moments when you feel the weight of his body making the mattress dip.

He crawls up behind you, still silent as he moves, radiating soothing warmth from your bath together and smelling like the lavender bubbles. You gasp when he gets close, his broad chest grazing your back and his hard cock poking into your ass. 

He rests his hands on your hips. You lean back into him, craning your neck so he can kiss you over your shoulder. He still tastes like wine as he captures your mouth, the hands on your hips tightening their grip slightly. You lay your palms on top of them, kissing him back with increasing impatience. 

“I want you,” you whisper against his mouth and let one hand wander back to squeeze his hip. You can feel him smearing precome on your skin, probably aching as much as you to have it, “Please, Javi.”

“Shh,” he coos, his head descending to kiss your neck in a trail up and down the most sensitive part, “Sé que es difícil, pero tienes que tener paciencia (I know it’s hard but you gotta have patience).” 

You spread your knees a bit more, the hand on Javier’s hip coming back to lay on your thigh to keep your balance, “Fuck me.”

“No, pretty mamá. Fuck me what?” He taunts you but you smile to yourself as one of his hands leaves your body and you hear shuffling behind you. 

“Fuck me please,” you groan a little too loudly anyway. 

“Turn down the volume,” he commands while he nibbles on your neck, nose following side-by-side with the trail of spit that’s already made by him, “You have a 19-months-old who hasn't disturbed us all evening.” 

You suddenly feel his cock between your legs and it makes the snappy retort you want to make die in your throat. The head breaches you and you’re worked up enough to let him come inside if he wants. Your head falls forward as he fills you up, stretching your walls that are soaked despite how he has not played with your cunt tonight. It’s the warm water that has relaxed you, the atmosphere too, and it’s the way he can kiss you wet and ready within a brief minute. 

The both of you pant as he sheaths himself fully inside of you, spearing you on him until his thighs rest against the back of your trembling ones. Just before he moves, you feel brave enough to let go of the top of your thigh to slip your hand down between your legs. 

Javier moans in your ear as you begin by feeling where the two of you are connected, your hole stretched around his generous girth. You know he is struggling not to move because he is breathing hard behind you, letting you indulge in this filthy act as you get used to him being inside of you. 

“Mamácita,” he borders on begging. 

“Move,” you allow him by commanding him. 

He pulls out only a little before he rocks his hips into you again, filling you to the brim once more. You bite down on your lip to stifle your relieved whimper, it taking only a few thrusts for you to settle into a rhythm with him. 

As he fucks you, you keep your balance with the help of him, his arm coming around your body so he can splay a palm on your heaving chest. You lay your free hand on top of his, curling your fingers around his fingers while the bed creaks below you and you nearly manage to keep quiet all the way through. 

“Baby,” you screw your eyes shut as he goes harder and makes you see stars behind your eyelids. Your noises climb in pitch, turning into pathetic whines as you start rubbing your clit to get off. However, Javier slaps the hand you still have between your legs away. 

“I don’t want you doing any work. This pussy is mine to treat,” he growls quietly behind you and presses two fingers down on your clit, hard and aching for attention. He goes in circular motions, gradually speeding up his pace to get you to orgasm. 

“Fuck,” you cry out and throw your head back to rest it on his shoulder, exposing the column of your neck to make it almost too easy for him. The hand on your chest goes upward, a gentle squeeze to your throat making an even louder moan impossible to breathe. 

You take the hint. He doesn’t squeeze anymore, simply keeping his fingers around your neck like a necklace as a lewd warning while he repeatedly sinks deeply into your cunt with his maddening skill that has your pleasure peaking rapidly. 

“Gonna—“

“I know,” he pants but doesn’t slow the powerful pace that makes his cock move inside of you just like he knows you love it, “Shh…”

“Kiss me, I— I can’t keep quiet,” you sob at the continuous onslaught. You’re soaking his cock and balls in your slick, the squelch of your wet walls sounding obscene in the otherwise quiet room. It gets even worse when you come, fast and hard with a sharp intake of air that you lose again the second he kisses your open mouth. 

It is so intense; the continuing stab of your g-spot, the way the pads of his fingers move on your clit just right, and how he doesn’t stop even as your orgasm ebbs out and leaves you a sensitive mess. You hadn’t planned on it being this sinful tonight, had just expected slow and sensual but as he makes your eyes water, you know it had been his plan all along. 

Your thighs tremble when he forces you to come again, squeezing around his dick until you can hear his own breathing switch to something more desperate. You reach behind yourself to grab at his hip, moving your hand even further back to pull him into you by his ass. He gets the point, releases your mouth, and moves the hand between your legs to your shoulder to push you forward. 

When you are resting on your forearm and gripping the sheets, your other hand still rests on his backside. You urge him to fuck you more by pulling him again to which he responds by pounding you greedily into the mattress. 

Your body writhes as he does, twisting and struggling to take him after coming twice in a row but you can’t stop yourself from wanting to feel him finish inside of you. It’s enough to make you bite the bedsheets, keening as he gives you those last few pushes of his cock. 

He comes with a low, guttural groan of your name, body going rigid behind you until you feel the warmth of his seed spread inside of you. It makes you whine in satisfaction, pushing back against him so it goes as far into you as possible before he is soft. 

“Shit,” he hisses at the sensitivity, “Stop.”

Both your hands rest in front of you now. A string of saliva still connects you to the sheets as you let go with your mouth, “Didn’t expect you to lose it enough to finish in me.”

“Mentirosa (Liar),” he gives a breathless chuckle, reaching for the base of his cock to carefully pull out. You earn a smack to your ass and the both of you make a noise in unison, even more when a dribble of come slides down your slick folds and drips from your clit. Javier swears under his breath, “You want another baby, huh, mi amor (my love)?”

“Would it hurt?” You ask, collapsing flat onto your front and looking back over your shoulder in your post-orgasmic bliss. You smile sweetly, spreading your legs a little wider to allow him to see his load stain the sheets. 

“Is this really how we have that conversation? When it might have already happened?” He lets out a theatrical sigh, his gaze resting between your legs even as he kneels to rake his fingers down your spine. He rubs the small of your back. 

“You’re more agreeable after sex,” you say with a twinkle in your eye and wiggle your hips to give him a little show, “I know when to ask for what I want, and I want a sibling for Lucas while he is still little. It’ll be good for him.” 

“I’ll give you as many babies as you like,” Javier bends down to kiss the skin of your back, nose between your shoulder blades. You are salty with sweat, probably have beads of it at the base of your spine, and sigh deeply at the loving touch of his mouth. 

You arch into the kiss that he plants right below your hairline, “I’m not just messing with you, baby. I want a family with you.”

Javier tenses up at that but the air in the room doesn’t change. He loves it when you say things like that, and it makes his hand still on your back which burns slightly from his warm touch. After a second more, he shifts to lay beside you, propping himself up on one elbow so he can see you better. You turn your head to the side, your cheek resting against the cool sheets. 

“I mean it,” you say softly. “Another baby… I think I’m ready. If you are.”

“You’re serious about this,” he says into the room, not quite a question but close enough for you to answer it like one.

“I am,” you scoot closer, trying to push down the distracting urge to go clean up when this starts to turn into a profound conversation.

He studies your face, searching your eyes as if trying to see how deep this desire runs. You hold his gaze, letting him see your sincerity. Finally, he smiles softly and leans down to peck your lips a few times, “You know I can never say no to you.”

You grin, so much for profound, “That’s because you know I’m right.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. He reaches out to give your ass a playful smack, “Yeah yeah. Happy wife, happy life. Now go wash up, I can see you want to.”

“You need to shower too and I’ll change the sheets when you do,” you tell him as you crawl off the bed, halfway to the master bathroom when you continue, “I don’t want your dick in my new sheets.” 

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you peek back at him from the bathroom door. He has turned onto his back, resting on both his elbows and sporting a smile that he didn’t think you would see. He looks at you when he notices you, his chest practically aglow with happiness. 

“¿Otro bebé, eh? (Another baby, huh?)” He watches you rest against the doorframe, gorgeous as ever when he is completely naked and happy. 

“I know you love making them, that’s why I thought you would be onboard,” you joke with the same kind of smile on your lips. 

“Onboard? Mi amor (my love), I’m the captain of this ship,” he winks, “And ready to set sail whenever you want.”

“Good because I don’t want you only at half-mast,” you wave your hand dismissively while Javier laughs in a way that has your heartbeat racing in your chest, feeling high school again, “Too many sea jokes.” 

“I fucking love you,” he still laughs. 

“I love you too,” you say softly and close the door.

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[vxtanne31]

As The Night Crawls

Part 2

Part 1 can be found in the link below

Sevika/Reader (nickname Cannon)

Made a Part 2 because of requests

Warnings: MEN AND MINORS DNI 18+, Oral (r!receiving,Sev receiving), fingering, Strap (r!receiving) F/F

It had been a week since that fateful night. Probably the best sex you had ever had. Both of you spent that night fucking until Sevika made you both go to bed. You had a job to do the next day and needed rest.

You both avoided showing any affection in public. Sevika was uncomfortable with the idea of anyone knowing she was fucking her work partner.

You and Sevika continued the routine of working for Silco and sitting at the Last Drop to gamble. You were in your usual spot in a chair next to her, nursing a drink and people watching. In between round of cards you would chat with Sevika and the men. You tried to keep things as normal looking as possible.

However, the tension between you and Sevika was thick. Work had been so busy that you and Sevika kept getting interrupted every time you tried to be intimate. It had become a constant frustration. Sometimes when no one was looking, Sevika would pull you into a dark corner and kiss you. The kisses were always hot and heavy, both of you groping every inch of flesh you could find. You never dared let Silco find you.

You were lost in thought when Veronica came up behind you and placed a kiss to your cheek. “Miss me? I was wondering if you wanted to meet me outside…”

You and this girl had once shared some fun in the alley next to the bar. However, a certain tall bionic woman was clenching her jaw as she tried to focus on her cards. Sevika’s grey eyes flickered to Veronica and then back to her cards, feigning disinterest.

“Not tonight, I have a late night job to do,” you took a cigarillo from Sevika’s case and lit one, not bothering to turn to Veronica.

Veronica tutted and began to massage your shoulders, “poor Cannon. Having to work so hard all the time for Silco. I can help release some tension.” Her hands wandered down to move over your chest.

You bit your bottom lip to contain your chuckle. Little did she know that your late night job would be Sevika. After a week of sitting with the sexual tension, you wanted more.

Sevika’s eyes wandered to where Veronica was touching you. She sucked in a breath through her nose, her patience with Veronica waning. She reached under the table and placed her mechanical hand on your knee. No one could see due to her red cloak. It was her only way of showing affection, or in this case, possession, in public.

You couldn’t lie that you were interested in seeing how Sevika would deal with her jealousy. You were, however, concerned about how Veronica would handle it. It wouldn’t be fair.

You gently removed Veronica’s hands from your body “Not now Veronica,” you lit the cigarillo and inhaled the smoke. O

Veronica stiffened at the obvious rejection. “Fine, enjoy being alone,” she huffed and walked away. She walked back to her friends who tried to console her. Didn’t seem to work because, Veronica ran out of the bar with her face in her hands.

Sevika’s eyes darted to yours for a split second, her mouth quirking to a smirk. “Think you just broke her heart.”

Your eyes followed Veronica as she ran out of the bar in tears. “I told her it was never gonna be serious.” You shrugged and took a drag of the cigarillo.

Sevika’s mechanical hand traveled up your leg and gently squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh before letting go. She went back to focusing on her game.

After another hour you were getting bored. You tipped your head back and took the rest of your drink down in one gulp. “Okay you degenerates, I’m going home.”

Before you got up you reached down and gave Sevika’s knee a squeeze. She flicked her eyes over to you briefly and recognized the look you gave her. She looked back at her cards and gave a curt nod, letting you know she understood.

You walked home alone, the streets still crowded with folks of the Undercity. As you placed your key in the keyhole to unlock it, you were met with someone placing their hand around your waist and pulling you against their body, trapping one of your arms between you and them.The familiar scent of cigar smoke, motor oil and sweat hit you.

“You must have walked quick,” you smirked as Sevika’s nose grazed the side of your exposed neck. You shivered as she inhaled your scent and placed a kiss at your pulse point.

“Open the door,” Sevika whispered, her hot breath making your body shudder. She ground her hips into your ass.

You turned the knob with your free hand and pushed the door open. Sevika wasted no time and walked forward, pushing you in along with her.

You laughed and let her take control, knowing it’s what Sevika wanted at this point. She pushed you towards the kitchen counter and made you turn around. You hopped on to sit so she could move between your legs.

Sevika kissed you feverishly, her hands moving and over your strong thighs and gripping.

“I’ve been waiting to fuck you all week,” Sevika rasped between kisses. She moved her hand up and unzipped your black leather vest, moving your tank top up to palm your breast with her flesh hand.

You arched to her touch. “I get it. I was about to pull you into the bathroom at the bar and eat your pussy in one of the stalls.”

Sevika groaned at your dirty words. “Plenty of time for all that tonight,” she brought her lips back to yours, her tongue sliding expertly into your mouth. She pulled your legs higher to wrap around her waist. You locked your legs around her as she lifted you off the counter to carry you to your room.

“Fucking hell you’re heavy,” Sevika grunted as she walked over to your bed and set you down on it.

You scoffed and untangled your limbs from Sevika’s waist, laying on the bed like she wanted. “Yeah well can’t be a wafer when my job is to beat people up.”

Sevika shook her head and kneeled in front of the bed. She took one of your legs and propped your foot on her knee to unlace your combat boot. “If I dropped you in the water you’d sink to the bottom.”

“Oh please, you probably got at least twenty pounds on me,” you rolled your eyes and helped Sevika take your boots off.

Sevika snorted as she finished with the other boot and moved to unbuckle your belt. “Twenty? Try thirty,” she pulled the belt from the loops,the leather making a resounding ‘crack’ and threw it on the floor.

“Hell no, you’ve seen me lift. Definitely only twenty and I’m being generous.” You lifted your hips for Sevika to shimmy off your pants and underwear. You pulled your remaining tank top over your head before Sevika could rip another.

Sevika smirked and shook her head as she toed off her own boots. “Man, you love to argue.” She pulled at her belt and started shedding her own clothes. “Have you forgotten this?” She waves her mechanical hand. “Weighs a bit more than your flesh and bone.” She wiggled her fingers for dramatics.

You rolled your eyes and sat up, unashamed of your nudity. “That doesn’t count.”

Sevika mimicked your eye roll and pushed you down with a large hand. She unbuckled her cropped vest and threw it somewhere in the room. “What did suggest last time? Sit on your face to shut you up?” Sevika unzipped her fly and pulled her underwear and pants down in one.

You stared up at Sevika completely naked before you. “Well hop on then,” you curled your finger, motioning her towards you.

Sevika crawled onto the bed and bent down to kiss you. The kiss was surprisingly tender, especially since both of you had been frantic. Her thigh slid in between your legs, her hips moving to grind against you. Sevika groaned softly as her flesh hand explored the soft skin of your torso. She parted her lips from yours to stare down at you, her eyes hazy and soft.

You looked up at Sevika, reading the slightly vulnerable expression. You reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, pulling her in for another kiss. You poured your affection for her into it, running your fingers over her back, moving to grope her larger chest.

Sevika melted into your embrace, starved for touch. She moved her lips from your neck to your nipple, sucking the pierced bud into her mouth. She wanted to taste you, touch you, inhale the scent of your skin.

You submitted to her embrace, knowing it is what Sevika desired. You let her explore your body, writhing to the sensation her mouth and hands brought to you.

Sevika felt your body relax underneath her and smiled against your nipple. She moved to kiss in between the valley of your breasts, her steel eyes flashing up to meet yours. Her heart jumped when she saw your green eyes staring back at her. Her head swam with feelings, making her heart pound violently. Was she about to have a heart attack? She removed her mouth from your skin and in haled through her nose and exhaled from her mouth. She didn’t know whether she wanted to kiss you or run away.

You could see Sevika’s shoulder’s tense like she was going to bolt, her eyes mildly panicked. “Hey, hey,” you ran your calloused hand over her flesh bicep and then over her back. “It’s okay, just breathe.”

Sevika shook her head furiously to bring her back to reality. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She kept taking deep breaths, moving to rest her head on your chest.

You continued to rub Sevika’s back soothingly, feeling her body start to relax in your embrace.

Sevika hated to admit that the mere scent of your skin comforted her. She felt embarrassed by the betrayal of her own body.

You pulled Sevika’s head up to meet her eyes. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen her. You leaned in and kissed Sevika softly.

Sevika began to snap out of her self-sabotaging thoughts as soon as you kissed her again. Her weight fully on top of you as she melted into your embrace. She let you flip her over onto her back, your bodies still pressed against one another.

You came up for air, your lips still centimeters apart. “Let me take care of you Sevika,” you whispered and trailed your mouth to her neck, kissing and nipping gently, moving her hair out of the way for better access. You found the spot that made her groan and grind against you. Your thigh in between her legs ground against her pussy, the wetness becoming more apparent. You wanted her ready, aching for you.

Your mouth kissed down to her chest, mimicking her actions earlier and taking a dark nipple into your mouth. Her other breast was heavy on your palm as you groped her.

Sevika grasped the sheet underneath her as she watched you explore her body. You knew exactly what she needed, you adjusted to help her feel at ease. Sevika had never felt so…taken care of.

You kissed down Sevika’s toned stomach, your hands caressing her sides. “Move back,” you commanded softly.

Sevika sat up and moved further back on the bed. You took another pillow and put t behind her so she was comfortable. Sevika licked her lips, watching you settle in between her legs once more. Your mouth was inches away from her sex.

Your eyes met with her’s as your tongue swiped up the seam of her pussy to her clit. Sevika shuddered and closed her eyes in pleasure. She was met with a harsh smack to her thigh.

“Eyes on me Sevika, I want you to watch me as I make you cum.”

Sevika didn’t know if she was more turned on by the way you said her full name or the vulgarity of your words. She grasped the back of your head and pushed you down to her aching cunt.

You went to work, listening to Sevika’s commands of ‘put your tongue in me,’ or ‘a little to the left,’ and ‘suck my clit.’ You wanted to give her all she wanted and deserved. She took so much crap from everyone, she deserved someone who wanted to give.

Sevika rolled her hips with your mouth, her metal hand cradling the back of your head as she propped herself up with the other. She wasn’t very vocal during sex, only letting out a few groans and grunts. She let her head fall back when you did something that felt really good.

At some point you had closed your eyes, reveling in her taste, your hand wandering up to grasp her breast. Sevika tugged your hair, making you open on eye to look at her.

“Eyes back on me. You wanted to see me cum. Fuck- I’m close.”

Your other eye slowly opened to meet Sevika’s. Her admission in combination with her taste was making you so wet.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming ah!“ her words came out in gasps as she stared down at you. She kept a firm grip on the back of your head, her body tensing and shuddering as the orgasm rolled through her.

Your face became covered in her wetness, thighs squeezing around your head, almost suffocating you. You sucked on her clit to ride out her orgasm until she tugged on your hair to get you to stop.

You rested your head on her thick thigh, the air returning to your lungs. You felt her reach down with her flesh hand and run her fingers through your loose hair. The affection of the touch was not lost on you. You traced your index finger over her inner thigh, making little patterns over her skin.

This was the most intimate sex Sevika had experienced in a long while. She watched you relax under her touch, your thick locks threaded in her fingers. Eventually, she tugged your hair to get your attention.

“I brought something,” Sevika reached down and took something from a bag you didn’t realize she had brought in. Inside was a large, purple dildo and strap.

You couldn’t help but wince a bit. “I’m assuming you want to fuck me with that?”

Sevika nodded and watched as you sat up on your knees. “I think you’d like it.”

“I-uh, haven’t been on the receiving end of that for a long time.” You rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes.

Sevika tilted her head in curiosity. “Have you ever been strapped? Or was it a man?”

You pursed your lips. “I had sex with a man twice. Both times felt physically okay but I realized I didn’t like men pretty quick.”

Sevika sat up and scooted closer to you, gripping your chin to look at her. “Don’t be embarrassed.” She leaned in to kiss you, tasting herself on your tongue. The kiss became heated, your body reacting to her touch. Sevika broke the kiss and moved her lips to graze the shell of your ear. “I’ll be gentle. But if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to do it.”

You could tell that Sevika really wanted to try. You bit your bottom lip. There was nothing gentle about Sevika. “Okay.”

Sevika pulled her head back to meet your eyes “okay?”

You sighed and nodded, “okay I’ll try it. Just go easy, I need to walk tomorrow.”

Sevika sat up and pulled her legs through the strap pulling it up to her waist. “Lie back,” she commanded as she tightened the straps.

You looked down at the object now covering Sevika’s sex. Even though you preferred looking at her pussy, It was oddly erotic on her. The purple phallus looked intimidating, jutting out in front of you at eye level. You stared at it warily as you complied with Sevika’s request and relaxed back on the bed.

Sevika sensed your tension as she approached between your legs. This was the first time she saw you stripped of your cockiness, unsure and nervous of giving Sevika such control.

Sevika felt her impatience rise to the surface and had to swallow it back down. She wanted to pull you roughly and shove her cock into you. But this was you she was dealing with. You weren’t like the other women she had been with.

“Get on your hands and knees.” Sevika pulled at your hip, deciding to switch it up.

You hesitated again and Sevika pulled you up to bring her lips to yours in a reassuring kiss. Once she felt your body relax, she pulled away. “Trust me pretty girl.”

You nodded and turned around, blushing as Sevika ran her hand over your back and to your firm ass. Sevika reached her fingers down to your entrance, inserting two to see how ready you were. You gasped as her thick fingers easily pushed into you. “You’re so wet. This all from eating my pussy?” Sevika smirked and pumped them a few times.

You moaned, Sevika’s filthy words turning you on even more than her fingers. “I love making women cum.” This earned you her fingers being removed and a harsh slap on the ass. You yelped and turned to glare at her. “Ow! what the fuck!?”

Sevika glared back. “I’m the only woman you’re gonna make cum from now on.”

You rose an eyebrow, “jealous much?” You countered and turned your head back forward

Wrong thing to say. Sevika grasped your hair and hauled you up against her chest, her metal hand trapping you to her. “I’m possessive, and you, doll face, are mine.” Despite the roughness of her actions, she placed a tender kiss to your cheek. “Nod that you understand.”

You didn’t even want to argue. You nodded and Sevika let go of your hair pushing you to back down to brace yourself on the bed.

She pressed the tip to your entrance and grasped your shoulder for support. “Just relax into it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

You took a deep inhale of breath as you felt the tip prod you. You bit your bottom lip and tried to relax your body as much as possible as Sevika pushed in. There was a slight burning as she made it halfway. Then, without warning, Sevika shoved herself fully in. “AH! What the seven hells?!” You turned back to sneer at her.

Sevika pulled back out and thrust back in. “Shut up and give it a few minutes, it will feel good.” Sevika’s eyes were filled with a crazed lust. She really did enjoy using the strap.

You looked away, knowing you wouldn’t back out now and breathed through the discomfort. You felt Sevika’s pelvis hit your ass, forming a tempo as she thrusted in and out. The burning started to turn to pleasure and you pushed yourself back against her.

Sevika noticed you starting to enjoy yourself. “Thats it baby girl, take my fucking cock.”

Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline at Sevika calling the strap her ‘cock’ but you said nothing. You let yourself get lost in the feeling, enjoying the feel of Sevika gripping your waist as she picked up her pace even faster.

“Sev you feel so fucking good!” You encouraged her, moving along with her thrusts. Her fingers dug into your hips in a bruising force.

Sevika could feel her clit twitch behind the strap as she fucked you with it. She pulled out and flipped you over, leaning into your body to thrust back into you. She grabbed under your knee to push your leg out further. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she slapped her hips against you. Sevika leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss, her body coiling tight. “I wanna see you cum all over me baby.”

“Ah fuck Sev!” You moaned against her lips, gripping her hair hard. It felt really good but you needed more. You moved down to rub your clit but Sevika pulled your hand away and replaced it with her own, her thumb applying the correct pressure.

Sevika’s rhythm was faltering as she held herself above you, her circles on your clit getting sloppy. “Ah! Cum for me baby, let me hear you pretty girl.”

You came at Sevika’s words, crying out her name and arching into her. Sevika fucked you through your orgasm, letting out a string of curses as she shuddered and held the strap deep inside of you, her pelvis pressed against you.

Sevika collapsed, arms going weak, still shaking and panting from the come down. She kissed your breasts as she buried her face against them.

You let Sevika relax against you, running your fingers through her hair soothingly, her hair dampened by sweat. “Man you’re tired for someone who spends hours in the gym.”

Sevika huffed against your breast. “I would tell you to shut up. But I know you won’t.” Sevika didn’t move, enjoying your attention to her scalp.

“Take that thing off and sit on my face. I told you that is the only way to shut me up.”

“Will you give me a minute woman? I just came.” Sevika groaned and shifted her hips.

Your fingers froze in Sevika’s hair. “Wait you came? How?”

Sevika pulled out of you slowly making you hiss. She rolled over next to you in the bed and pulled the strap off her hips, throwing it to the floor. “Come here beautiful” Sevika pulled your head to crook of her flesh arm, your body flush to her side. “For your information, I can cum just by fucking someone with the strap. I love it.”

“Really? Never knew that was a thing.”

You kissed the side of her breast and ran your fingers along her chiseled abdomen.

Sevika took your wandering hand in her mechanical fingers and guided it to her core. “Feel for yourself,” she let your middle and ring finger wander through her sopping folds, her breath going heavy again at your touch. She turned her face so her nose brushed against yours, lips inches from touching. “Don’t doubt my stamina girl. You’ve heard what they’ve said about me at Babbette’s. I’m insatiable.” Sevika brought her mouth to yours in another heated kiss.

You moved your fingers gently, avoiding her twitching clit. You inserted two of your fingers into her, pumping them in and out. You broke the kiss and stared into here beautiful eyes, hooded from pleasure. “And you’ve heard what they said about me.” You pumped your fingers in and out faster.

Sevika shifted her hips towards your body as you fucked her with your fingers, her body moving to your touch. She removed your hands and moved to straddle your face, her body facing your lower half.

“This is a great fucking view,” You smiled and slapped Sevika’s ass as she was bending forward to reach your sex. The sound reverberated through the room.

Sevika stopped her decent and turned to look at you, her upper lip curling into a sneer. “You think you’re funny girl?”

“Hilarious actually,” you shrugged and lifted your head to take a long lick at her sex.

Sevika rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning back to spread your legs. “you’re a little brat,” she said hotly against your wet pussy.

“And you’re a bitch,” you clapped back and attacked her clit with your mouth, sucking on it harshly.

Sevika squeezed her eyes shut at the onslaught and went to pay the same attention to your sex, her skilled mouth delving into your folds.

You both worked tirelessly, both arching and grinding against each other’s mouths. It was almost as if both of you competed to see who could make the other one cum first.

You were nearing the edge when you saw Sevika’s mechanical hand clench the sheets, a familiar tearing sound echoed the room. Sevika was fighting for her life to hold off before you. You were not about to lose to her. You moved to Sevika’s puffy clit and sucked hard, gripping her thick thighs in a bruising hold.

“Ah shit Cannon I’m gonna-“

Sevika snapped, her clit not withstanding your assault. She sat up with her weight on your face as she came, grinding against you, body convulsing.

You were completely under Sevika, her weight against your head. You sucked her clit through her orgasm, letting her use you for her pleasure.

Sevika tried to catch her breath as she came down from the high. Only then did she feel the sharp slaps to her thigh. Sevika hurriedly lifted her hips from your face.

You took a ragged gasp of air. You were a second away from passing out from lack of oxygen. Your vision had darkened around the edges. Every breath felt as though a gift.

Sevika moved away, genuine concern etched into her face as she watched you catch your breath. Sevika hesitantly reached out, her flesh hand moving to rub center of your chest. “Breathe girl. Are you all right?”

You stared at the ceiling and ran a hand through your sweat damp hair. “Yeah, I mean if that was the way I died, would’ve died happy.”

The thought of you being gone from the world made Sevika expel a ragged breath. She moved to lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. A comfortable silence befell you both.

You could tell something was on Sevika’s mind. You turned on your side to look at her, resting your head on your hand. “You ok?”

Sev said nothing, she reached down over the bed and found her cigarette holder. She lit one and handed it to you, lighting one for herself. “Mind if I stay here tonight?”

The question was so straightforward, no BS or emotion, just as if she asked you about the weather. “Yeah stay as long as you want Sev. Gotta change the sheets though. You tore through these.”

Sevika shrugged and took a deep inhale of her cigarillo, blowing the smoke out to the air. “I’ll buy you a new set.”

You shrugged back and stared up at the ceiling. You could feel Sevika’s walls climb back up around her as she laid there quiet. She showed you a vulnerability during sex that she wasn’t comfortable with. You took another inhale and sighed, sitting up to go get the fresh sheets.

You felt a cold metal hand wrap around your wrist. “I meant what I said.” She pulled you to lay back down, her eyes still focused on the crack in the ceiling.

“When you said what exactly?”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, “that you’re not going to fuck anyone but me from now on.”

You were silent for a moment and swallowed, “does that same rule apply to you or will you still be frequenting the brothels?”

Sevika gave you a brief side eye and took another drag and exhale before responding. “I haven’t been to Babette’s since I fucked you.”

You quirked your eyebrow and turned your body, lying on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “You must really like me then.”

Sevika turned her head to look at you, studying your face “I do. Is that a problem?” She moved a strand of hair from your eyes.

Sevika’s eyes bore into you, as if searching for something. “No problem at all. I like you just as much.”

“So we agree? Only me from now on?” Sevika’s stare was unwavering.

You pursed your lips. “Have you ever been in a monogamous relationship Sev?” You sat up and leaned against the headboard, taking another drag before getting an ashtray and putting it in between you two.

Sevika didn’t like where the conversation was turning. “Not for a long time.”

“What happened?”

Sevika was quiet for a moment and flicked her cigarillo’s ash onto the ashtray. “She couldn’t be loyal.”

You tilted your head and took a drag. “How did two you meet?”

“She worked at Babette’s.”

“Well there’s your first problem-“ you started but Sevika gave you a glower that would turn anyone’s insides cold.

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?”

“Well you obviously didn’t at the time.” You shrugged.

“Forget it.” Sevika put out her cigarillo quickly and was about to get off the bed.

You grabbed her wrist. “No no shit I’m sorry Sev. I’m an asshole. I’m really sorry.”

“I’m trying to be serious with you for a moment and you can’t stop giving me wise-ass remarks.” Sevika gritted but didn’t throw your hand away from her.

You put out your cigarillo and sat up on your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I do want this, okay? I want you.” You sighed and looked down and away. “I am new to this too. You were my friend for these two years. And now you’re something more. I need to learn how to be more gentle.”

Sevika sat there silent, watching you grapple with your emotions in front of her. She gave you the space to continue.

You removed your hand from her wrist but held her hand in both of yours. “I’ve only ever really been on my own and- and I guess I use my sarcasm to deflect serious situations. I’m sorry.”

Sevika took her hand from your grasp to grip your chin, tilting your head up. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t, memories of your parents who mistreated you, people who took advantage of you and heartache you endured rushed to the surface. Years of unshed tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Cannon, look at me.”

You sucked in air through your nose and let out a shaky breath, repeating the process three times before looking at her. Even though you had stopped the tears, your eyes still head the glassy appearance.

Sevika’s eyes softened when she saw how close you were to breaking down. She loosened her grip on your chin and moved to cup your cheek. “I’m not easy either. I’m just as fucked up too. This could end with both of us even more fucked up than we already are. But-“ she closed her eyes took in a deep breath. “But I’m sick of watching you with other women. I want you, for myself.”

Your lip quirked in a shaky smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Guess you really didn’t like seeing that girl paw at me earlier.”

“Cannon shut up, yes or no?”

It was your turn to search Sevika’s eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in. Sevika wanted you, and you wanted her. Why were you being so stupid? Why were you making her wait for an answer?

“Yes.”

……………………..

Please let me know if you guys want more with these two!!!

[its-luna-noel]

pirouettes & the ghost of harman street | gojo x reader

01. how nice it'd be to fall in love again

"Baby, I'm hurt so bad by you I also think about how nice it'd be, to fall in love again I won't expect the same" ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Satoru Gojo lost his best friend, his partner, his other half. He's terrified when another friend falls for him. He can’t let this time be like the last.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, eventual smut, friends to lovers, past satosugu, drinking, partying, brief non-con & past non-con trauma, depression, past suic!de, grief/loss, panic attacks, some dark themes but i promise this is a comfort fic

word count: 2.8k

chapter: 1/10 next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hiiii, welcome to the first chapter of my first gojo fic! this work is based on a song by the same title by Musa. pls enjoy.

He’s not exactly sure what drew him to you, but if he had to pick one thing, it was probably your laugh.

He heard it for the first time at that party, all those months ago. He hadn’t even wanted to go; he’d fought it tooth and nail to avoid it. He was grumbling to Shoko, who invited him out to a house party for some friend’s birthday, and he was adamant that he did not want to come.

Shoko just sighed at him. “You can’t just live your life missing him, Satoru.”

He gritted his teeth. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I lost him too,” was all she said in response.

So he begrudgingly went out, because he didn’t have anything to say to that. She was right; she’d lost Suguru, too. And even though it wasn’t the same – she hadn’t loved him like he had – he felt guilty for insinuating otherwise.

He put on the one pair of jeans he didn’t care about spilling alcohol on and went to the address Shoko sent.

He got out of the Uber and stood outside your apartment building for a long time, listening to the loud music that could be heard even from the sidewalk out front. He almost backed out of his agreement right then and there; he really, really didn’t feel like going in there and putting on a smiling face for a bunch of sweaty, intoxicated idiots. Especially not for a party for some stranger he couldn’t care less about.

But, remembering Shoko’s quiet words – I lost him too – he took a deep breath and walked up the stairs to your apartment, walking in the unlocked door.

There were tacky decorations all over, gold and white balloons tied in corners and a dollar store banner spelling out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” on the wall. Satoru almost rolled his eyes, but he kept his grumpy opinions to himself. Instead, he saw a familiar head of blond hair, and he pushed his way through mingling guests to tap on Nanami’s shoulder.

“Hey, man,” he greeted, and he almost cringed at how tired he sounded. He tried to put on a more cheerful attitude as he gestured to the beer in his friend’s hand. “Where’d you get that?”

Nanami pointed him towards the kitchen, which was uncomfortably packed with people chatting and laughing and pouring themselves shitty, sugary punch. Satoru grumbled a thanks before making his way over.

People in the kitchen recognized him – of course they do, he’s Satoru Gojo – and trapped him in idle conversation. They talked to him about parties he had missed in his time away (in his time mourning, but they didn’t know that), the social gossip he no longer cared about. He tried desperately to figure out a way to politely excuse himself, a way to tell them that he didn’t want to hear about that stuff right now.

Shoko eventually appeared and made short apologies before tugging him away from the conversation, and Satoru felt a rush of relief and annoyance. Relief for saving him, and annoyance for making him come to the stupid party in the first place.

Then she steered him towards the unfamiliar host, and he suddenly felt much more annoyance than relief.

“Shoko,” he hissed, but she either couldn’t hear him over the blaring music or just didn't care about his protests. She pulled him forward and tapped you on the shoulder, and you turned around with a polite smile on your face to greet your unfamiliar guest.

Satoru plastered a similar smile on his face. “Hello,” he said.

Shoko introduces you as the host of the party, and as the birthday girl. He just kept that same polite smile on his face. “I could’ve guessed,” he said, gesturing to the little tiara on your head. “Unless I’m in the presence of a real princess; then I apologize for being rude and should work on my bow.”

And then you laughed, and color bled back into his life.

It was just so bright, so joyful. There was no doubt that it was a real laugh, that you actually found him funny. Your smile widened to match, and the corners of your eyes crinkled. Satoru could only blink in surprise, a warm, happy feeling filling his chest for the first time in months.

“If I was,” you said around a grin, “then I’d have to work on my own curtsey.”

Satoru couldn’t help but smile back. A real one, this time, though small. “I take it you’re not royalty, then?”

“No, thankfully. Just normal, little old me.”

Neither of you noticed Shoko step away, a little smirk on her face.

Satoru took a sip of his beer. “I’d say you’d have to be royalty to have Shoko throw you a party like this.”

You sighed a little and shook your head playfully. “She and Utahime have been planning this for weeks. I couldn’t stop them if I tried.”

“Parties not really your scene, then? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.”

You shook your head again, sipping at the drink in your red Solo cup. He wondered idly if you were drinking that crappy punch. “Not really.” You didn’t say anything more.

He examined you for a moment, recognizing the lucid expression in your eyes. It was the look of someone who was far too sober for their surroundings. He couldn’t help but smirk a little at the revelation; he knew, if nothing else, how to rectify that situation.

He leaned his shoulder against the wall next to you, tilting his head curiously. His lips still quirked in that same smile. “I don’t think it’s very fair that the birthday princess is the most sober one here. You should let loose. Let Shoko clean up your mess for you.”

You laughed again – that damned laugh! – and shook your head. “A killer hangover isn’t exactly on my birthday wishlist, you know.”

He grinned and leaned in so that he towered over you a little. He enjoyed the way your eyes followed his movement. He lowered his voice a little, finding himself feeling a spark of his old playful self. “Oh, come on, princess. Live a little. Go shot for shot with me.”

This time when you laughed, you threw your head back a little. Your eyes nearly closed with how squinty they got. “I don’t think you wanna do that.”

He scoffed a little, looking you over. He was practically twice your size; there was no way a little princess like you could outdrink him. And he told you as such. “Is that a challenge?”

“Not at all. More of a warning.”

He just grinned again. “Oh, now we’re definitely doing it. Can’t have you talking that way, thinking you’d outdrink the great Satoru Gojo.”

Are you the strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo?

He shook the thought away. He didn’t want to let a ghost haunt him, not tonight. Not while you were looking up at him with that big smile. Instead, he gently grabbed your wrist, feeling your warm skin against his fingers as he tugged you towards the kitchen.

There were still people milling around there, and they all wanted his attention, but for now, that attention was trained on you.

“So, princess,” he said, glancing around at the bottles of liquor on your counter, “what kind of shots do you want?”

“Is this ‘princess’ thing really here to stay?” You ignored his question and grabbed a bottle of tequila, pouring two shots in glasses before grabbing a lime and starting to cut it in quarters.

He just grinned and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you. “Is that a problem?”

You shrugged, seeming unbothered by it. “No. Just wondering.”

“Then, if it’s not a problem, yes, it’s here to stay. Princess.” He grinned again.

Your mouth twitched up at the corners as you handed him a lime wedge. You blew out a big huff of air. “God, it’s been a while,” you said as you reached for the salt shaker.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Been a while, and you really thought you could beat me drinking? There’s something wrong with that head of yours, princess.”

“Don’t be mean to the birthday girl,” you playfully chastised before licking your hand and pouring salt on the wet spot.

He watched you, watched your tongue flash out of your mouth and brush your skin. Your comfort with the action was surprising, for someone who said they didn’t party much. He didn’t comment on it as you slid the salt shaker towards him.

Once you were both ready, you blew out another breath before licking the line of salt, taking the shot, and quickly biting into the lime. You shuddered, eyelashes fluttering at the taste in the back of your throat.

Satoru chuckled, his lips wrapped around his own lime wedge. “You’re good at that,” he said, licking his lips. “Despite how big a baby you’re being.”

“You know, if I knew you were this rude, I wouldn’t have agreed to this,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

“Oh, princess,” he sighed, grinning at you as he poured another shot for each of you, “you’re too soft. I’m not rude, I’m just honest. You’ll have to get used to it if we’re gonna continue this little game.”

You hummed, nudging another slice of lime towards him. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to toughen up.” And you both knocked back another shot.

Satoru leaned against the counter again, watching you suck on your lime wedge. “So, how’d you and Shoko meet, if not at a party?”

“I started taking her self-defense class in January.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You, the little princess, took a self-defense class?”

You nodded, tossing the rind in the garbage. “Uh huh. Problem with that?”

“Not at all. You just don’t look like somebody who’s ever thrown a punch.”

“Well, that’s the whole point, right? Gotta protect myself.”

“I see.” He tilted his head curiously, looking you up and down.

“How do you know each other?” you asked, ignoring his inquisitive look.

“We were all part of the same boxing club.” All three of us. He didn’t add that. He was starting to feel the first hints of alcohol hitting his system, the subtle warmth working its way from his belly to his extremities, but he wasn’t nearly loose enough to start talking about everything that happened. About the missing link in their little trio.

“Okay,” you say, reaching into your cabinets, “I’m making us something decent for our next shot.”

He chuckled a little at you. “Can’t handle the tequila, princess?”

“I can handle it just fine. I just enjoy something a little tastier.”

“A princess, through and through.” He shook his head at you, a little amused.

You make good on your promise and make a lemon drop shot, which Satoru laughs at before shooting it with you. He makes fun of your taste in alcohol, but it’s all done in good fun, a light and teasing tone to his voice.

It felt good to be drunk, to smile at you and drink with you instead of focusing on the pain he was in underneath it all. For a moment, he wondered if this was how he should be getting through the rest of his hard days, but he shook the thought away, recognizing how dangerous that thought was.

Even if it was tempting.

The two of you spent the night chatting, sharing your taste in music, in movies, in shows. Inconsequential things that slowly brought you closer, giving each other insight into the innocent parts of your lives.

The sunny parts, without all the shadows.

Satoru almost felt bad, hiding those shadows from you. It almost felt like lying.

Eventually, you stood from your seat on your couch, teetering on your feet and throwing your arms out to the side to balance yourself. His hands came up to steady you, wrapping around your waist for a moment before you were stable.

“I gotta pee,” you told him.

He chuckled and let you go. “Thanks for telling me,” he teased as you walked away.

God, what was he doing?

He didn’t have an answer.

You were gone for a while too long, just long enough to clue him in that something was wrong. He stood, ready to go find you and make sure you were okay, but as he started to make his way through the dwindling crowd in your apartment, you appeared in front of him, eyes a little too hazy. You smiled at him.

“Hey! Sorry.”

He gripped your wrist, frowning down at you. His vision swam a little, but he shook his head to clear his head. “Are you alright?”

You nodded adamantly. “Totally good! Let’s keep going!” Your words slur a little.

His frown deepened as he looked closely at you. “No, seriously. You good?”

“I got sick,” you admitted reluctantly.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You got sick? And you still wanna keep going? Not happening, princess. Let’s get you in bed.”

You whined loudly at his instructions, and he rolled his eyes at your attitude. Such a princess. The nickname had started out as a joke, but it really was pretty apt.

“Stop whining,” he told you as he gripped your shoulders and started to guide you down the hallway. He signaled across the room to Shoko that he was putting you to bed. She nodded at him and sent a thumbs up.

“Puke and rally!” you cried as he guided you down the hall by your shoulders.

He just chuckled and shook his head. “No, princess. You’re trashed enough as it is.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted.

“I’m plenty fun. You just can’t handle your liquor.”

“You’re mean.”

“And you keep saying that.”

You just huffed indignantly and pointed him towards your bedroom.

It was clean, minimally decorated. He guided you to your bed and gently helped you in, tucking you in and making sure you were comfortable. “Shoko will bring in some water for you, and probably a snack. You’re gonna hurt in the morning.”

“Whose fault is that?” you grumbled, giving a pointed look.

He just grinned innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then he patted your legs through your blanket. “Get some rest, princess.” He turned away from you, feeling a pang in his chest as he went to leave. The night somehow felt like an entire lifetime, and somehow also passed far too quickly. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you.

“Wait!” you bleated.

He turned to look at you, his head tilted to the side. For a moment, he wondered if you were going to ask him to stay. He tried not to appear too eager.

Instead, you reached out your hand. “Gimme your phone.”

He frowned at you, but dug his phone out of his pocket and handed it over silently.

It took you a while to find what you were looking for, your mind sluggish and muddy. But eventually you did, and you handed the phone back, snuggling deeper into the bed. “Okay.”

He glanced down at the screen, seeing a brand new contact: Princess.

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to fight a smile. “You put yourself in my phone as Princess?” he asked, sounding a little incredulous.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut. “That’s what you call me.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he turned away. “Get some sleep.”

“G’night,” you mumbled, and he was pretty sure you were asleep before he even shut the door behind him.

He walked out of the bedroom, towards the living room where Shoko was starting to clean up beer bottles and empty red Solo cups. She glanced up briefly, then returned to her work. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. Already asleep, I think.”

“And how are you doing?”

“I’m…” He thought for a moment. How was he doing? He felt…odd. Warm.

Like he hadn’t in a long time.

But that hole where his heart had once been still felt empty, and he wasn’t sure it could ever be filled.

“I’m okay,” he decided to say, looking at his friend as she cleaned. “Thanks for making me come tonight. I had fun.”

“I’m glad,” she told him, glancing up again. Her expression is genuine. “Want me to drive you home?”

“Nah, I already called an Uber.”

She nodded. “Okay. Text me when you get home.”

“I will. And…thanks again.”

She just smiled a little. “Don’t mention it.”

So Satoru Gojo returned home that night with a little sunshine in his pocket. With the sound of your laugh ringing in his ears.

thanks for reading! -luna xx next chaper

[lyn31]

Long-Distance Practice

Summary

What starts as a joke about long-distance quickly spirals into the most dramatic, over-the-top love messages imaginable.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Caleb x f!OC College AU, fluff, silly, dramatic, banter, established relationship.

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It starts as a joke.

One evening, Rose is sitting cross-legged on Caleb’s dorm room floor, her laptop open as she reviews case studies for her business class. Caleb is sprawled on his bed, flipping through his aviation textbook, occasionally mumbling something about airfoil mechanics.

He suddenly groans, dropping the book onto his chest. “Ugh. What if I fail this exam and they don’t let me fly?”

Rose doesn’t even look up. “Then I guess you’ll have to settle for working at an airport Starbucks.”

“Harsh,” Caleb mutters. But then his expression shifts, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Speaking of flying…”

Rose sighs. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he says dramatically, sitting up. “Since I’ll be traveling a lot when I become a pilot, we should start preparing for long-distance now. You know, just in case.”

Rose raises an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

Caleb grabs his phone and dramatically types out a text. A second later, Rose’s phone vibrates on the floor next to her. She picks it up, reads it, and groans.

Caleb : babe i miss you so much it’s been 47 minutes since i last saw you. the world is cold without you.

She deadpans at him. “We’re literally in the same room.”

“It’s called commitment to the bit, babe.”

She rolls her eyes and starts typing. A moment later, his phone dings.

Rose : good. stay gone.

Caleb gasps, clutching his chest. “Betrayal!”

She smirks, but before she can go back to studying, Caleb sits up, eyes twinkling. “Wait. We need to up the stakes. Let’s do voice messages.”

Rose narrows her eyes. “Caleb—”

But he’s already recording.

“Rose,” he says in an exaggeratedly emotional voice, “it’s been so long since we last spoke. I fear I may forget what you sound like. Please, my love, remind me of your voice.”

Rose gags. “You’re impossible.”

She types out a response, but Caleb shakes his head. “No, no. Voice message only. It’s training.”

She glares at him but presses record. “Caleb. It has been exactly one minute since your last message. If you send one more, I’m blocking you.”

Caleb bursts out laughing. “See? This is fun.”

And so it begins.

Over the next week, the joke spirals completely out of control. They start sending over-the-top long-distance messages whenever they’re apart for even an hour.

Caleb : Baby, I’m in class right now and I miss you so much. I looked at the empty seat next to me and sighed like a tragic movie protagonist.

Rose : I’m literally in my own class, Caleb. Go learn about planes.

Caleb (voice message): Do you think the stars miss the moon when it’s not in the sky? That’s how I feel right now.

Rose (voice message): Caleb, it’s been 45 minutes. Go and be productive.

Eventually, their friends catch on.

Zayne takes exactly one look at Caleb sighing dramatically at his phone and mutters, “You two are sickening.” Everlyn just laughs, scrolling through the chaos in their group chat.

The bit reaches its peak when Rose and Caleb are sitting at a café, and Caleb abruptly stands up, grabbing his backpack.

“Alright, babe,” he says with a deeply serious expression. "I have a study group. I don’t know when I’ll see you again."

Rose stares. “It’s in the library. Right across campus.”

“I know.” He exhales heavily, shaking his head. “So far.”

“Caleb.”

He kneels beside her, grabbing her hand. “Promise you won’t forget me.”

Rose sighs so dramatically that the barista glances over. She places a hand on his cheek. “Go. Be strong.”

Caleb nods solemnly, standing up, stepping away, then rushing right back to drop a quick kiss on her forehead. “This is my farewell gift.”

And then he leaves, sending her a voice message before he’s even out the door.

Rose listens to it.

Caleb (voice message): I miss u already.

She rolls her eyes. And then, smiling softly, she types back.

Rose : me too, dummy.

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Notes

Ahhh I just remember about this one again today, one of my fav too! When I go down this spiral 😂

There's only 3 College AU fics for Caleb here, the rest are on Ao3

Cat

Campus Fair

Technically, Oblivious also for Caleb/Rose just from MC pov!