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ayyy-pee · 3 months

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𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕀𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Tomioka Giyuu x Female Reader

Summary: Will he survive this war?

Will you be alright without him?

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

Giyuu and reader get to work on making a baby.

Story Warning: BREEDING KINK GIYUU, LACTATION KINK GIYUU, Smut, Giyu and reader are secretly married, P in V sex, Profanity like yall should know, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Giyuu is a munch, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Creampies, Mating Press, Freaky ass Giyuu fr

Art by: michi_ia (Twitter)

A/N: This was a request from one of my amazing readers! This one shot takes place in the same universe as Hidden Affairs (Sanemi x Reader fic!) They can both be read as standalones as they involve different readers! Hope you enjoy!

It’s eerily quiet tonight. Just as it’s been for the past several weeks. A storm is brewing, slowly but surely. Giyuu feels it, they all feel it. It’s like a simmer just under the surface, waiting to boil over at any moment. That’s why all of them were called to Ubuyashiki mansion. The plan has been set in motion and Giyuu knows what his role now is.

But will he make it back alive?

That’s the question that plagues his mind at this very second as he approaches his home. He can see the dim candle lighting illuminating the space through the windows and he knows he won’t be alone once he’s inside. No, he’ll be able to see you. And it’s all he’s been looking forward to since he stepped foot on the mansion grounds.

“I’m home,” Giyuu murmurs as he slips out of his haori. He lays it carefully on the table beside the front door.

“Welcome back, my love,” your voice floats through the air like a song, calling him to you. You’re in the bedroom and when Giyuu enters, he sees you’re already snuggled into the futon on the tatami, clearly ready for bed. “How was the meeting?”

Giyuu sighs, crossing the space and falling to his knees at your bedside. He leans forward and kisses you softly, reveling in the way that you, as always, can melt away his worries with just your skin on his. “It’s…” He debates on telling you the truth. That it’s not looking good. That he and the other Hashira, the Master, are all in imminent danger and that it’s likely to come soon. But as he watches you, so sweet and caring, he knows he can’t lie to you. “I’ll have to leave…to be close. He will come soon.”

He, being Muzan. Though Giyuu doesn’t dare speak his name in his home.

“I see…”

You recover quickly, but Giyuu has already seen it. The sadness and concern that flashes across your features. He feels guilty that he’s the cause.

“And the others?” You question, trying to change the subject. You know Giyuu hates talking about matters like this with you. You dislike it as well. Because he can’t be as honest as he wants to be with you. It’s for your safety and honestly to protect your sanity. It’s enough that you’re fully aware of the position he holds as a Hashira, and yet you insist on staying with him. Not that he could ever let you go. Even though he knows it’s selfish for him to have you, he would rather be a selfish man than be without you.

“Same old, same old. Still a little strange without Uzui, but we are managing.” Giyuu kisses you again before standing. Just as you do every night, you’ve got a bath waiting for him, and he’d like to get in and soak so that he can get back to you before sleep takes you for the night.

“That’s good. Everyone is well?”

“Yes.” He purses his lips as he fiddles with the rest of his garments, debating on whether or not to tell you this. But he thinks you may find this amusing. “Shinazugawa looked as though he was seconds away from ripping my head from my shoulders before the Master appeared.”

He hears your soft giggles behind him. “Were you sitting too close to his lady again?” You tease.

Giyuu shrugs, though you can hardly see the movement. “For Hashira, they are very bad at concealing their secrets. They smell of sex every time they arrive.”

“Yes, but it’s very cute to see. I’m happy she continues to keep our secret even though she has no idea we know hers.”

Ah, yes. Shinazugawa believes Giyuu is interested in his beloved, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. See, what the other Hashira (aside from Shinazugawa’s love) doesn’t know is that Giyuu is married - happily, at that. His colleague only found this out after running into you in town, carelessly dressed in Giyuu’s haori as yours were in the wash. And when she confronted you about the very familiar garb you were wearing, you just “felt that you could trust her with their secret”. It’s worked out for you both so far. It’s made you and Giyuu’s fellow Hashira closer, and Giyuu is simply glad you have a friend who you can confide in. He doesn’t even mind playing the messenger between you two, typically passing along stories and jokes from you to his associate when you’re all called together for a Hashira meeting.

But it’s also placed a large target on his back, a certain white haired psychopath surely waiting for the right moment to shove his blade down Giyuu’s throat.

“He believes I have feelings for her, you know? Almost blurted out their secret in a jealous rage in front of us all.”

“What?!” You gasp, scandalized. “You’re kidding.”

“No. He hates me because of it. It’s quite obvious.”

You hum, mind going a million miles a minute as you mull over this information. “Maybe it’s due to you being so unapproachable and distant. You don’t spend much time with the other Hashira. Perhaps it makes you unlikable.”

Giyuu winces, your words touching a sore spot because this isn’t the first time he’s been told he’s not liked among the Hashira. Kocho once said something similar.

“I’m not unlikable…” he grumbles, lips curling at the corners when he hears your laughter again. You tease him too much. “I’m going to take a bath. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

++++++++++

“Shall we try for a child?”

The question leaves Giyuu’s lips before he can talk himself out of it. He debated on saving this question for the morning as he joined you beneath the blankets, but his bath left him to sit in silence with nothing but his thoughts.

Will he survive this war?

Will you be alright without him?

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

The prospect of a child never appealed to Giyuu before, but the closer he gets to this inevitable battle, the more it’s on his mind. If anything were to happen to him, he would not want you to be alone. He would want to leave you with something of his, something that you’ll be able to look at and be reminded of him if worse comes to worse.

“What brings this on?” You ask, more quiet than normal. “I mean you…you’ve never discussed children before.” You roll onto your side, propping your head up on your elbow. The moon casts almost an ethereal glow over you, your beauty clear even in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

He shrugs. “I suppose I’ve never thought about it.” His blue eyes gaze into yours. There’s something there, something behind your eyes that you’re not saying. If it were a no, you would say so. You’ve never been one to mince words. If it were a yes…well, you’d say that as well.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“Yes.” He sits up, pulling you into his lap. His fingers play with the strings that hold your top together, gently tugging. It loosens, exposing your collarbone to him and he can’t resist placing a gentle kiss there. “Wouldn’t you enjoy it?” His lips ghost your skin lightly, and the sigh that rushes past your lips is music to his ears. “Caring for this small person, a perfect mixture of you and I?”

You place your hands on his shoulders, head tilting to the side to make room for Giyuu as his lips explore your neck, your throat, the swell of your breasts. “Yes,” you whisper. The sleeves of your top slip from your shoulders, a new part of you exposed for Giyuu to now claim, and you let him. You let Giyuu do whatever he wants with you when it comes to this. You’re always so pliable as soon as his arms wrap around you.

“I want it,” you breathe, hands pulling Giyuu from your shoulder and cupping his face. You press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Let's have a child.”

Wide eyes beam at you in the moonlight, a look of appreciation swimming in them. How did Giyuu get so lucky to have a wife like you? His hands guide your top down, revealing your smooth skin to the night air. His lips caress your breasts, breaths ghosting over your slowly hardening nipples. He takes one into his mouth, groaning at how the soft flesh fills his mouth. Your body is beautiful — a face that would bring a god to their knees, curves in all the places Giyuu appreciates, a form that molds perfectly to his, made for him and only him.

Giyuu lets his mind wander while his mouth presses sweet kisses to your chest. What will you be like when you’re pregnant? Will you crave for certain foods? He’s heard that that is common. What will you look like when you’re months into your pregnancy? Will Giyuu be there to witness your belly grow round with his child?

Something clicks in Giyuu’s mind at that moment. And while he’s not usually rough with you, he can’t seem to control himself when a guttural moan bubbles from deep within his chest and he wraps an arm around you, flipping you both over. He settles his hips between your legs, rolling his hips against your core, reveling when your back arches off the futon as you moan. And Giyuu dips down, capturing your mouth with his and swallowing each and every sound you make.

It’s all dry humping and moans, whispered “I love you’s” and peeling each other’s clothes off until you both lay bare. Giyuu listens to the way your breath hitches as he kisses his way down your body. His lips brush over all of your sensitive spots on the way down, only stopping when they reach the most sensitive. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths as Giyuu peers up from between your legs. This is one of his favorite views, particularly at night when the soft glow of the moon illuminates your body in such a way that he can’t help but be painfully erect.

Giyuu is a man of very few words. Everyone knows this. Even with you, he is not particularly talkative, but as Giyuu takes in the sight of you, legs spread wide and the puffy lips of your pussy coated with your arousal shimmering in the moonlight, he must let it be known. “You are so beautiful”. He licks his lips, groaning because he is eager to have you, eager to taste you, feel you, breed you.

“Wider, my love,” Giyuu commands, and you do as you're told, spreading your legs to further expose your aching cunt to him. “Perfect,” he whispers, hands coming up to caress the inside of your thighs where he plants tender kisses along the plush flesh. He leans forward, burying his nose into your core and inhaling deeply.

And this may seem odd to those whose jobs don’t revolve around breathing, but there’s something about your scent that has changed. Giyuu can’t place his finger on it. Maybe your scent smells sweeter? Or perhaps your scent is simply more intoxicating because Giyuu has reached a level of arousal that is new to him. But there is without a doubt something different.

He decides not to dwell on it any longer when a desperate and hushed “please” reaches his ears. He realizes then that your thighs are shaking, eager for him to proceed. So he presses a soft kiss to your glossy lips. You gasp quietly, back arching immediately and Giyuu takes that moment to lick a fat strip through your folds.

The groan he lets out is deep, animalistic almost. It vibrates through your core and the sensation makes you reach down, weaving your fingers through Giyuu’s dark tresses to grab hold.

“O-oh, Giyuu…” You gasp as he presses his tongue to your clit, his eyes roll back when he feels the slick pour from your core and straight into his mouth. He laps it up eagerly.

“You taste divine,” he groans into you and you moan in response, hips rolling up to grind your cunt against Giyuu’s mouth, begging for more. And Giyuu obliges, lips sealing around your clit and sucking, licking, nipping at your swollen bud until you’re practically fucking yourself on his tongue.

“Giyuuuuu,” you keen, back lifting off the futon again. You moan loudly, fingers clutching Giyuu’s hair and pulling him further into your pussy. “Right there–” you pant. “Right there! Please don’t stop–”

Giyuu grunts, wincing because his cock is throbbing painfully against his abdomen. He can feel the moisture beneath him, his tip leaking with his arousal. Surely this will stain the fabrics, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. He brings a hand to your pussy, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing tight circles. You’re thrashing, moaning his name over and over, damn near about to pull his hair out when Giyuu plunges his tongue into your clenching hole, and he has to will himself not to cum when you cry out and your soft walls clamp down on his tongue immediately. Your hips come up to meet his mouth, grinding your soaking cunt against Giyuu’s face. And he loves it.

Giyuu loves the taste of you. He’s not much of a drinker, he’ll admit. Never much cared for the taste of liquor and has never experienced being drunk in his life, but he imagines it feels similar to the way his head is swimming just off the taste of you.

By now, the futon is sticky with his precum, and it doesn’t help that Giyuu has now been mindlessly rutting against the fabric to find some sort of friction. He longs to make you cum on his tongue, but he also longs to bury himself inside you. But you make the decision for him, tugging his hair until Giyuu finally pulls his mouth away from your center. He crawls along your body, the echoing sound of his length separating from the stickiness of the bed filling the room.

He’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness and it takes him by surprise when you run your tongue from the tip of his chin, all the way to his mouth where you press your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you murmur against his lips, “how do you plan on putting a baby in me if you don’t fuck me?”

Giyuu thinks that if Muzan doesn’t end up being the death of him, you will be. He puts a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and whispering, “Forgive me, my love. I got carried away.” He slips his free hand between your bodies, a fiery heat blooming in his cheeks when he feels the way his cock is dripping onto your cunt. This is it. There will be no going back once he goes forward with this.

“When I’m done, you’ll be with child,” he says, seriously, as though it’s a fact. Because in his mind, it is. Giyuu grips his length, stroking himself slowly, rubbing his tip against your clit as he lets his mind wander briefly, and lets your moans fuel his runaway thoughts.

His head is consumed with the image of your breasts, swollen and dripping with milk and he has to halt his strokes to stave off the sudden urge to blow his load. He’s a little surprised, actually. Giyuu has seen and rescued his fair share of pregnant women, and didn’t think twice about it. Forgot about them the moment they weren’t in his direct line of sight. But you…you who consumes his every waking thought…the idea of you with leaking nipples, allowing Giyuu to taste the delicious nectar that your body has produced? It’s a thought so arousing, he has to tuck it away mentally, save it for when he’s alone on his missions so that in the late hours of the night, when he’s wrapping his hand around his cock, the image is still fresh.

He’s not sure when he slipped inside of you, let alone flipped you both over again so that he’s now on his back while you ride him. You take him all the way to the tip, moaning loudly every time you sink onto him. The intense waves of pleasure bring time to a standstill. Your nails are sunken deep into Giyuu’s abdomen, steadying yourself as Giyuu’s hips thrust into you at a bruising pace. On a typical night, Giyuu wouldn’t be so rough with you, so greedy with you. But tonight, while his mind is focused on a single goal – ensuring he leaves you with his offspring growing inside your womb – he feels like a crazed man.

Your cries grow louder, more high pitched and your movements stutter momentarily. When you cry out that you’re going to cum, riding him faster and faster, walls fluttering around him, breasts bouncing beautifully, Giyuu’s mind is back on his prior thoughts – dripping, swollen and full…

And then Giyuu is crying out with you, gritting his teeth as he fucks up into you, emptying his balls to the point that he’s lightheaded. His vision blurs as he keeps pumping into you. He hears the squelching, feels the splashing of his seed dripping from you and onto his abdomen, and Giyuu pulls you down to take his entire length again and again until he finally comes to a halt. His hands grip your hips tight, eyes honed in on where you sit flat against him as your sweet pussy cradles his cock.

“Don’t move,” he growls, surprising himself with the gravelly sound that just left his lips. And you nod, whimpering above him. Within your walls, Giyuu can feel his length still pulsing, spurting pathetic, weak strings of his seed. This orgasm has his chest heaving, hands shaking. He grits his teeth, using his hands to rock your hips back and forth.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” he coos, finally releasing his hold on you. His fingers ghost along your skin, from your chest, over your nipples, down to your abdomen where he places his hands flat against your stomach. He focuses on fucking you deeply, burying his cock as far as he can, pushing his seed as deep as possible. “Our child will be so lucky.”

“Yes, my love,” you breathe, eyes closed while you continue to take all of him so well. “And you’ll be an amazing father.”

Your words turn him on, more than he’s ever been. He rolls you both over once more and when you’re on your back, Giyuu takes a moment to pull out and admire his work. His eyes are locked on your core, dripping with evidence of him, pulsing and hungry for more. And he’s still so hard. He wants to give you more, needs to give you more. So Giyuu slips back into your pussy easily, the lubrication from the mixture of both your releases making you both shudder.

He’s so fucking sensitive, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when your greedy cunt is still squeezing down on him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pushing forward until a knee rests on either side of your head. And Giyuu thinks he may black out, because he doesn’t know that he’s ever been this deep inside of you before. He can feel his seed spilling from you, slipping down to your ass where his balls are pressed so hard, it keeps the thick liquid from flowing any further.

“One more…” he grits out, brows knitted together in determination. “Need to make sure it sticks.” Then he’s fucking you again, one palm resting on the back of each thigh, balls smacking loudly against your ass with every rough thrust.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” You gasp, fingers gripping the bed sheets tightly, and Giyuu whimpers in response. Your pussy is tightening around him, a vice grip already greedily trying to pull whatever he has left to offer from him.

“I want your baby,” you murmur into Giyuu’s ear and he groans, voice rough with desire. His thrusts pick up speed, searching for more pleasure.

“Do you?” He moans against your shoulder when he feels himself hit a particularly soft spot within your walls. “I’ll give you one. I swear I will –”

“Yes!” You practically scream. “Right there, Giyuu–”

“Fuck –” His eyes are closed, mouth slack as he pumps wildly into you. You’re so wet, so tight, so soft and as much as he wants to keep fucking you like this, he’s about to cum embarrassingly fast for the second time tonight. He can feel his balls get a little tighter with each sticky thrust. “Shall I b– ah…shall I breed you once more? Fill you up…ngh…until you’re dripping with my seed again?”

“Please–”

You hardly have to finish your words, because Giyuu is grunting loudly, bottoming out just as he spills himself into you, giving you every drop he has to offer. “Stay still,” he tells you, still thrusting into you, even though he can go no further. He pulls back once more, then sinks balls deep inside of you, breathing heavily as he empties himself. “Need you to take it all, my love.”

“I will,” you pant, his perfect little wife.

You stay like this for some time, Giyuu plugging your pussy until his cock softens inside you. Then he pulls out slowly when he has no other choice. You sigh in relief when you’re able to finally put your legs down as Giyuu lies beside you. He scoops you into his arms, kissing you all over your face, silent apologies for being so aggressive with you. You’re both catching your breath while Giyuu softly runs his hand up and down your spine.

“I wonder if we’ll be successful.” Giyuu mutters when the silence is too much and his thoughts become so unbearable he has to share them with you.

You wiggle out of his hold, sitting up to look down at him. You’re smiling, a cute and goofy smile that Giyuu only sees when you’re up to something. Or when you have a secret that you’re finding impossible to keep from him. So Giyuu sits up as well, brow raised in curiosity.

“What is it?” He asks suspiciously. His eyes narrow when your smile widens.

“It was successful…” You take Giyuu’s hand and press it to your stomach. “about two months ago.”

Giyuu is confused. His eyes are stuck to where you have his hand. Two months ago? Successful?

You can see the confusion clear as day, even in the darkness. “My love,” Your hand cups his cheek and like instinct, Giyuu leans into the touch. He still hasn’t torn his gaze from your joined hands. “Giyuu…look at me.”

And he does, back rigid as he stares at you with wide eyes. The cogs are turning, finally. He thinks he may have figured it out. But there’s a teasing smirk sitting on your lips, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he should believe you or not.

“A-” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Are you…?”

You pull Giyuu towards you to place a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been with child for some time. I just wanted to wait to be certain. I planned on surprising you today, but your meeting ran so late and…” Your hand covers your mouth, hiding the small giggles threatening to bubble up from your chest. “Well, it’s just so cute when you get all serious and focused like that.”

You fall back onto the bed, your pretty laughter filling the room, and Giyuu can’t help it. He laughs, too. Your laughter is so infectious he can’t resist.

It’s a strange mixture of elation, fear, maybe relief. He’d accomplished his goal before he even knew it. But with him leaving to go to the mansion tomorrow, knowing what is planned, he’s now got a new sense of dread seeping into his bones.

But it also gives him a new sense of purpose, outside of returning to you.

Giyuu must defeat Muzan.

Giyuu must survive.

Giyuu must get back to his wife, to his child, to his family.

No matter what.

2K notes · View notes

bellatrixscurls · 1 year

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exquisite weather today, no? | part i

warnings : smut, dom anthony and sub reader, pet names, fluff, ben and colin being little shits, reader is kind of naive given the action takes places sometime in the 1810s.

summary : anthony does not want to corrupt his innocent little wife... but what happens when his brothers lend him a helping hand?

a/n: please enjoy part one of my new series until i am done with the james and sirius fic, thank you! <3

“You are telling me that you have not slept in that way with your wife?” Benedict stops in their way down the halls, looking very much concerned. Anthony hums, checking his clock.

“But you’ve been married for almost a year now!” the younger brother exclaims, looking up at the viscount with a frown.

Anthony smirks and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. “Not that it is any of your concern, but we do things. Together. Alone” his lie is obvious, but still, he leaves Benedict stunned in the middle of the hallway.

When he finally realises that the maids are looking at him funny, Benedict clears his throat and offers them a polite nod, before following Anthony into the drawing room.

Ah, here you are — sitting next to Colin on one of the sofas. With Anthony distracted, speaking to Daphne about the ‘Hearts and Flowers’ ball, he approaches you carefully, sitting beside Colin.

“Exquisite weather today, isn’t it?” he gives you a nod and you mirror his action, smiling, “Indeed it is, Ben.”

Colin looks between the two of you, back and forth, a confused smile gracing his lips. “This is not about the weather, is it?” he whispers through gritted teeth.

Benedict’s smile turns into a grin when the words leave his brother’s mouth. “I am, in fact, glad that you asked, Colin!” he says happily, “I came here because I need some... advice, from Y/n.”

Raising your eyebrows, you look at him in curiosity, “and what could someone such as yourself need advice for?”

Benedict thinks about it for a moment; should he say it? He means no harm but... a little fun won’t hurt... will it?

“Sex” the words leave his mouth and Colin chokes on his tea, eyes wide as he looks back at Benedict. ‘Are you mad?’ he mouths to his brother, but the second-born chooses to ignore him and look back at you. “So. Y/n?”

Benedict finds you looking up at him with wide eyes, lips pursed as you tried to search for that word in your mind, but with no results. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Ben.”

This time, it is Colin looking back at you, a deep frown settling on his face. “Pardon? Anthony is your husband, there is no such thing as not knowing what sex is.. Does he refer to it differently?”

“You know... when you’re alone, naked, and he towers over you. That thing he puts in between your legs” Benedict quips, already very much content of where Colin has taken the conversation.

“He towers over me?”

The two burst out laughing at your cluelessness and, from the other side of the large room, Anthony’s brows furrow in concern.

“His cock, sweetness. What he has between his legs. I’m sure he spoils the crap out of you with it every night” Benedict taunts and Colin laughs breathily, adding on “or maybe he does not, brother. Seeing that Anthony is so busy all the time. He has more important things to take care of, I suppose.”

At this point, your eyes are teary and your hands are shaking as you listen to your brothers-in-law tease you endlessly. You are not aware of the meaning behind it, though.

In a moment, you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you up against the warmth of someone’s body; Anthony. As you look up at him, his heart shatters and his jaw clenches. “I do not know what you did, but be sure that I will find out. And when I do, I hope you will be taking a walk far away from here. More walks.”

And with that, he takes you away from his brothers and rest of the family, not bothering to excuse himself or you, his face red with hatred. He doesn’t know what his brothers told you, but he is positive that it managed to hurt you... And Anthony cannot bare seeing you hurt.

His hand grips yours tightly, in a possessive manner, not hurting you. He is always gentle with you, no matter the circumstances.

Once you reach the wooden door, Anthony ushers you into the bedroom with a hand at the small of your back, following closely behind before he closes the door.

“What did they tell you, my love?” his tone is alarmed and so are his hands, twitching at his sides.

When your eyes finally meet his, they are still filled with tears, sadness pulling at your heart. “Am I a burden to you? Am I- not pretty enough?”

Anthony’s heart breaks and he realises that he’s never seen you so sad before, not even when you were merely a couple and you had family issues.

“Angel, you have to tell me what it is that they told you. I need to know” he repeats through gritted teeth, ready to walk down those stairs and strangle Benedict and Colin.

“Sex” you repeat Benedict’s words unsurely, glancing up at Anthony. “Told me you are too busy for that. And I- you have never told me of that.”

At this point, his hands fly to your waist and he positions you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your lower body as he turns you to face him entirely. “My darling- They told you that? I-” he seems at a loss for words, and finally, his lips fall into a straight line and he lets go of your hand for a second, walking away from you, and to the floor mirror in his room. You pout as you lose his warmth, and your brows furrow when you notice him pulling the mirror towards you.

He takes his hand in yours and he helps you to your feet, your bottom lip wobbling when you catch sight of your teary eyes, but Anthony notices immediately, and his hands move to hug you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You are so beautiful” he says softly, placing a kiss on the side of your neck, nosing at your skin as he continues speaking, “Undress for me, my love.”

Breathing having picked up, your eyes widen anxiously as your hands find his. “Anthony-” “I want to show you how good I can make you feel. Trust me. Please” he pleads, his eyes looking helplessly into yours. You give a curt nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Your shaky hands move to undress yourself and Anthony helps peel off your dress and chemise, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him.

Anthony lets out one of the most obscene sounds when he presses his clothed body to your bare one, and you can feel his erection pressing into your backside, not that you are aware of what that is. Yet.

“Your hand. Move it down your body” he commands rather softly, watching you through the mirror. Your cheeks heat up but you obey nonetheless, your left hand stopping right above your lower stomach, “Lower. Touch your pussy for me, sweetheart.”

“Alright” you take a deep breath, your hand sliding further down your body, resting at your cunt, your warm touch making you shiver. “Feels odd” you whine, eyes pleading as you find his eyes through the mirror.

He bites his lip, his eyes closing for a moment before he is able to look at you again. “It shall feel good in just a moment... Can- Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes, please” you whisper and his hand instantly reaches to your cunt, using both of his hands to spread you open, your folds damp and spread out for him. “S’pretty” you say absentmindedly, dreamily staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Yes it is” he hums, grinning widely against your shoulder. His middle finger taps your clit twice, and he smirks as your body jolts up. “See this, darling? It’s your clit, your little button... You can rub it whenever you wish to feel good.”

“Whenever I wish?” you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes, sweetness” he hums, his cock hardening at the thought of you wanting to touch yourself, let alone to the thought of him. “And if you want it to feel even better, you must-” with your hole dripping wet, Anthony manages to slip a digit right inside of you, causing you to gasp in both slight pain and excitement. He is finally giving it to you.

“Anthony- what is this?” you ask curiously, Anthony’s finger still inside of you, leaving you to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

“Bit of stimulation before I can give you my cock, bunny. Or, as my dear brothers wish to call it, have sex” he chuckles lowly and starts pumping his finger into you, your fragile body shaking, your knees ready to give out, but you know that he is here to catch you.

“Great” you reply breathily, one of your hands slipping into his.

“You must relax, my love” he tuts, moving his finger in and out slowly, the feeling leaving you bucking your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back. “Let them enjoy the show” he eyes you intently through the mirror.

You look at him rather confused, but his other hand moves to cup your jaw and gently turn your head to the side, towards the door.

A door cracked open. Benedict and Colin.

#anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton smut #bridgerton fanfiction

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pathologicalreid · 2 months

Text

for the fear of falling apart | part three

when it seems like a return to normalcy is impossible, you decide that something has to give, but will it bend or will it break?

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, therapy, mommy and daddy issues, sigmund freud, nightmares and ptsd, sleep deprivation, takes place during 15x4 "saturday" (max does not exist in this au), stalkers, yelling, police, domestic disturbance, broken dishes, severe self image issues, crying, implies that jj is sometimes not the greatest friend, marriage and marriage counseling, mentions the death of grace lynch, the chameleon arc, reader and spencer are both broken people sry. things get resolved (or do they?) word count: 5.13k a/n: i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that people will not like how this part goes, but i do think it's important to remember that this is not where it ends. it's probably easy to guess what episode I'm rewriting next. lol. let me know your thoughts and feelings because i am dying to know.

“Are you glad to be back at work?” Your therapist asked you, writing down your personal information on the form on her clipboard before she met your stare.

Chewing impatiently on the inside of your lip, you glanced over to the clock that was hung above the door, dooming you to another forty-five minutes with Dr. Harmon. “Yes, I love desk duty,” you told her, flashing a fake smile in her direction.

The older woman looked at you doubtfully, and you silently begged for her to sign your return to duty forms. “I thought we spoke about using sarcasm as a coping mechanism,” she responded in a way that made you feel chastised.

You raised your eyebrows at her, gray hair neatly combed into a tight bun, you had spent more time with your therapist for the past two months than you had any of your family – the rest of your time was spent retraining your body, usually within the limitations of your doctor’s orders. “And I thought we talked about there being worse coping mechanisms that I could be using,” you countered, leaning back in her chair.

She shrugged helplessly, “Well, I’m not sure about signing your release forms. You could be a liability in the field.”

Eyes widening, you tilted your head to the side, “No, no, no, I’ve grown a new appreciation for the desk workers in the BAU. I even stopped laughing when people refer to Agent Anderson as Grunt Anderson,” you informed her, nodding as if that would help convince her of your honesty.

Checking off a box on your form, she set the clipboard on her side table, just out of your view. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Harmon leaned forward and folded her hands over her knee, “Have you spoken to your sister since the last time I saw you?”

You leaned your head back, staring at the tiles of the ceiling as any hope of returning to the field left your body.

One of your very first dates with Spencer had been at the Academy’s shooting range, you had a lucky spot there, it was where you had aced your qualification as a cadet, and it was pure luck that it had been available when you arrived.

As your paper target was brought forward, you slipped off your headphones and set your weapon down, studying the results as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, casually leaning against the wall behind you.

You jumped slightly as the sound of his voice took you away from your anxiety, “Hey,” you echoed, holstering your weapon as you sent your target back for someone to change it out.

“I thought you were going to come to the BAU after therapy,” he explained, arms crossed in front of his chest in his charcoal suit, camouflaging himself with the steely gray of the shooting range.

Pursing your lips, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before grabbing your bag, “I wanted to get some practice in before my requalification test.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “Did your therapist sign your return to duty?”

“No,” you muttered, knowing that you wouldn’t be eligible to take your firearms requalification until after you had been cleared by a psychiatrist.

Any surprise quickly left his face, “What did she say, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “She told me that it’s possible that my strained relationship with my parents is negatively affecting my performance in my sessions. Then she threw a Freud biography at my head.”

“Did you talk to her about the nightmares?” He asked, following you as you checked out of the shooting range, waving to a gaggle of cadets as they noticed the BAU agents in their general vicinity.

Faltering as you opened the door, you flung the glass door open and trudged out of it, “I have it under control,” you lied through your teeth, continuing your way to the elevator.

The tapping of Spencer’s shoes signified that he was following you, holding his hand over the sensor while you stepped in and using his knuckle to press the parking garage button, “You were up all night last night,” he retorted, “She could help you develop a coping mechanism that works for you so that you can get some rest, angel.”

You were getting tired of those words, “Well, maybe we’ll reach a breakthrough next week. You never know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so unamenable,” he accused.

Shaking your head as you stepped out of the elevator, you hoisted your bag back over your shoulder, “Is unamenable genius-speak for pain in the ass?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” he retorted, swiping the keys out of your hands before unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. You had been cleared to drive weeks ago, but Spencer still insisted on driving you.

You groaned, “My recent brush with death has made it difficult for me to let bygones be bygones.”

Pulling out of the parking spot, he carefully placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, “And here I thought we were actually going to move on with our lives.”

“No one holds a grudge like a youngest child,” you informed him, leaning your head against the window and wishing you had driven separately.

Being at home wasn’t much better than being at Quantico. You quickly changed and settled yourself on the couch while Spencer sat across from you, legs crossed in the wingback chair as he finished filling in a crossword book that you had started that morning.

You watched the clock tick, the diffused orange light of the sunset beamed through the curtains, and you felt yourself settle. Stiff joints and aching muscles unwound on the supple leather of the couch, and as you let your eyes fall shut, you felt the breeze of someone walking by before Spencer stopped in front of you.

Gently, he draped a knit blanket over you, tucking you in before crouching and dropping a gentle kiss to your temple.

Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now.

I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.

It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“Honey, wake up.”

You startled awake on the couch, wadding up the blanket in your fists as your eyes adjusted to the dim environment of the apartment. The sun had set, dipping below the skyline as you stared ahead.

Concerned brown eyes bore into you as you caught your breath, Spencer reached over and flicked on the table lamp next to you, “You’re alright,” he cooed, gently enough to make you want to cry. “It was just a bad dream,” he told you, cupping your cheek and studying your expression.

Nodding absently, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, the familiar knit blanket falling in a puddle around your waist. “I was in the parking garage again,” you preemptively answered his next question. You were usually in the parking garage, sometimes you were on the beach, and once you had been fully underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

You shook your head and ignored the defeated look on Spencer’s face, instead burying your face in your hands and taking a few deep breaths.

He waited for a moment before speaking again, reaching out and adjusting the bunched-up fabric of your t-shirt, “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, afraid it would start growling at the mention of food.

As you watched Spencer get up and walk over to the kitchen, you let yourself feel like everything was alright for the slightest moment. You wanted your apartment to be your safe space where there were no serial killers or sisters or hospitals, but there was a classified file on the kitchen table, photos of you and your sister littered the walls, and there was an entire drawer in the home office dedicated to your hospital stay.

Melding into the couch cushions, you ignored the stiffness in your side, the scars that marred your skin were healed over, but the memory would stick with you for a lifetime. It felt like a phantom pain, irritating your skin whenever you thought too much about it, or whenever your therapist asked you about Grace Lynch.

It didn’t bring you a lot of comfort to know that she was dead, murdered by her own father after conning her ex-girlfriend into giving her money. Everett Lynch was the threat now, and you were stuck on the bench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your cheek on your knee as Spencer ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to you, complete with a few ice cubes to cool it down. He waltzed back into the kitchen to clean up when his phone rang.

You ignored his conversation while you stirred the ice cubes around in your bowl, the soft clinking of them mesmerizing your tired brain. You ate while he spoke on the phone, mentioning something about a case. Pushing any thoughts of serial killers away, you just ate your soup.

Sipping at the broth, you grew curious about what was going on over the phone, but you tried to mind your business, scooping at the last noodles in the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Who was that?” You asked, eyes following Spencer as he walked back over to the living room, slipping his phone in his pocket as he sat next to you on the couch.

He paused for a moment, and you immediately regretted asking, “Uh, it was JJ.”

You supposed it had to mean something that he elected to tell you the truth instead of lying to you, but you were no longer feeling optimistic, “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” he said immediately.

You turned to him, raising your eyebrows curiously and pushing yourself into the corner of the couch – away from him, “Start what, Spencer?”

Spencer put his hands up, “Picking a fight with me over JJ’s feelings. JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope are working on a stalker case, it’s nothing that we need to worry about.”

“I’m not going to pick a fight with you, I already told you that I forgive you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He groaned in frustration, “You can say it all you want, but you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven me.”

As he usually was, Spencer was right, you hadn’t forgiven him for lying to you about what had happened between him and JJ. You wanted to. You wanted to find it in yourself to be the bigger person and just tell him it was fine. All you wanted was to move on, but you were crashing into roadblock after roadblock. “Are you going to work that case?”

“No, it’s a classic stalking case, they’ll make it without me,” he said, turning on the couch to face you.

You swallowed thickly, “You can go if you’d rather be there,” you reassured him, wondering if he’d be happier at work than at home with you. Someone needed to make a decision, someone needed to decide whether or not the two of you were going to keep going or if you were going to call it off. You didn’t want it to be you, you were afraid of which option you might choose.

Spencer frowned, “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not,” you answered.

“Yes, yes you are,” he challenged, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

Shaking your head, you threw your hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to go. You can stay here. You live here. Who the fuck am I to tell you to leave?”

“And now you’re escalating the situation,” he observed, straightening up and watching you carefully.

You didn’t consider yourself an angry person. The two of you didn’t fight often, but as you considered your options, you wondered if it could help. Maybe you could replicate the feeling of a good cry. Maybe all you need is a good fight. Just talk it out – loudly. “I’m not escalating anything. I’m not starting anything. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been going on for months.”

He had noticed, he could probably give you an exact date and time to point out when everything fell apart. Was it inside the pawn shop? Was it in the courtyard outside of Rossi’s wedding? “I thought we had made some real progress at the hospital,” he challenged.

Getting up from the couch, you took a deep breath and tossed the blanket over the back, “You cannot seriously think that. You’re too smart to believe that, Spencer. The idea that we fixed everything while I was hopped up on Xanax and painkillers. It’s… it’s…” you stumbled over your words for a moment. It’s crazy. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t do that to him. Spencer had spent his whole life having that word thrown at his mother, and he spent adulthood fearing he’d have a schizophrenic break. “It’s outlandish,” you finally finished.

Spencer looked up at you from the couch, “Is it outlandish to think that the history we have together would help mend our relationship?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know, Spencer, let’s take a look at your history with my sister,” you snapped.

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“No,” you commanded, “Sit down and shut up. I’ve spent months waiting for you to get it, but apparently, I need to spell it out for you.”

To your surprise, he listened, watching you in silence as you took a deep breath, picked up your soup bowl, and brought it into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounded like thunder in your ears.

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I want you to empathize with me.” You calculated every word you said, “We’ve known each other for nine years. We’ve been together for seven, and I- I had the rug pulled out from under me. God, you went on a date with my sister. You took her to a football game as a hater of organized sports. My beautiful, prom queen, soccer star, gem of the family older sister.”

“It wasn’t a date, Penelope went with us,” Spencer added patiently.

You peered down at him, “When you asked her to go with you, did you do it with the intention that you would be taking her on a date?”

His shoulders slackened, “Yeah,” he answered softly.

“And you know that she loves you. If you went to her right now and told her you wanted to be with her, that there’s a chance she’d consider it. She’d at least have to think about it,” you told him, confidence dissipating as your hands started to tremble and you silently begged yourself not to cry.

Spencer watched you suspiciously, “What gave you the impression that I want to be with her instead of you?”

You faltered, just for a moment, “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her?” You asked exasperatedly, letting your arms fall limply at your sides.

Pinching his eyebrows together, your boyfriend looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “She’s married? Her kids are my godchildren?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you cursed yourself as tears stung your eyes, “Are those seriously the only reasons you can think of?” With all the brain power you knew he had, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, “Putting aside the fact that I’d be destroying a marriage, not because it doesn’t matter, but because being with your sister isn’t even something I’d consider. This might not have occurred to you, but I have absolutely no interest in being with someone other than you!”

You huffed, “Please, she’s beautiful and athletic and older and you’ve known her for fifteen years!” You shouted over your shoulder, making your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything you needed from in there, you just needed to keep moving.

“But she’s not you!” He yelled from the couch, finally getting up and following you to the kitchen.

Spinning around on your heel, you threw your arms in the air, “God, I know!” You swung your arms down, accidentally sending the bowl you had set on the counter down to the floor, breaking on impact. “Shit,” you muttered, immediately dropping to a crouch and starting to pick up the ceramic shards.

“Hey, wait, let me get it,” Spencer insisted, grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer before laying it on the floor. He carefully picked up the larger shards, waving your hands away.

You clenched your hands and glared at him with bleary eyes, “Why? Why am I not allowed to clean up the mess that I made?”

Spencer sighed, “You’re crying. I don’t want you to get hurt because you can’t see well,” he told you, prompting you to sit back on the tile and watch him continue to pick up.

You crisscrossed your legs and watched him, “I’m sorry for yelling,” you whispered, so quietly that you weren’t even sure he had heard you.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Spencer gathered up the kitchen towel and set it on the counter, setting his hands on the counter and taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he echoed your sentiments. He moved to the hall closet to get out the broom, interrupted by a knock on the door.

Confused, you poked your head over the counter and watched as Spencer opened the front door.

“Good evening, officer,” he greeted, casting a sidelong glance over at you.

Fuck.

You scrambled to your feet, careful not to step on any pieces of the bowl that remained on the floor and wiping beneath your eyes as you made your way to the door, peeking around the corner to find two DC Metro officers. “Agent Jareau?” One of the officers said curiously.

“Hi,” you waved timidly, looking between the two of them with your tail between your legs.

He looked surprised at the revelation of who lived here, recognizing you from a case you had consulted on months ago. “We were called here on a report of a domestic disturbance, your neighbor in said she heard ‘a lot of yelling before there was a crash and then everything went quiet’.”

The summation of events did nothing to slow your racing heart, “We had uh… we were having a disagreement, and I knocked over a bowl. It was an accident,” you reassured the officer, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand as a sign of good faith.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You nodded in confirmation, “I’m really sorry about any inconvenience, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

The DC Metro officers studied Spencer suspiciously, and you protectively moved in front of him. They were trained to see the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing happening here, “Well then, just uh… try to keep it down, I suppose.”

The two of you waved as they walked away, once the door was closed, you turned to face Spencer, “Are you alright?”

He looked a little pale, “I’m alright,” he nodded, gathering himself before going back to the hall closet. “That was weird,” he added.

Spencer’s interaction with police officers was limited to work with the bureau and his time in prison. He never had to explain an underage drunk person in the car or run when a party got too rowdy, but he wasn’t concerned with the confrontation, he was concerned that, for a moment, before you got there, those officers saw Spencer as a violent person. You stayed put, watching him sweep up the last of the bowl and take care of the sharp pieces with a keen eye.

“I’d never hurt you,” Spencer said softly, unnecessarily explaining to you.

You nodded, “I know. You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person.” In fact, you had only seen Spencer aggressively violent one time in your life, and that was when his mother’s life was on the line. Stepping over to him, you lifted yourself so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, meeting his eyes.

“She is not you,” he murmured, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “I am well aware,” you offered.

He took a deep breath, “JJ would never ask me to recite Henry James to her or offer to go to the planetarium with me even after we spent all day on a case or sit through one of my lectures just to hear me talk about something I’m passionate about,” he began. "I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about something I’m passionate about with your sister. Not one where she didn’t interrupt me or pawn me off on somebody else,” he told you, disconnecting one of your hands to wipe new tears from your cheeks.

“I- I’m not…” you breathed, overwhelmed as he sang your praises.

“I know you compare yourself to her,” he cut you off, “it’s normal for you to compare yourself to your older sister. I just didn’t know how lowly you thought of yourself until all of this was dug up.”

Frowning, you cocked your head to the side, “I do not compare myself to her,” you remarked.

He hummed in response, “It wasn’t up for debate. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone except for you. I am sorry that I never told you about the football game, but by the time you joined the team, six years had passed, and I didn’t think it was pertinent to tell you that your sister had rejected me. That is entirely on me, and I can’t change it. I can, however, spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Your breathing hitched, and the ghost of a potential proposal once again floated through the air, it made your heart ache. “One of these days you’re going to have to actually ask me to marry you,” you whispered, not sure how much longer you’d be able to sit and wait while he neglected to act upon his words.

“What do you want right now?” Spencer asked, studying your facial expression.

You have spent three months being mad at him, and you had to believe it all came down to tonight. Neither of you could keep going with things the way they were. “I’m not sure,” you answered.

Patiently, Spencer inquired, “Do you want to break up?”

If you told him you hadn’t thought about it, you’d be lying. It broke your heart to think about ending things with him, to think that six years together didn’t mean something to the both of you. Spencer had never given any inclination that he was interested in anyone else, so maybe he should’ve told you about the football game, but you shouldn't have let your insecurities block any attempt at reconciliation. “No,” you responded truthfully.

He had tried, too. The one-sided conversations he had with floral bouquets, taking time off of work to help you while you recovered, and he had even limited his contact with your sister. “Do you want to go to couple’s therapy?”

You had heard through the grapevine that your sister was trying marriage counseling with Will, something about working on their communication skills. With that in mind, you nodded, “We can try it out.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, settling a hand on your thigh.

Through the sheer curtains, you looked outside, “I want to go,” you informed him, hopping off of the kitchen counter and to your shared bedroom, pulling on a pair of socks.

Confused, Spencer followed you around the apartment, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“I’m going,” you said simply.

He looked surprised at this, “It’s the middle of the night in the twenty-second largest city in the country, you’re not going out alone.”

You paused for a moment at his concern, watching the defeated look on his face morph into one of relief when you responded, “Then put your shoes on,” you encouraged.

As you waited by the door, mindful to not walk through the apartment with your shoes on, he stopped in your bedroom for a moment before coming back out and slipping his sneakers on. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing your keys off of the hook, you opened the door and held it for Spencer as he followed your lead. “You know at the start of Moby Dick when Ishmael says when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanting to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea?”

He nods, taking the keys from your hand and locking the door behind him, glancing briefly at your neighbor’s door before handing your keys back to you, “I’m familiar,” he confirmed.

“Well, I’m feeling rather grim about the mouth,” you told him assuredly, slipping your keys into your pockets and slowly making your way down the hold staircase of your apartment building, listening for Spencer’s footsteps right behind you.

Even with your back turned, you knew his expression would be one of confusion, “So, you want to take to the sea?”

You quickly shook your head, the very last place you wanted to be was near a body of water in the middle of the night, “Not particularly, but maybe the park and some fresh air would do me some good.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he confirmed, stepping around you to hold the front door open so that you could walk outside, the cool night air stinging your face as you did.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the night sky, the stars hidden through the city’s light pollution.

Upon reaching the park, which was just a small green space down the street from your apartment, Spencer led you to a cement bench, the two of you sitting down and sitting in silence. You welcomed the cold air filling your lungs, watching the fountain from a distance and admiring the way the headlights of a few passing cars reflected off of the water.

He kept a hand on your back, gently moving his hand up and down your spine as the two of you reveled in the startling nighttime peace. “I haven’t been fair to you,” you murmured nervously, looking over at him.

“None of this has been fair to anyone,” he reminded you.

You sighed, “JJ confessed her feelings, not the other way around, and I- I shouldn’t have held that against you for so long.” The admission came to you easily, holding your breath as you waited for him to agree.

Spencer’s silence worried you, but then he finally responded, “I probably would have done the same thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to speculate how I would or wouldn’t have acted in your shoes.”

“I just… she’s always been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect agent, and I’m… I’m just me,” you said helplessly, staring ahead at the fountain.

He took a deep breath, “You’re perfect to me.”

“Stop,” you chastised halfheartedly.

Chuckling, he placed his hand over yours, “I mean it. Sometimes perfection is about the final concoction and not about getting all of the steps right. You don’t need the perfect journey, and, to me, nothing proves that more than you.”

You hummed, “You’re sweet.”

“For what it’s worth, I think, given the opportunity, you could be a perfect wife,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee, getting your head to snap to the side.

Jumping up from the bench, you smacked your hand over your mouth at the small black box that he had set on the stone surface. “What are you… what?” You asked breathlessly, looking behind you in the way people usually did when they were surprised, waiting to see if you were being pranked.

“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” he reached down and snapped the box open, showing you the glimmering ring inside. “It can just be a promise because I am promising you right now, this is it for me. You are the only person I can see myself with, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Gaping at him, you looked between him and the ring before closing your mouth, “That sounds an awful lot like an engagement ring,” you told him, out of breath.

He nodded, “That’s because I want it to be.”

“Okay,” you answered.

“What?”

You giggled, he evidently hadn’t expected that answer, “Yes, Spencer.”

He stood up, tackling you in an embrace, “Thank goodness.” He said, relaxing into you as you returned his hug.

Over the past few months, you had been almost afraid of him asking you, worried that it would feel like an excuse. A band-aid over a bullet hole. But as you held each other tightly, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right. This was where you were always meant to be. “Will you put it on me?”

He nodded slowly, sniffling as he pulled away from you, the warmth of his body leaving you as he nimbly took your left hand, slipping the ring on your fourth finger. The metal felt foreign on your skin, but you welcomed it nonetheless. “That has been sitting in my sock drawer for a year,” he admitted, placing both of his hands on your waist and meeting your eyes.

You beamed up at him, at both the revelation that he bought you a ring well before any of the trials and tribulations of the last few months and that he hid the ring in the one place you never touched – the seemingly bottomless abyss of unmated socks that Spencer called his sock drawer. “Thank you,” you breathed.

Spencer leaned his head down, hovering his lips just above your own, “For what, love?”

Blinking small tears out of your eyes, you answered, “For not giving up on us.”

He smiled, “Never,” he whispered before dropping his lips to yours, the intimacy of something as small as a kiss enough to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Do you want to go home? Or are you still feeling grim about the mouth?”

“Let’s go home, Spence,” you told him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before the two of you began the trek home, hand in hand.

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thehauntedetheral · 2 months

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Can i request a yandere fashion designer please

Yandere Fashion Designer

Requests are open!

• Yan is globally famous and one of the most expensive fashion designer.

• He has his own brand company. Whose worth is in millions.

• He is the trend setter in fashion. Period.

• Every girl's dream is to own something of his brand.

• And every model's dream is to walk for his brand.

• Yan's whole life is all about creating fashion masterpieces. Nothing else matters to him.

• His workaholic life made Yan's mother worry about him. So she forcefully set him on a blind date with her friend's daughter which happens to be you. To get some sense and enjoy his life instead of designing clothes every hour.

• Upon spending some time with you he likes you. Your attitude, your personality, the elegance with which you carry yourself and dress.

• First time in his life he didn't thought about working while meeting new people. You have changed this man's chemical equations and feelings.

• He has seen and worked with many beautiful models, supermodels but there is some spark in you that he can't just pin point.

• You becomes his inspiration, his muse for designing clothes and jewellery.

• Yan designs many beautiful and exclusive clothes, jewellery, handbags, heels just for you. And the things he makes for you exclusively are so beautiful that many people tries to convince him to make a dress for them like that too by giving sums of millions but he won't. Because this only belongs to you.

• People have their signature perfumes you have your own exclusive signature wardrobe thanks to this man.

• Yan launches a special collection of dresses, purses, jewellery, heels in your name.

• You have become his muse. Most of his fashion is inspired by you.

• Makes sure that you always attend his shows.

• Always makes sure you wear the most important dress in every show of his when attending. No model gets to wear it but you. That after the show the buzz about the dress you are wearing is more than the models representing on runway.

• Whenever asks about his inspirations in interviews he would always take your name.

• This man has badly fallen for you. Thinks you are the most perfect muse he could ever have.

• Makes exclusive dresses and jewelleries only for you. No one will have that in their wardrobe other than you.

• You are the most perfect person according to him.

• You are the most adored duo in the fashion world.

• Yan fashion designer who makes sure to always keep you busy with his brand work to keep you close to him. He doesn't want any other to have you, have his muse.

• Yan who is very jealous when it comes to you. You once wore and complimented another designer's work. The next week he makes sure to present the most beautiful fashion work of his so no one talks about that fashion designer especially you.

• He would do anything for you. This man would worship the ground you walk. All his creations, art, fashion now is nothing but a figment of you.

• He spoils you so much that all the media and magzines has given you a nickname "(Yan's brand name) Princess". Which Yan loves a lot by the way.

• If someone tries to flirt with you or tries to take you out for date he makes sure to beat them till blood spilling. Because you are his, his only no other can have you. This man is crazy possesive when it comes to you.

• Designs a personalized wedding gown and diamond ring all by himself for you in preparation of asking you to marry him.

• After all you are his muse and he is your Artist.

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading :

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static-radio-ao3 · 18 days

Text

jegulus microfic // words: 1.5k // cw: drinking, implied sexual content

sometimes you just have to make out with a hot guy at a party and if that hot guy happens to be your best friend's brother, well...

James watches with laser focus as Regulus’ tongue slips from between his lips. He has a half-done cigarette in his fine-boned fingers and licks a long stripe along the length of the rolling paper.

Regulus rolls it up with practiced ease, making James' eye twitch, and he passes the cigarette off to Barty.

“Thanks, baby boy,” Barty says as he pushes himself off the too-low couch across the room and wanders to the open window so he can lean outside to smoke.

He flicks open his mildly offensive lighter and James nearly wishes Barty would take a little tumble, but his horniness hasn’t quite shifted into homicidal tendencies so he takes a steadying breath and tells himself to fucking relax.

His eyes shift back to Regulus, who is rolling a new cigarette, presumably for Evan. James wishes he could zoom in, just to get a closer look at how nimbly Regulus spreads the tobacco in the rolling paper.

“You know, you could at least pretend to listen to me,” Sirius complains with a shove to James’ shoulder. His beer nearly sloshes out of the bottle with the sudden movement.

“Sorry. I was,” James says. “Listening, I mean. Not pretending to. I got… distracted.”

“What on earth could be more important than me right now?” Sirius questions, shifting in his seat and pressing his cheek against James’ so he can follow his line of sight. His skin is soft and warm and the familiar scent of amberwood fills James’ nostrils.

It doesn’t take long for Sirius to realize what James was zeroed in on. “No,” he gasps, falling back into his seat with a betrayed gasp.

“I’m just—” James starts, but Sirius’ withering look silences him with ease.

“Just what?”

“Just looking!”

“Look elsewhere! Literally anyone else, I beg of you.”

“Remus,” James says immediately, eyebrow raised in a challenge.

Sirius’ face falls minutely. “Okay, except for Remus.” His eyes shift off to the side, as if picturing something, and then he adds, “Although…”

“No,” James is quick to interrupt. He shoves Sirius’ face away for good measure, fingers damp with condensation from his glass beer bottle. “Nip that thought right in the bud.”

“Whose butt are we nipping?” Remus asks, because of course he chooses this very moment to reappear. He stands in front of them, hands on his hips and eyebrow cocked.

Sirius turns to face Remus, not unlike a flower to the sun or a moth to a flame.

“James is ogling my brother.” His tone is accusatory and petty, but his eyes are molten ice when he looks at Remus.

Remus leans in to press a quick kiss against Sirius’ waiting mouth and James also purses his lips in a mocking invitation, but Remus settles for flicking his forehead instead.

He surveys the seating arrangement and after a moment, he settles on the armrest of the couch. It’d be a tight fit with the three of them on there and the party is keeling on the wrong side of too hot. A smoky haze fills the room and the thumping bass makes the floor hum with every song.

“Ogling is a strong word,” James argues. “I think admiring is more accurate.”

“From a distance. A long, long distance. In fact,” Sirius says as he turns to face James again, “how about we move to another room?”

“Actually,” Remus says, “that’s precisely why I came here… Do you wanna…?” He lets the sentence trail off suggestively, fingers slipping into the ripped fabric of Sirius’ jeans. James watches as a barely-there shiver skitters its way up Sirius’ spine and his eyes flutter shut at the slight touch.

Sirius wastes no time shoving his full beer bottle into James’ hands while Remus gets up. Over Sirius’ shoulder, James mouths a silent thank you at Remus, who simply winks at him in return.

Sirius wiggles his fingers at Remus in a silent request to be pulled off the couch, but before they leave James to his thoughts, Sirius whirls on him again. “No funny business with my brother, okay?”

“None at all,” James swears as solemnly as he can. Hands full with Sirius’ discarded drink and his own, he settles for mentally crossing his fingers.

“All by your lonesome, Potter?” Regulus asks, dropping onto the couch with a quiet oof. James glances up just in time to see his best friends disappear around a corner.

His gaze settles on Regulus, on the dark shade of his shirt and how it brings out his eyes. And his collarbones.

James hums, not quite trusting his voice. He takes a sip of his beer for liquid courage and if it turns into more of a swig, well, who’s to say?

“Knocking ‘em back pretty fast, huh?”

“This one’s Sirius’. He disappeared with Remus to go do unspeakable things to each other’s bodies.”

“Might need to steal that from you just to get that image out of my head,” Regulus says, those nimble fingers James was eyeing earlier appearing in front of him and deftly plucking the bottle from James’ hand. “Thank you very much.”

“I do hate to suffer alone,” James says, tipping his own beer toward Regulus in a cheer.

“Can’t have that, can we?” And Regulus taps their bottles together.

The clink of the glass is drowned out by the loud music —something about releasing one’s inhibitions?— but James feels it down to his bones.

“Enjoying the party?” James asks, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth. He brings the bottle to his lips again just to keep more stupid words from tumbling out, letting them fall into the drink instead.

“Come on, Potter, your game has to be better than that,” Regulus says, head lolling on the back of the couch lazily. His hair tousles with the movement, careless waves of inky black spilling across his forehead.

“What do you mean?” James asks, hands tightening around his drink to keep from doing something insane like reaching out and fixing Regulus’ hair.

“Everyone knows you never leave a party alone. No way people fall for that line.”

“It’s not a line.”

“No?” Regulus asks, sitting up straight again. “You genuinely want to know if I’m enjoying the party?”

James hums. Lifts his shoulders in a shrug. A wordless What can I say?

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

Regulus’ mouth, usually down-turned, tugs down even more. It would look like a pout if it weren’t for the fact that the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.

“You wanted me to use a line on you?” James asks.

This time, Regulus hums. Lifts his shoulders in a shrug. A wordless What can I say?

“This might surprise you, but I don’t need to use lines on people to get them to come home with me. Some people are into me, if you’ll believe it.”

Regulus’ face says that he does believe it. His mouth says, “Maybe you can give me some pointers on mine, then.”

James scoffs, turned on beyond belief and trying valiantly to drown it out. “Happy to.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They’d inched together unknowingly until the space between them had shrunk to near-nonexistence. The world starts and ends in the breath between their faces, Regulus’ lips a focal point.

Instead of replying again, James catches Regulus’ mouth in a kiss, hot and heavy from the beginning. He blindly sets his drink aside and hopes that it doesn’t get knocked over. Then again, he has other things on his mind than potentially staining the carpet.

With both hands free, he is able to shift on the couch. One hand comes up to cradle the back of Regulus’ head while the other moves to his hip as if magnetic. He can’t help the thrill of excitement when he realizes his hand fits just right.

He faintly hears someone whoop but then Regulus’ hands shift from James’ back to the sides of his face. He gently knocks his glasses askew in the process, but that’s fine. James doesn’t need to be able to see to do this.

There is nothing else in the world but this. Them.

Eventually, Regulus’ hands end up in his hair, and he pulls James back with a mean fist.

“What?” James asks, punched out and breathless.

Regulus doesn’t say anything, just pushes James back against the couch and moves to straddle him. It takes James no time to get with the program, hands changing course to settle on Regulus’ thighs.

James isn’t sure how much time passes. All he’s sure of is the comforting weight of Regulus on his lap, the feel of Regulus’ tongue in his mouth, and the warmth of Regulus’ hands on his face.

The earth could explode and James is fairly sure he wouldn’t realize, too caught up in the heady path Regulus is tracking down the side of his neck.

A needy sound spills from his mouth, hands clenching on Regulus’ things, and Regulus is quick to meet him in another kiss.

“James!” Sirius’ voice filters into his ears from somewhere behind him a lifetime later and the sound of the party rushes back in pieces.

Music.

Chatter.

The crash of a vase toppling over.

“I told you, no funny business!” Sirius whines, reaching out to smack the back of James’ head, and James can’t help the way he bites into Regulus’ lip on impact.

With a disgruntled groan, Regulus pulls back. “We’re not laughing,” he says, lips pink and breath stolen.

Sirius’ reply is indignant, surely, but James can’t hear anything except for the sound of his heart thundering in his ears when Regulus leans in again to kiss him.

He’ll apologize in the morning.

Or not.

#new mil microfic! who cheered!#[crickets]#this is the result of me wanting to make barty say “thanks baby boy” to regulus btw #my hand slipped....#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #jegulus microfic #mil's microfics #mil's writing

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tiny-space-platypus · 2 months

Text

Never really fit back in

Part 2 Daniel or Danyal or Danny?

Danyal took a deep breath. There was only one person who could bring him to his brother. One person who could get him into the Wayne household. Vlad Masters, his godfather, though things were getting better with Vlad it was still awkward. He doubted he'd ever fully trust him but he was the only adult around who knew what he was and at least for right now wasn't trying to kill him for it. Plus he had access to the Wayne Galas and as his heir Danny did too.

"Daniel" Vlad smiled at him and offered him a seat at his table. "I was quite surprised when you asked to have a meeting with me" Danyal took a seat as dinner was served to them. He hesitated before speaking. Danny had been trying to prepare what to say to Vlad all day but now he was here, his mind went blank.

"I-" He paused as he pursed his lips before stealing his nerves once again. "I'd like to take up your offer of being your heir." Vlad stopped moving for a second as his smile faltered. he stared at Daniel. The silence was deafening. Danyal continued or well rambled after an uncomfortably long few minutes of silence. "The Fenton household hasn't felt safe in.. Well it's never been safe but ever since my accident it's just gotten worse. The house is always attacking me, even though my parents- Even though Maddie and Jack know I'm Phantom now that hasn't stopped them- actually I think they've just been ignoring me. And-"

"Daniel,"

"Since Jazz left for college, I've only really had Sam and Tucker but-"

"Daniel"

"They're now busy preparing for their own futures and all that-"

"Daniel!" Vlad spoke a little louder silencing Danny again then sighed. "I will gladly take you in, Daniel. It's the least I can do for you" Danyal relaxed a bit, though not too much. Vlad might be better now but he's still a power hungry fruitloop. Danny still had to be careful but at least Vlad's manor wasn't actively trying to destroy him. At least Vlad acknowledged his existence. And so Danny's new life began.

A few new changes happened after he started to live with Vlad. One he changed his legal name to Danyal (it just felt more real), he and Vlad still argue over changing his last name over to Masters but Danny's not ready for that. Danny had to start taking etiquette classes from both Dorothy and Vlad, Vlad had gotten him plenty of suits and other more comfortable clothes, and Danny had full access to his lab. Though Danny didn't go down there often, it gave him the creeps in a bad way. Most labs did at this point. Instead he had taken over a large room and had a work desk where he tinkered on what ever her felt like tinkering on, or schoolwork, or the loads of paper work he had to do for the Infinite Realms. It was kind of nice having Vlad help with that though at least someone could explain what half of it meant and wasn't as secretive as Clockwork.

Four months passed and things were going great actually. Things were finally starting to feel alright again, maybe this was the best decision. Eventually Danny did tell Vlad about being Damian's brother only because he would have to confront Damian at the Wayne Christmas gala.

----------------------------------------------------------

Damian just like his other siblings dreaded the galas but they were important. It was important to keep building relationships with the public and the rich. It was important to keep a mask on and play the very rich found family of Brucie Wayne. It was important to keep their night life out of the picture.

Damian got ready with his siblings as usual. He listened and complained with them about the Gala as Jason laughed and praised being "dead". At least being the youngest meant he wasn't as bothered by the guests as the rest of his siblings were. All he had to do was introduce himself to the guests, have his picture taken a thousand times and lurk around the party. A boring night that would be much better spent on patrol. Though he was just has confident that the others could Patrol Gotham without them as his father.

The gala was about normal, he greeted guests with his father as Tim went out to do some networking. Dick playing as his usual self, Cass lurking around, Steph tormenting people by being her eccentric self, and Duke wandering around and making small talk. The night was normal till Masters arrived.

By that point Damian had broken off from his father and went to see and spend time with his siblings. Though something felt off after about a half hour. Damian went to report this to his father only to find him still speaking with Masters who had a boy with him. He paid no mind to him. "Father there's-" Damian paused then looked at the boy standing next to Masters who was smiling at him.

Danyal. That was Danyal. That was Danyal. That was Danyal.

Damian just stared at Danny with a look of horror that his father caught quickly. Before Bruce could pull Damian away he heard his brother speak.

"Hello, Damian. It's nice to see you again"

----------------------------------------------------------

Bruce had never seen his son like that before. He had never seen that look on his son's face before. Something had to be wrong he just didn't know what yet. Bruce excused both himself and Damian from the Masters and brought Damian over to the others. He looked at his son who looked both terrified and shell shocked. Bruce spoke softly.

"Damian, are you alright chum?"

Damian started to hyperventilate and mumble in Arabic. Damian normally spoke in Arabic when upset but this was very clearly different. Bruce brought Damian to his room, not because he was in trouble but because he was freaking out and needed some quiet. That night for the first time Damian openly cried in front of Bruce. That night for the first time Damian held onto Bruce like his life depended on it and sobbed. That night for the first time Damian sobbed into his father.

Bruce didn't know what the Masters did to his son but they won't get away with it. That he swore. He'll have Tim and Barbara look into them later for now his son needs him.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dcu #bruce wayne #damian wayne #demon twins au #vlad plasmius #redeemed-ish Vlad #he is still doing this to have a little more power in the realms but rn he's more helpful than not so whatever #good dad bruce wayne #protective dad Bruce Wayne #trying to portray Danny struggling with who he is by constantly switching up his name. hopefully that made sense or could be picked up on?#danny gave Damian a panic attack:)#danny probably also will have a panic attack after realizing he gae his brother a panic attack :)))#Never Really Fit Back In

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zriasstuff · 1 month

Note

This is a kinda random request but how would the sytherin boys react when they see boxers in your room assuming it’s another guys when it’s actually yours. I wear boxers so i just randomly thought of this. 💗💗

This is actually fire, I gladly imagined how this situation would play out. Although some things go similarly, I tried to differentiate their reactions and actions a little bit. Enjoy this crack :)

Slytherin boys x reader

How come you’ve been in a relationship for some time already and they don’t know that you wear boxers ? God knows, maybe they’ve just had a rough day and all critical thinking tends to fly out the window. Jealousy and fear of losing you are hard emotions to control…

Theodore Nott:

when Theo sees them, he aggressively cups your face and pierces your soul with his hunter like eyes all of a sudden

“that’s one skinny bastard that you’re fucking behind my back, does he even have a dick?”, he refers to your own boxers, that are obviously a few sizes smaller

“Tell me, how come you’re such a slut that having me isn’t enough? you actually have to find yourself a side bitch?”

it took some time to recover from his harsh scolding, but soon enough your brain worked again and spat out the right words

Theo backs up in shock when hearing your explanation that made a lot of sense

As a returning favor he should get a scolding too for immediately jumping to conclusions and not communicating properly, but they’re all a bunch of hotheads anyway

It all turns into a funny anecdote though, which also serves as a reminder for him to trust his girl

Tom Riddle:

as soon as he sees them lying around somewhere his expression becomes stoic, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit and lips pursed

of course you noticed even the slightest change, so you reach for his hand to ask him what was wrong. you remember though that sometimes he just gets stressed because he has so much to think about

without properly getting to know the situation he would want to insult and intimidate you, he immediately fumes and threatens: “you are dead to me, and you are going to regret this”

his words and tone especially made you want to cry, you felt yourself curling up, standing beneath his tall frame, not even knowing what you did

he was not only mad at you, but also at himself for letting his guard down, which led to him being played like a fool. there was nothing more important that his self worth and dignity to him

still, you begged and whined for him to stay and when you finally understood that he saw “another guys” boxers on your floor, you actually scoffed and remained speechless for a while

although he was slightly paranoid that you might be lying to him, he saw how distressed you were when he wanted to break up, and that’s something you can’t fake (he still is very wary though, and has to pretend he didn’t just imagine ways to kill and torture “the other guy”)

Mattheo Riddle:

like his brother, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting him, only the other way around

especially with his abandonment issues too this makes him jump from zero to one hundred

but unlike Tom he actually wants to hear your side, to decide how he should handle this and scorned at you: “for fucks sake, you’ve been cheating on me? I don’t know if you thought I was never going to find out, but keeping his bloody boxers is just disgusting. You care to explain?!”

He even picks them up from your bed, and throws them into a corner, shooting them and you a disgusting look

You don’t appreciate his attitude at all, and if that boy knew that he just threw your own boxers, he’d be down on his knees

You can’t take this seriously and tell him “never seen a girl wear boxers?”, that made things so awkward, and Mattheo quickly apologizes, hopefully you’d forget about this…

Draco Malfoy:

His jealousy promptly get the better of him and he thinks about all the idiots that have tried hitting on you, or ever liked you, which one of them was it?

He couldn’t believe that anyone was worth jeopardizing your relationship, but apparently so

Grabbing you close to him, while pointing at the boxers, he growls “so whose are they huh? Carter? Lewis? You better tell me it’s not that stupid Potter”

While you’re talking, he is still so mad that isn’t even hearing everything that you’re saying, he physically couldn’t calm down when thinking about you jumping into bed with someone else

He would take the boxers too, observing at them closely, and then somewhat sneered “I didn’t know girls also wore boxers”

Draco wouldn’t necessarily be a fan, but came to the conclusion that what you wear under your clothes really wasn’t any of his business

At some point he also wants to see what you look like wearing them, and they actually looked kind of cool

Blaise Zabini:

just like all the others, his thoughts immediately jump to violence, for instance how to get the other guy admitted into the hospital wing

but something makes him stop and think—why wouldn’t you even bother to hide them somewhere? did you think he was so incredibly blind, or did you actually have nothing to hide?

Still his temper gets the best of him and accuses you of being “shameless” and asks if you were trying to insinuate that he “wasn’t good enough” because you’re wrong and he can fuck you better than anyone else

He always thought that everything was going well, so you being unsatisfied was really the last thing he expected

Fortunately everything gets resolved quite easily since you reassure him, and you even tease him about his jealousy

For the rest of the night, Blaise in fact proves that he can fuck you the best. That was the best apology for doubting you in the first place

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He gets extremely upset and has an outburst too, but with a hint of self consciousness, asking you how you could do this to him, when he’s always trying his best

Enzo also relies on guilt, wanting to make you feel like absolute shit, he says stuff like “i gave up being a player for you because I love- loved- you so much, but apparently you see me as nothing

You have to try your hardest to make him see how ridiculous he was being, and he demands you tell him how you would never cheat on him

Seeing you in your boxers for the first time also makes him smirk, you could really rock anything

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lovelookspretty · 2 months

Text

not so bad

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

college!rafe cameron x reader au

warning(s): n/a. just a bitchy rafe whos generous n gets awkward as fuck when it comes to u

authors note: college!rafe is lowkey nicer to y/n since he can’t help his buried feelings !! but he’s still an ass. i wouldve casted drew as himself but drew is too sweet i cant even imagine him having like a female sworn enemy that he lowk has a crush on

the door swings open, revealing rafe himself. he’s silent as soon as he sees you. “lock the door,” he says as he turns around and starts to head further inside, leaving you at the entrance.

“lock the door,” you mock-mumble under your breath as you enter, closing and locking the door behind you like you’re told. you look around, realizing you’ve never actually seen rafe’s dorm before. his friends’ dorms maybe, but never his.

his dorm is surprisingly clean, with only empty to fully filled water bottles scattered around, but very few. both sides of the room are displayed with posters on its walls, you can fell which bed is his and it’s made with its sheets tucked tightly in the crevices with two large pillows at the head of it.

you watch as he walks over to his desk and sits in the chair, opening up his laptop to the online textbook provided for the class.

he peers over his shoulder to glance at you, “can you fucking—i don’t know—sit down somewhere? the furniture isn’t coated in poison, you know.”

you fight the urge to make a remark, and you just sigh and let it go. “kay!” you say, and carefully making your way over to sit on the edge of his bed, placing your bag by your side. you catch his eye when you reply so eagerly without a problem, but you ignore this.

“where’s your roommate?” you ask him, looking around. “just wanna make sure when i need to expect someone- also, typically i charge for tutoring, and if crawford is making me tutor you then i’m charging you double. hundred-fifty an hour.”

rafe looks pissed, shaking his head and opening his mouth like he’s about to argue before closing it again. finally, he sighs, leaning against the wall by the kitchen. “my roommate’s just . . . out . . . today. he’s running errands. whatever, can we just get this over with? i’ll pay you after.”

you grin, feeling even satisified that rafe has to use his own cash to pay for however long this will take. “have a girl coming over tonight?” you guess from the way he’s rushing you. you reach into your bag for your ipad, “this wouldn’t be happening if you’d just pay attention in class, you know.”

“i know," rafe mutters, still annoyed but trying not to show it. "i just don't get how humanities could be important in the real world," he says, running a hand through his hair before resting the side of his head against his spread index finger and thumb, looking at you. “or my world, i mean.”

“still trying to do real estate?” you puzzle, pulling up the notes you took during class for him to look at. “it’s like your dad’s job, right? the cameron department thing.”

“cameron development,” he corrects you, hissing through his teeth.

“whatever. just surprised you’re not pursing sex work from all the girls i see you pull into bathrooms at parties,” you mutter out the end of your sentence under your breath, in a way not wanting to bring up that you’ve even noticed that before . . . again . . . and again . . .

“yeah?” he seems amused. “sex could sell more homes than fuckin’ humanities ever could.”

“sex?” you repeat with raised brows. “damn near prostitution versus political science, sociology, journalism, anthropology,” you name off as you lean left and right in your seat, pretending to think and weigh out your options. “yeah, maybe passing your humanities class can be a good thing! pull up your notes, please?”

“i did," rafe grumbles, gesturing to his laptop.

“i said notes, not the textbook. i wanna see what you’ve even written down while in class,” you say.

he’s silent as he opens up his documents, and he pulls up his most recent document filed under notes. he hands his laptop over to you as he leans back in his seat. you look over his text.

furrowing your eyebrows, you say, “okay, so you . . . you wrote the title of his lesson yesterday. that’s good. but under that you didn’t even write down any notes, you just have someone’s phone number. are you that predictable?”

he chews on his dog tag necklace and shrugs, taking his laptop back. “she was new. just wanted to make a friend,” he insists, closing out the tab.

you hum. you don’t really believe him but it isn’t like you care enough to argue over that. you hand him your ipad to show him your notes. “we’ll start at the beginning of the unit,” you tell him as he takes it.

rafe lets out a breath from his nose as he matches your energy from before, “‘kay!” he skims over your writing, gnawing on his pencil quietly.

you almost catch yourself smiling that he does this, but you refrain.

the lesson seems to be going better than you thought, though there are some pissed glances here and there from both sides. it takes two hours to go over the unit with examples and practices. you’re already exhausted.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the lesson ends. rafe slumps back in his chair, relieved to be done with the humanities assignments that you made him do for now. he looks up at you, barely casting a smile your way. “thanks for the help,” he mumbles, awkwardly meeting your gaze.

“thanks for the money,” you say, half-reminding him that he needs to hold up his end of the deal as you stand from your seat.

as he stands, he bumps into your ipad on his desk. it collides with his opened water bottle he’d been drinking out of the past hour or so and both of you know what’s about to happen. you blurt out a noise and try to dodge the water coming your way but fail, getting his water on your legs and even more pouring at your crocs that invite even more liquid in. you can just feel your socks absorbing it now.

rafe grimaces as he stares down at your wet legs, and the least he does is reaches down to grab the bottle and the cap that flew off the desk. he closes it up and sets it on his desk as you take off your shoes and socks, holding them with barely your fingers.

“i have uh . . . towels, paper towels,” he says, and you just nod immediately, accepting whatever to dry yourself off.

when he comes back, you grab the paper towels and shove your soggy socks into his chest which he takes out of instinct before exclaiming and dropping them on the floor. you can’t help but look back and glare at him before patting your legs dry, and then tossing the paper towel into the nearby trash can that sat at one of the ends of his desk.

you can see rafe shrug as he picks up your socks and hovers over his trash can too. “might as well,” he murmurs.

“wh— are you serious?” you try to catch the socks, but then again, he’s too far and you have no business carrying some wet ass socks back to your dorm. your hands fall to your sides as you sigh.

it’s like he’s visibly contemplating (or debating with himself) before he walks over to his dresser and rummages through a drawer, finally pulling out a pair of socks. “here,” he says, tossing them to you, which you almost fail to catch from the sudden surprise. “they’re clean. swear.”

you give him a doubtful look. “i didn’t need your socks. i have plenty in my own drawer, thanks,” you say, placing the pair on his desk to reject them, and he stares at you.

he shakes his head and turns around. “so difficult,” he murmurs under his breath, and he quickly cleans up his drawer before closing it.

he grabs his wallet from on top of the dresser too, pulling out the wad of cash. you can tell from the look on his face that he’s not only doing this to count his money properly but also to subtly flex right in front of you. you roll your eyes and look away.

he counts out his three-hundred before handing it to you, scrunching up his nose as he stuffs his wallet into his pocket. you stare at the money, then take it while giving him a glare.

you quickly count it but bless, there’s two hundred dollar bills and then five twenty’s. perfect.

“okay, good luck on your exam,” you say and grab your bag, heading for the door like you’re in a hurry this time.

“wait,” rafe says, and you almost groan from annoyance. you just want to go back to your dorm. “here,” he mumbles to himself, and he steps over to the mini-fridge in the corner. he opens it up and grabs a water bottle, then tosses it to you.

“rafe,” you say, not really expecting all of these ‘gifts’ just for screaming at him for two hours about humanities. you toss it back to him, which he catches.

“just for the road,” he insists with a shake of his head. “since i spilled mine on you.”

you stare at him like he’s stupid. “dude, i live down the hallway.”

when you see his awkward reaction, you almost feel bad. actually you do. and it’s weird. usually you don’t notice this at all, but something about rafe feeling dumb about trying to thank you just makes you feel guilty for how you’ve treated him. fine.

you give him a look like you’re saying okay. that it’s okay to give you gifts and that you’re okay with receiving them. rafe doesn’t even cast a smile, he just nods. you squint your eyes at him before heading for his door again.

rafe meets you there and holds out the water bottle for you. you look up at him and take it. you almost smile, and it seems like he might too, but you both catch yourselves and quickly look away.

“ace your exam so you won’t have to hear from me like this again,” you say, half-joking to keep up their normal behavior.

“i’ll try, i’ll try,” he says simply, and stands at his door while you leave. you raise your eyebrows once before heading off to your dorm, taking your bag and your water bottle with you. you hear his door shut from behind you.

as you walk away, you can’t help but replay the moment in your head, the weird sense of camaraderie that just occurred. maybe, just maybe, rafe cameron isn’t the most horrible person on the planet. and it doesn’t help that he’s unfortunately attractive, which makes it slightly more difficult now to keep up the mutual hatred you have for each other.

from inside the dorm, rafe stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door. he shakes his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“not so bad,” he mutters to himself before turning back to his desk, ready to tackle his upcoming humanities exam thanks to you.

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silly-thinkings · 10 months

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Batmoms biggest "fan"

A small thing that I wrote and completed a long while ago. I decided to go back to school and I'm now getting the hang of everything. enjoy this story wherein- You (fem batmom reader) have a sort of fanclub. This fanclub however has the rest of the family on edge. and your sons do something about it :)

You frown as you took a bite of of your food. You were stood up… by your own husband of all people. At a nice restaurant that he chose.

For a mission that he won’t even tell you the details about. That of course didn’t stop you from indulging in the food and wine that you’ve eaten multiple times. The people around you looked at you with the occasional whispers in between. But you didn’t mind. In fact, with the way you were eating it might as well been a night for Y/N Wayne to be by herself.

The waiter approached the table with a sheepish smile “the bill Miss Wayne.”

You gave him a smile that make even those who despise you blush . You pull out your purse and place cash in the folder, followed by the Bruce’s black card. The server Looked at you confused.

“The black card is for the bill. The cash is your tip.” You say with a wink.

“F-five hundred dollars” he shook his head in disbelief “I can’t accept this.”

You tilt your head to the side “why not? Is it not enough?” You look at his name tag before your phone rang. “You’ve done an excellent job today Jared. Please, accept the tip.”

Jared slowly nodded his head as he return to the back. You check the caller ID and smile “hey hey bird. What’s up?”

On the other end was your second eldest Jason Todd. Slowly he’s been talking to you more as of late. Which brings you joy, the last thing you’d want is for any of your boys to cut you off of their life over Bruce’s actions. Lord knows how hard you try to have both your eldest socialize within the family.

“Nothing much. You free?”

You look around the restaurant “not necessarily. Decided to get some dinner.”

“Where B?”

“Out. He’s busy tonight.”

There was a pause on the other line “right…”

The waiter returned with the card and you signed the receipt . You grabbed your belongings and left the establishment. “So, when’s the next time I get to see you?”

Unbeknownst to you, the very son you were on the phone with stood atop the apartment across from the restaurant.

“I don’t know Ma. I’m on a very important case right now.” Jason said pressing a pair of binoculars watching you intently.

“Hmmm. Well don’t stay out for too long. Honestly, you and your father act the same way when you’re working in a case.”

Jason moved his binoculars slightly behind you. He noticed the waiter watching you from one of the restaurant windows whilst holding a pair of white gloves. Your gloves, you must’ve forgotten them.

“Uh huh. Text me when you get home. Stay safe Ma.”

You look down at your phone slightly shaking your head. You place the phone back into your purse before raises your had at the passing taxi’s.

~Meanwhile~

Jason continued to watch both you and the waiter. It was only after you getting into a taxi that he put all his focus on the man in the restaurant.

Jason heard some shuffling behind him causing him to roll his eyes “Ya know, if you just want a hug you can totally ask.” The man announced his presence with a preppy tone.

Jason grunted “go away Dickhead, I’m busy.”

“No, it looks like you’re stalking mom.” Dick crossed his arms “what are your doing Jay?”

“Working. What are YOU doing? Shouldn’t you be in bludhaven? Doing police work.” Jason quipped as he watched the waiter put Y/N’s gloves in his pockets before returning to work.

“I’m… also working right now.”

Jason finally turned to face his older brother “so you know.”

Dick nodded “Babs has mom’s taxi being traced as we speak. Tim is also tailing the thing.”

Jason took a deep breath before turning around facing the restaurant. Five months, as far as Jason knows, his mother Y/N Wayne has been stalked by a group for five months. And it only seems to be getting worse. Word around the streets is that there’s a twisted fan club. A fan club that is too infatuated with the lady of the Wayne household. And the only way a person can be initiated into the group is by meeting Y/N Wayne.

“Jay. I know you know Bruce is working on this case. Why not join him instead of doing it alone.”

Jason scoffed “please, Bruce will just put the mastermind in jail. And then what? Tell me, are you comfortable with mom having stalkers trying to get to her any chance they get?”

Dick didn’t respond, which cause Jason to laugh “exactly. That man did nothing when I died. I’m not taking that risk. Not when my Mom is involved.”

Jason noticed the waiter walk out of the establishment and hastily walked towards a dark ally. Jason put his helmet back on “if you want to help, stay out of my way.” Jason, dressed as redhood Jumped down from the building to follow the man.

Dick watched as his brother followed the guy.

“You know he’s going to need some backup right?” He heard Barbra in his ear piece.

“Maybe he’s hungry.” Dick flipped off the building befit grappling the next one. Following his brother.

~~~~~

You arrive to the manor and went straight to the cave. “Bruce! Bruce Wayne show yourself right now!” You yelled into the void it seemed. Bats fluttered about as your husband dressed as Batman turned in his seat. He got up and walked towards you

You pointed a finger at him “you stood me up.”

Bruce rose his hands in surrender “I can explain.”

“It better be good. Because ain’t no way I went to your favorite restaurant only to be looking like a goof ball all alone. The gossip news shows are going to have a field day with this one.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. How could he, on the one hand he’s been trying to figure out who’s actively hunting you down. While on the other hand, he did use you for bait. And that he’ll have no problem taking to the grave.

“Bruce, talk to me. You and the kids have been tense lately. Is the world ending again?” You ask stepping closer to Bruce. You knew his actions were for a reason, but after years of dealing with this kind of thing, it’s starting to bug you slightly.

Bruce finally felt defeated. “You remember Dom? Dom rosenbloom from highschool?”

You giggled “of course. I’ve always found him sweet. Wonder what he’s up to.”

“He’s stalking you” Bruce said bluntly.

Your mouth hung open shocked by the sudden declaration “what? H-how?”

Bruce takes your hand and walks you to the computer. He pulled up multiple videos of this man following you at every instance. Galas, work, the gym, even at the supermarket.

“Bruce. Why didn’t you say anything’s“ you gasped before slapping his shoulder “you used me as bait.”

Bruce smiled slightly. Your tone was most definitely playful given the situation. “I might’ve”

You squeezed Bruce’s hand making him face you. His armored chest rising and falling slowly. You look up into his eyes. He then returned the gesture by placing one of his gloved hands on your face. “On a serious note Honey. You’re in danger so lay low for me alright.”

You nod your head. Your fingers dancing along his chest “That’s still not an excuse to stand me up.” You say standing up on your tippy toes before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. You turn and began ascending the stairs. “I’ll be more carful from now on Bruce. Now… Could you at least join me in the bath~ I think that’ll make up for your silliness.”

Bruce looked at the time then back at you. “It’ll be my pleasure Mrs.Wayne”

~~~

Jason followed the waiter to a run down school. He loaded his gun before stealthily walking into the building.

“Rubber bullets?” Nightwing chirped beside him.

Jason swung his arm around pointing the gun at his brother “keep it up and I’ll use real ones. Just for you.” Jason scoffed “you’re a pain in the ass”

“Not as big of a pain at that one over there.” Dick pointed to the other side of the building. Damian dressed as Robin snuck in through a window before disappearing.

Stressed Jason put the gun away “Wheres his adult.” He said before the two followed the tween down the hall.

~~~

“My brothers! We are gathered here today to honor a priced relic. Mrs.Wayne’s gloves.”

A group of people gathered in the abandoned schools gymnasium. Y/N’s belonging from shoes, jewelry, even discarded hair products were put up on display. Ooo’s and ah’s can be heard from the crowd making Tim feel sick to his stomach. Before he hacked into the building lighting grid gunshots fired. Tim massaged his temple, there was only one other person he can think of that doesn’t have his kind of finesse.

“Alright. Which one of you is the leader?” Red hood parted the crowed of people as he pointed the gun at the man on stage.

Tim moved his head side to side before jumping down from his hiding spot. Knocking out one of the stage guards.

The man attempted to run on the other side but was stopped my a smaller Robin. Damian kicked the guard in the gut before crossing his arms.

The leader’s face turned red with embarrassment “What is the meaning of this. I , Dominic rosebloom will have all of you- ”

“Pfffft I’m sorry. Rose bloom? That’s your name.” Nightwing appeared from behind Redhood who still had the gun pointed at Dominic. “You were bullied weren’t you.”

Dominic opened his mouth to say something but Tim pulled out his laptop. “Actually yes. According to sources Y/n Wayne was his only friend throughout his high school years. Then uhh… Bruce Wayne stole her from him. Gross… anyway You guys didn’t know that?”

“Tsk what does it matter. Let’s settle this quickly. I have something important attend to.”

****

The sun shone through the silk curtains of your bedroom. Normally you’d wake up in bed alone but your husband laid next to you scrolling through his phone. He chuckled slightly before showing you what he was reading.

“Dominic RoseBloom found guilty for harassing and Stalking Mrs.Wayne”

The picture provided was a grown man left out in the open with heart underwear and a dunce hat on.

“No… who would humiliate him like that.” You say pressing a hand over your mouth.

Bruce look at the picture further, he noticed a green cape in the bottom of the photo “our children.”

#batmom #batmom reader #dc fanfic #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne

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thee-great-enigma · 5 months

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Price would only give you the slightest hint of what you really want to see in his nudes, or around the house.

M!reader

Oh you're rock hard and want to rub against his ass for some relief? He sits down on the couch for three hours, completely ignoring you.

Oh you wanna eat him out, feel the weight of his cock on your throat? He'll walk around in sweatpants that are hanging so low on his hips that you can see the salt and pepper fringe of his happy trail and the very base of his thick cock, not that the sweatpants are hiding the outline of the pretty thing. But he swats your hand away anytime you try to touch him, walls away anytime you sit on your knees and plead for him to let you touch him because you "Need to so bad, sir, please? What have I done wrong that you won't let me touch you? Just- please? I'll be good, just please- please I need it, need you so bad sir," you whine only to be shut down again and again.

You want to fiddle with his chest whether it be playing with the soft hair or lightly pinching or sucking his nipples? He'll swat your hand away, wear a thick coat, send you pictures of anything else, make sure you can't get what you want.

And of course it makes it all the sweeter when he does finally let you have your way. But he's also busy doing his own thing, watching TV or reading a book. Bonus points if he's wearing his little reading glasses on the lower bridge of his nose to see the pages of his book or even paperwork. Since you've begged so nicely, been so good for him all day, he might as well give you a little bit of relief. When he first told you to kneel in front of him, you grinned stupidly, thinking he'd finally let you use your mouth for something other than pleading for him all day.

But instead, he shoved his foot between your thighs, shin practically crushing your cock. You let out an embarrassingly high pitched noise as pleasure and a small bit of pain rushes up your spine, making you slightly dizzy for a second. Your jaw gapes as you try to register this, grappling at his thighs for purchase. He doesn't even pay you a glance, just hooked his leg under your crotch and made sure there was enough pressure to keep you short of breath.

You give an experimental buck of your hips and when he doesn't do anything about it, you keep going, keep snapping your hips forward. You find purchase in his thighs, blunt nails digging into the plush skin as shaky gasps and moans escapes your lips. You don't mind this so much, it feels good and at least he's giving you a bit of pleasure. You just wish he'd look at you.

You whine up at him, pursing your lips and tilting your eyebrows up, murmuring into the couch cushion, "Baby please– please look at me– I'm begging you lovie, just look at me. C'mon, that book/show can't be that important"

And yet the only sort of attention his gives you is a low grumbled. "Dirty horndogs like you don't need to be looked at. Go ahead and cum, I don't care, just don't make me watch you do it."

You groan as you rub your poor abandoned cock against his leg, complaining about him being "too mean". You reached up for either the remote or the book, but he swats your hand away, again no even giving you a small flicker of attention.

Woah Enigma knows how to write!!! Yeah sorry for not being active, life has been kicking my ass and motivation is a rare visitor that only likes to come when I'm busy but this time I actually finished something!

Honorable mention, @rodolfoparras a lil gift since I may or may not have participated in the train me gnome and a few others ran through your husband

#enigmas •★• obsessions #captain price #enigmas-•★•- thoughts #price cod #john price #enigmas •★• idiot babbles #enigmas •★• fics #enigmas •★• writing for once!!#price x male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #male reader #sub male reader

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asdfghjklmals · 6 months

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GRADUATION✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. mentions mental health. WORD COUNT: 3.4k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. lover girl!oc. high school lovers.

SYNOPSIS: satoru and oc gojo girlfriend finally graduate from tokyo jujutsu high school! AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy easter and graduation season for those who are graduating this year! 💚 i realized that when i was writing this, oc gojo girlfriend loves satoru so much. i used to write that satoru loved her more, but after this fic, i'm not so sure lol. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!

tokyo jujutsu high library

“who’s most likely to be on the bachelor?” you asked your bestfriend, shoko ieiri.

even though he wasn’t graduating this year, you and shoko both said in unison, “kento nanami.”

you giggled at the thought of how uncomfortable nanami would be as a bachelor contestant, “you know nanami would absolutely hate being on the bachelor though.”

shoko nodded her head in agreement while reading the other high school superlatives. “what about life of the party?”

again in unison, “satoru gojo.”

“how about this one?” shoko asked, “most likely to sleep through an earthquake.”

“if that’s not me, it has to be tsumiki.” you laughed out loud, knowing that your sleep was sacred to you and nothing could wake you up, “—and worst case of senioritis goes to you, shoko.”

shoko couldn’t disagree with that superlative. she grinned and read the next prompt.

“cutest couple obviously goes to you and gojo.” shoko chuckled before sighing. she pursed her lips, “ah—best bromance…”

“you already know who that should’ve went to,” you said with a soft frown, “satoru has been having a hard time this week—he thinks he’s good at hiding his emotions from me, but i know him too well.”

this week was your graduation ceremony for your whopping class of 3 tokyo jujutsu high sorcerers. jujutsu high school graduations weren’t that big of a celebration like most traditional high school graduations, but it was still important for the school to commemorate their young sorcerers on graduating—and also even making it to graduation given the dangers of being a sorcerer.

suguru geto, who was also known as satoru’s other half, his one and only, wasn’t able to be here to graduate with you, shoko, and satoru due to his decision to go his own way. suguru had a different vision in life, and he decided to leave everything behind to achieve it—including leaving behind his bestfriend, satoru. (read ‘to be present’ here)

shoko sighed as you looked back at her. it must’ve also been hard on shoko, who was a part of their trio. sashisu was shoko’s, satoru’s, and suguru’s group name. they were practically inseparable before you came along.

“suguru should’ve been here too.” shoko said quietly.

you patted her back softly, a measly attempt to comfort her, “i know.”

you heard the library door slide open, satoru waltzed through the door with a blue lollipop in his hand.

“you done perfecting your valedictorian speech yet?” satoru asked as he sat down beside you, kicking his feet on top of the library table as you and shoko closed out of the yearbook superlative tab.

you smiled warmly at him, “yeah, it’s been done.”

of course you were the valedictorian of your class. you took your studies very seriously compared to shoko and satoru. not only were you the valedictorian, but you also planned the graduation dinner that followed the very short ceremony. as the student body president, you had a lot to take care of this past month.

“can’t wait to hear it,” satoru said with a grin, “i better be getting a shoutout in your speech.”

“a shoutout for what?” shoko teased, “being (y/n)’s biggest pain in the ass the past three years she’s been here?”

satoru gasped, “more like being the biggest love of her life! if it wasn’t for jujutsu high, she would have never met me, shoko!”

you laughed at the two bantering back and forth before staring out into the distance. it was beautiful sunny day. tomorrow, you'd be graduates.

later that night

you shot a glare at your boyfriend, “satoru, did you iron your uniform for tomorrow like i asked you to?”

he smiled innocently at you, tilting his frosty head to the side in his attempt to look cute—which meant 'whoops, no'.

you sighed and held out your hands while satoru passed you his uniform with a grin, attempting to sneak a kiss on your cheek. you tried your best not to burst out laughing. hell, you were so in love with this man.

you popped off his jujutsu high pins and set them on his nightstand before stepping out of his room to head to the campus laundry room.

you heard satoru call out to you as you walked down the hallway.

“thanks sweetheart! i love you!”

a smile danced across your face. that satoru gojo whom you loved so silly, what were you going to do with him?

as you waited for the iron to heat up, you recited your graduation speech in your head. you were nervous. what if you tripped down the stairs while you grabbed your diploma from principal yaga? what if you messed up your valedictorian speech? or worse, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of the entire jujutsu high faculty and alumni?

"your forehead is going to have lines for days if you don't stop scowling."

you turned around at the familiar voice. satoru had come to find you.

"you can pay for my botox then." you retorted, sighing as you turned around to face him.

"what could your pretty little head be thinking about?" satoru asked. he hated to see anything but a smile on your face. “i know it’s not about how much you love me.”

you scoffed and chewed on your bottom lip before you grabbed the iron, gliding it down satoru's uniform.

"i'm worried i'm going to trip down the stairs, mess up my speech, or just completely embarrass myself in front of the jujutsu high faculty and alumni."

satoru gave you the ‘are you kidding me’ look and took the hot iron from your hands. he set it down on the ironing board and grabbed your shoulders.

"look at me." he commanded before resting his finger under your chin to guide your face to his, "sweetheart, the (y/n) (l/n) i know is perfect in every way. you walk confidently like this world is yours even in the highest heels, so i know for a fact that you won't trip down the stairs. you are a natural born leader and people gravitate towards you, so i know that your speech will grab everyone’s attention. you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times. and lastly, you won't embarrass yourself in front of everyone because you're perfect in almost every way. you're the pride and joy of the jujutsu community."

you pouted your lips and tilted your head to the side, "perfect in almost every way?"

"you're mean to me—" satoru teased before pressing a kiss against your lips, "—you don't kiss me in the mornings. which is a deduction to your perfect score."

you giggled as he peppered kisses on your cheek. one of your love languages was words of affirmation, and satoru gojo sure knew how to make you feel affirmed. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close.

"i guess this meanie will sleep with the kids tonight." you whispered as you bantered back with satoru, knowing he'd rather sleep next to you than sleep alone.

he paused and squeezed you tightly before replying to your retort, "wait, i like you even though you're mean. you can bully me all you want, i don't mind."

yours and satoru's laughter filled the laundry room. he didn't think he could get enough of your precious laugh. he'd say any ridiculous thing to help take your mind off of your worries.

the next day: graduation day

"thank you for coming to the 2010 jujutsu high school gradation ceremony." principal yaga began, "after we hear from both myself and principal gakuganji, we will listen to the speeches from the valedictorians of both high schools."

you sat between satoru and shoko, your legs would not stop bouncing in nervousness. after each speech, your heart started to race even faster as your turn came.

"and lastly, we saved the best for last. the valedictorian of tokyo jujutsu high school, (y/n) (l/n), will be giving her speech."

the crowed filled with jujutsu high faculty, alumni, a large amount of jujutsu clans including the gojo clan and your clan started to clap as their eyes followed you to the stage. satoru gave you an encouraging smile and squeezed your hand. he whispered ‘you'll be amazing.’ to you before he let your hand go. you gave him a soft smile before getting out of your seat.

you walked down the side of the auditorium and up the steps to the microphone.

"thank you for gathering here today to celebrate the 4 long years of training, learning, and dealing with satoru gojo." the crowed erupted in laughter as you winked at satoru. he shot a grin back at you.

“i'd like to start off with a moment of silence to remember our fallen comrades and past alumni who have sacrificed their lives to become sorcerers and to protect our community. they have our gratitude and highest appreciation.”

as you gave yourself and the crowd a moment of silence, your heart raced. you were so nervous, your hands started trembling as you fiddled with your printed speech in front of you.

'you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times.'

memories of satoru's encouraging words from last night filled your head as you took a deep breath to continue on with your speech.

"3 years ago, i joined tokyo jujutsu high because i wanted to get away from being home schooled and i wanted to experience this thing called life." you looked out into the crowd to see your clan, quietly watching you. "i didn't know what i was getting myself into at the time, but i have to say, the past three years have been some of the hardest, but most rewarding." (read 'love at first fight' here)

you thought back on the gruesome hand-to-hand combat trainings with mei mei, the tiring, long, and dangerous missions exorcising curses with satoru, suguru, yu, and nanami, the late night study sessions for exams with shoko. as difficult as it was, you'd do it all over... especially if you could meet satoru again.

"i'd like to give a huge shoutout to yaga-sensei, congratulations on your promotion to principal—and thank you for taking on not only two, but three special grade sorcerers during my time here."

a cheer for your sensei, masamichi yaga, erupted through the auditorium as you, satoru, and shoko clapped alongside the crowd.

"this evening is not only about celebrating our academic achievements as students, but also to celebrate becoming official jujutsu sorcerers. now i know that being a jujutsu sorcerer isn't for the faint of heart, nor is it an easy job. it's gruesome, painful not only physically, but mentally. which is why i'm happy to announce that our very own shoko ieiri is going to be hired on as our official in-house doctor for jujutsu high. she will oversee both tokyo and kyoto locations. congrats, shoko!"

applause began for shoko as she stood up from her seat and waved to the crowd. you smiled brightly at your bestfriend—even though you knew she cheated on a majority of her tests. however, shoko's talent in reversed cursed technique was second to none. she would be an amazing doctor, legit or not.

"one thing that happened during my 3 years here at tokyo jujutsu high school that changed my life for the better was—"

satoru muttered, attempting to finish your sentence, "—meeting satoru gojo."

"—becoming a guardian to megumi and tsumiki fushiguro. courtesy of satoru gojo." you laughed, "which i'm also happy to announce that satoru and i will be returning next year to join the tokyo jujutsu high faculty and staff. satoru will be in charge of training first year students while i will be the administrative secretary for both tokyo and kyoto jujutsu high locations." (read 'learn to love' here)

you cleared your throat, "now that we've shared the fun and exciting plans for your three graduates from tokyo jujutsu high school, i'd like to talk about something on a heavier note. those of you who know, know that there was supposed to be 4 students graduating today..."

you felt a lump in your throat, the thought of suguru geto not being here with you, satoru, and shoko shattered a piece of your heart. you were sure satoru and shoko were thinking of him in this moment as well.

"—because of this loss, as the future administrative secretary, i will be implementing reviews and mental health checks on all of our students every quarter. i believe that we need to check in on our students. my office doors will always be open to those who need a shoulder to lean on."

you understood that the idea of mental health was taboo, especially here in japan—but you knew that if you and satoru were going to be raising the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers, that you both were going to make a difference in the lives of your future students. megumi and tsumiki also encouraged that decision, as you and satoru did not want to see them suffer the same fate as suguru.

a loud applause struck the auditorium. satoru smiled proudly as he knew that you were going to make a positive change in the jujutsu society—and with you by his side, he could take on the impossible. even if that meant butting heads with the higher ups and starting out training first year sorcerers. he was going to make this experience fun and exciting for not only you and him, but for his future students as well.

you heard cheering from the gojo clan and your own clan. you saw touya and his new girlfriend, kana, hooting and hollering from their seats. you continued to shine brightly under the auditorium lights.

"before i end my little speech, there are some personal thank you's that i'd like to give. to megumi and tsumiki—you two are my perfect little angels and i will continue to strive to be a good role model for you both. to my fellow classmates—thank you for all the late night study sessions, the delicious meals in the dining hall, fun-filled sleepovers, and wild class trips. to my loving grandparents, genkei and kanao, and my brother, touya—thank you for believing in me and always pushing me to be the best i can be. to the gojo clan—thank you for always supporting me and for giving me someone like satoru." you smiled at the gojo clan's presence in the crowd and then turned back to face satoru. (read 'meet the gojos' here)

satoru gojo was beaming brightly, just like he always did. his blue eyes shined back at yours, awaiting your next line of thanks. your eyes watered as the love you felt for the white-haired sorcerer overflowed from your heart.

"lastly, thank you satoru—for believing in me and loving me unconditionally every single day since the first day we met on the sparring field."

you took one last deep breath and shouted, "congratulations jujutsu high school class of 2010! we made it!"

a final applaud erupted throughout the auditorium. you laughed in relief as you finished your speech and wiped the almost formed tears from your eyes. you watched as the crowd stood up in a standing ovation.

in a crowd full of people, your eyes could spot satoru gojo in a heartbeat.

later that night

after the graduation dinner, you and satoru sat outside in the courtyard of tokyo jujutsu high. the twinkle lights you ordered for the staff to use as decor danced against the night sky, illuminating the courtyard with a soft warm glow. and behind that warm glow, satoru's cerulean blue eyes glimmered. you could have sworn satoru had a blush on his face, almost as if he was embarrassed about something.

“can you believe we’re finally graduated?” you asked satoru in disbelief.

the last 3 years had flown by. you were officially graduated from tokyo jujutsu high. the next step this summer was to move out of the dorms and find a home to fit you, satoru, megumi, and tsumiki.

“not quite yet,” satoru said as he starting to unpin his buttons from his uniform. you gave him the 'what are you doing' look. he chuckled at your reaction.

satoru took off the second button from his uniform, taking your hand to place his button in your palm.

“now we’re officially graduated.”

in japan, there's a high school tradition for boys to give the second button of their uniform to the girl that they loved. this act has a special meaning that is equal to a heartfelt confession.

“isn’t it a no brainer that i should be receiving this button?” you giggled. you admired the button of his uniform in your palm, a sign of affection that basically said that you were his.

satoru leaned in towards your face, sneaking a kiss on your cheek. he wrapped his arms around you as you melted in his embrace.

“actually, you don't even have to answer, satoru. you’ve loved me for almost 3 years. it's a no brainer.”

“you mean i put up with a mean girlfriend for 3 years?” satoru laughed boisterously. he let go of you and booped your nose playfully. his signature cheshire grin spread across his face.

you grabbed his hand to hold his palm against your cheek, teasing him, "since i'm so mean, will you put up with another 3 years of no good morning kisses?"

the white haired sorcerer continued to grin, "i'll think about it."

you rolled your eyes at how dramatic satoru could be and mumbled under your breath, "you know how i feel about morning breath."

"yeah, yeah." satoru mumbled back at you, "gimme a congratulatory graduation kiss then."

you wrapped your arm around satoru's shoulders and planted a firm kiss on his lips. satoru pulled away from you and smiled, amused with how the night was going.

"sweetheart, i'd put up with another lifetime of no good morning kisses if you asked me to. as long as i get to wake up next to you every morning." (read 'sleeping with the enemy' here)

you scoffed at satoru's cheesy comment before kissing him again to shut him up. you were ready to venture into the next step of your life with satoru by your side—no good morning kisses and all.

EXTRA:

“we’re gonna have to find a place to live in after graduation.” you said with apprehensive tone. not only did you and satoru have to find an apartment for the two of you, the apartment had to fit megumi, tsumiki, your spirit birds and the demon dogs too.

“it will be fine,” satoru reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

you bit your lip, lost in thought. you wanted to make sure that the apartment you chose would be a safe haven for megumi and tsumiki. it had to be a home filled with love. ever since you and satoru took them in, you made sure that they grew up with everything they needed. whatever they wanted, you and satoru provided with no hesitation.

“you already know that the two pipsqueaks will be happy wherever we end up.” satoru said softly, “they just want to be with us.”

"you mean tsumiki just wants to be with us." you laughed, "megumi does not want to be next to you."

"i'll win him over, just you wait." satoru said confidently.

you knew deep down that megumi actually really admired satoru, but he would never admit that to his sensei's face.

"since we're on the topic of a place to live, we just need to make sure that our room is on the opposite side of the apartment from the kids' room."

you glared at satoru, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. he held his hands up in the air, feigning innocence.

468 notes · View notes

guiltyasdave · 1 month

Text

gold rush

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader x Dave York

word count: ~5.1k

summary: “You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone.

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel.

“So do I.”

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be tugged, no use of y/n, kinda dom!Oberyn&Dave but they're just bossy really, unprotected p in v (which you shouldn't do with someone you just met), oral m&f receiving, threesome, a bit of m/m action but reader is the main character here, dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), praise kink, these three are freaky and i'm sure that i forgot something, if so please let me know <3

takes place in my modern!Oberyn universe but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: my plan was to write this for @secretelephanttattoo's secret springs event, which i'm criminally late to (i'm sorry, el!), but that is where the idea for dolphin tour dave came from. i didn't expect to go this feral with it lol

big hugs and thank you to @jolapeno for letting me cry about the complications of writing threesomes and figuring out the plot (read: positions) with me and @sizzlingcloudmentality for listening to me complain about this nonstop and gushing over the million snippets i sent and taking me seriously when i came to her with “i have an important question about giving head”

i'm very grateful that so many people seemed excited about this idea, i hope that it's everything you wished for and that you have a good time reading it!

dividers by @firefly-graphics <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Waves are lapping against the boat’s hull, the ocean reflecting the soft orange and golden hues of the sun setting over the horizon.

You’re leaning against the railing, relishing in the warmth that has sunk into your skin from the day on the water. A beaming smile seems to have permanently settled on your features after today’s trip, a cruise around the shore that resulted in fulfilling one of your lifelong dreams — getting to see dolphins in the open water, watching them race through the waves right beside you, their fins breaking through the surface.

You had squealed, unable to contain your excitement, committing every second to memory. A once in a lifetime experience, making this trip to Secret Springs one of the best vacations you’ve ever had.

With the shore now rapidly approaching again, you’re drinking in your surroundings for the last few minutes, committing the whole day to memory, until it’s time to set foot on the mainland again.

However, your gaze keeps flitting back to the man steering the boat, who had been introduced as Dave and your captain for the day by the tour guide when you first boarded. You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off of him all day, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his biceps was straining against the seams of his light blue t-shirt, the sharp jawline and the quiet concentration and competence that he exuded.

Contrary to the tour guide, who kept chatting away, his mouth remained shut, full lips pursed, jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes were piercing, keeping track of every movement, both out on the water and on the boat. There was no way he hadn’t noticed your staring, with the way his eyes had met yours a few times, his lips curling into a small smirk each time before he turned away again.

Your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you from behind, his chin hooking over your shoulder. Hot breath fans against your skin, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching over your cheek as he places a swift kiss there.

He follows your line of sight, an amused rumble from his bare chest vibrating against your backside.

“You like him, princess?” Oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone.

You nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel. He kisses you again, longer this time, lips lingering on the soft skin right behind your ear, his tongue catching a taste of the salt that has seeped into your whole body after the day of the water.

“So do I.”

You giggle, sinking deeper into his embrace.

Dave is closed off at first when you walk up to him after he’s the last person to step off the boat. His jaw firmly set, giving the same air of quiet confidence that you’ve felt drawn to all day, but his fingers are twitching at his side when you approach him, his eyes flickering between you and Oberyn’s figure a few steps behind you.

“Hey,” you smile sweetly, not missing the way his gaze quickly trails down your body in your short summer dress, before it flies back up to meet your eyes. “We were thinking, as a local you know all the best places around here, right?”

A wry grin grows on his face at the term local, but he hums in agreement. “Sure. How can I help you?”

His voice travels right through you, deep and gravely, his words clipped with precision. Polite, but efficient. Entirely unlike Oberyn’s drawling purrs, but not any less intriguing. The cold exterior is drawing you in, challenging you to uncover what’s underneath.

“We wanted to go get a drink tonight, maybe you can show us the best spot for that?”

“Allow us to buy you one as well,” Oberyn chimes in from behind you, stepping closer and snaking one arm around your body. His hand comes to rest at your waist, sending warmth through the thin fabric that’s covering you. His thumb glides against the underside of your breast in a calculated movement, just short of grazing your nipple.

Even as you swallow down your responding whine, Dave’s gaze zones in on the movement, one eyebrow rising as his pupils dilate, his eyes turning darker. One corner of his mouth turns upwards.

He’s a quiet shadow moving beside the both of you, but he still keeps catching your glances at him, his pouty lips curling into a smirk each time.

The bar he takes you to is less crowded than the ones right next to the beach that you’ve already visited, and the drinks aren’t as overpriced, but just as delicious. There’s a large deck on one side, with twinkling lights strung up between the poles and the scent of the surrounding flowers wafting through the air.

Sinking into comfortable chairs in a corner, you sip on your drink and watch as Oberyn tries to get to know your companion better. He’s the more talkative one of the both of you, exuding the smooth charm and confidence that immediately drew you in when you first met him, but Dave doesn’t crack nearly as easily.

His answers stay short, every word from his lips calculated, no information about him given freely. Heat is already gathering between your thighs, just from watching them. Both their presences overwhelming in the best way, both of them making you want them.

It leaves you antsy, desperate to do something, something to be closer. You rise to your feet, extending a hand to Dave. “Dance with me?”

His eyes widen a fraction, looking from your outstretched hand to Oberyn, who hasn’t moved an inch. “You don’t want to?”

Oberyn smirks, settling deeper into his seat, a picture of relaxation, but the tension of underlying excitement sparkling in his eyes isn’t lost on you.

“No. I am enjoying myself right here.”

Dave seems to consider for another moment, before he shrugs and his hand closes around yours. You love the feel of it, the warmth of his skin sinking into yours where you’re touching, his fingers calloused and rough against yours. The sight of him leaves your mouth dry, the shades of his face in the dim light, the dark pools of his eyes. They’re exactly the same shade as Oberyn’s, but where Oberyn is familiar, his eyes telling stories of love and joy every time he looks at you, like a warm bath that you can sink into, Dave’s eyes are like steel. Cold. Watchful. Not any less interesting.

You start dancing, moving your body to the beat that’s playing from the speakers, a sensual rhythm that makes it easy to get closer to him, to get a taste of how his body would feel against yours. Letting yourself get lost in the high of the day, in the soft haze of the alcohol in your veins, in the nervous energy that’s bubbling inside of you at the prospect of this new adventure right in front of you.

As you grind against him, one hand curls around your hips, strong and determined, effortlessly stopping your movements. The simple touch is enough to make your knees go weak, holding the promise of power, of everything you want from him. He firmly holds you where you stand, putting some distance between the two of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone is still clipped, challenging in a way that sends heat through you. You like the no nonsense attitude, like the way his eyes are firmly trained on your face, the spark of something darker in them that makes you want more.

“Dancing,” you pout, eyes widened in mock innocence.

“Don’t bullshit me. Your boyfriend’s right there, sweetheart.”

You turn to look at Oberyn, who’s already observing the both of you. He still seems relaxed, knees spread wide, lounging in his seat, but the hunger is burning in his expression. He teasingly raises an eyebrow at you and you return it with a grin, before your gaze finds Dave again.

You take a step closer to him, leaning in to whisper into his ear. A small shudder runs through him.

“He doesn’t mind sharing.”

The grip on your hips tightens, a low growl raising in Dave’s throat at your sudden proximity.

“Is that so?”

You nod quietly, trailing your fingers over his chest. “He likes it.”

His mouth is so close, close enough that you give in to the temptation and brush your lips against his. He growls again, louder this time, one hand curling around your neck to hold you right there as his teeth dig into your bottom lip. You sigh against his mouth, pliant under his grip, delighted at the change in his demeanor.

His touch travels higher, up your sides until he’s almost in reach of your breasts and you’re slowly unraveling, your body desperate for more.

“Having all the fun without me, princess?” Oberyn turns up behind you, caging you between the both of them, mouthing at your neck and you whimper into Dave's mouth.

“Thought— thought you were happy watching,” you gasp when he grinds against you and you feel his growing stiffness against your ass.

He bites your neck gently, and you shudder again.

A quiet look passes between the two men. You see the quiet question in Dave’s eyes, the evident satisfaction at what he finds in Oberyn’s, before he squares his shoulders and pulls up to his full height.

A pleasant shiver travels up your spine as you watch the silent exchange. They’re two sides of the same coin, the same kind of energy, all confident and strong, but channeled so differently. Where Oberyn is all smooth, flowing like water and wrapping himself all around you, all-encompassing but almost impossible to grasp, Dave is nothing but hard edges, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful. You want them both.

It’s dark in Dave’s apartment, only the faint glow from the moon and the streetlights filtering in through the windows. The rooms are almost eerily tidy, barely lived in. Your skin is still warm, both from the humid evening air outside and the heat that’s steadily growing inside of you at the prospect of what the night has in store for you.

Still, the space you just entered somehow feels cold, much like the man that it belongs to. Except that, right now, that man’s lips are finding your neck, sucking at the same spots where Oberyn’s mouth had been not too long ago, his tongue hot against your skin as he pushes you down the hall.

Your fingers reach for Oberyn instinctively, a silent breath leaving you when they intertwine with his. Feeling Dave on you is so new, so different, leaving you dizzy with excitement. He’s intense already, his touch demanding and firm, hands digging into your flesh as he steers you towards his bedroom. The anticipation makes you nervous, makes you long for the familiar touch of the other man to ground you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, two pairs of hands on you as you stumble into Dave’s bedroom. The interior is minimalistic, functional, no personal items that you can make out in the dark. No photos, not even a dried up plant on the windowsill. You briefly wonder what kind of person he is, outside of this. If he has friends, hobbies, what he does when he’s not working.

The train of thought dissolves when Oberyn’s mouth finds yours, his nose bumping into your cheek and his beard scratching against your chin. So similar to Dave’s kisses, and at the same time, not similar at all. One hand cups the back of your head, pushes you into the kiss, its touch vaguely unfamiliar.

Your eyelids blink open, catching Dave’s, whose gaze is dancing between the both of you, watching, raw hunger behind his dark irises. You flick your tongue against Oberyn’s, relishing in his responding groan, and in the way Dave’s eyes darken further, trained on your boyfriend now.

Oberyn pulls away, linking his hand with Dave’s that’s still resting at the back of your head. You’re hypnotized by the sight of both of them touching, even if just for a brief moment, before Oberyn places Dave’s hand on your shoulder, hooking the other man’s fingers under the thin strap of your dress.

Winking at the both of you, he saunters over to the bed, spreading out on top of the covers, an expectant glint in his eyes. He looks so good like this, so easily commanding every setting he finds himself in, the confidence surrounding him at all times. Your attention wavers when Dave tugs at the straps, goosebumps forming on your skin where his fingers skim over you.

He raises his eyebrows in question, toying with the fabric, waiting for your confirmation.

“Go ahead,” you breathe, excitement weighing out the flicker of nerves.

He nods, determination painting his features, the kind of calm assuredness that has you pressing your thighs together when he slides the straps off your shoulders.

The flowy dress lands in a heap at your feet, leaving you in just your panties, your breasts braless and already bare for him.

Dave’s eyes widen, a mumbled Fuck tumbling from his lips. A proud smirk passes over Oberyn’s features.

“She is just a dream, is she not?”

“She is,” Dave growls, his broad hands roaming over your skin, pulling you closer.

“Touch her,” Oberyn’s voice sounds from the bed. “She likes being played with.” The casual authority oozing from his tone, paired with being talked about as if you’re not there, is almost enough to get the heat blazing through you to boil over.

“Does she now?” Dave murmurs, cocking his head and dragging his gaze down your body, purposefully slow. You start squirming when his fingers glide over your nipples, playfully tugging at the hardened buds. You whine in reaction, a needy sound that has both men chuckling. “Yeah, you do,” he coos, nipping at your throat. Your responding whine to the sharp pinpricks of his teeth is even louder this time.

His touch travels lower, skims over your stomach, stopping just short of your panties, beneath which you’re already dripping for him.

“May I?” It’s low, almost reverential. His gaze burns into yours, glinting darkly when you nod, a please, Dave falling from your lips.

He finds you wet with slick, the fabric covering you completely soaked through, a moan breathy and high in your throat when he rubs at you through the fabric.

“Please, more,” you whimper, all dignity lost to the hope of what it might feel like to have his thick fingers inside of you soon. His lips chase your mouth as he pulls your panties to the side, swirls a finger through your wetness and up to your clit. Your moan comes out muffled, licked out of your mouth by his tongue.

You grab at his t-shirt, eagerly pulling at the hem, desperate to see all of him, to feel all of him. He helps you pull it over his head, exposing his upper body, all wide shoulders and massive chest, to your hungry eyes. You’re overcome with the need to touch him, the fire burning inside of you fueled by how strong he feels, how his muscles are flexing under your exploring fingers.

In the lack of light, it takes a second until it catches up to you that his torso is littered with scars, white lines that shine dimly, skin that’s uneven under your touch. There’s a particularly large cut near his left collarbone, one that you mindlessly trace with a finger, until his hand closes around your wrist in a harsh grip. He pulls it away abruptly, the look on his face bordering on dangerous.

Your whispered sorry isn’t met with an acknowledgement. His eyes close and open with a deep exhale before he meets your gaze again, pointing a curt nod towards the bed.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

You’re quick to obey, even more eager to please now, the harsher demeanor only driving your arousal to new heights. Dave’s hands span over your ass as you lock eyes with Oberyn. Your boyfriend has already rid himself of his clothes, languidly stroking his cock and regarding you with a teasing smile.

The sight has you clenching with need, knowing how much he loves seeing you like this, knowing how much his pleasure grows from seeing yours, from being able to give you this.

Behind you, Dave pulls your panties down your legs, leaving you naked and on full display for him. A deep moan escapes him at the sight, spurring you on to arch your back a bit more as you turn your head to look back towards him. He’s staring, the weight of it heavy on your bare skin.

“Such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he rasps, before he kneels down behind you and licks a broad stripe through your folds. His groan at the taste reverberates through you, your slick flooding his tongue, your whole body pulsing with need, each lick sending a new wave through you.

When his tongue lets up on its ministrations and he sinks two fingers into you instead, thumbing at your clit, you cry out in pleasure at the sudden sensation. Your eyes find Oberyn again, touching himself more urgently now, keeping eye contact with you. He’s still smiling.

It’s impossible to take anymore, impossible to bear not feeling full for another moment, the stretch of Dave’s fingers not nearly enough. “Please,” you whine, turning towards him again, “I need you to fuck me. Please.”

Dave chuckles darkly.

“Need it, huh?”

You don’t mind the condescending tone, don’t mind how desperate it makes you look, you just nod, silently pleading with him to have mercy on you. He indulges you, lets you watch eagerly as he takes off his pants and his cock springs free, thick and heavy and everything you need right now.

A moan leaves you at the sight, earning you a smug grin from him, before he steps closer. You feel him nudge at your soaked entrance, one hand resting on your hip while he’s taking his time to tease you. Helplessly, you grind against him, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him.

“Give it to her hard,” Oberyn purrs, leaning forward to cup your face. “I want to hear her scream.”

You’re still shuddering from his words when Dave finally sinks inside you with one sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. He gives you no time to adjust, immediately sets a punishing rhythm. It jostles your whole body, would push you up the mattress if he didn’t pull you back onto him by your hips.

It hits just as deep, stretches you just as wide as you wished for, screams and sobs of his name falling from your mouth as raw pleasure is spreading through you like wildfire.

Oberyn’s mouth is on your lips, on your whole face, drinking your pleasure straight from the source.

“Is he as good as you imagined, princess?”

You can only whine and nod, incoherent babbles of yes, fuck yes the best that you’re able to manage.

“Do you hear that?” he purrs, flashing a feral grin towards the other man. “She is feeling so good, so drunk on your cock that she can barely talk.”

He moves away from you, gets up from the bed and steps behind Dave instead, his hands gliding over the man’s shoulders, his eyes glued to where Dave keeps thrusting into you harshly. You can only imagine the obscenity of the sight based on the wet sounds that ring through the bedroom. With a quiet laugh and a pat on your ass, Oberyn shifts again. “I want a closer look.”

Rustling hits your ears, but when you crane your head to try and see what’s going on, Dave’s fingers tangle in your hair, forming a fist and pulling. It’s forcing your back into an almost painful arch and your head to point forward again. He leans over you, bringing one foot up on the mattress, growling into your ear while his cock somehow reaches new depths with the change of position.

“You focus right here. You wanted me so bad, huh? Pay attention to me, then.”

He plunges into you even harder, the sensations right on the pleasurable side of overwhelming. You twitch violently in his grasp when another touch reaches you, the familiar feeling of Oberyn’s tongue teasing at your clit all of a sudden, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching against the sensitive flesh. His chuckle at your reaction vibrates against your pussy, causing you to writhe between them, pushing back against Dave’s thrusts while trying to chase Oberyn’s mouth at the same time.

Dave groans at the way you’re tightening and twitching around him, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place. Oberyn licks and sucks at you, knowing your body better than you know it yourself, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy almost instantly.

“Getting so— fucking tight,” Dave grits out from behind you, landing a slap on your ass that has you squealing. The sharp bite of pain sends you tumbling over the edge, pulsing around his cock, still sheathed deep inside you. Your hands uselessly grab at the sheets, skin stretching over knuckles, anything to keep you grounded as pleasure burns its way through you.

Oberyn never lets up on his attention on your clit, soft licks and kisses that prolong the aftershocks of your orgasm until you’re trembling, your head falling forward, sweaty forehead connecting with the soft blanket on Dave’s bed.

“Good girl,” Dave coos from behind you, one large hand gently rubbing over your back. “You’re doing so good.” He gives a tentative thrust, picking up his movements again when no protest of overstimulation comes from you. “You can give us more, can’t you?”

You manage a nod and a soft yes, your mind still too lost in the lingering haze of your climax, but your body is already responding to the sensations of his cock dragging through your tight walls again. He stretches you just right, reaches so deep inside of you.

“You are so wet, princess,” Oberyn’s voice sounds in your ears, his breath hot against your folds. “Tastes so sweet.”

His tongue moves away from your clit, licking through you, until Dave’s sharp intake of breath makes it clear that Oberyn has moved on from teasing just you.

“Is this okay?”

You know that your boyfriend’s question isn’t aimed at you, that he’s well aware how okay with this you are, but the husky drag of his voice has you clenching around the other man anyway.

“Fuck,” Dave groans, his thrusts slowing, chasing more than just your tight heat now. “I’ve never— yes. Yes, it’s okay.” Another breath. “Please.”

There’s more rustling, more movement between your legs, until Dave’s cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and wanting. You open your eyes, peering down at where Oberyn’s head rests on the mattress underneath you. His hand is wrapped around Dave’s cock, moving slowly, letting the other man adjust to the new experience.

You slide your own fingers down, tangling in his hair, chasing the connection between all three of you. Your eyes meet for a moment, burning hunger passing between you. Then Oberyn pulls on Dave’s hips and closes his lips around the head of his cock, shiny with precum and your arousal.

Both men’s voices float around you; throaty, needy sounds. Oberyn sucks Dave deeper into his mouth, and the grip on your waist tightens once more. You loosen your hold on Oberyn and prop yourself up on shaky arms to turn around again, desperate to catch a glimpse at Dave’s face.

He looks wrecked, teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyes pinched closed, his breath coming in pants, his bare chest shining with sweat. You reach for him instead, intertwining your fingers with the ones that had been holding on to your waist. His eyes fly open, a grin spreading over his face when he catches you looking at him. A grin that you eagerly return.

“We’re going to make you feel good, too,” you breathe. An emotion that you can’t place passes over his face, so quick that you almost think you imagined it. For just one second, he almost seemed vulnerable.

Oberyn chooses this moment to position Dave’s cock back at your entrance, where you’re more than ready to take him again, your hips instinctively pushing back against him, your walls engulfing him once more.

“Yeah, you are,” he growls, plunging into you again, the sudden return of the stretch forcing another moan and a fresh wave of slick out of you. He’s still holding your hand, pinning it against your lower back, jostling your body with every snap of his hips as if you were a doll. The deep thrusts hit your g-spot again and again, reducing you back to a babbling mess within minutes. The only words on your tongue are their names, mixed together by a string of pleads.

You miss the fullness, the drag of his cock each time he pulls out of you, but knowing that when he’s not filling your pussy, he’s in Oberyn’s mouth, is enough to keep your arousal burning until he sinks back into you.

A second orgasm catches up to you almost embarrassingly fast, pulsing around him and screaming your pleasure into the sheets. Dave fucks you through it slowly, keeps the high coursing through your body, until you’re nothing but quiet whines, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding you up.

“Shhh, princess,” Oberyn’s voice floats to you, his familiar touch grazing your legs. You watch hazily as he retreats from beneath you, directing your body until you’re lying on the bed, everything around you soft and warm like a cloud.

“Take a little break, yeah?” he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips. “I’ll finish what you started.”

You watch in awe as his fingers trails over Dave’s chest, mesmerized as a shudder ripples through the other man, how he hesitantly but determined reaches out to Oberyn to return the touch. They’re a sight together, and you still want them both, still don’t feel sated.

With your eyes widening, you witness Oberyn slowly sinking to his knees in front of Dave. Seeing him in an act of such obvious submission is rare, the way he takes Dave deep into his throat, swallows him down.

His hands are on Dave’s thighs, where the muscles are flexing under his fingers, his fingers that are wandering up further, sliding over Dave’s ass, out of your line of sight. What you can see is how Oberyn’s eyes are trained on Dave’s face, gauging his reaction to the touches. You can see the pure ecstasy written over Dave’s features as he comes with a loud groan, the shuddering pull of his abs as he’s spilling his release into Oberyn’s eager mouth, the fingers tangled in his hair and holding him in place.

Oberyn lets out a satisfied rumble at the taste, a sound that adds to the insistent burning between your thighs. You reach out for your boyfriend, tugging at his shoulder.

“I want a taste,” you demand in a breathless voice.

Dave makes a sound like all air has been punched from his lungs, watching as if hypnotized while Oberyn leans towards you, cupping your jaw before he kisses you deeply. He’s licking into your mouth, sharing Dave’s taste with you, a taste that you can’t get enough of, your tongue tangled with his until he gently pulls away, calls you an insatiable little thing.

A laugh escapes Dave at that, sinking onto the mattress and pulling you into him. You melt into his touch, let him maneuver you until he’s leaning against the headboard with your back resting against his chest. He’s lazily toying with you, mouthing at your neck and gently circling your nipples, giving you the occasional tug to force small, high sounds from your throat.

You’re writhing against him, but your eyes are trained on Oberyn, who’s slowly advancing towards you. “Do you still want more, princess?” he coos, swirling a single digit through the slick between your legs, still overflowing with need.

“Please,” you sigh, parting your legs further, making room for him. He sinks into you easily, filling you perfectly, both your lips parted in pleasure. He rocks into you, pressing your body against Dave who’s holding you tight, still playing with your breasts and whispering into your ear.

“Dirty girl… You gonna give us one more?”

You’re overwhelmed by their touches, feeling so close to another high, their scent engulfing you, huge hands all over your body, a heat that’s about to scorch you. You think that you’re pleading with them, but you can’t be sure, can’t focus on anything but how good it all feels.

Oberyn leans forward, sinking even deeper into you, pressing your legs into your chest. “Taste yourself,” he husks, connecting his lips with Dave’s. The sight of both men’s tongues intertwined, paired with the sensation of Oberyn’s cock nestled impossibly deep inside of you, is enough to tip you over the edge one more time.

Blackness is tugging at the edges of your vision, but fire is burning in your veins, coursing through you until your whole body is left a trembling mess. When you come back to yourself, both men are holding you close, shushing you and peppering every inch of your skin that they can reach with kisses. It’s soft, it’s warm, it’s safe. It’s heaven.

The three of you end up in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, intertwined with one another as closely as possible. You wrap your arms around Dave, whose eyes are already closed, but he leans into the touch instantly.

“Thank you. You were fun,” you tell him with a giggle, your heart pulsing at the sight of an earnest smile on his face, possibly the first one that you’ve seen. Oberyn’s fingers are linked with yours, wordlessly sharing the deep joy that you both feel. You fall asleep like this, in a bubble so dreamy that you wish you could stay like this forever.

When you wake up to the sounds of birds and waves in the distance coming through the open windows in the morning, your head resting on Oberyn’s chest as sunlight is filtering into the room, the other side of the bed is empty.

Dave is gone, leaving the both of you in an apartment that looks even less personal in the daylight, with no signs of the man who you spent the night with.

thank you for reading <3 comments, reblog & asks are greatly appreciated!

#pedro pascal fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #dave york #dave york fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #oberyn martell x dave york #janas fics

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vmpiires · 6 months

Text

﹆₊ 中毒‧₊˚ ADDICTED TO YOU, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ touch starved for 150 years. wc, 1.31K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i got this idea from a comic strip i saw on twitter by one of my fav chosoyuki ship artists. the second i saw it i knew i had to get on here and type something up. (also i finally figured out how to change the font colors by myself). hope ya enjoyyyyy. reblog to support meeee

␥ tags. modern AU [still a curse], female anatomy, fluff, no smut, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

it's been three years since you and choso started dating, but you still can't get enough of the way he reacts to your touch. whenever your soft hands brush against his body, you notice him tensing up involuntarily—almost as if it's a reflex. these small, shy gestures from him make you feel incredibly special as you know that it means he trusts you and is comfortable around you. you adore the fact that he still gets flustered around you, even after all this time.

upon your first encounter with choso, you couldn't help but notice his quiet demeanor. it became quite evident that he wasn't much of a talker, and as a result, he often found himself feeling isolated in public areas. except for his conversations with his brother, itadori, there were only one or two other individuals with whom choso conversed. this lack of social interaction left him quite lonely, and it was evident that he struggled to form connections with others.

it was quite apparent that you showed a genuine interest in him from the very beginning. despite being attractive, he always seemed to blend in with the crowd and go unnoticed. it was as if his presence never made any significant impact on anyone.

however, your keen eye picked up on his unique qualities and personality, which made him stand out amongst the rest. he was grateful for your attention, and it was evident that he appreciated it deeply. your interest in him not only boosted his confidence but also gave him a sense of purpose and belonging.

as you approached choso, he flinched and tensed up, clearly caught off guard by your sudden proximity. it was evident that he was not used to being touched outside of battle. however, as you placed your hands on his body, he visibly blushed, his cheeks redder than ever before. he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. for the first time in 150 years, someone had dared to touch him outside of battle, and he was clearly taken aback by the unexpected physical contact.

choso found the entire incident quite peculiar and perplexing. it has been quite some time since that day, yet he can still vividly recall the exact spot where you placed your hand—right on his shoulder. the sensation lingers, almost as if the touch had left a mark deep within him. despite his best efforts, he is unable to shake off the feeling of unease that has settled within him ever since.

your touch is something that he would never forget, and if he said he didn't enjoy it, he'd be lying. you had an undeniable ability to leave a lasting impression on him.

you were working on an important project and stayed up until the early hours of the morning. as the clock struck four, you found yourself lying on the floor next to choso's futon. he was sleeping peacefully, his hair fanned out over the pillow beneath him.

your sleep was restless, and you moved around a lot, which could be quite annoying to others. though, choso didn't seem to mind too much, at least not tonight. suddenly, you accidentally hit the back of his head with your elbow, causing him to wake up abruptly. he looked at you with a stern expression, his lips pursed tightly together as he tried to regain his composure.

choso observed you as you slept and wondered why you hadn't been working on your project that was due soon. his eyelids narrowed into slits, and he rolled his eyes in frustration. he couldn't understand how someone could waste valuable time like this when there was important work to be done.

"hey," choso called your name. "wake-"

before choso could reprimand you for falling asleep, he could feel your arms slide underneath his and wrap around his torso, just beneath his chest. your warm breath against his neck was oddly comforting. choso lay on his futon, flustered and surprised as your grip grew tighter around his body.

the sensation that he was experiencing was completely new to him. it reminded him of the first time you had touched him gently on the shoulder. he let out a deep sigh and turned over, his face sinking slowly into the softness of his pillow. the feeling lingered, and he couldn't help but wonder what it meant. he wasn't sure if it was a sign of something new and exciting, or if it was something to be worried about. the uncertainty weighed heavily on his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

sunlight beamed brightly through the bedroom as morning approached. an alarm from your phone could be heard before instantly shutting it off. while you were sprawled out over the futon, choso was pressed up against you, his arms loosely wrapped around your body and his head buried into the crook of your neck.

as the sunlight filtered through the windows, both of you groaned in unison, your eyes squinting to shield themselves from the bright light in the bedroom. you exchanged a brief glance before you shot up from the bed, stretching your arms and letting out a loud yawn. the warmth of the sun's rays seemed to be beckoning you to start the day.

you found yourself rousing from a sudden nap, feeling disoriented and a bit groggy. you rubbed the tiredness from your eyes, trying to regain your bearings, when you noticed choso sitting beside you, his head propped up with his elbow against the pillow. it seemed that you had blacked out without realizing it.

"damn, i wasn't planning on falling asleep. i didn't even realize i went to sleep until now." you yawn again, holding your hand over your mouth to suppress how loud it is. "how come you didn't wake me up?"

as you locked eyes with him for the second time that morning, he couldn't help but feel a sudden rush of memories from the previous night flooding his mind. his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he relived those moments in his head, but those feelings quickly dissipated when he forcefully broke contact with you. he rolled his eyes, perhaps trying to shake off that awkwardness and bring himself back to the present moment.

"i was asleep, how could i wake you up?" choso replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "and how did you end up next to my futon?"

as you sat beside the futon next to choso, you couldn't help but notice his attempts to seem annoyed with your behavior. though, as the night wore on, it became clear that he was struggling to stay awake. eventually, he succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep, his bare torso exposed to the cool air of the room. seeing him shiver, you gently pulled the sheets over him, tucking him in with care. he had been hugging his own body to keep warm.

"don't know...i was so bored that i didn't know what to do with myself," you replied as you finally stood up, giving yourself another good stretch and kissing choso on his head, gently tugging his jet black locks as you did.

the experience of being hugged after a prolonged period of 150 years was a truly transformative one for him. the male had initially feigned irritation at you succumbing to your sleepiness and falling asleep, but in truth, he was struggling to contain his desire to prolong the embrace.

it wasn't because he was trying to be helpful or responsible in any way, but rather because he simply wanted to bask in the warmth and comfort of the embrace for just a little bit longer. the sensation of having his body hugged after such a long time had shifted his perspective on many things, leaving him feeling a sense of awe and wonder at the power of human connection.

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