#i’ll become a part of you and there’s nothing you can do about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeridandridge · 1 day

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For Lovers At Night part 2

Melissa tells Barb about her new budding relationship. Pt 1

The rest of that Saturday night went well for Melissa. When she got home she took a long shower and tried to tone down her total heart eye as she gets ready for bed. Getting settled she holds her phone daring to send a goodnight text as she lays in her bed next to a sleeping Joe which had become a rare occurrence.

Thank you for another great night, hon. I hope I can see you soon.

Putting her phone on do not disturb she sets it on the night stand rolling over to her side with a giddy smile on her lips.

Melissa wakes alone the following morning. The weather outside is dull and grey, making her want to stay curled up under the covers. Stretching out with a sigh she picks her phone up ready to see if she has anything from Barb about their brunch plans. Instead, she sees a text from the woman she’s found herself thinking about more often than not.

Believe me the pleasure was all mine, gorgeous. Maybe we can meet up for a coffee sometime this week if your schedule lets you. Let me know 😊

And that’s how Melissa ends up walking around the house with a cheek aching smile on her face. So much so that when she shows up to brunch with Barb, the older woman beams at her friend.

“Look at you, girl! What’s got you smiling like that?” She asks hugging her friend before they sit at the table.

“What? I can’t smile?” Melissa chuckles setting her purse down.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long long time.”

Melissa let Barbara into her life a year into her career at Abbott, and she hasn’t looked back since. She knew Barb was a woman of faith, but also knew that she would never condemn her for being happy.

Resting her hand on the table, Melissa tries to bite back a smile. That attempt fails.

“I met someone that’s makin me think a lot.”

“Oh Melissa, it’s wonderful to have a new friend.” Barbara pats her hand.

“It’s already more than that, Barb.” Melissa admits. “It’s- I dunno i feel like a high school kid with a crush.”

“Well, I’m not telling you what to do, but knowing you and your husband? Be smart and do what makes you happy.”

Melissa looks at her best friend with a hopeful smile, touched that she wasn’t judged for her admission. Barb asks for more details about this mystery person and eventually, Melissa sees a familiar face coming towards their table. She sits up a little straighter, a small smile spreading on her lips.

“Melissa,” you smile walking over to the table.

“Hi, hon. I was just talking about you.”

“Uh oh, that’s rarely a good thing.” You tease. “I don’t want to interrupt your lunch, I just wanted to say hi.”

“You’re not interrupting anything, sweetheart. I’m Barbara Howard.” The woman offers you a kind handshake.

“It’s great to meet you Mrs. Howard.” You smile shaking her hand. “I’m picking up an order for the guys at the bar, I’ll catch up with you later?” You meet Melissa’s eyes.

“You bet, hon.”

Walking away you move with a pep in your step not knowing about the conversation that’s going to take place. Barbara keeps her eyes on her friend with an agape mouth. “Girl,” she draws out, “that woman likes you. And she’s very pretty.”

Melissa sips her mimosa trying to hide her smile. “She is, isnt she?”

“Does she know your situation?” Barb asks quietly. That’s when Melissa looks down at the table feeling the catholic guilt that’s been engrained in her since she was a child.

“I told her I was divorced.” She admits.

Barbara gives Melissa a look that makes her feel like she’s in trouble with her mother again.

“Sweetheart if you like her don’t you think it’s best to start off with the truth?”

Melissa sits back knowing it was wrong of her to lie about it. She’d wanted a divorce for years, not pulling the trigger on the idea because she knew it would kill her mother. So she put up with the cheating and living with a man that was nothing more than a roommate.

“I’ll tell her when the times right, Barb. I will.”

Back at the bar you and your coworker, Jacob, hangout in the back on a lunch break. As your friend goes on about his finals for his degree you sit back with your legs on your desk, food container in your lap.

“Jacob you’re gonna get hiccups if you take in any more air.” You chuckle.

“Sorry! I’m really nervous is all.” He all but whines. “I have to pass these courses then I get to do teachers without boarders finally.”

You smile playfully tossing a balled up napkin at him. “You’re gonna be a great teacher, Hill. Trust me.”

“Maybe your girlfriend could get me a job.” He smirks.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “We’re literally building a friendship for right now.” You reason trying not to give away your already budding feelings for the mysterious woman. When your phone buzzes you can’t stop the grin spreading across your face.

“Oh.my.god. I see literal heart eyes. That must be her.”

Sure enough, on your screen you see a text from the redhead.

It was nice seeing you today, hon. How about that coffee tomorrow? I know this really nice bookshop. You might know it.

Grinning like an idiot you send her a text back.

I might know which one you’re talking about. When you get here park around the back.

Setting the phone down you look up finally snapping out of it.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hill.”

Sure enough Jacob was right and it annoys you that he is. The next day you walk around your apartment with a ridiculous smile on your lips as you clean, the nervous excitement running through you has you practically dancing across the clean floor. The idea of bringing Melissa up to your apartment was easy, it was right above the shop and bar anyway, and maybe just maybe it would allow you to get closer to the woman.

Being closed on Sundays and Mondays were usually a good thing, but now you find yourself doing busy work to get through the day until Melissa comes over after work. Making sure the floors are clean, you dust your own book shelves and re stack your records before looking around the sitting area, which really was just a big open room with a kitchen and a divider wall in front of your bedroom furniture.

Hours later when you hear the buzzer, you jump up and check your hair in the mirror, wearing it down when you’re not in the bar, this’ll be the first time Melissa sees you more comfortable.

“Hey! Cmon up.” You say into the speaker, pressing the buzzer down to let the woman in.

Melissa hops up the single flight of stairs,smiling when she sees you in the hallway. “You have a long commute to work.” She jokes.

“Oh it’s awful,” you beam stepping forward with your arms open for a hug. Melissa is a little surprised, not really showing affection to people outside of her family but she finds herself gravitating the young woman wrapping her arm around her shoulders in a little squeeze, one that feels warm and inviting.

“Ive got the coffee going already, are you hungry? I thought maybe we could order food.” You shrug casually.

“That sounds great, hon.” Melissa smiles following you into the cozy living space. “Wow, I didn’t know this was so open up here.”

“I tried to make it cozy.” You chuckle pouring two cups. “How was work?”

Melissa sets her purse down on one of the small dining table chairs, looking up at you surprised. “It was a great day actually. The kids did this project I’ve never done before, we read Peter rabbit then they decorated little plates like bunnies.” She beams talking about her kids.

You can’t help but smile as she shares how her day was, eventually moving to sit on your couch with your hot mugs in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking and talking.” Melissa chuckles nervously following you. Joe never wanted to hear about her days at work or anything about the kids, he was always rushing out every time she tried to share something with him.

“No no!” You chuckle tucking your feet under you, “keep going, seeing you talk about your kids is adorable. So is bunny art.” Truth be told you found her laugh so warm and invigorating, it made your stomach jump in the best way.

Melissa tucks a strand of wavy hair behind her ear smiling at the young woman. “I don’t always talk about work, but they were too cute.”

“You can talk about whatever you want. I’m a good listener.” You smile sipping your coffee.

Sitting back Melissa realizes that this has been easy from the start. Having a casual conversation and feeling comfortable was easy with you.

“I have a very serious question for you, hon.”

“I might have an answer for you, Mel.” You mirror her energy with an amused smile.

“Do you like the Eagles?”

“Yes I do.” You laugh with a nod. “I don’t fully understand football, but I like it. My brother is a big football guy.”

“A brother huh? Younger or older?” Melissa beams.

“Four years older. I was a pain in his ass. What about you, any siblings?”

Melissa nods leaning forward to rest her mug on the coffee table, her shirt coming down exposing a nice amount of cleavage you have to look away from.

“I have a little sister and a baby brother. But he’s on thin ice because he keeps backing the Jets.”

“Not the Jets.” You scrunch your nose, “see I might not fully get the game but at least I’m loyal.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Melissa chuckles watching you play with the handle of your mug.

There’s that sound again.

“You’ll know when I go for that.” You smile, meeting her pretty eyes. You didn’t know what her full story was, but you wanted to find out and if that was friendly or romantic was up to Melissa.

Melissa meets your eyes, a shy smile spreading on her own face. She felt like she’d known you forever, a comfortably settling over you two with ease.

“You’re so suave, you don’t get nervous do ya?”

“You make me a little nervous,” you shrug. “But in an exciting ‘what am I going to say to keep her attention?’ way.”

It’d been so long since Melissa felt like someone was interested in her it felt almost foreign.

“Don’t be nervous, hon. If it makes you feel any better I uh, I felt I was back in high school when I was texting ya.”

“Oh yeah? “I’m happy to have made you feel like that. You’re a special person, Mel. I know meeting someone new after a breakup can be scary, but I feel very grateful you let me in like you have.” You tell her as casually as you can.

Melissa looks at the younger woman, nothing but sincerity in her eyes.

“That got way more serious than I wanted it to be,” you laugh hiding your face in your hand.

“Oh cmon!” Melissa laughs leaning over, gently taking your wrist in her hand to remove it from your face. “I’m around second graders all day having a conversation like this is great.” She gives you a soft smile.

Taking her hand in yours you lean forward just enough to enter her personal space just a bit. “You have a gorgeous smile.”

“You’re a charmer, hon.”

“I always mean what I say.” You tell her quietly. The feeling of her hand in yours gives you the same bubbly feeling it gave you at the bar the other night.

“I’m starting to see that. I think I learn somethin new about you every time I see you.”

“Yeah? What have you learned about me?” You smile back feeling a teasing steak hit you.

“You’re incredibly smart, helpful,” she hums gently squeezing your hand, “and you’re incredibly cute when you talk about something you like, like that book.”

“It’s a good book. Like I said, a woman finding herself is a beautiful thing. But if we get into that we’ll be here all night” You grin leaning a little closer.

“I can’t stay late tonight.” Melissa whispers eyeing your lips. Despite how much she wants to, she really did only come for a coffee.

“That’s okay. I know you have to teach the rugrats in the morning. Cell phones are a beautiful invention, that’ll hold us over until I can see you again.” You chuckle.

“Barb already teases me when she sees me smiling at my phone.”

“I guess the leather jacket and killer eyeliner don’t work when you look adorable and mushy looking at a phone huh?” You tease.

Melissa playfully rolls her eyes moving to stand up. “I’m not mushy now walk me out.”

“Yes, Ms.-“ you stop short as you stand up. “I was going to make a teacher joke but I don’t know your last name.” You chuckle.

Once again, Melissa’s brain short circuits. She’s not joes wife here. No, here she’s herself. “Schemmenti.”

“Very Italian.” You smile not bothering to let go of her hand as you walk her out, down the stairs to her truck.

Outside Melissa unlocks the truck still holding the younger woman’s hand.

“Can I tell you something, hon?” She whispers inching closer.

You meet jade eyes once again, butterflies hitting you just as they always do when you’re with Melissa. “Of course you can.” You say quietly, eyes flicking down to glossy lips for a moment.

But Melissa doesn’t say anything. Closing the space between the two of you she rests her hand on your cheek meeting your lips in a soft kiss. When you register what’s happening your arms slips around her waist, tongue licking at her lower lip to deepen the kiss. It feels like a magnetic pull has taken over your body as you stand there outside in the dusk, arms wrapped around her warm, curvy frame.

Melissa pulls away first, pecking your lips once more for good measure.

“For the record, I’m not scared.”

#abbott elementary #tv #lisa ann walter #Melissa Schemmenti x reader #Melissa Schemmenti #Melissa Schemmenti x you #Melissa Schemmenti x imagine

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homeofatlas · 1 day

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Maybe We're Both Chasing Ghosts

Summary: You and Elisa break up and long for each other.

Auhors note: yall i know i said i was gonna write the other one first..........im so sorry, hope ur in the mood for some angst tho

WC: 2k

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Letting go has never been easy for you. You never learned how to give up, concede, or when it was time to let something go. Especially when someone is the love of your life.

You’re going crazy. Plain and simple you’ve started seeing things. The side table lamp Elisa always used to have on in the living room when she was up late is on when it’s just you in the apartment, her figure walking around the corner, the smell of her as you walk past the door to the balcony. Everything you do reminds you of when she was here. Everywhere you go there's a woman with the same colour hair or skin tone and there’s a colleague who’s expression reminds you of the way Elisas brows furrowed when she was confused. It all makes your stomach hurt to look at and yet you never look away. You’ll hurt as long as you get a chance to see a part her again.

You know Elisa was doing what she thought was best for both of you. The constant near misses with communication. How far apart you always felt even when you were right next to each other. The stretches you’d go without talking and when you did it felt forced and stilted. Nothing like the beginning when the silence had been because you both were quieter people and enjoyed simply basking in each other's presence. There were times when it had felt like you almost had what you used to have back before it would slip away again. The silences which would drag out seconds too long.

Maybe it started when you felt like you were overwhelming her, maybe it started when she stopped looking for you first in a crowded room, maybe it was over the second you were finally comfortable. It seems to be a running theme in your life, “Nothing gold can ever stay.” What you won’t admit to as a non religious person is the day before she told you it was for the better to walk away, you asked the moon to keep her. I’ll do anything, just let me keep her. You pleaded and yet no one listened.

She’s your best friend even though you haven't spoken in months. Three months, two weeks and four days if you were counting. She knows you inside and out, from the food you don’t like to how you appreciate actions more than words. What gets you is the way she knew everything about you and you knew everything about her and none of it was enough to prevent this.

As the winter months begin to creep in and the wind nips at your cheeks again you feel the weight of her absence more than ever. You never realised you’d become conditioned to having an arm slung around your shoulder until the first time you shivered in a group of friends and a weight hadn’t overcome you to pull you into her side. When you’d been cold and no one had grabbed your hands to warm them up and kissed either side of your cheeks to make you smile and blush. Something in you had felt incomplete without nagging Elisa to put on an extra sweater as you went out because it’ll be cold and you are only human no matter what you say about being super hot Elisa. The way you’d looked up the hall to see whether or not she was coming and then remembered no one was there and there hadn’t been for a while.

Her ghost hangs heavy in the side of the couch she always used to lay on with the pillow she liked and in the weight of the pan she used to cook almost every meal (the handle feels different like it’s been melded to her hand exactly). Since she left you’ve been missing a part of you. Date your best friend, they say, it’ll be amazing. It was, you wouldn’t give a second of it for anything but this type of pain makes you understand why they call it heartbreak. You feel as though you’ve been split in two and are missing a limb. You’d never been a child who’d cried for their parents and when you’d moved to Europe for schooling you’d never looked back but now at 26 you were learning what it felt like to be home sick.

Elisa pov:

She’d fucked up. She didn’t know loneliness could be so all encompassing. She’s tried to fill her days with training and exercise and then going out with friends and calling her family “just because she wants to talk.” All of it is to keep her from stopping and thinking about you. The way she’s become less of a whole while still being one person. Half of her is missing. She can’t explain it without sounding like she’s co dependant but she couldn’t tell where she ended and you began.

Something is missing.

Scratch that.

Everything is missing.

A part of her is empty.

And she knows she’s got no one to blame but herself. Instead of talking to you, she’d decided the connection you’d had was too good to be true. Of course it was, how can something so romantic exist in real life? It doesn’t. Except it does, the little voice in her heart whispers, you had it. She’d seen it, she’d felt it, she’d tasted it. Had it in the palm of her hand and let it slip away.

The ache is eating away at her. A dull pulsing in her head constantly, she keeps herself exhausted to the point of falling straight into bed when she gets back to her apartment. It’s hard to call it home anymore without your perfume lingering in the air anymore. Your chapsticks stashed in various drawers through the apartment are gone. All the lights are off when she comes back. The place is empty. She’s empty.

She’d taken down all the photos and traces of you left around and put them in a box hoping it would help her heal faster. All it does is test her willpower to not empty the tubes of chapstick trying to touch something your lips have been on. No matter what she does, the quiet keeps creeping in. She can’t outrun the itch beneath her skin. The ache in her bones that never seems to fade. The feeling in her gut screaming something isn’t right. The quiet used to be her sanctuary now it’s suffocating without you to smile at her from across a room or squeeze her shoulder as you pass by.

She simultaneously feels invisible and like she sticks out like a sore thumb in every room she’s in. She’s not meant to be there. She’s meant to be next to you. But now you’re standing on the other side of the change room laughing at a joke she hasn’t heard, hasn’t told and something in her is coiling. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen when it snaps.

Jackie is helping you put your necklace back on and it shouldn’t bug her but it does. She’s hot and this room is too small. She knows it’s not like that but when Jackie brushes your hair to one side, a tad unnecessary if she gets a say, she has to tear her gaze away. Putting your necklaces back on after practice used to be her job. The small moment of quiet intimacy is what she’d wait all day for. When it felt like nothing else in your relationship was working, she’d always had that at the end of the day. Her fingers brushing the nape of your neck, the brush of your hair to your side, a smile creeping onto her face. If no one else was in the room she’d kiss the back of your neck and wrap her arms around you from behind. You’d stand there basking in each other's presence until you were ready to let go.

She’s fuming someone has taken her place, although not really and if someone has taken her place as your partner, her stomachs turns and she might be sick at the thought. A small voice calls out within her, be gentle with her.

She needs to get out of here asap. She’ll call her mom on the drive home, then go for a run, then pick up groceries when she gets back, she should really call her brother soon and see what he’s been working on lately, maybe there's a game on tonight she can catch- anything to keep her from thinking about you and this and how she’s fucked up.

Cause here’s the thing, even when you’d stopped texting her when you got home and when slowly less and less clothes of yours were appearing in her laundry, you’d never stopped being in sync on the pitch. Always anticipating the others' moves before she did it herself. It was infuriating to know you almost had it all. That’s what happens when you know everything about a person, every habit, every movement, she knows she could pick you out of a room of people just by how you breathe.

By the time she gets home from her post practice run she’s too tired to make dinner. She’ll order it in, making a deal with herself that she’ll walk to go pick it up. One of the things that most endeared her to you in the beginning was the willingness to break your nutrition plans laid out by the staff. Technically you were allowed to eat what you wanted but some foods were heavily discouraged. Such as pasta with a ton of carbs and no vegetables, which happened to be your favourite meal.

Slipping her shoes on and beginning the walk down to the italian place you loved to have date nights in she remembers all the times you'd made the walk together. She tries to not think about you and keep herself busy. The key word is tries because about 95% of the time she fails at it. A part of her hopes she’ll walk in to pick up her order and you’ll be there too. Hearts, stomachs, and feet falling in sync together once more. Please, she turns her eyes upward, let me get what I want this once.

Despite her quick checks around the restaurant and toward the bathroom and her dragging out the process longer than she needs to just in case you showed up, she resigns herself to a life of loneliness. Lost her thoughts she pulls the door open as someone pushes in and they stumble into her.

“Oh my god i’m so sorry-”

Your eyes turn upwards and meet hers. You both suck in sharp breaths chests in sync as they push against each other. Your eyes lock and the tension is almost unbearable but pretending like you don’t know each other is the most unbearable thing that could happen. Her hand, which came up to stabilise you, rests on your arm. Her thumb twitches to flick up and rub soothing circles right below your bicep.

If she gets a second chance she’s thinking now might be the time to act on it. She lets herself relax and smile at you, she can instantly feel the sigh of relief.

“Pretty sure this isn’t on your diet plan” She teases.

You smile challengingly up at her, “Pretty sure it isn’t on yours either.”

Your smiles are growing bigger by the second.

“Well,” She whispers and leans closer to you, dropping her voice to an octave where she knows only you’ll be able to hear her. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

She knows what speaking low in a crowded room does to you, it’s no surprise when she feels you shiver against her. She wraps her hand around her bicep now, rubbing your arm up and down as if she’s heating you up, all an excuse to touch you again.

You lean in conspiratorially, “Okay your secrets safe with me.” Nodding to sell the act.

You both stand and stare because what are the chances? Maybe, you both think, I don't have to keep chasing your ghost.

#élisa de almeida #woso #elisa de almeida x reader #elisa de almeida #woso x reader #yall the others ones in progress #crossing my fingers i can finish it for next week

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maccreadysbaby · 2 days

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: gore

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

I’m so hyped you guys I’m so hyped

part forty-one

❝ ROBIN (BY FORCE OF WILL?) ❞

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 7:01 PM

“WE DON’T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING,” Was the first thing Batman said.

“But-“

“No buts,” Bruce ordered, completing his suit by clipping on the gauntlets. “You are staying right here in the Manor with Alfred. We’re going to do everything we can to ensure the safety of your friend, but I have to make sure you’re safe, too.”

Bentley deflated like a balloon. “But I have superpowers now. I’ll be useful!”

“You can be useful to Alfred here,” He replied. He had more of his Batman voice on than his Bruce voice, which made it… slightly harder to argue with him, if Bentley were being honest.

“Please, Bruce, this is what I’ve been waiting for! To prove that I-“

“You have nothing to prove, Bentley. You belong here,”

Bentley groaned dramatically. “But it’s just Asten! What if he won’t talk to you?”

“He’ll talk to Jason,”

“He’s mad at Jason,”

“Bentley, I’m sorry, but you’re not going. And that’s my final answer,” Bruce ordered, and Bentley quieted, looking down at the floor with a quiet sigh. Not a second later, Batman’s glove was resting on the side of his head. “I love you.”

Bentley looked up at him, and despite not being able to see his eyes through the lenses of the cowl, he could imagine the famous Bruce Wayne glint they had in them.

“I love you, too,” He replied, looking down at his ratty red tennis shoes next to Batman’s boots. “Be careful.”

Bruce moved quickly. He, Dick, Tim, Duke, Jason, and Damian were all ready in a flash, Batman and Robin taking the Batmobile while the others readied motorcycles. Bentley and Nico sort of just stood off to the side and watched the chaos unfold. Alfred had come downstairs and taken over the Batcomputer, which now had a map of Gotham with all the vigilantes’ trackers displayed. The cave was superhero free in minutes.

“I think I’m having a brain aneurysm,” Nico muttered, shaking his head side to side. “I’m in Batman’s secret lair, where Batman was getting ready to go fight my best friend, and before he left he told my other best friend that he loves him. Batman told you he loves you!”

Somehow, Bentley found it in himself to snicker, glancing over at the blonde with an amused look on his face. “He’s my legal guardian.”

“My life feels like a tv show,” Nico pulled his phone out and glanced down at it, exclaiming suddenly: “And… my parents are blowing me up, saying they’re coming to get me. Better not keep them waiting! Thank you for having me, Bentley. Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Anytime, Nico,” Alfred called from his station, a bit preoccupied by his duties.

Nico then began back up the stairs toward the manor, and Bentley followed him all the way.

“I thought your parents were out of town?” Bentley questioned, trying his best to recall the reason Nico had come over in the first place.

The blonde said nothing.

“Your parents aren’t coming, are they?”

Nico sighed heavily, his blonde hair bouncing as he ascended the staircase. “Asten’s my best friend, and Batman isn’t my dad. Sorry, dude.”

“Seriously? You’re just going to leave me here?” Bentley grumbled as they came out of the grandfather clock in Bruce’s office. “I thought you’d be terrified of something like this.”

“Oh, trust me, I am. But Asten has been my best friend for years, and if he won’t listen to the Red Hood, someone needs to be there just in case. I’ll be fine. No need to worry about me,”

“You’re running… flying into a warzone,” Bentley stated flatly. Nico scrunched his face up.

“Yeah… but I prefer not to think about that and focus on the fact that I have awesome superpowers and my best friend’s dad is Batman,” He replied, walking through the Manor briskly, all the way to the front door. “I wonder if I can use my speed to fly super fast. Like double powers.”

Bentley huffed. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Sorry, Bentley, but I’ve gotta run. I’m sure there’s something super important for you to do here. I’ll see you later,”

And with that, a gust of wind came, and Nico was gone in a flash. Bentley didn’t even see the front door open.

With a deep inhale and exhale, he returned to the cave.

“I trust Nico’s parents were pleased to see him?” Alfred questioned as Bentley turned the corner, grabbing a rolling chair and dragging it to the Batcomputer.

“Oh, yeah. Thrilled,” He replied flatly, plopping down in the office chair. “Why won’t Bruce let me do anything? Damian was Robin when he was ten. Dick was Robin when he was nine! And they didn’t even have superpowers!”

“Those were both very different circumstances than your own, Master Bentley,” Alfred explained, typing on the Batcomputer and bringing his hand up to the earpiece that was in his right ear. “Three blocks to your left, sir,” He stated, then removed his hand. “Times were very different when Master Dick was Robin, and Master Bruce was very different. As for Master Damian, his former training and skill-set makes his role as a vigilante the most optimum outlet for him.”

Bentley exhaled, sliding down into the chair. “I feel useless.”

“That’s nonsense,” Alfred replied, his eyes flying across the screen at a pace Bentley could only dream of. “You’ve had a very important role in this family, even without the vigilante passtime. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them more harmonious than when you started living here.”

Bentley tapped his thumbs on the arms of the office chair. “Really?”

“Yes, my boy. Even with the occasional hiccups with Master Damian, I have to say, this is the most unified the Wayne household has been in a long time,”

Bentley said nothing. It did make sense, though… maybe Bruce just needed a (mostly) normal kid that wasn’t defying death every night? Maybe that could help him? With what, Bentley wasn’t sure. But the idea made sense in his head. Sort of.

“I have a question for you. What would you say makes Master Bruce, Master Bruce?” Alfred questioned, looking at Bentley for only a second with his eyebrows up. “Would you say the cowl and cape makes him Master Bruce? Or would you say his endless devotion to his children does? His astronomically large heart that makes him unable to avoid adopting any deserving child he comes in contact with? His willingness to do anything it takes to keep his family safe and secure?”

Bentley looked down at his own hands. “Um… the way he loves, I guess.”

Alfred nodded and hummed simultaneously. “Indeed. So, Master Bentley, what would you say makes you, you? Surely you’re not missing an identity simply because you’re not behind a domino mask.”

Bentley blinked a few times. “I… I don’t know.”

“Well, I’d say you’re very determined. Brave. Loyal,” Alfred continued, typing a few more strings of code. “Devoted to this family, similarly to Master Bruce. You have a big heart.”

Alfred brought his hand up to the earpiece in his ear. “Yes, sir, I’m looking into it now.”

Another tab came up on the Batcomputer, this one was the same view from the drone that Tim had been watching. It flew around until it focused on a… massive… floating ball of purple light, in the center of a rubble-filled street?

“I have my eye on it, sir,” Alfred continued, zooming in on the strange light. There were a few dials and charts on the right side of the screen that were fluctuating. “It’s putting out an entire nuclear power plant’s worth of energy.”

Bentley creased his brow, scooting a bit closer to the screen. “What is that?”

“I’m not sure, my boy,”

He watched it closely. It was sort of spinning and spitting and moving — like a star or the sun. There seemed to be a whirlpool of air around it that was blowing flame and debris around. Right in front of Bentley’s eyes, the purple things doubled in size, the center turned black, and someone began to step out of it.

Bentley had seen that before. When they fought The Void — when she’d sent Duke through a portal to Australia.

Confirming Bentley’s suspicions. The Void in question stepped out of the portal first. She looked different from last time Bentley saw her. Her hair was purple now, a dark, royal purple that matched her glowing eyes. She was wearing an honest supervillain suit — a solid black, skin tight jumpsuit with neon purple lines at the seams, and massive, neon purple heeled boots that couldn’t be comfortable to do anything in. When she stepped out, she looked around at the destruction and smiled.

“It seems to be that Void we sent to Arkham, sir,”

Bentley’s jaw unhinged slightly when lots of people started stepping out of the portal. The second was the Secret Keeper, in her full suit get-up with the yellow cape and bloody platinum hair. Next was Mandy Todryk, who’s hair was now a deep Raven black. She was wearing what looked like a black shirt and green tactical pants, and on her back sat massive, raven-black wings. Whole entire wings that looked straight off of a giant bird.

After her came a bunch of people — metahumans — Bentley had never seen, all with glowing eyes, multicolored hair, and strange suits. There had to be at least three dozen, and they all looked fairly young. Only a few looked to reach Dick’s age.

At the very back of the group were Davis and Titus. They had huge, bulky chains that synched around their necks and wrists, and these gnarly looking metal muzzles over their noses and mouths that kept them from speaking. They were both beaten to the high heavens, bleeding in various places and bruised all over, with the worst of it on their wrists and necks where the chains were being jerked on. Davis was still wearing his giant metal gloves, and Titus had what looked like metal cups over his hands that kept sparking with blue electricity. Did that keep him from teleporting away?

A strong wave of relief washed over Bentley when he saw that they were both alive.

And something similar to rage came crashing immediately after. Why were they chained up?

“Babybird,”

Bentley turned when the Secret Keeper’s voice echoed through the cave, looking toward the locker room, the launch pad where the Batmobile usually sat. Nothing moved, and nothing looked out of place. Nothing at all.

“In the locker room,”

Bentley’s eyes flicked to the locker room door, and he saw the hem of a purple dress move just out of his sight.

“Charlie?”

“C’mon, Bentley,”

“What was that?” Alfred questioned, turning to look at Bentley, who blinked a few times.

“I’m… going to the bathroom,” He replied, rising from the office chair and heading toward the locker room.

“Alright…”

Bentley crept across the cave quietly, checking for anything out of the ordinary, but he couldn’t find anything. He inched into the locker room and peered around. Nothing out of the ordinary was in there, either — a few lockers, display cases with suits, the showers and bathrooms. It all looked… normal.

And then Bentley was in the white room of nothingness again.

Stunned, he blinked a few times to get used to the brightness. He’d never been taken into the white nothingness without being knocked out or asleep first.

“Hello?” He questioned, spinning around. “Anyone?”

“Bentley,”

He whipped around, and flinched when Charlie was only inches from his face in her purple dress. She didn’t have the shackles or muzzle on anymore, but was free, aside from bruising left from the metal.

“Charlie,”

“You have to go,” She said, a downright urgent look crossing her features. “You have to go now.”

Bentley looked around at the white nothing. “What do you… you mean go fight?”

“Yes. Yes, I mean go fight. You’re the only one that can beat this,” She announced, and she grabbed onto his shoulders, shaking him a little. “They’re all going to die, Bentley.”

“Wha- who?”

“Everyone. I… the Secret Keeper, she can see the future, this is how they planned it…” Charlie ran her hands through her own hair, obviously stressed and obviously stressing Bentley out, too. “This is their plan. Your family is going to die at the hands of these metahumans. But I’ve seen the other outcomes, and you can stop it. But you have to leave now.”

Bentley breathed in, rubbing his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Charlie groaned. “Look!”

Smoke came — not the Secret Keeper’s black smoke, but more colorful smoke, moving slower, too — and swirled in the middle of the whiteness until there were figures all over the room. The closest ones to them were Robin and The Void, engaged in combat. Damian was better with a sword, and the Void was losing.

“This is the future you’re heading toward, if you don’t leave!”

Bentley watched as The Void, purple hair and all, summoned a portal right beneath Damian’s feet that sucked him in and disappeared. Then an identical one showed up in the sky, what had to be thousands of feet above her, and Damian fell out of it.

And kept falling.

He fumbled for his grappling gun and shot it, but the end didn’t hook on anything.

And he kept falling and kept falling until he hit the ground with a sickening noise and a poof of smoke — smoke Charlie probably put there so Bentley wouldn’t have to see the aftermath.

“It’s all of them. Every single one,”

Behind where Damian had just fallen, Nightwing and a metahuman Bentley hadn’t seen before — a guy with half-white half-black hair — were fighting hand-to-hand near a massive pile of rubble. The metahuman guy shoved Dick into the debris, and with the flick of a hand, metal barbs from the pile moved and bent and snaked around his wrists like vines, pinning him there. Could that metahuman control metal, like a human magnet?

Tauntingly, the metahuman guy backed away and lifted his hand in the air, palm out. Then he smirked at Dick and made a fist.

Three huge shards of metal came out from the pile of debris straight through Dick, from his back all the way through his front, and Bentley looked away with a strangled noise.

That image dissipated into smoke, and behind that was Jason being held in the air by actual vines that were wrapped around his neck, choking him to death. He was fighting them, clawing and ripping at them with his hands, but they were too strong, too powerful. They didn’t stop squeezing until Red Hood went still.

That image faded away, and the next was Red Robin and the Secret Keeper. They were standing right across from each other, just looking, like some kind of standoff. It was fast — her eyes glowed, Tim’s ears and nose and eyes bled, and he hit the ground.

The last image in the line was Bruce. He was on his knees, his suit ripped up and destroyed, the cowl torn off of his head leaving his identity completely exposed. He was bleeding everywhere, from his nose to a gash on his torso, and the Secret Keeper was standing in front of him.

“You lost, Batman,” She crooned. She had a chain in her hand that led to Davis’s neck and wrists, and she kept tugging on it maniacally. “Let’s finish this with a bang, shall we?”

She jerked on Davis’s chain until he was right in front of her. “Please, Charlie, please, please, please, please.” He was begging, and Bentley was pretty sure he was crying, but it was hard to see past all the dirt and grime on his face.

Charlie unclipped one of his gloves and let it hit the ground with a clack, revealing a withered, black hand.

“You’re kids are all dead. You have nothing to live for. You’ve lost, Mr. Wayne,” She ordered, pulling tight on Davis’s chain when he began to fight, choking him. He reached his black hand toward her, but before he could touch her, he shouted in pain and hit the ground, on his knees in front of Bruce.

“Touch him,” The Secret Keeper ordered.

Davis’s eyes began to glow amber, and his arm began to move. It was shaking, trembling, actually, like he was using everything in him to fight the control she had over him. He was bawling his eyeballs out, now. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,”

Bruce did one of his reassuring smiles. “It’s okay, Davis.”

Davis touched a spot on Bruce’s arm where the suit was torn, where skin was showing. The light left his eyes.

Bentley was crying. When had that started? “Okay. Okay, I-I’ll go. Let me out of here!”

On command, the white room disappeared, and he was back in the locker room with no one more than lockers and old super suits.

He took a few moments to gather his thoughts, take a few breaths, stop crying, and try to make a semblance of a plan. He was going. He was going into the destruction to help his family, to save them. He couldn’t just go out into a war-zone looking like Bentley, though, then everybody would know who he was, and in turn, could figure out who Batman was. Right? So he needed a disguise. Right? That made the most sense. That’s what Bruce did.

He glanced around the locker room. There were display cases with old suits in them, from some of Dick’s Nightwing suits all the way to the old Robin ones. One of the newer displays was the Robin suit Damian had just stopped using, when he switched from the red to the gray one Bruce had shown Bentley.

Being stupidly devoted to this family was starting to become a Bentley Whittaker trademark, wasn’t it?

He backed up and peered out the locker room door, back into the cave. They kept their earpieces for communication in a drawer at the Batcomputer, Bentley knew that much — he’d seen them get them out a bunch. Alfred was still typing and talking away, with several tabs pulled up on the massive screen.

He needed a suit, and he needed an earpiece so he could hear what was going on. And he also needed a means of escape, but that was something that he would get to at the right moment. Suit. Earpiece. Save the day.

With a deep breath and a deep determination that couldn’t be very healthy, Bentley summoned a tiny stream of water from the bathroom and made it crawl across the cave floor toward the computer like a little worm. It was only a little thicker than a strand of hair, and virtually (hopefully) incognito to a Butler that was knee deep in a mission. Bentley focused as hard as he could to make it subtly slither itself up the leg of the Batcomputer’s desk, and even harder to make it squeeze into one of the drawers without drawing too much attention.

He took a moment to breathe, and then watched closely as the water slithered out again, pushing the drawer open just enough to fit one of the earpieces out. It made its way back to the floor the way it had made it's way up, and began to slither back to him.

With an exhale, he turned back toward the display cases. The only thing in them close enough to his size (that had pants) was either Damian or Tim’s Robin suits. But, looking at them now, Tim’s smaller Robin suit was a little awkward (it looked like a girl’s swimsuit?) So really, Damian’s was the only option.

Was he actually about to steal a Robin suit? (Was it still stealing if he lived there?)

Nevermind that. Now, his obstacle was getting the case open. He didn’t see any keyholes or buttons or doors or hinges or anything on them. So… how did they open?

Surely you didn’t have to open them with the Batcomputer, did you?

“Hurry, Bentley!” Said Charlie’s voice in his head.

Bentley exhaled heavily. He had to leave because he had to save his family. From, like, dying. Literal death. Stuff like how he got the case open didn’t actually matter when he was saving his family from death. Right? Right?

With that sorted out in his head, he summoned water from the bathroom and made it levitate right in front of him, spinning it into a large sphere. Once he decided the circle was big enough (and before he could change his mind away from the incredibly stupid thing he was doing.) he pressurized it and shot it at the glass case like a pressure washer on steroids.

And within a second, the whole thing shattered.

Then it was crunch time.

“Master Bentley?”

Bentley quickly made all the water wrap around his feet and lift him up (careful not to collect any broken glass.), jerked the suit out of the case as quickly as he could, and shot back through the door of the locker room. The water that had the earpiece in it shot it into his hand when he went through the door.

“I’m sorry,” He said as he passed Alfred, who looked rather miffed and had already been halfway to the locker room. “I’ll clean it up when I get home!”

And with that he flew (floated?) up the stairs on the water as fast as he could make it go without flying off, and into the Manor. He stopped at the front door, but right when he got there, the security panel next to it turned red.

Alfred had turned the security system on, just so Bentley couldn’t get out.

In a moment of panic, Bentley forced water into the lock and handle of the door, trying his best to turn the system off. When that didn’t seem to work, he forced the liquid into the button panel and made it spark. (Oops?)

On the bright side, when he opened the door, the alarm didn’t go off.

And just like that, Bentley Whittaker ran away from the Manor for the third (fourth?) time, Robin suit and superpowers in hand, to save his family.

… and not for a second did he stop to consider that the Secret Keeper may have been lying.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 8 hours

Text

A song of Ice & Shadow

Part 2

You can read part one here.

Summary: To Y/n's dismay, the Illyrians keep coming to their home, and despite her initial reluctance to engage in war talks, she becomes entangled in the political world of the fae. This ends with her worst nightmare becoming a reality.

Word count: 2.9K

Y/n paced around the living room, holding a scientific book amidst a clutter of research papers scattered about. Deeply immersed in her work, she was oblivious to the initial knocks at the door. Eventually, the persistent knocking caught her attention, prompting her to reluctantly abandon her studies.Upon opening the door, however, she found no one present “Are you kidding me?” she exhaled, as she went back to the living room. Just as she got back to reading, Cassian’s voice interrupted her concentration “Hello, y/n. Nice to see you again”.

“For fuck’s sake” she instinctively threw the book in his direction, a reflex action to the sudden intrusion, which he effortlessly evaded. Cassian’s amusement at the gesture was evident as he remarked “A book, really?”.

“Well, when someone is startled by an unexpected visitor, instinct tends to take over” she retorted, her tone a mixture of irritation and explanation.

“I did knock” he reminded, to which she replied “and I did open the door”.

“Wait, you didn’t know I was cloaked?”.

“How would I know? Do I look like some fae expert to you?”.

“Clearly not”.

“Do you enjoy pissing people off?” she asked with a serious tone.

“Sometimes” he replied, his tone tinged with smugness.

“Get a new hobby. People have more important things to do”.

“We’re trying to save everyone, so I’d say that is important”.

“Whatever! I’m not dealing with you. Talk to Nesta. Do you know where her room is or do I have to guide you?”.

“I’ll do just fine on my own”.

“Great, then off you go” she pushed him out of the living room and closed the door.

—

“You wouldn’t believe who I just met at the Bakery, Nes-” Y/n began speaking as she entered the house, unaware of the company they had. Her smile faded when she noticed the two Illyrian males, replaced by a cold, stern expression.“to what do we owe this displeasure?” she inquired, crossing her arms.

Cassian's response mirrored her sentiment, expressing his own reluctance to be there. Before any further exchange could unfold, Azriel interjected with a low, cold voice, revealing the reason for their visit “We received word from the queens”.

“They’ve been sent here to gather information about the house for the queens. They want to know where everything is, in the smallest details” Nesta explained.

Y/n directed her question at her sister “And you believe providing all this information is a good idea?”.

Azriel interjected, 'It's the only way to secure their cooperation”, Nesta nodded.

Y/n stole a glance at the male before returning her gaze on her sister “you do know this puts us in real danger?”.

"Nothing will happen to you or your sisters. Cassian and I will keep watch on the house”.

Despite assurances from Azriel about their safety, Y/n remained unconvinced, her concern evident in her demeanor. Y/n seemed to want to say something but decided against it. As she turned to leave, she was halted by Azriel's words “Feyre expects you to be here tomorrow”. After a brief pause, Y/n tilted her head to the side “Tell her to lower her expectations” she replied before walking out.

—

“Perhaps you should attend, even if just for a little while” Nesta suggested.

“Why? Are two sisters not enough? I don’t wish to be involved in human-fae relations” Y/n clarified.

“I know. I hate this as much as you do, but Feyre is now one of them, so do it for her” Nesta urged.

“Not out of her own free will…I- I don’t know, I’ll think about it” she sighed.

“Not to pressure you or anything but you do know, they’ll be here in a couple of hours” Nesta reminded.

“I know” she shrugged.

“Where is she? They’re gonna be here any minute now” Feyre scanned the room anxiously, looking for Y/n.

“I don’t know. She said she’ll think about it” Nesta told her.

“Think about it? She does realize that this is important, not one of her games” Feyre’s frustration became evident.

“Do you want me to send Az or Cassian to fetch her?” Rhys offered.

“No, that would only make things worse” Feyre dismissed the suggestion.

Dressed in a midnight blue tulle gown that revealed her back and arms, her skin so pale one would think she’s frozen. The fabric flowed around her body like a cloud, complementing her features. She emanated an aura of grace and elegance that would captivate any male who laid eyes on her. Y/n walked into the room, head held high. Her presence seemed to illuminate the room, and much to Azriel’s dismay, his eyes were drawn to her. Something stirred inside of him, something unfamiliar; even his shadows peaked from behind him to study her. He was betrayed by a momentary lapse in composure before pushing his thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

“She’d fit right in at the Night Court” Rhys whispered to Feyre.

“Is that why it took you so long?” Feyre asked her sister.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Y/n tried to hide her smile.

Just as Cassian was about to comment, the queens appeared.

Rhys and Feyre started the conversation with the queens, introducing everyone present in the room. Elain curtseyed, while Nesta and Y/n stayed straight-backed with their heads high. They wasted no time and got to the reason why they were there; to discuss the war looming on their doorstep. -”This territory is a slip of land compared to the vastness of the continent. It is not in our interests to defend it. It would be a waste of resources” one of the queens said, to which Rhys replied “surely the loss of even one innocent life would be abhorrent”.

“Yes. to lose one life is always a horror. But war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it”.

“And here I thought fae kind was the worst. It seems there’s even worse. You’re shameless. As queens, you have a responsibility towards your people. You’re supposed to protect them, all of them. The war hasn’t even started and you’re already doing a bad job of it” Y/n blurted.

“Excuse me?” the queen was taken aback, but so was everyone sitting there.

“Y/n!” Feyre warned.

“What? Is it not your duty to defend your people?” Y/n didn’t back down.

“What my sister is trying to say is that there are good people here” Feyre spoke, before things escalated.

The queens suggested that the fae defend this little territory, but there were counter arguments to that, until the queens mentioned that it was their job since the threat is caused by their own kind and their blood should be the one to spill, to which Y/n didn’t disagree. But then the queens continued to be insensitive, stubborn, selfish creatures, refusing to listen to reason. This made Y/n feel rage; knowing her temper, she excused herself before she screwed up whatever chance of peace they had. “Where do you think you are going?” one of the queens asked.

“Away from here. I am afraid if I stayed, I’d hurt your ego and you’d leave without considering peace, so I am removing myself, respectfully” she bowed mockingly, and a soft smile graced Azriel’s face.

—

Satisfied with the research she had done, Y/n was able to take a day to relax when a knock interrupted her solitude. She waited a few minutes before reaching the door, silently hoping that someone else would answer it for once “You’d think with many people living in this house, someone else would get the door for once” she sighed as she opened the door, only to find no one there “Ah, I suppose you’re glamoured again. The servants are here today and Nesta isn’t, so unfortunately, we have to go to a more private place. Follow me” she muttered to herself, pausing briefly before shutting the door and retreating upstairs to her room, closing the door behind her “what can I help with today, general?” she turned around to face Cassian, whom by now his cloaking would’ve vanished, but she was met with the other illyrian. Taken aback, she took a step back “you’re not the general”.

“No, I’m not. Nice to see you again” Azriel hid a chuckle.

“I’m sure” Y/n managed to force a polite smile, unaware she was holding her breath.

Noticing her sudden reaction at the sight of him, Azriel inquired “Are you alright?”.

“I’m fine. So, what can I do for you?” She wasted no time asking, not wanting to be distracted by those beautiful hazel eyes.

“I’m here to check if you’ve received a response from the queens”.

“Aren’t you the court’s spymaster? Wouldn’t you know if we had received a letter?” Y/n questioned.

“My spies are positioned in courts, not among mere humans. Besides, I didn’t think you’d appreciate being spied upon. But, I do have other methods to obtain information”.

“Like torture?” she crossed her arms.

“That too”.

“Are you threatening me?” she took a step towards him, but he stood his ground.

“I don’t know how you came to that conclusion. I simply answered your question. Violence is not always the solution” he replied, frustration evident in his tone.

“But it’s often the most effective, wouldn’t you agree?” she smirked, meeting his gaze as his shadows appeared behind her.

“It depends” he held her gaze. For a moment they stood in silence before she finally spoke “to answer your question, no, they did not send word back. I suppose that concludes our meeting”.

“Are you kicking me out” he snorted.

“No, I’m simply stating the fact that you’ve gotten what you came here for, hence, there’s nothing left for you here anymore, or am I mistaken?” she shrugged.

He contemplated for a moment “no, you are absolutely right. I’ll be on my way. Have a nice day” he said, striding towards the window.

“What-? You’re leaving through the window?” she was taken by surprise.

“I have wings, it’s faster” he explained.

“Right, then. Goodbye” she muttered to herself as he left, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding “What the hell was that?” she thought to herself.

The next time they came to meet with the queens, Azriel surveyed the house, but Y/n was nowhere to be seen “your sister won’t be joining us?” he asked Elain.

“No, she went to her other home. Something happened at work” Elain replied.

“And even if she were here, she wouldn’t want to see those self-absorbed queens” Nesta added.

“Oh, I see” Azriel nodded, unsure if he was disappointed or relieved she wasn’t there.

The meeting did not go as well as they had hoped, but it was not a complete disaster either. Rhys offered Nesta and Elain to come live with them in Velaris, but Elain refused, as she was engaged to a fae-hating prick. So, Rhys sent his soldiers to look after them, with one waiting in the room they frequented everyday at noon and midnight in case they changed their minds.

—

Elain and Azriel were talking, when Y/n entered the living room. By now, she had grown somewhat accustomed to the presence of fae in their house, but she still resented it, especially now with fae soldiers guarding them. When Y/n returned, Nesta informed her of everything that happened while she was gone, which naturally annoyed her.

“You’re back” that was her way of greeting Azriel.

“I could say the same to you” he replied, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion. Noticing her expression, Azriel proceeded “you were missed at the meeting with the queens”.

“I doubt ‘missed’ is the word anyone would use, but I’m actually glad I wasn’t there. I don’t think I would’ve been able to hold back. Why are you here, spymaster?” she asked, swallowing hard.

“Y/n” Elain interjected at her sister’s ‘rudeness’.

“Same reason as last time” he answered.

“Did you not get the information yet?” Y/n avoided meeting his eyes.

“I did-”.

“We were having a civil conversation. You should try it some time” Elain muttered.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll stick to my ‘uncivil’ ways” Y/n said, ignoring Azriel once again as she walked out of the room.

“Forgive my sister. She can be rude sometimes, not that she notices often. But she has a kind heart, I promise” Elain tried to defend her sister’s actions.

“Don’t worry about it” he gave Elain a soft smile.

—

The next time Y/n was in the same room as Azriel was when they were face to face with the king of Hybern. She and her sisters were dragged and forced to kneel before the king. Nesta and Elain were in their nightgowns, while Y/n was in a teal dress. Her clothes were torn and covered in blood. Bruises painted her skin in shades of blue and purple, her lips swollen and cut, which oozed blood, same with the cut on her forehead. Her hair tousled, strands escaping from a once-neat bun. Despite her injuries, she stood tall, her posture defiant and unyielding, with a determined glint in her eyes; her spirit remained unbroken. She did not let them take her or her sisters without a fight, one where she fought with all her might until she couldn’t anymore.

Seeing Feyre and her companions, blood drained from Azriel’s face as he bled all over the floor, with an arrow penetrating his chest, her heart ached and she knew the worst was yet to come. They had failed. Feyre gave her an apologetic look, Rhys held Feyre’s hand in a comforting effort, while Cassian’s eyes were on Nesta and Azriel trying but failing to lift his head as Mor held him. Y/n noticed two other males present, from their physical description, she speculated who they were; the one who held Feyre captive and his friend; Tamlin and Lucien.

Feyre threatened the king, but he warned her to be careful, as he held her sisters’ lives in his hands. He was discussing what he’d do to the sisters with the mortal queens, Feyre and the others tried fighting him but his power was too strong, and with the cauldron he was undefeatable. They had all exhausted their powers and if they tried one more thing, Azriel was going to die, with all that poison coursing through his veins.

As Elain was dragged towards the cauldron, Y/n broke loose from the men that held her, quickly grabbing the sword from one of their sides, lunging it at the one holding Elain, who fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Before Y/n could reach her sister, the king struck her with his powers, sending her flying across the room “Ah, we have a spirited one here. Throw this one in last.. I want her to watch it all” the king gave his orders.

That blow broke some of Y/n’s bones, but even as she winced in pain she managed to sit up. “NO-” but it was too late, he had given the orders and Elain was thrown into the cauldron, her screams echoing in the room. Then there was silence, and never has Y/n hated silence as she did that moment. She wished for any sound, any cry, scream from her sister, but nothing, she was met with nothing but complete silence. A moment later, Elain was dumped out of the cauldron, alive. She was alive, but her ears, her ears were different, they were pointed, she was fae now.

A tear slipped down Y/n’s face as Nesta was about to be thrown in, knowing there was nothing she or anyone could do about it. Nesta fought all the way, until her head was shoved underwater. Silence fell again, before the cauldron spat her out. Like Elain, she had changed, but unlike Elain, she was full of rage. She walked over to Elain and pushed Lucien away, holding her as he claimed she was his mate.

“Bring the spirited one, let’s see if she’ll survive… My money is on you” he told Y/n.

“I will kill you, I promise you that” she threatened while being dragged. She tried fighting the men off, but with many of her bones broken, there was only so much she could do. Stil,l she did not make it easy for them to shove her in. The cauldron bubbled but went still after a moment. Nothing could be seen or heard. A worried look took over Feyre’s face.

“I guess she wasn’t strong-willed after all” the king stated. Just seconds later, Y/n emerged from the water and grabbed the edge as she climbed out of the cauldron. She fell to her knees from all the pain and glared at the king.

Suddenly, Feyre was begging the king to break her bond with Rhys and let them all go. The king agreed and both were on the floor screaming from pain. When the king was done, Mor grabbed the sisters and Rhys grabbed Cassian and Azriel and winnowed out.

The males arrived at the Town House, while the females were dropped off at the House of Wind. They would all need time to heal, physically and mentally.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever

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fagmuppet · 3 months

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cannibalism as a metaphor this, cannibalism as a metaphor that, but what about disease as a metaphor obsession. infection as a metaphor for infatuation. i’ll get inside your body and under your skin and change every cell in your body. i will invade you from the inside out. make myself at home in there until we are nothing but a virus and it’s host

#the inherent intimacy of disease 🚬#i’ll become a part of you and there’s nothing you can do about it #a virus needs a body #birdposting

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the-bottom-of-my-bucket · 2 months

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Questions

#How much longer until you forget about me #which hello will be our last #When will you start skipping my birthday party #What’s gonna be our last conversation #When will I become a memory #I hope I stay a good one #It’s like a slow painful death #I know how this is gonna end but there is nothing I can do to stop it #I care about you too much to rip the bandaid off #So I’ll keep pretending everything is fine until whether I’m okay doesn’t matter to you anymore #When will I be accept that your just a part of my life too

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chuluoyi · 1 month

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…”

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

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hoshigray · 3 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote.

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now.

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project.

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off.

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right?

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!”

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?”

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.”

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?”

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment.

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall.

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment.

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch.

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh. God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off.

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.”

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress.

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy.

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat.

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you.

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face.

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute.

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him.

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.”

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at.

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face.

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again.

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra.

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly.

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze.

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out.

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air.

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip.

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…”

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him.

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more.

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud.

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more.

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!”

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.”

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.”

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts.

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs.

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on.

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit.

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second.

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!”

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough.

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm.

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly.

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you.

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?”

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips.

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you.

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi.

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders.

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness.

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two.

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him.

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.”

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!”

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other.

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves.

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you.

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least — there might be something going on with you and Y/n?”

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy.

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said.

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you.

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two.

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome.

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him.

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter.

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry.

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

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bluejutdae · 2 months

Text

best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Chan x you

genre: romance, friends to lovers

warnings: asshole guy who thinks sex is required in exchange of a dinner

“I’m sorry but I really have to go, it’s a family emergency. But I’ll call you.” This guy is really pissing you off, but he’s tall and pretty muscular and the vibes you got from him during the (luckily short) date make you uncomfortable.

“Are you really using this lazy excuse? I invited you to dinner, I’m gonna pay, so the least you could do is to put it out there!” You blink in disbelief, he really is a creepy guy. Chan is on his way though, so the thought comforts you a little. You reach into your bag and grab a few bills and, as you place them on the table, you give the guy a sarcastic smile. “I can pay for my own dinner.”

Grabbing your jacket you turn your back to him, ready to leave, but the asshole grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him. You don’t have the time to do anything because a hand is suddenly around the guy’s wrist like a vice.

“Let her go immediately or I’m going to break your arm.” You’ve never heard Chan talking with such ice in his voice and a shiver runs along your spine.

“Fuck you both. I should have known you were a frigid bitch!” the guy lets you go and raises his free hand in surrender. Before letting him go, Chan looks at you for the first time since his arrival. “Are you okay?” You nod, confused. You thought your crush for Chan was long gone, but if the butterflies in your stomach are any indication, your crush is alive and burning.

Not even 5 minutes later, in a cab with Chan sitting next to you, you catch the end of your best friend’s sentence: “…can’t believe that asshole!”

“You know what’s funny? He called me a ‘frigid bitch’. Isn’t that a bizarre insult? What does it even mean?” Now that you’re with Chan, you’re calm and not scared anymore.

You hear him laughing, shaking his head. “Like anything that came out of his mouth made any sense… but really, are you okay?” You nod again. You’re not scared, you’re not uncomfortable, but something in your chest trembles at the idea of parting with Chan. “Can you stay over tonight?”, you ask quietly.

When you close the door, the atmosphere is uncommonly quiet and tense. Did you make Chan uncomfortable? Did he have other plans? Is he annoyed with you for always needing him? As all those thoughts run across your head, he slips out of his shoes and goes straight to the kitchen, feeling at home in your small apartment. “Can I steal some ramen? I didn’t have the time to eat a proper dinner.” In lieu of an affirmative answer, you wash your hands and start preparing a quick dinner for Chan. “I’m sorry I hijacked your night, Channie.”

“What are you talking about? My plans involved ramen at the dorms and hearing Hyunjin and Jisung screaming against the tv. They started a new drama”, he explains watching you moving around the kitchen. He loves to look at you while you’re busy, while you’re too occupied with something else to notice him studying you, watching you with love in his eyes. Tonight was once again proof you only saw him as a friend and nothing more: otherwise you wouldn’t have gone on a date, right?

Wrong.

You spent ages crushing over him, but once you were sure he felt nothing for you, you tried (in vain, apparently) to get over him.

You place a steaming bowl of food in front of him and sit at the table, looking at him.

“No more lame dates. No, you know what? No more dates.”

“You let a couple of bad guys ruin your search for true love?”

Well, he’s not gonna complain, but he also doesn’t want a bad experience to scar your hopes for romance. “Nah, they’re not worth it. My perfect match is not interested in me anyway.”

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said something like that, now he’s gonna ask questions.

“Perfect march, uh?”

You wave your hand, almost slapping away the topic. “Eat your food, Chan.”

“I thought you told me everything,” he pouts and you’re a weak weak person, how can you be tough in front of his pout?

“There is someone I like, I liked him for a while but it’s unreciprocated, so there’s no point in talking about him.”

“Then he’s dumb. Tell me his name?”

“You kinda know him, so I’d rather not… you know, don’t wanna make it weird.” Chan looks at you with a weird something in his eyes you can’t really understand, but for the sake of your secret you let it slide.

“Movie?”

The movie has been on for at least an hour but neither of you is really watching it. You’re cuddled on the couch, Chan’s head on your lap and your fingers slowly playing with his hair. It’s one of his favorite cuddling positions, and you love it cause you have the chance to watch him without being noticed.

“I wish you’d tell me who he is.”

You freeze in surprise, fingers stilling on his head.

“Chan…”

“No wait, listen for a second.” He sits now, and bites his lip. “We’ve always told pretty much everything, but there are things I haven’t told you either. So I will tell you something secret about me if you tell me who he is.”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because!”

He’s quick to get on his feet, walking on the small carpet in front of the tv. “Because I wanna know who’s this dumb guy who is not in love with you. What’s not to love? He’s lucky enough you are interested in him, something I’d give an arm for, and he’s not on his knees worshiping you?” He then freezes, like something hit him and trains his eyes on the floor. “Forget what I said”.

What did he say? Are you drunk and incapable of understanding or Chan just said he’d give an arm to have you interested in him? Something swells into your chest and you decide to be bold for once.

“Do you like me, Chan?”

He stills his pacing, gaze still trained to the floor, and nods carefully.

“It’s you.”

“Mh?”

“The guy I like, it’s you.”

He’s gonna have a sore neck tomorrow, considering the speed in which he raises his head.

“Me?” You nod, with a hopeful smile on your lips.

“I was convinced you felt nothing for me…”

You don’t know which one of you moved first, and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you’re kissing, now. You have his wet, soft and pillowy lips on yours, his tongue asking to be let in your mouth, your hands holding the other tight, almost to make sure this is real and you’re not going to vanish any seconds now.

“We’re such a clichè” he says on your lips, laughing cutely.

“Maybe. But I like it anyway.”

If being a clichè is what brought you two finally together, then so be it.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #skz Smau #skz fake texts #stray kids smau #stray kids fake texts #chan scenarios #chan fanfic #Thiana writes Chan

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hon3y-y · 3 days

Note

Roomie!sukuna doesn't even get horny for anyone other than you anymore. You have the wettest, nastiest pussy he's ever seen- and he deserves the best so nobody but you will do. You're fucking so many other fine men now that you dont even give him a second glance when he walks out the shower in just a towel to tease you. And oh, his temper when one of your hookups pick you up and you don't come home for the weekend. Or even worse, they stay for the weekend. Sukuna has never let a girl sleep over at the apartment but now there are two colognes in the bathroom, two pairs or men's shoes at the door, and he can almost never see you in the living room without some other man hanging off your side

read the other parts here! : part 1 part 2

he’s literally so embarrassingggg it’s not even funny. he’ll walk around and flex his muscles, smirk on his puffy lips as the water drips down his ripped torso. he stands outside your open door, you’re looking down at your phone deciding on whether to spend the night at choso’s or nanami’s (pick choso, nanami gets up at like 5 am 🙄), “showers empty..” sukuna basically purr’s, resting his arm on the doorway.

and you literally could not give less of a fuck💀

you just nod, mumbling a ‘thanks’ as you focus on putting both their names in a generator and letting that choose your fate for the night. let’s just say sukuna was extremely angry when a motorcycle pulls up and you just giggle and hop onto it, kissing the stupid leather clad boy while throwing on the custom bikers helmet choso had made for you. and to top it off, sukuna had to physically restrain himself from blowing up your phone on where the fuck you are??

messages;

ryo<3: didn’t see you this morning

you: i’m staying with choso for the weekend! sorry, should’ve told you last night:/

you: i also won’t be home after wednesday satoru is taking me to this festival! i’ll send pics😋

ryo<3: have fun 👍

omfg he’s losing it. he literally will spend the whole time in the gym, refusing to be in the empty apartment for longer than eight hours for sleep. he feels like there’s a cement brick in his chest when you’re whisked away by these men. but nothing is worse than when he stays over.

he being satoru.

it was becoming a huge issue. his longest “sleepover” was a week. a week where you weren’t even home for half of it. but sukuna was. he was there for all of it.

there was now a third toothbrush taking up countertop space in the bathroom, he would find satoru’s clothes in the wash (which would always somehow be in there whenever ryo specifically had to use it??), and gojo absolutely loved to make out with you everywhere but inside of your room and sukuna started to hated it. publicly claiming you in front of the guy who literally made it possible🙄 unbelievable.

let’s just say you take a break from bringing satoru over, doing your best to settle the tension at home. but sukuna couldn’t let it go, not when he stares at the stupid fucking blue electric toothbrush and knows that it’s only temporary.

at this point he didn’t even give a fuck about the other guys, you can keep them as long as he’s added onto your roster.

it’s been a while since the two of you had a movie night. something that used to, at the very least, happen once a month has been delayed due to your extra activities. the two of you relaxed into the couch, the movie was a random one you found choosing whatever looked the best by cover and for the first time in a while, sukuna felt like he had you.

“did you buy the candy?”

“shit, yeah. i think i left it in my room?”

“go get it while i make the popcorn!” you smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling excitedly. you looked so cute and soft, and ryo got a glimpse of your cute pink panties when you bent over to grab something so he was feeling just as good. he could already picture the little damp spot he’d create after teasing you and then force you to beg and make it up to him.

he thought about it the whole walk to his room, picking up the bag and then back to the living room, fantasizing about what he plans to do. and just as he’s about to turn the corner, a head of white fluffy hair is laying on your lap, legs spread to take up the full length of the couch. and the only seat available? the one farthest from you.

“i hope you don’t mind, satoru said he missed us!”

us… sukuna looked down at gojo, looking at the content quirk in his lip while he snuggled into you more, moving one of your hands into his hair to play with it. ryo’s eye twitched before he put the bag down and went back into his room, the door slamming behind him. the noise makes you force satoru up, a pit forming in your stomach. you didn’t want sukuna to feel uncomfortable in his own house—

“damn, what’s he so mad abo- he got macha kitkats!? mmm~”

*bonus*

sukuna is literally in his room about to dry heave because??? what alternative version of himself gave him such bad karma?!? in his room like this;

but quietly, because he DEFINITELY doesn’t want you to see him like this. such a fein🤦‍♀️

a/n: i didn’t put smut because i didn’t want to get repetitive BUT should we finally let sukuna get a taste?? part 4 where he finally gets her?? lmk🫶

*not edited*

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unorthodoxfaithxx · 1 month

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Crybaby Yandere Boyfriend when he thinks you’re cheating, Part 2

Nsfw ; AFAB

Quick recap : Crybaby boyfriend has you in his clutches after he sees you with another man at the cafe. He confronts you about it and now you’re here.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think of anyone else.”

He quickly tugs your pants off, mouth watering at the sight of your beautiful thighs he loves to bite so much.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. Only for me. Only for me…” He mutters that last part to himself, entranced by the way your eyes seem to pierce through his soul.

Laying on his stomach, he laps at your cunt like he’s was a man in the desert, and your body is his only oasis. You smell divine, and your own moans are rivaled by the volume of his. You arch your back, your boyfriend grunting as you move your hips closer to his face with your hands clutching his hair.

When you finally reach that mind-breaking orgasm, he looks as you with puppy-eyes, kissing you on the lips with a, “See, aren’t I good? No one can take care of you like I can. He’ll never be able to make you cum like I do.”

You begin to ask what who he’s referring to but he wants none of it. He silences you with a bite to your neck, whispering in your ear.

“Don’t,” He whines, “I don’t wanna hear you praising anyone else but me.”

You feel your lower part ache with need, and when you reach out to him with so much want and love in your eyes, you swear you see his eyes start to water again.

You beg, and he can do nothing else than take care of his sweetheart.

Panties taken off, he gently places a hand on your stomach. He slides his hard member into your entrance, and both of you gasp at the feeling.

He picks up a ravenous pace in no time, leaving you to melt in a state of bliss as you hear him chant, “Please don’t leave me, don’t leave me, I love you, don’t..” with each hard thrust.

He pushes your legs back to the point that your tits are squished between your legs, encroaching the deepest part of your being with intense passion. Your pussy throbs in pleasure, lewd squelching noises doing little to overshadow your cries.

When he starts playing with your clit, the overstimulation nearly breaks you. You’re about to cum again when your loverboy abruptly stops, leaving you empty and craving so much more.

He looks at you with a ferocity in his eyes. “Tell me I’m the only one for you and I’ll help you finish. Say that you’re mine.”

He starts back up again with an agonizingly slow pace, “Come on, say it!” He coaxes. You relent with ease, and the relief on his features is palpable, so clear that you can’t help but feel bad for making him feel so insecure. Of course you love him. You have no problem telling him that, watching with a loving smile as he grins down back at you, eyes glassy.

“Thank you,” he says, and immediately moves to devour you again, pumping hard into you while you wrap your legs around him. He meets your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva trailing between the two of you as his tongue explores the crevices of the mouth he loves so much. You tangle your tongue with his and his cock twitches in excitement.

“Fuck it, I want to breed you so bad, cover that sweet pussy in my cum. I wanna fill you up so much. Please baby, please? Let me cum in you.”

With him begging like that, how can you say no? You know he’s close because he grips you tighter, breath stuttering. He looks so cutely pleased when you say yes, and his thrusts become rough and haggard. Warmth fills your core as you hear him cry out, whining against your neck with a bite as he releases into you.

Despite being finished, he refuses to let you go, opting to pull you into his chest as he rests his head atop yours. He sighs contentedly.

Minutes pass in peace when you get a text message from a certain someone.

“Oh look,” you cry, “It’s my sister! She says she’s in town with her boyfriend.

You show him a picture. Much to his shock, she’s your TWIN, smiling with the man he was sure he saw you with earlier in the cafe that day.

If he had any more tears to cry, it’d be of embarrassment.

#male yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere male #yandere drabble #soft yandere #yandere imagine #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling #yandere x you #Part 2

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lewisvinga · 3 months

Text

a rich man | logan sargeant x fem! reader

summary; self made millionaire y/n l/n becomes part of the line of alpine investors but due to her young age, everyone is trying to connect her to a driver except the only driver she has an actual connection to.

fc; jarinpat

warnings; cursing

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! also can ppl pls give woc fcs 😩

masterlist !

liked by yourusername, trentarnold66, and others !

alpinef1team: introducing 1/2 of our investor lineup ! welcome y/n l/n, trent alexander-arnold and travis kelce to the team! 🤝🤝

tagged; yourusername, trentarnold66, killatrav

killatrav: grateful to be apart of the team!

username: VIVAAA LAS VEGAS

trentarnold66: glad to be part of alpine 🤝

username: holy shit liverpool x f1, i’m gonna go crazy

yourusername: so happy to be an investor and be apart of the team 🩷🩷

username: this is so cool wait

username: y/n looks so young omg who is sheee

username: she’s a self made millionaire ! started her blog at 15 about beauty and fashion and built her empire since then! she became a millionaire at 18 and is now 22!

username: that’s so sick

username: y/n being 22 and investing in alpine is crazyyyyy i wanna be like her fr

username: i think she’s dating someone bc why would she invest in f1?

username: i also think that whoever she’s dating is the reason why she’s rich!

username: wtf are yall saying…. y/n came from nothing and built a beauty empire on her one, she doesn’t need a rich man to be rich, she became a rich woman on her own 🤣

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: a rich man and her american boyfriend🤍

tagged; yourusername

logansargeant: did not appreciate everyone connecting you to everyone else but me.

yourusername: acting like we weren’t on a date together when everyone was going crazy on twitter !

logansargeant: i love you 🤍

yourusername: i lovee you🤍

username: OMG IT WAS LOGAN??

username: i was so sure she wasn’t dating a driver but her dating logan is so🥹🥹

username: queen shit

username: parents are parenting

username: I LOVE THEM🥹

lilymhe: my sugar mommy 😮‍💨😝

yourusername: my sugar baby😙

logansargeant: u got other sugar babies ??😥i’m not the only one ?😥😥

yourusername: ur my special sugar baby🩷

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and others !

logansargeant: i’d be a 1950s housewife for her if she asked

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: LMFAOOO LOGAN😭

yourusername: i’ll retire u bae, when we have kids you’ll be a stay at home dad ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

logansargeant: w a girl like u, i’d make sure you have a nice hot meal everyday you come home to a clean house too

username: logan’s such a simp for her, he’s just like me

username: THE CAPTION LMFAOOO😭😭😭

username: wow she’s gorgeous 😍

alex_albon: time to get u an apron

logansargeant: #stayathomebfcore

username: 1950S HOUSEWIFE😭😭

username: y/n really won, she’s a self made millionaire and has a hot bf, she is HER

username: logan : 🫃

username: he said ‘yes i do the cooking, yes i do the cleaning 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️'

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #logan sargeant social media au #logan sargeant smau #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader

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satoruhour · 10 months

Text

GO!

a/n: racer jjk men …….. mmgfnghgn..gg.f.. if u can tell i’ve never watched f&f, you would be correct. i only watched tokyo drift for research 😭 also im talking out of my ass by using random car terminology !!!! i don’t even know whether anything i said was possible so just close one eye please :3

warnings: essentially car sex & pet names & unprotected sex for everything, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, public sex, geto listens in on a call, riding, implied p → v penetration, implied creampie / breeding, implied threesome w/ stsg (gojo), clit stimulation, handjob, semi-public sex, p → v penetration, doggy, geto asks and then takes a pic of you, creampie / breeding (geto), praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, pleasure dom nanami, squirting, clit stimulation (nanami), age gap (reader’s early 20s, toji is forty), oral (m receiving) while driving, facefucking, semi-public sex, clit stimulation, daddy kink, implied p → v penetration (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

“my, my,” gojo smirks as he looks over to you in his 1999 Nissan Skyline R34 when your hand makes contact with his thigh, “couldn’t wait till we reached there?” on the way to the races that gojo loved to bring you to, it was a silent rule that gojo was one of the people that ruled the underground racing scene in tokyo — that means leaving his opponent sighing at the steering wheel and being the object of your kisses at the end of it.

gojo was talented, but he knew he wouldn’t sit well in the driver’s seat if he didn’t share the victory with you. the racer speeds at any opportunity, but today he takes the time to drive his baby just so he could have more time to fuck her.

sometimes gojo rubs off on you in terms of disposition, because you’ve become fairly good with composing yourself into times of tribulation with your constantly-horny boyfriend. your calmness could be commended, but your breaths still give off your aroused state, his fingers continuing to draw a faint line up your legs which are rubbing and squeezing against each other. even with the aircon on full blast, you still feel undeniably hot.

“so wet…” gojo hums as his hand feels the wet patch that’s pooling in your panties before slipping it to the side, driving unaffected while he keeps his eyes on the road. he’s fucked you so many times already, memorised the feel of your body that it doesn’t take him much to insert his fingers and find that sweet spot. you squeal, hands flying to grab at his forearm. your pussy clenches around his fingers, and it makes him hum, pushing him to adjust his pelvis in his seat. no doubt your cute sounds are affecting him.

“s-satoru! the race?” you panic and hope to distract his attention elsewhere, but gojo’s a master at multitasking.

“what’re you talking about? we’re on the way, princess.” he’s right, taking you through the familiar streets of shinjuku before switching to a lane that takes the car into an underground tunnel. it’s a route you can remember, but you hardly give a shit currently where you can feel your juices pool below you.

“sato—” you whine, your squeezing thighs doing nothing to deter him, “your s-seat’s getting soaked.”

“s’fine, i’ll clean it up later,” gojo grins, sparing you a quick glance where he likes you the most: lips parted with moans escaping, knuckles white from clutching onto the seat and your pussy leaking your juices all over his palm. “c’mon, you’re a good girl, aren’t you? don’t you want to cum?” gojo knows all of your habits, so he taunts you, teases you by slowing down his fingers just a little and plays with your clit. a ringtone doesn’t distract him, easily accepting the call from his phone on the dashboard.

there’s a soft on the way? from the caller, seemingly whispering into the phone like he was hiding from something and you’re struggling to keep from moaning too loud by keeping a hand to your mouth. you’re hyperfocused on your boyfriend’s fingers that you don’t exactly hear what they’re talking about, but you do faintly make it out to be geto on the other end. you’re so close that you might’ve left bruises on gojo’s forearm.

“satoru, you might wanna camp out in a nearby parking lot before comin’ over. officers are patrolling around the starting line.” it wasn’t weird for races to be pushed back, by engines malfunctioning, by police officers doing their nightly patrol but while the black-haired racer is just a little agitated at the delay, you’re surprised to see your boyfriend sporting a shit-eating smile.

“good, that just means i have more time,” gojo pauses to groan when you start to clench around his fingers. he knows you’re close and you want to fucking kill him when he easily reaches the spot that has you seeing stars, all the while having his best friend on the line, “to fuck my lovely girlfriend.”

“oh f-fuck… satoru! ’m cumming mmf…!” you don’t bother holding back on your mewls and whimpers, then, not exactly caring if geto hears cause he’s shared you with him before. gojo fingers you through your orgasm, your pupils blown wide and jaw dropping as you seek refuge in the hot pink seats gojo got for you while you continue to cry out his name.

within minutes, he’s pulling into an abandoned parking lot and swerving the car into a secluded spot before making use of the modification he made to his Skyline, reclining his driver’s seat (courtesy of your suggestion and he was driving off to the mechanic the next day) and beckoning you over with a smile.

you could only return his sly smile as he removes his pants, cock already hard and weeping from its tip from all the teasing he’s done to you, hard from knowing he’s the only one to get you moaning like a bitch in heat. and when you sink down easily, it’s like heaven on earth, the adrenaline giving the both of you a high.

it’s no surprise when gojo easily wins the race later, receiving you with open arms and a sloppy kiss, all while his cum’s leaking from your panties and your cunt still feels a little empty — so when you both receive a message from geto asking for a late-night drive with just the three of you, you’re quick to leave the scene to get stuffed full again.

✶ GETO

“suguru!” you smile as you enter the garage that’s housed suguru’s cars since he was a high school student, the familiar gold and black accents spread throughout the large space. he was lucky to have a father who’s a manufacturer, and despite the many engines and parts he’s gone through, it was a wonder his dad hasn’t exactly uncovered his rising fame in the tokyo racing scene, even if he comes home with some cuts and a roughed up car to match.

“hey princess,” he calls out, still focused on the minute parts of the 13B-REW engine and switching out his outdated intercooler for the Blitz, something that he had to persuade his father with with good grades and exemplary behaviour in his after school activities. “just making some changes to the Mazda. how’s my baby doin’— oh wow.”

your immediate reaction is to grin at him, heat blooming throughout your face as you descend the steps to where his vehicles were, sporting a cute little miniskirt and knee high boots. it’s not that you haven’t dressed like this before, but every time you do, it manages to make his breath hitch. that’s not the main attractive point today, though, eyes dropping to the fat of your thigh where a new tattoo had found its home — a black widow weaving chinese knots and it looks so damn good on you that your boyfriend wastes no time in removing the hood strut and slamming the hood close.

you don’t usually sit on his 1997 Veilside Mazda RX-7 much, but geto is determined to change that when you’re propped up like a doll on the sleek black design of the car, wandering hands slipping under your skirt as you’re humming into the deepening kiss. the other groans against your lips when he finds your clit, rubbing languid circles into it and you spread your legs further to accommodate his fingers, exposing your neck for his lips to suck on while his free hand gets busy with your perky tits.

“you’re so… fuckin’ wet,” geto mumbles into your neck, stifling your moans with yet another kiss. the way he’s rubbing at your bundle of nerves is so distinct, you couldn’t even replicate it if you tried, usually left dissatisfied after cumming on your own fingers. “my pretty angel.”

“yeah? you like me on your Mazda?” you say with a lilt to your voice, and although the pet names bring another wave of shyness and fire to your cheeks, your hands speak otherwise as they trail down his torso to the trousers he’s got on. it’s you against him to see who makes the other break first — geto moans when you fish out his dick, already semi-hard from all the teasing and your hand’s warm like how your pussy usually feels, stroking him in a pace that matches the hand on your clit.

“fucking love you on it,” geto laughs breathlessly, hot breath fanning against your lips and hips bucking into your palm, “love your hands on my cock, too.”

“ditto, baby,” you reply in a breathy whimper, but geto mutters something else along the lines of too bad i need my cock in you now before a surprised yelp leaves you when you’re flipped over suddenly. with hands flat on the hood and a knee propped up, he’s careful not to bring any discomfort to your new tattoo. bit by bit, he’s sheathing himself into your dripping cunt, pleas and obscenities flooding the spacious garage as you beg him to move.

your boyfriend’s a racer, ’course he knows how to do that, but he takes pride in teasing you, letting you feel every last bit of his dick as he bottoms out. “suguru… fuck me, please.”

“planning on it — shit, you’re so tight — let me enjoy your cute lil pussy for a bit, princess.” geto has both hands move down the expanse of your back, appreciating your attractive arch, and then then down to your ass and folds where he’s filling you with his fat cock. and when he starts to move, your mewls become incomprehensible and your fingers grasp at anything, but you’re afraid of scratching the smooth finishing of his Mazda, settling for holding onto his forearms.

“suguruuu… oh my g-god!” you love the way your obscene noises fill the space, juices flowing freely down your thighs as the other finds a steady pace. “right there— f-fuck…”

geto is no different, hypnotised with how his length disappears into your heat that he doesn’t notice your twitching body, but he still knows you’re close by how your clamp around him like a vice, pussy tightening up to make sure he gives you all his cum. by this time, you’re delirious from the squelching noises of your cunt and the slap of his hips into yours that your orgasm comes unexpectedly.

“cumming, cumming, suguru—!” your thighs shake and shiver through the euphoric feeling, still riding the wave of the orgasm before geto wraps his arms tight around your middle, mumbling confessions into your ears until he’s spilling deep into you, too. geto cums so much, and you moan at the feeling of being filled up, body slumping forward. between geto’s help and an aching question, you’re content to lay on the stunning car as he snaps a photo of you before cleaning you up.

it’s not until later when you’re at getting pounded again by him when you see his phone screen light up — the screensaver photo being the one of you on his car with legs pried open and cum spilling out your pretty pussy — that you know you’ve got geto wrapped around your finger.

✶ NANAMI

“mr. nanami?” your father calls out in the deserted shop, empty apart from the clang of metal against metal and the late night radio droning on about some love story sent in by a listener. despite how it’s almost 11 at night, your father was always happy to help with people’s cars due to a love for them since he was young.

even if that someone’s car was a 1968 Dodge Charger with a LS3 engine that he only knew the US had. when he comes around the back, he merely rubs his fingers together.

“this guy’s got money money,” you burst out laughing, landing a hit on your dad’s shoulder at his comment, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. looking out from the supply room, the man standing near the entrance of the shop looked exactly like the part: rich, tall, blonde, hot, and donning an annoyed look as he scolds someone named gojo who’s on the other line.

there’s a firm expression set into his features before he lunges forward at the sound of his surname and his pondering expression melts away to make way for a smile, and you swear you feel your knees buckle. but you have no time for daydreaming, also emerging from the room to collect money and complete the transaction like you usually do with clients.

“my daughter here will take your payment,” the older man nods his head toward you after explaining the changes he made to the engine, specifically the crankshaft which contained newer journals with older webs — this particular combination made the oil system faulty and rigid, and even for a tamer temper like nanami’s, it still irritated him to no end when the Dodge Charger wouldn’t start properly.

this would’ve been a piece of cake to solve, though, if it wasn’t for your dad’s japan-only parts, which function minutely different to american engines. so your dad had promised another day to fix nanami’s car after the parts had arrived, even refusing to accept nanami’s apologies and offers to pay for the america-based engine the first time he came to you guys.

it’s like the initial demeanour had faded, bowing profusely at the kind-hearted nature of your dad and he waves it off, passing it off as a passion that still burned strong within him; he only wrote a receipt for the repair of the engine, after all.

“collect the nice man’s payment and close up shop, okay?” your father places a kiss to your template and bids farewell to nanami as well who’s feeling still a little flustered, “i’ll head off to bed first.”

“thank you, truly,” nanami bowed again to you as he felt around for his card, producing a black card for you to process the transaction.

“it’s nothin’. dad’s usually like that, always so generous with his services and then blames it on his passion,” you laugh a little and nanami does too.

“i understand, tell him thank you again.”

you shoot him a thumbs up and a smile, handing him back his card with clammy palms and fidgety fingers. you both know you’re not exactly ready to say goodbye to this fine-ass man so you strike up conversation with a terribly stupid opener.

“so… you drive?”

“i would think so,” nanami chuckles as he makes his way over to his Dodge Charger, loving the way you almost want to dig yourself a hole from what you asked, “i race. actually.”

and you swear you can hear the pulse in your pussy quicken, swallowing a lump in your throat at the vision of being spread out on the hood of nanami’s car, blonde head of hair hidden between your legs.

you just didn’t know that vision would come true today; well — tomorrow, since one question led to a conversation past twelve, led to advances from the both of you and now you’re moaning out nanami’s name as your sensitive core is being devoured by the racer, kneeling at the front of his own car like the hood of his car is your throne.

you voice your concerns about being ate out so shamelessly with the garage door open, voice breaking as he eats and laps at your dripping cunt like a starved man, sucking hard on your clit as he plays with your hole, teasing his thick fingers around your entrance just enough for it to clench around nothing.

“it’s past 12, don’t worry your pretty little head about someone watching,” he reassures you, palms spread out against your stomach. “plus, you taste divine,” nanami groans from your core before he plunges a finger into you, causing you to jerk in shock at the intrusion — it’s so good you forget about your worries. “so tight too, shit.”

“nanami…” you drag out the last bits of his name in a whine, hips bucking up to take in more of his needy tongue and his replied hum sends vibrations throughout your body. you’re so wet that you’re able to take another finger. “just like that. oh my god, your t-tongue.” your hand naturally pulls at his blonde locks, pushing him deeper into your centre; he likes it, squeezing your ass in the process.

“can i cum, nanami?” you plead for it, the unexpected obedience has nanami reeling and he gives you the green light.

“’course you can, such a good girl, aren’t you?” the shop is filled with your moans and the dirty, sopping sounds of your pussy as he flicks his tongue, memorising the way your thighs clench around his head and how sweet you smell and taste. he’s definitely not letting this pussy go, “good girls get to cum.”

“i’m gonna— ooh shiitt…” nanami lets your hips go on their own accord and another groan from the racer is enough to have you cumming on his fingers and tongue, “fuuck, i’m cumming-!” he praises you like you’re his royalty while you gush all over him, squirting your release all over his face as he happily downs your juices like he’s done it before. he’s sure to do it again in the future.

“attagirl,” both the metal of his car and his affectionate names for you sends tremors throughout your body and legs, orgasming so hard you see white and it’s clear he enjoys giving head like his life depended on it.

you catch your breath briefly, brushing your fingers through his hair and admiring the sight before you until he returns to his intimidating and looming height, helping you to sit up and patting your thigh affectionately

“hope that’s enough payment for the parts. or would you prefer instalments instead?” he says the cheesy line with such a calm face you’d think he was in a business meeting, but the stoicism makes you stifle a giggle.

it’s not long before you’re returning your dad the money nanami had insisted on, but more importantly, being all dolled up in the passenger seat, his teasing hand on your thigh and a full pretty lace set underneath your miniskirt.

✶ TOJI

it’s not uncommon to find a veteran on the racing scene. fushiguro toji had his time of fame in the 80s, but now he’s back for more after fathering a whole child — something his close friends back then didn’t think he could do. it was an endearing sight, a large, burly man carrying something as precious as megumi but it didn’t halt his drifting trips on the mountains, taking his 1966 Chevrolet Corvette for a ride every time he needed to clear his mind; on a less safer note, megumi as a toddler was sometimes in the passenger seat.

megumi was already set to follow in his footsteps the moment he was born, showing a keen interest in cars more than robots or barbies (toji did buy one when megumi reached for a doll dressed in all black, though) and that only increased when he accompanied his dad on his drift trips, many times imagining himself in front of the wheel, gliding through the corners easily. even if the corvettes in the 60s weren’t exactly drifting material, he learned to do it perfect. plus, it still held memories for toji.

“who’s that?” your friend could hardly stop her jaw from hitting the floor after her comment, clearly a little flustered at seeing a forty year old stroll through the underground car parks like he owned the place. he did, 20 years ago, but his name seems to still precede him when hushed whispers and murmurs follow him. although he’s here to support his son’s first drifting race, he’s still fairly popular to be getting enquiries from curious mechanics and avid car enjoyers.

“megumi’s dad,” you grin with a hidden sense of satisfaction, because you didn’t just know him from afar. how his hips swayed when he walked or how he loved that stupid compression shirt, that was everyone’s perception of him, but you knew how his hips felt as it grinded against you. you always never fail to recall the raspiness of his voice against your ears as he mumbled the dirtiest things, only for you to hear. it’s why you revel in the way your friend’s jaw drop past the concrete into hell when the older man catches your eye (he always liked to look for you in crowds), and winks, prompting the gossip to only increase in volume.

“you’re in cahoots with megumi’s dad?” you didn’t care much if people suspected something going on between the two of you. even megumi didn’t exactly care, who was a few years younger than you in his last year of high school. he was content enough that his dad wasn’t alone after giving so much of him to raise megumi. anyway, you always had his trust fund to rely on and if anyone fucked you as good at toji did, you wouldn’t give two shits either way.

“hey doll,” toji’s grin matches yours, planting a sloppy kiss to your temple as you both wait at his Corvette, all roughed up from the race the day before. he hasn’t had time to fix it up, driving the familiar route to the mechanics before you sent him a text about how megumi’s got challenged to a race by some newbie at school — it was laughable so much so that it even prompted toji to use those emojis he hated so much.

it was a race worth seeing, especially if one of the contestants was the tokyo drifting king’s son. toji doesn’t need to say much, waving off megumi with a salute before the countdown begins like clockwork. the increasing revs of their engines draw you from your stupor, the newbie looking wrongfully excited despite the failure that’ll befall him in a few minutes. once go is signalled, they take off, giggling at you feel toji’s arm curl around your waist.

“he’ll win,” he’s as nonchalant as they come, but it rings true when he’s the one who had megumi going 15 rounds ’round the docks and mountains every week. with screeching tires, a RB26DETT engine and years of drifting lessons to back him up, megumi finishes the race first. he rolls his eyes when his friends and fans crowd his car like moths to a flame, but he can’t help shoot a wave to his father who smiles genuinely. it was unspoken that megumi was silently thanking him inside, before he drives off to celebrate the easy win.

“c’mon, baby. we’ve had our share. say goodbye like a good girl,” you pull your friend into a side hug who’s still barely able to wrap her head around the two of you, but she’s able to muster a brief goodbye before the rev of his Corvette draws eyes once again, speeding off into the night. it’s clear toji’s on a high from watching his son race and win, seeing it in the way he goes full throttle past shibuya square and down inokashira street with a laugh.

the fire in his eyes, the coy grin he’s got on reminds you of times you’ve experienced the feeling of toji deep in you, clutching onto the sheets on the tatami mats and face shoved into the pillow as he bullies his fat cock into you. the thoughts have you feeling up his thigh, and he doesn’t notice your wandering, needy hands until they come incredibly close to his cock. he shifts gears before grasping onto your wrist, shooting you a look of warning.

but you do anything but listen, rejoicing in your small victory when you feel the car slow down from his speeding spree so it’s safe for you. palming his bulge, you gasp at how hard he already is and he adjusts his lower half, clearly uncomfortable with his tightening pants.

“let me make you feel good, toji,” you mumble, hands fumbling with his belt and zipper before you pull his dick from his boxers, looking so pretty with its mushroom tip that leaks pre-cum. toji pulls lightly on your hair as a second warning before you’re able to twist your body to lean down, eyes flitting up to look at him in faux apology. “sorry, daddy.”

toji sighs once your mouth descends on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and hand squeezing your nape in pleasure. no matter how many times you get his length in his mouth, the size always catches you off guard and it causes you to choke when the car runs over a speedbump. you have to take a second to cough.

“sorry, babylove,” you wordlessly shake your head as a way to say it’s okay, because toji takes care of you without you needing to ask him; it’s only fair he deserves his own fair share of care too. “but your mouth— shit. feels so fuckin’ good on daddy’s cock.”

you suck in your cheeks and pump the places where your mouth can’t reach, sides already aching from the uncomfortable position but you continue to bob your head. toji’s groans and bucking hips has got you soaking your panties, spit and pre-cum dribbling down the sides of his length and you waste no time to lick a stripe to clean up, settling for circling your tongue around his tip.

toji moans out with a number of profanities and a fist tightly clenched around the steering wheel — your mouth is so soft and warm that he decides that he needs to pull over at a quiet parking lot behind a bar so he can focus on fucking your mouth and imagine it’s your tight pussy he’s plunging into, not that he has to imagine. your lips are still on him when the car halts and you feel more stable than ever, both hands pulling apart his thighs to take him deeper into your mouth.

“cock’s so big,” you babble and ramble like a little slut, slurping up your messy job with the help of your hands. just like your walls, the ridges along your mouth feel lovely and when his tip meets the back of your throat, he throws his head back. “need your cum down my throat…”

“yeah?” toji breathes out, hands tangling themselves in your hair before tapping your skull, a discussed rule for the two of you: two taps on your head when he wants to facefuck you, and two taps on his thigh if you can’t breathe. “i’ll have ta fuck your little whore mouth first, can daddy do that?”

you nod lazily, steadying yourself on the compartment housing the stick shift before his hips lift off the seat and he starts a pace that even he can’t keep up for long. one look at your cute doe eyes has got him whining and mumbling about how pretty you look right now, clutching on your head so hard that it has his knuckle turning white.

toji’s thighs are flexing and contracting from the movement, but you can point out when he starts to fumble and tremble at the mercy of your mouth. his thrusts are getting sporadic, just like how you’re reaching your limit, too, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “g’nna cum down your throat, baby, ya want that?”

you sound a hum of agreement before toji’s hips still and he shoots his load down your throat, thick blobs of cum that spill from his tip, “that’s it, doll, take it all like a good slut,” and you swallow at least twice to get it all down. you show him a small amount of cum left on your tongue before he brings you up to kiss you harshly, giving your ass a firm smack and then you’re plopping down onto the seat again, wiping the side of your mouth like a good meal well devoured.

the wind is immediately knocked out of you as he brings up the speed with a hand inching towards your core, and you’re so glad he’s switched out his 327 small-block for a 427 V8 engine, the lampposts speeding past you and his fingers playing with your cunt enough to give you an adrenaline high to last throughout the night, cause toji’s far from done with you.

okay i digress. / pt. 2 here

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lincolndjarin · 4 months

Text

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

1K notes · View notes

wandasgf · 8 months

Text

WEST COAST. mdni. 18+.

pairings: older!natasha romanoff + f!maximoff!reader

summary: in which natasha agrees to help with a bake sale and you both stumble into admitting your feelings

warnings: legal age gap (natasha is 43 and reader is 22), pining lesbians, top!natasha, bottom!reader, finger sucking, light dom/sub dynamics, fingering, brief daddy kink

wc: 5.7k

a/n: thank you very much for this request, it gave me brain worms, also this is not proof read so :]

“Come on, Tash, please? Mom said you’d go with me because she’ll be busy with B and T’s school fair.” You practically beg the older woman, holding your cell phone carefully between your cheek and shoulder as you finish mixing up the ingredients for the cupcakes you were baking; it wouldn’t be the first time you dropped it in some cake batter if you weren’t careful. Half of them were for Billy and Tommy’s school fair and the other half were for the bake sale you were helping out with at your university. You had taken it upon yourself to do the baking this year because you knew your mother, Wanda, would be busy with work and getting your younger brothers ready for the fair. They were always very hyper and excitable, it took a lot to round them up. You didn’t really mind though, you did have some extra free time and you always got restless when you truly had nothing to do.

Natasha chuckles on the other end of the phone, “Your mom can say anything she wants, sweetheart. That doesn’t make it true, that just makes her Wanda.” She can practically hear you rolling your eyes as you groan at her response. She’s typing lazily with one hand as the other holds her cellphone, not paying nearly as much attention to her work as she should, especially with the deadlines coming up for this quarter. She can’t help it, though, you rarely call her like this, and when you do she wants to give you as much attention as she possibly can. “Besides, I thought this was something you could handle on your own. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? A little bake sale shouldn’t scare you.”

“Ugh, I’m not scared, you jerk. I just think it would be a little easier if I had someone to help me! And, I want to check out everything else too. I heard the haunted house this year is gonna be amazing! Peter’s working on it with MJ, I just have to go,” you put the phone down on the counter and put it on speaker, not wanting to risk dropping it while you pour the batter into the cupcake tray; that wouldn’t be the first time either. “It won’t be as much fun if I’m by myself, and Kate will be busy trying to make people want to join the archery club. Please? It’ll be so fun, I’ll even give you a cupcake for free.” You try to bargain with her, knowing that she’s always been a fan of your baking since she’s so terrible at it herself.

The bake sale was a part of your university’s fall celebration. Every October, they held a bake sale, a club fair, a haunted house, games and some other things in the week leading up to Halloween. This was your fourth one, and usually, you’d force your friend Kate to help you, but this year she’d agreed to help out with the archery club before you could ask. Not that you minded, because when you brought it up, your mother had absentmindedly suggested that maybe Natasha could help you since she couldn’t, and you would never say no to spending time with the redhead. You don’t know when exactly your schoolgirl crush on your mother’s friend turned into the very real thing it was now. You wouldn’t even say it was a crush because at this point you were certain you were damn near in love with the older woman, but you knew it was something you could never have. So, even as you and Natasha grew closer as you grew older, becoming something akin to friends now that you’ve reached your early twenties, all you could do was cherish the time you got together.

You can hear Natasha sigh before she responds, “Fine, but you better make it two or I’m leaving before you get to that haunted house.” You’re about to thank her profusely before she speaks again, effectively cutting you off before you even started, “Now, listen, I’d love to stay on the phone with you, but if I’m gonna take the day off tomorrow, I’ve got some work to finish. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

You both bid each other goodbye and once you hang up the phone, you smile giddily. Natasha was going to take the day off tomorrow for you. Natasha, who was always busy with work, was going to take the day off so she could help you with your silly fall bake sale. “Oh my God… Oh my God!” You feel like a teenage girl with a crush again, getting so excited over something so simple, but you just can’t help it because you know if anyone else had asked, Natasha would have said no. You check the time to make sure none of your family members would be home soon before you call Kate. You just have to tell her about this. You have to get out all your nervous excitement and giddiness before you see Natasha tomorrow, you’ve always been afraid she could see right through you and your feelings. You didn’t need to be more obvious than usual tomorrow.

And, yeah, you do make two cupcakes specially for Natasha with red icing because you know it’s her favorite color even though the rest of the icing is orange and black.

Tomorrow comes quicker than both you and Natasha would like. You, because you still don’t know what to wear, and honestly, you’re a little worried Kate might come by and say something stupid. She’s always telling you to just put it out there and let Natasha know how you feel, but you can name at least a thousand reasons why that is the worst idea she’s ever had. Not including when she broke the church’s bell tower by accident when she was a freshman. First and foremost being that Natasha is your mother’s best friend, Natasha is twice your age, and ruining the little platonic relationship that you have with Natasha would hurt you more than when Karolina Dean moved away in the seventh grade when the two of you had what you would now call some sort of situationship.

And Natasha, because she doesn’t really know why she agreed to do this at all. She really does have work she needs to get done and there’s truly no reason she couldn’t have told you to ask one of your university friends to help you, she knows Kate isn’t your only friend, far from it. Well, the first part of that is a lie– she does know why. She knows exactly why she agreed to help you, she agreed because you asked. What she doesn’t know is what she’s going to do around you today with no one as buffer. No Wanda, no Billy, no Tommy, not even her sister Yelena, it’s just you and her. Sure, there would be other students on campus and coming up to the bake sale table, but in her mind, it’s still just you and her. She doesn’t like when it’s just you and her, because when it is everything feels too real. Suddenly, when it’s just the two of you, there’s no reason for her to hold back. And she knows she needs to hold back, she has to because there’s no world in which you would ever be allowed to be hers.

You’re holding up different sweaters in the mirror, trying to figure out which looks better with the particular shade of denim you’re wearing, when you hear a knock on your door and your mother walks in. “What’s up?” You turn your head to look at her before turning back to the mirror, still trying to decide. “The one with the brown in it,” she hums, walking over to sit on your bed. She’d always been able to tell just what you were thinking even if you didn’t ask. “You’re overthinking this sweater a lot. Are you sure it’s just Natasha that’s going to be with you today?” You weren’t prepared for her question and your eyes widen just the slightest and you hope she doesn’t notice. “Yeah, just Natasha. Kate’s doing her archery thing, and I think America is helping MJ and Peter with the haunted house.”

“Okay… Well, if there was someone, you know it’s okay for you to tell me, right?”

“Mom!” You groan, she seriously cannot be doing this right now. You’re a grown woman, for god’s sake… but you do appreciate how much she cares for you, you just can’t tell her. Ever.

“Alright, alright! I just wanted you to know. The boys and I are going to be leaving in a few minutes. You should come say goodbye to them, I think they’re going to stay at your father’s tonight...”

You make a noise of agreement, nodding. You know there was a ‘but’ that she wanted to say, but you both knew what it was without her saying it out loud. They were supposed to stay with Vision last weekend too, but that never happened. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Wanda squeezes your shoulder as she walks past you, and you wait until she’s shut the door before you let your head fall back slightly, staring up at the ceiling. You can’t help but think she’s known for a while, and you feel slightly nauseous at the fact. If she knows, maybe Natasha does too, and that just can’t happen.

Natasha arrives a few minutes after Wanda and the boys leave, opting to pull into the driveway when she sees the lack of her friend’s minivan in it. She told you she’d pick you up because it made no sense to take two cars and she had to pass your house to get to the university anyway. She takes two seconds before she turns the car off and gets out. She’s too old to be acting like an insecure teenager, she can do this. She’s dressed for the occasion, wanting to fit into the fall theme, wearing a nice knit sweater and a casual pair of pants.

Her heart squeezes when you open the door and you’re wearing your own knit sweater, she forgot how cute you looked during the fall. “Tasha! I’ll just be a few minutes, I have to get everything packed up and put my shoes on, but then we can go. Come in!” You’re out of her sight as quick as you stepped into it, wanting to get everything done as quickly as possible. You didn’t want to make her wait.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t make me stand out here the whole time.” Natasha steps inside, wiping any dirt off of the bottom of her boots on the doormat. She’d take them off, but there’s no point if you’ll just be leaving in a few minutes, anyway. Sue her. “Where are those cupcakes I was promised?”

“They’re on the counter, the red ones.” You call out from the kitchen, you weren’t expecting her so early or maybe you’d lost track of time after you said your goodbyes to everyone earlier. It’s a comfortable silence as you move around the room, packing everything up while Natasha eats her cupcakes, offering to help you every few minutes, but you just wave her off. She wouldn’t usually let you do that, but she was enjoying the food, so she’d settle for not letting you bring anything out to the car, she’d do that herself.

“Okay, done!” You say, proud of how quickly you’d gotten everything done, and turn to look at Natasha only to find her already looking at you. You feel heat rush to your cheeks and you avert your gaze quickly. “I can see that. You put your shoes on and I’ll bring everything out to the car.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but you open your mouth to object anyway, only to be interrupted before you can speak, “It’ll be faster this way, won’t it? Go put your shoes on, cupcake.”

The name leaves you grumbling as you huff and walk out of the kitchen, knowing she’s right. Natasha only chuckles before she starts bringing everything out to her car, making sure that nothing is going to accidentally get squished or have their containers tipped over. Once everything is settled, she grabs the latte from the cupholder in the front seat and meets you at your front door as you’re locking it, “This is for you because I know you spent way too long in the kitchen last night.”

“Non-dairy?”

“Of course.”

“Then thank you.” You take the cup from her, your breath hitching when your fingers brush and bring it up to your lips to take a drink. “Oh my God, this is good.”

“I figured you’d like it. Now, come on, weren’t you the one who said we needed to get there early?”

The car ride passes comfortably, with the occasional small talk, but mostly the radio playing quietly in the background while you sip on your latte and Natasha taps against the steering wheel in time with the song. You find that you don’t need to talk to enjoy your time with her, just being with her is enough. Feeling her presence around you is enough for you to feel relaxed and get that warm feeling that only Natasha can give you. When you arrive and Natasha finds somewhere to park, you take a quick scan of the quad. Thankfully, she was able to find close parking, which is a miracle, really. Your eyes light up when you spot Professor Potts standing near an empty table which you can now only assume is for the bake sale.

“I’ll be right back, I just have to go talk to Professor Potts for a second.” You point behind you with your thumb and then turn to leave. You only take two steps before you’re turning your head to look at Natasha again, “But, actually, since I know you won’t let me help, you can start bringing everything over to the table. I’ll be right next to it.”

Natasha laughs a little under her breath at how quickly you went from ‘you’re not carrying everything yourself, Tasha’ in the car to ‘actually, you do everything’ now that you were actually here. “Yes, Ma’am.” She teases, and you roll your eyes at her before starting to walk over.

It doesn’t actually take long for Natasha to bring everything over to the table, and by the time she’s done, you’re wrapping up your conversation with Professor Potts– Pepper, as you usually call her. You were just double checking the details of the bake sale and what the prices were supposed to be before you properly set everything up, but you didn’t think Natasha would be particularly interested in that conversation, so you figured she’d be happy enough to bring everything over while you talked. “Oh! Pepper, this is Natasha. Natasha, this is Pepper. She’s one of the professors who helps run the student societies!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Natasha. I didn’t realize Y/N was bringing her partner today.” Pepper smiles and holds her hand out for Natasha to shake.

“Oh, she’s n–”

“It’s nice to meet you as well. It was a bit of a last minute thing, something about Kate and archery, but I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Natasha shakes Pepper’s hand, mirroring the other woman’s smile.

“Speaking of Kate and archery, I’m sure you two can manage this just fine on your own, because I have to go find her and make sure that her ‘advertising’ of the archery club doesn’t include any actual arrows this time.” Pepper sighs, and Natasha just laughs like she knows exactly what it’s like to deal with Kate’s antics, before Pepper walks off.

You stare at Natasha wordlessly for a couple of seconds, thinking maybe she’s going to say something about the fact that she just implied the two of you are together, but instead she just raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you going to tell me how you want this table set up or am I just supposed to guess?”

“Oh– no, yeah, I’ll help.” Your cheeks heat up as you start telling her where you want everything placed and start to write the prices on the little chalkboard easel Pepper had put on the table. You quickly forget all about the incident as you start setting things up and your friends stop by the table to talk before going to tend to their own responsibilities. You don’t really pick up on the way they all point out Natasha’s presence, meaning to tease you, but you just tell them happily that she’d agreed to help because Kate couldn’t.

The rest of the bake sale goes on like this until you run out of things to sell, some people making comments about how good of a pair you and Natasha made or saying something about how they didn’t realize you’d have someone with you here today. You seemed to ignore it, not saying anything about it or giving any indication that it made you uncomfortable, but Natasha was quick to pick up on what the implications were. It didn’t help, she realized, that the color palettes the two of you chose to wear complimented each other so well that it looked a little like your outfits were matching.

The way in which you acted as if these comments were normal and that you might have expected them or even welcomed them makes Natasha’s brain go haywire. She can’t help but think of all the things this could possibly mean, but the final thought her brain lands on is that she can’t help but wonder if it would be wrong of her to bask in this for just a little bit. She had already not corrected Pepper when she implied you were together– though, that was more so because she didn’t want to embarrass either of you. So would it be so wrong for her to lean into that? To let everyone think you were a couple? To treat you like you were her’s for just a little bit? She doesn’t think so.

You’re in almost a daze as the rest of the day goes by. Natasha takes you to the haunted house like you wanted and holds your hand the whole time so you don’t get too scared. If you had known Yelena was helping inside the house, you might not have wanted to go so bad. She’s still holding your hand when you exit the haunted house, and she continues to hold it when you talk to Peter and MJ when you spot them outside. She lets go when she gets a phone call and gives you an apologetic smile and excuses herself, but not before giving your hand a little squeeze, and you feel your heart leap in your chest. All of this feels too natural, being with Natasha like this. Holding her hand, laughing with her, walking with her. It’s now when you realize just how close you and Natasha have been all day and you stumble in the middle of your sentence while talking to MJ.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah!” It comes out too loud and too quickly, “yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, you know. Long day and late night last night baking.”

“Mm… Nothing to do with your woman over there?” MJ points not so subtly over at where Natasha is currently talking on the phone.

Your eyes go wide, “She’s not– she’s not my woman, MJ!”

“You’ve been holding hands this whole time and she’s… here instead of at work,” she gives you a look like she doesn’t believe you at all, “seems like your woman to me.”

“Yeah! Mr. Stark only ever takes time away from work if Ms. Potts asks him to and you know how they are, Y/N.” Peter chimes in.

You feel your face go red hot and you groan, “can we please stop talking about this right now?”

“Stop talking about what?” You jump when Natasha suddenly appears beside you and wraps her arm around your waist.

“Oh, we were just talking about how scared Y/N got in the haunted house.” MJ lies smoothly before giving you a look.

“Yes, but now we’re done talking about that and we should get back to our table to clean up properly.” You change the subject, trying not to focus on Natasha’s arm wrapped around you, but it’s lighting your body on fire and it’s very hard to focus on anything else. She squeezes your side softly and nods, “sure. It was nice talking to you, MJ, Peter. Good job on the haunted house.”

You barely let Peter get out a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” before you’re slipping out of Natasha’s hold to grab her hand and practically dragging her away from them. She heard the conversation starting from you stuttering over the implication that you’re together, but for you, she can pretend she didn’t hear a thing. So, instead of bringing it up, she gives your hand a soft squeeze. “It’s okay that you were scared, you know? You don’t need to be embarrassed, Yelena can be pretty terrifying when you actually get a look at her.”

“Tasha!” You scold, swatting at her shoulder, “don’t be mean to your sister,” but you can’t help but giggle just a little bit. She only chuckles, and despite the way you’re both struggling to decide whether to bring your feelings up or not, you settle into the comfortable existence you share with each other.

Before you know it, you’re in Natasha’s car again and on your way to her house. She said she just had a couple of things to do in her home office before she would take you home again, but she would try to be as quick as possible. Technically speaking, your mother should be done with Billy and Tommy’s school fair and you could just ask her to come pick you up, but you don’t tell Natasha that. You would much rather get to spend some extra time with the older woman (and you love the way her house smells) than go home and inevitably spiral as you think about the day and everything that’s happened with her before calling Kate and spilling everything.

When you get there, she tells you to make yourself comfortable and help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you want to before she disappears into her office at the end of the hall. You settle down on her couch and scroll through your phone for a few minutes before you start to get bored. You consider the fact that Natasha is working on her day off and think that maybe she’d appreciate a coffee, especially if she didn’t have to make it herself, so you stand up and wander into the kitchen. It’s nice and modern, but it has a few personal touches that make it distinctly Natasha. You notice that the coffee maker is right on top of the counter and you look in the cupboard for a mug before you get started on making her coffee.

You’re pretty sure that the only thing Natasha likes in her coffee is a little bit of sugar, so you take a little look around the pantry until you find some, and when the coffee is ready, you pour it into the mug before adding a little sugar. You hum to yourself and make sure you haven’t spilled anything on the counter, picking up the mug and then starting the path to Natasha’s office. This all feels so natural, that the usual nervousness of doing something like this for the older woman doesn’t even creep in until you actually see her.

You knock on the door, waiting a second before opening it with your free hand. “Tasha?” You push the door open and Natasha looks up from the paperwork on her desk to greet you with a smile. “You get bored out there, sweetheart?” She puts her glasses up on the top of her head and turns to look at you properly.

“I. um, made you coffee. I figured you might want some since you weren’t expecting to have to work today.” You walk towards her desk and when you’re close enough, she takes the mug from you and leans up to press a soft kiss to your lips as a sign of her gratitude, “thank you, sweetheart.”

Your brain short circuits.

She almost drops the mug onto the floor.

You just look at her, frozen, for a few seconds as you watch the wheels turning in her head. She puts the mug down on the desk carefully as she tries to figure out what exactly she’s going to say now. She hadn’t even really thought about it before it happened, it just felt so natural and like something she’s supposed to and allowed to do. But in reality, kissing you has never been any of those things. She’s never done that before even that one time you got so drunk, you practically begged her to. She’s been very careful with her actions and with restraining herself, but now? What does she do now?

“Natasha...” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper and for some reason, you’re a little afraid that she’ll tell you to leave. That she had just been caught in the moment and she would never knowingly kiss you under any other circumstance.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but then she gets a proper look at you standing nervously in front of her and she mutters a ‘fuck it’ under her breath. “Come here, baby.” She pushes her desk chair out slightly and guides you into her lap without any kind of resistance from you. You fidget in her lap, not used to this kind of proximity with the older woman. “I’m gonna kiss you again, alright?”

With those words, it’s like a switch flips and you surge forward to crash your lips against hers. She lets out a little surprised noise before she kisses you back properly, moving her lips against yours and resting her hands on your hips. She lets you lead for a bit until you get a bit too bold for her liking and she grips your hips harder as a warning. She was in charge, not you, and she was going to make that very clear.

Almost immediately she’s dominating the kiss, and you tangle your fingers in her hair. Her glasses fall off somewhere behind her, but neither of you really care enough to check where. You only pull away because you need to breathe, and when you do, your chest is heaving and you’re a little dazed. Natasha coos and reaches up to cup your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your soft skin. “Do you need a little break, sweetheart, hm? You look a bit flustered.” She teases before swiping her thumb across your bottom lip, and you grumble slightly, “I’m not–”

Natasha pushes her thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue before you can finish, “ah, ah, don’t talk back to me, Y/N,” she scolds, and you whine quietly. You want to bite down on her thumb in retaliation for the use of your actual name, but you know that will only make things worse for you. Not that things are particularly bad right now, you’d probably take anything Natasha gave you, but you’d prefer her cooing over you and doting on you at the moment.

Instead, you suck softly on her thumb and you know it’s the right decision when she hums in approval. It was almost too easy for the two of you to fall into this rhythm, like you were meant for each other. You both knew exactly what the other wanted and you’d do anything to please her while she’d do anything to keep you happy. Her other hand squeezes softly at your hip before it begins playing with the waistband of your jeans. “We’ve had a long day, huh? You did so well at the bake sale, you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

You nod, looking at her pleadingly and whining softly. Your clothes feel too warm and you want her to touch you, and she’s wearing too many clothes, and you want to touch her, but her thumb is in your mouth and you can’t just push her away. So, you opt for looking like a kicked puppy until she understands what you want.

“What is it, hm?” Natasha pulls her thumb out of your mouth and you chase after it slightly until you realize that maybe she wants you to actually tell her and you open your mouth to speak. Your breath catches in your throat, though, when her other hand trails down and cups your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to touch you, is that it?”

“Tasha, please.” You whimper. You can barely feel anything through your jeans and it’s already driving you crazy. You just hope she’s not the type to tease.

“Alright, alright, arms up.” Natasha chuckles and waits for you to follow her instruction before slipping your sweater off over your head. Her eyes darken as she takes in your bra clad chest and she greedily gropes at your breasts for a moment. “So pretty,” she mumbles, leaning in to kiss softly at your neck.

You moan softly and you clutch at her sweater. Natasha’s hands on you feel better than you ever could have imagined, and you’ve spent more time than you care to admit imagining this. She’s not too rough, but she’s not too soft either. She touches you with the perfect amount of force and it makes your head spin.

Her hands trail down your chest and then your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before her fingertips dance across the waistband of your jeans. “You looked so cute today in your little fall outfit. Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my hands to myself?” Natasha pulls back, her skilled fingers now moving to unbutton your jeans. “You make things so hard for me, sweetheart. It’s like you’re trying to torture me.”

“I just like to look nice for you, Tasha. Is that wrong?”

“Up.” She taps your thigh, and you stand so that she can tug your jeans down for you to step out of. Normally, you’d be a lot more shy about undressing like this for the first time, but right now you just can’t seem to care.

Natasha pulls you back down into her lap and then pulls you in for a kiss. Her hands find purchase on your hips and her tongue finds its way into your mouth, easily gaining dominance over you. You moan into her mouth as your fingers tangle in her hair again, trying to pull her impossibly closer.

And then finally, after what seems like forever, she slips one hand inside your panties. The gasp you let out when her middle finger ghosts over your slit is like music to her ears, and she pulls away from the kiss so she can see your reactions properly.

“No teasing, Tasha, please.” You whine, your hands dropping to her shoulders. “Shh, I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” She slowly begins rubbing circles against your clit and you’re all whimpers and whines as she does.

She takes her time, using her other hand to tug the cups of your bra under your breasts so she can play with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them between her fingers all while keeping the same steady pace in slow circles around your clit. She basks in the noises she’s able to pull from you even with the lightest of touches. She considers taking you to her bedroom so she can fuck you properly, but she think she wants ot save that for another day. This will have to do for now.

“Inside, please, Tasha.” You whimper pathetically, hands bunched up in her sweater as you try to be good like she wants you to. She takes pity on you when she pushes two fingers into your drooling hole. She curses under her breath, “God, you’re so wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me, huh?”

You nod, desperately wanting her to move her fingers. “All for you, Tasha.” You attempt to bounce up and down on her fingers, but her free hand moves down and holds you still. “Please, I can’t– mph!” You interrupt your own begging when Natasha begins thrusting her fingers in and out, the angle forcing the heel of her palm to press against your clit. You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle your moans, embarrassed about how loud you’re being already.

“That’s it, baby.” Natasha breathes, taking in the sight in front of her with eager eyes, “You take my fingers so well, sweetheart.” She praises, curling her fingers inside of you. You reward her with a particularly high pitched moan and you just barely notice the pink tint of her cheeks. It seems she's enjoying this just as much as you are. Something about having you like this drives Natasha wild. Being able to hear your moans and see the expression on your face makes her almost lightheaded with desire.

“Oh God, Natasha.” You moan loudly when she grinds the heel of her palm against your clit and presses against the sensitive spot inside you at the same time. Natasha coos, and it doesn’t take long with her fucking you like that for you to get close to the edge. “Tash– I’m gonna– Please–” You beg, pleading for something you’re not even sure of.

“Shh, I’ve got you, sweetheart. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

Natasha’s words tip you over the edge with the help of her skilled fingers and she guides you through your orgasm, letting you ride it out before pulling out her fingers and bringing them up to her mouth.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I’m done with you just yet. I might have to take you to bed instead of taking you to dinner.”

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