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heejake-hoon · 2 months

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Milked in the Stacks

CW: Dom!Heeseung x sub!Jake x sub!afab!reader, threesome, face fucking, mxm actions, messy make out, facials, names calling (slut, whore...etc), creampie, a bit of breeding kink (if you squint) and more WC: 4,159 (of pure filth and nastiness) A.N: I had thoughts about this while being on the plane nd couldn't stop thinking about it, so enjoy. Also this is my first time writing threesome/mxm so don't have high expectations.

You shift awkwardly at your desk, the dull scribble of your pen filling the dimly lit library. It's late - too late for anyone to really be here, especially on a Friday night. But you're a diligent student, working hard towards that 4.0 GPA. Even if it means missing out on the raucous parties just a few blocks away.

The muffled thump of bass drums reach your ears, barely audible through the thick stone walls. You roll your eyes. Typical of the frat crowd to be so obnoxiously loud. Your mind wanders to the rumors about the jocks and meatheads that dominate Greek life on campus. Drunken debauchery, orgies, hazing rituals…you shudder at the thought.

A loud bang makes you jump, quill skidding across the page. Two figures stumble into the library, all tangled limbs and sloppy kisses. You quickly avert your eyes, but can't help but sneak another peek.

It's Heeseung and Jake - the hottest guys at your college. Heeseung is a senior, the quintessential frat boy stud. Rumpled peachy hair, broad shoulders tapering down to slim hips. Jake is the opposite - an unassuming sophomore from the honor society, glasses askew and baby face flushed red.

You've had a crush on the two of them for ages, despite their completely different social circles. Heeseung practically oozes effortless charisma and sex appeal. While Jake's innocent demeanor stirs a protective urge deep inside you.

Your thighs clench involuntarily as Heeseung pushes the smaller man against the bookshelves, grinding their clothed erections together. Why are they doing this here? A small, neglected part of your brain whispers hopefully that maybe, just maybe, it's for your benefit.

Jake lets out a breathy moan, quickly muffled by Heeseung's demanding mouth. They're really getting into it, completely oblivious to your wide-eyed stare. You should leave, right? Give them some privacy? But you're utterly transfixed, squirming in your seat.

Heeseung pulls back with a cocky grin. "You want it that bad, baby? Right here in the fucking library?" His voice is a low, gruff murmur, dripping with lust.

Jake whimpers, nodding eagerly. "Please, need you…"

Your panties are absolutely soaked at this point. Why do you feel like you're the one being teased instead? Heeseung's piercing gaze flits over to your corner, finally noticing your presence.

Rather than looking embarrassed, his signature smirk only grows wider. No, he looks…predatory. You freeze like a deer caught in the headlights. This can't be happening. Not to you, the innocent bookworm who wouldn't know what to do with a hot guy like that if you tried.

Except Heeseung doesn't give you a choice. In one smooth motion, he's sauntering over to your desk, chest puffed and knees swaggering. Jake quickly follows behind, smoothing his rumpled shirt and looking deliciously debauched.

"Well, well…looks like we've got an audience," Heeseung drawls, looming over your pitiful scribbles. Your throat is dry, heart pounding in your chest.

He leans in close, the crisp scent of his cologne and something muskier making your head spin. "You've been a naughty girl, watching us like a fucking pervert."

Jake's face is burning crimson beside you, seemingly conflicted between embarrassment and arousal. God, the two of them are gorgeous. You want them so bad, have fantasized about this very situation more times than you can count.

But you never imagined it would actually happen. And you're utterly paralyzed, heat pooling steadily between your legs.

"I think she liked what she saw, Jakey," Heeseung continues darkly. He grips your chin roughly, tilting your face up to meet his blown-out gaze. "Doesn't she look so pretty? All innocent and shit. Makes me wanna fuck her up. What do you think?"

Jake swallows thickly, shifting closer. You can feel the heat radiating off his body. His shy, hesitant voice sends delicious tingles down your spine.

"H-Heeseung…I don't know if we should…" But he doesn't protest any further as the older man captures your lips in a searing, demanding kiss. You're frozen in shock as Heeseung's lips move insistently against yours. His tongue sweeps along the seam of your mouth, demanding entry. You can't help but gasp, allowing the velvet muscle to delve inside and map every warm, wet crevice.

The frat boy kisses with a bruising intensity, like he's trying to devour you whole. One large hand fists in your hair, angling your head for deeper control. You moan shamelessly into his mouth, the sweet taste of beer and something darker on his tongue.

An envious groan rumbles from Jake's chest. His hand comes to rest on your knee, squeezing needily. You jump at the contact, pulse fluttering beneath his soft fingertips. Feeling emboldened, he shifts forward, peppering feather-light kisses along the column of your exposed neck and shoulder.

You whine at the sensation, lashes fluttering. Jake and Heeseung work in tandem, overwhelming your senses with their contrasting techniques. One utterly dominant and demanding, the other achingly gentle and worshipful. It's dizzying, heat rapidly pooling between your thighs.

When the need for air becomes too great, Heeseung breaks away with a carnal growl. His pupils are blown out, lips wet and kiss-swollen. An obscene string of saliva connects you briefly before snapping. You're left panting, hair mussed and no doubt blushing furiously.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let out those pretty little whimpers for us," Heeseung rasps, voice like gravel. His hands roam down your body, caressing the curves he's clearly admired from afar. You whimper again as he cups your breast brazenly through your thin shirt, thumbing the sensitive peak.

Jake whines against the side of your neck, rutting minutely against your thigh. You can feel his impressive bulge straining against the tight denim, begging for friction. Some deeply repressed part of you wants to drop to your knees and release his thick length with your mouth. But you're utterly powerless, helplessly trapped between the two devastatingly handsome men.

"Let's get these clothes off, yeah?" Heeseung tugs impatiently at your shirt, lips quirking at your deliciously dazed expression. Jake gives you a look full of unspoken questions, silently asking your consent. You bite your lip and nod, subtly arching your back to allow Heeseung to pull the fabric up and over your head.

The crisp library air raises goosebumps along your bare torso, peaked nipples hardening in anticipation. Heeseung hums appreciatively at the sight, hands splayed across the soft swell of your belly and ribs. He leans back to take you in, unashamed as his gaze roams over every dip and curve with rapacious hunger.

Jake lets out a shuddering sigh, breath fanning across the heated skin of your chest. His mouth latches on to your collarbone, sucking vibrant blooms of crimson and violet that'll surely last for days. The thought sends a thrill down your spine, claimed and marked by them both.

"You look so fucking good, pretty girl. All spread out just for us," Heeseung growls. He watches the display beside him with dark, hooded lids. A long, thick finger traces the outline of Jake's eager mouth, tugging his plump lower lip down obscenely. "Think I'll let my boy have his fun first. He was so cock hungry earlier, weren't you sweetheart?"

Jake flushes even deeper, pupils blown wide as he obediently sucks the digit into the scorching heat of his mouth. A hot flash of arousal streaks through you at the sight, your neglected pussy clenching with need. The smaller boy swirls his tongue around the offering reverently, lewd sucking noises filling the hush of the library.

You mewl softly as Jake diverts his attention back to you, trailing hot kisses across your chest and stomach before hovering over the waistband of your jeans. His eyes flick up to your face, pupils blown, silently seeking permission to continue this downward trajectory.

Heeseung chuckles darkly behind him, carelessly unfastening his own belt buckle. The metallic clink makes you jolt, nerves and arousal battling for dominance. "Go on, angel. Been waiting all night to get a taste of this pretty little pussy."

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his crude words, but you shakily nod. Jake's talented fingers make quick work of your jeans, tugging the restricting fabric down your trembling thighs and calves. You shift forward, lifting your hips to allow him to remove them fully, leaving you in just your simple cotton panties.

Heeseung groans, heavy cock straining against his boxer briefs. His large hand pumps the thick shaft slowly, smearing the pearly bead of pre-cum gathering at the flushed tip. "Fuck, look at you. Such an obedient little slut, already dripping for us."

You whine at his filthy words, undeniably turned on despite your innocent demeanor. He's right - the flimsy material between your legs is absolutely soaked through, a dark spot betraying the evidence of your arousal. The scent of your desire hangs thick and heady in the air between you.

Jake doesn't hesitate, nuzzling his flushed cheek against the damp cotton. You gasp sharply at the contact, hips bucking up for more delicious friction. He mouths hungrily at your clothed sex, the tip of his tongue teasing along the seam in a featherlight facsimile of what's to come.

"There you go, Jakey…taste how fucking sweet she is."

Heeseung fists his hand in Jake's soft, honey blonde locks, guiding his eager mouth along your aching folds. You tremble beneath his reverent ministrations, head thrown back in pleasure. A tiny, overwhelmed part of you still can't quite believe this is truly happening. That the objects of your deepest, darkest fantasies are lavishing their attention upon you in such an illicit way.

"P-please…" you beg breathlessly, fingers scrabbling against the worn wooden desk beneath you. Your back arches as the smaller boy licks a broad, luxurious stripe up your slit through the damp cotton. "Want…need…"

"Poor baby, you're so worked up," Heeseung coos mockingly, thumbing the glistening head of his impressive length. "Don't worry…we'll give you exactly what you need."

With an obscene growl, he hooks his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, tugging them to the side in one sharp motion. Your glistening, swollen folds are finally exposed to the chilly air, flushed and weeping with need. You squirm under their focused gazes, suddenly shy and self-conscious.

Jake lets out a needy whine at the sight of your exposed sex. His breath ghosts over the glistening folds in hot puffs, close enough that you squirm from the sensation.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy," he rasps, voice deep and husky with lust. You moan softly as his velvet tongue laps at your slick folds experimentally.

Heeseung crowds closer, lazily stroking his thick length just inches from your face. "That's it, baby. Get her nice and messy for me."

You keen, throwing your head back as Jake seals his mouth over your entrance, that clever tongue working you open with broad, filthy strokes. He's utterly shameless, cheeks hollowed with effort as he suckles noisily at your essence. Wet squelching noises and your breathless whines fill the air.

Your hips roll in small, desperate circles, chasing more of that delicious friction. Jake accommodates readily, plush lips stretched obscenely around your aching clit. He lavishes the swollen bud with searing attention, flicking his tongue against it insistently.

"Oh-oh god…!" you sob out, trembling on the precipice of release. The coiling pleasure is exquisite, warmth blooming across your heated skin.

Heeseung chuckles smugly. He guides the weeping head of his cock to smear your lips with sticky pre-cum. You don't hesitate before opening obediently, suckling at the salty bead on your tongue. He groans approvingly, thrusting shallowly to paint your pretty mouth with his essence.

"Dirty girl…knew you'd be so good for us," he rumbles. His free hand slides into the tresses at your nape, tilting your head back further. You gag softly as the thick cockhead catches on your soft palate, thighs clenching around Jake's frantically working mouth.

Jake mewls desperately between your thighs, greedy for your impending climax. He looks utterly wrecked, hair mussed and lips red and swollen from his efforts. Yet he refuses to let up, dutifully fucking his dexterous little tongue into your sopping channel with fervor.

The orgasm slams into you with staggering force. You wail around Heeseung's cock, body convulsing as gushing waves of bliss crest over you. Jake laps greedily at the fresh rush of your arousal, glassy eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Heeseung ruts into the tight walls of your mouth, forcing you to swallow around his impressive length. Thick rivulets of drool and precum stream down your chin, lewd choking sounds tearing from your abused throat. Your head swims from overstimulation and lack of air.

"Ah fuck…keep going slut, take it all for me," he growls, hips snapping shallowly. Your makeup is utterly ruined, mascara streaking ebony trails down your cheeks. But you've never felt more debauched, more wanted in your entire life.

Just as your vision begins to darken around the edges, he pulls out with a guttural moan. His cock slaps wetly against your cheek, leaving a smear of pearly essence behind as the veiny shaft pulses. You suck in desperate gulps of air, blinking up at the frat stud through a lusty, tear-blurred gaze.

"Christ, you look like a fucking dream," he pants, roughly thumbing your spit-slick lower lip. "All messy and used up already."

Jake finally pulls away with an obscene slurp, a dazed and thoroughly fucked-out expression painting his features. His face glistens with your arousal, lips bitten red and wet. Heeseung turns his hooded gaze on him hungrily.

"Give it to me, sweetheart," he orders gruffly. Jake scrambles to obey, crawling up your body to desperately seal their lips together. You watch, transfixed, as Heeseung thoroughly plunders the other boy's mouth, no doubt tasting every musky essence lingering on Jake's skilled tongue…

You shudder at the filthy, indecent display unfolding before your very eyes. Jake is completely pliant and submissive, whimpering eagerly as Heeseung's thick fingers tangle roughly in his honey-blond hair. The ravenous kiss goes on and on, the wet sounds of their arduous french baiting and desperate groping drowning out all other noise.

Heeseung's molten gaze pins you in place with the weight of his carnal hunger. He reaches for you, large hands gripping the backs of your thighs in a bruising hold.

"Bend those pretty little legs for me, princess. Gonna show you just how fucking good I can make you feel," he growls, voice dripping with lust. You obey mindlessly, allowing him to tug you flush against his body, feet planted on the edge of the sturdy desk.

Your breath catches as the thick length of his cock drags along your dripping folds, spreading your arousal in silken streaks. Heeseung's lips quirk into that infuriating smirk as he watches your features contort with needy desperation.

With one powerful drive of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside your welcoming heat. Your back bows off the desk, a broken mewl torn from your chest as he stretches and fills you in one deliciously obscene thrust. Stars burst across your vision, tingling shockwaves of sensation radiating through your core.

"Fucking hell…gonna ruin this greedy little cunt," Heeseung hisses, voice tight with rapture. He wastes no time, immediately pounding into you with harsh, sharp strokes that knock breathy moans from your trembling lips.

Each powerful thrust makes your breasts jiggle enticingly, nipples peaked and aching for attention. You feel utterly split open and impaled on his cock, the velvet steel length rubbing torturous friction against your slick, spongy walls. Obscene squelches and gasps fill the library with every brutal slide.

Jake watches with rapt, shamelessly hungry eyes, his plush mouth gaped open. He strokes his own weeping length eagerly, precome drooling from the flushed head. Finally, he leans in and busies his talented tongue against Heeseung's flexing bollocks, kitten licking and sucking at the heavy, musky sac in a worshipful display.

"Ah yes…fuck…there's a good boy," Heeseung moans, snapping his hips into your fluttering heat with renewed vigor. He grips Jake's hair in a brutal fist, shoving his face more insistently against his saliva-slick balls.

The sordid visual is almost too much to bear, combined with the harsh pounding of your battered core. You're utterly suspended at the precipice, teetering on the knife's edge of blissful oblivion. Frantic whines and pleas tumble from your bruised pout shamelessly.

"Shh, gonna give you my cock like a good girl," Heeseung pants, hand drifting up to palm a hefty, swollen breast roughly. His rough palm captures your turgid nipple, rolling and tugging at the sensitive peak viciously. "Want to feel your sweet little cunt squeezing me when you cum…"

With one final, brutal snap of his hips, the barrage is too much. The frayed threads of your control snap as a blinding orgasm rocks through your very being. Back bowing off the desk like a taut cord, you cry out in shuddering bliss as rapturous pulses of euphoria convulse through your overstimulated form. Heeseung fucks you through each exquisite wave, working his cock into your fluttering spasms as your slick arousal splatters obscenely between your bodies.

He finally pulls out with a groan, thick shaft slick and gleaming with your combined essence. Jake instantly latches onto the glistening cockhead, tongue chasing every musky streak hungrily. Heeseung groans, harsh and guttural, forcing the smaller man to take his length deeper into his hollowed cheeks.

With one final shuddery gasp, his entire body seems to freeze for one endless, suspended moment. Jake's eyes flutter shut as thick ropes of pearly release are painted across his upturned features, a fresh mural of debasement and desire.

The depraved scene shifts before your lust-glazed eyes before Heeseung hauls you possessively onto his thick length once more, sheathing himself to the root inside your convulsing, creamy pussy with one brutal grind of his hips. You cry out, already feeling so deliriously full and claimed by his sheer virility.

Snarling in satisfaction, Heeseung grips the mounds of your ass cheeks in a bruising grip, starting up a punishing rhythm that has you jouncing up and down his cock obscenely. Wet squelching sounds and your breathless moans fill the library as he claims what's rightfully his.

But he's not done sharing the spoils with his smaller counterpart. Heeseung beckons Jake over with a curl of one thick finger, that predatory alpha glint in his eyes. The willowy blonde immediately crawls to obey, chest heaving with arousal at the lurid display.

"Open up for me, baby," Heeseung orders lowly. "Princess here is gonna get her pretty mouth just as fucked as her greedy little cunt."

He tugs on your hair sharply to guide your head back, exposing the line of your bruised throat. Your lips part readily, tongue lolling out in a gesture of wanton submission. Jake doesn't need any further encouragement.

He shuffles upright and aligns the flushed, weeping crown of his cock with your waiting mouth. You moan thunderously as he slides between your puffy, slicked lips. He's not quite as large as Heeseung, but the taste of his pre-release still has you quivering with arousal. He's thick and heavy and deliciously musky on your tongue.

Soon, the raw, barbaric rhythm is established. Heeseung brutally jackhammers up into your slick, spasming cunt, the desk rattling beneath you. But Jake is more measured, smooth rolls of his lean hips that bury his cock to the root in the silken confines of your throat.

You're utterly sandwiched between them, moaning deliriously around Jake's shaft as Heeseung splits you open again and again with his prodigious length. Every nerve ending has been set alight, vibrating at the peak of rapturous overstimulation.

Jake keens and grips your hair tighter, picking up the pace to thoroughly skullfuck you in tandem with Heeseung's savage thrusts. His balls slap against your chin obscenely, smearing pre-release and spit into a sticky mess across your features.

"That's it…take it like the perfect little whore you are," Heeseung snarls from above, drunk on the power trip. "Gonna pump both these tight holes full of our fucking seed…"

The crude words send shockwaves through you. Your thighs are slick and trembling, orgasms fast approaching like a runaway train. Jake seems to sense your impending rapture as well. He fucks your mouth with renewed vigor, choking out your wanton whines into garbled, muffled moans around his pistoning meat.

Heeseung unexpectedly seizes your hips in an iron grip, slamming you down onto his cock with enough force to rattle your teeth. You wail incoherently as that final, brutal thrust shatters the glass ceiling of your control entirely.

Wave after breathtaking wave of orgasmic release convulses through your ravaged form. Every muscle tenses to the point of agony as electrical pulses of ecstasy short circuit your synapses. You're utterly suspended in a dissociative state of bliss, continuous gushes of slick essence sheening your thighs and Heeseung's inhumanly thick cock.

He roars with dark satisfaction, somehow fucking you even harder through the all-consuming storm of climax. Jake whimpers helplessly, face flushing crimson as hot ropes of your drool and excess saliva stream down his shaft in filthy rivulets.

The sight seems to undo him entirely. Tensing beneath you, his movements stutter and falter as a blissful rictus overtakes his pretty features. Heeseung grins savagely and yanks Jake flush against your face, growling for you to "take that fucking load, princess."

That virile command seems to be the final push Jake needs. He arches in freefall, mouth dropping open around a hitched exhalation. The first pulse of his hot seed streaks across your tongue, filling your mouth with its bitter saltiness as you struggle to swallow every tangy pulse.

He cries out in rapturous bliss, hips jerking helplessly to milk himself to completion. Your cheeks hollow with effort, determined to drain him dry like the obedient little cockslut that you are.

"Fuck…yes, take it all you greedy whore," Heeseung growls from above, hips still pistoning relentlessly as he breeds your shuddering, spasming cunt with his brutal length.

His balls slap lewdly against your ass with every punishing thrust, the twin peaks tightening in preparation for his own impending release. You whine around Jake's cock, delighted by the prospect of being thoroughly sullied by both their viscous seed.

Jake finally pulls his spend-smeared length from the debauched 'o' of your mouth with a filthy pop. He staggers back to catch his breath, abs rippling and face gone slack with a hazy, euphoric expression.

Heeseung seizes the opportunity to crash their lips together, devouring Jake's moans with a ravenous growl. He tastes you both on the smaller man's tongue, rich and musky and filthy.

You lie there, feeling utterly impaled and ruined by Heeseung's insistent pounding. Sweat sheens your bodies, which glisten obscenely with each punishing slam of his hips. The coil of your shared pleasure is rapidly reaching its crescendo, nerves alight.

"Where do you want this fucking load, princess?" he snarls against Jake's mouth, teeth nipping at the plump flesh possessively. "Tell me like the dirty girl you are."

"I-inside!" you wail without hesitation, head thrashing against the desk. "Please…please fucking breed me like a good slut!"

Something unhinged flickers across Heeseung's chiseled features. He seizes your jaw in one large palm, grip nearly bruising as he drinks in your deliriously wrecked and wanton expression hungrily.

"That's my girl," he rumbles. Punctuated by another brutal thrust, his next words rasp out in a torrid rush of crudity. "Get ready to get that messy little hole pumped full of my thick fucking seed…"

As if guided by some primal, cosmic trigger, your bodies fall into perfect alignment at long last. His hand winds into your hair while Jake latches onto your swaying tits, suckling frantically at your peaked nipples.

Gripping you in a punishing hold, Heeseung unleashes a final flurry of piston-sharp thrusts. You soar over the edge of oblivion with a guttural scream, consciousness whiting out beneath the force of your cataclysmic rapture.

His throbbing cock slams against that velvet cluster of nerves in a delicious finale, and you spiral endlessly through the white-hot vortex of climax. Your walls flutter and pulsate greedily around his retrograde pulsing length, milking him without quarter.

Heeseung shatters apart with a groan, thick, ropey strands of virile seed flooding your spasming hole to the brink. You shudder as his essence rushes to paint every twitching contour of your insides, coating your receptive walls with its potent finish.

Thick rivulets drool and drip down the cleft of your ass as he continues to pump, determined to thoroughly lay his claim. His vicious grunts eventually trail off into euphoric huffs, cock finally spent.

You both lie there twitching and heaving for breath in the aftermath of your mutual detonation. Jake presses worshipful kisses to every inch of your marked, ravaged bodies in reverent daze. You've never felt more owned, sated or deliciously defiled in your life…

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lavandulawrites · 7 days

Text

Cares

Yandere Kinich x reader

This idea came to me when suddenly and I just had to write it down asap

Synopsis: Ajaw has finally found someone he considers his friend. He is however not the only one. The normally arrogant dragon, finds it fascinating how Kinich is spiralled deep into love and obsession.

Masterlist

Warnings: written in Ajaw’s point of view, Ajaw sees reader as both a friend and a motherly figure, murder, dismembering, Kinich is both down bad and insane, Ajaw cares (?!), drugging, abduction

Word count: 1058

Ajaw found the black haired man to be extremely annoying. He rarely showed any signs of hurt by his remarks and he put him in timeout way too often. He was in other words stupid and a sorry excuse of a man. Ajaw could feel himself greying in anger at the thought of his dismissal. You however, were different. You were kind (nauseating so) and you always brought Ajaw tasty snacks (as he deserved naturally). You entertained him in various means, unlike a certain useless man.

You were the only human Ajaw tolerated. And he made it known to you. For that’s how kind the Almighty Dragonlord was. To both his dismay and his curiosity, he was not the only one who thought highly of you. Oh, far from it.

Ajaw tried to stay out of human concerns as much as possible (it was after all offensive to his greatness to be a associated with humans), but he found it fascinating how much Kinich cared for you. He would always bring you food if you had forgotten to bring any, put on sunscreen for you (Ajaw found it gross how Kinich’s face reddened at the feel of your skin, he could sometimes swear he could see him wetting his lips like a hungry dog. Disgusting), take you on picnics and buy you gifts. The great dragon never got such nice things from him, even when he had been on his best behaviour.

When Kinich had managed to persuade you to try bungee jumping with him, Ajaw had for the first time in his life not had the desire to cut the rope and let you fall straight down with a splat. It was a weird feeling.

Conflict always seemed to rise whenever you were conversing with someone who wasn’t Ajaw nor Kinich. Ajaw was only offended that you speared another human your time instead of bringing him snacks, but Kinich was seething. His jaw was clenched so hard Ajaw could almost hear his teeth breaking in half. His fist tight causing the veins on his arms to stand out like a sore thumb. He clearly always intimidated the stranger enough that he or she left in a hurry. Had Ajaw not been as strong and amazing as he was, he would himself have been frightened.

Your naivety and kindness was something that clearly troubled his servant. He always worried about you and always came up with poor excuses to see you (be it meeting you or watching from the shadows). Normally would Ajaw not help him, no he would rather have sabotaged him, but since it was you he lend him his hand. You were clearly rather weak compared to the raven haired man and himself. Shorter than Kinich and not a fighter. Which was something the hazel eyed man seemed to appreciate.

Following you around became an everyday occurrence and Ajaw for once helped Kinich. When Kinich asked him for his help to orchestra a dangerous situation where he would come in and save the day, he didn’t think twice before agreeing.

He still wanted his body, but it was no longer his main focus. It was a strange shift in his behaviour, but not unwelcome. It was nice to have a friend after all.

Months had passed and both him and Kinich had gotten closer to you. It was clear as day to Ajaw that the ancient name bearer was head over heels. Especially when he caught him sniffing some clothes he had stolen from you. Ajaw never let that go and tormented him with it whenever he saw fit.

It was a lazy sunny afternoon when Kinich came barging into their home. His eyes were blown wide in rage and his limbs shaking. Ajaw was an expert in recognising blood thirst and Kinich oozed of it.

“The fuck are you barging in for, you useless fool?!” the dragon trumped his foot angrily on the air.

“Shut up, Ajaw. I need your help.”

“Don’t talk to the Almighty Dragonlord like that!! I should teach you a lesson! And why on earth should I help you?” he crossed his arms and raised a brow.

“It’s regarding [Name]” he didn’t need to say more for Ajaw to agree to help.

The forest was thick and dark. Mist covered the ground as far as they could see. Kinich had swung his claymore without his help and already ended the puny man’s life. That was he got for being a treat to your well being he had said. Ajaw had to agree.

Kinich dragged the body through the forest creating a bloody trail behind them. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air causing Ajaw to bare his teeth. Such an awful smell.

The man was as useless in death as he was alive. Heavy he was too, judging by the laboured breathing of the normally strong man.

The body was thrown on a makeshift table of old wooden planks. Thin fingers ran over the many knifes and cleavers in the worn knife roll. It was obvious to the yellow dragon that this wasn’t the first time Kinich had dismembered someone. It was a mystery just how many he had slain in the name of protecting you.

With a giddy smile, Ajaw watched as he lifted the sharp cleaver and started working. The bald easily cut through the flesh. With furrowed brows he worked around the bones with the precision of the most talented butcher. It was an eerie sight; the black haired drenched in blood.

After about an hour or so, he was finished. “Do you know of a good place to dispose of this?” he asked the dragon.

He watched through his sunglasses of your struggle. It was fascinating how you thought you could overpower the taller man in your drugged state. Kinich was clearly irritated which made the sight even more entertaining. It had been so fast. Before you know it you were drugged by the juice Kinich had so kindly offered you and brought home to the two of them. Not that Ajaw was on to complain. He found your company enjoyable and he even cared for you.

He couldn’t wait to see how this would unfold. What would happen first? Would you accept your fate or would Kinich finally, properly snap?

Only time would tell.

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moonstruckme · 1 year

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Can you do poly!marauders where reader has kinda a shitty family? Like, where their family belittles them and insults them and gets mad over them existing so whe reader is back at hogwarts the next year she's as fragile as a china shop uncomfortablely close to a bull farm??

Only do it if your comfortable with it <3

Make sure to take care of yourself and remeber you are loved <3 <3

Thanks for requesting, love you and hope you're taking care of yourself as well <3

cw: hints at emotional abuse

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re quiet, all of a sudden. The distance over the last few months had been rough for all of you, gone to your separate homes for the summer, but Remus is beginning to suspect it was most difficult for you; you can’t seem to find your way back to them. It’s like you’ve constructed a shell around yourself over the short three months you’ve been apart, and none of James’ loving, Sirius’ teasing, or Remus’ offerings of a study companion have proved successful in drawing you back out.

He’s sure you think you’re being subtle. You certainly haven’t addressed your boyfriends’ worries, either missing or ignoring the looks they send each other when you don’t jump in on a joke they’re doing or answer in a quiet, meek voice when they ask you a question. It’s as if you’re afraid of being heard, of being noticed at all.

Remus doesn’t like it one bit.

Neither do the others, of course, and he and James have had to talk Sirius down from confronting you about it multiple times already in the week since you’ve been back. You seem…fragile, somehow, and Remus doesn’t think pushing you will get the results they all want. James seems to think you’ll come back to them on your own if they give you time, and Remus isn’t so sure, but it’s the plan he’s rolling with for now.

Still, he doesn’t think it’s out of line to intervene when he catches you carrying a stack of books that has to be half your weight. Last year, he’s positive you would have asked for help, but now you only grunt quietly as the stack wobbles above your head.

“Let me take some of those for you,” Remus offers, already standing, and you flinch as if your distracting him from his homework is a punishable offense. The stack teeters dangerously with your sudden movement.

“That’s okay,” you squeak, leaning back a bit in an attempt to get your tower of books under control. You look timid, wide-eyed like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, afraid of getting in trouble. “You can sit back down, I’ve—” You don’t even get the chance to finish your excuse before the books topple, scattering about. Remus flinches internally when some fall down on your head, and another sends an empty glass on the edge of the coffee table crashing to the ground.

You cover your mouth with your hand, staring in silent horror at the mess around you.

James and Sirius, playing cards on the other side of the coffee table, look up at the commotion.

“Shit,” Sirius says (a rather eloquent sum-up in Remus’ opinion). “Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe, crouching and beginning to gather the broken glass in your hands. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that.”

“Don’t—be careful,” Remus starts to say, but then you lose your balance, stepping backwards just slightly and letting out a tiny hiss.

Remus stands, but James gets to you first, careful to keep away from the broken glass himself as he lifts you clear of the debris and deposits you onto the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, impossibly quiet. You’re looking between your boyfriends as if unsure what they want you to do.

“Angel, it’s okay,” James insists, coming to sit down in front of you. “We’ll clean it up in a bit, don’t worry. Did you hurt yourself?”

You look down at your foot, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

“A little,” you admit. “Sorry.”

“Stop that,” Remus says sternly. “It was a mistake. We only care that you’re hurt.”

You look conflicted, and Remus can practically see your next apology forming on your tongue, but before you can utter it, James asks gently, “Can I have a look, sweetheart?”

You blink at him, nodding hesitantly. James is careful as he takes your ankle in his hand, lifting your foot in front of his face. His expression clears a little. “Okay, it’s just a little piece,” he says, adjusting his hold before picking out a tiny bit of glass and flicking it into the pile with the rest. “There you go.”

You nod your thanks, curling your foot underneath you. You’re being quiet as a rabbit, Remus thinks, all tense and wary but afraid to make a single sound. Whether you notice or not, the unease in the room grows with every second of your silence.

Finally, it appears Sirius can’t be held at bay any longer.

“Alright,” he says, more frustration in his tone than Remus thinks is really a good idea, “what’s going on with you?”

You look surprised. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You’ve been acting like someone’s going to shout at you ever since we got back this year.” Sirius lowers his voice, eyebrows scrunching together just slightly. “It was being at home, wasn’t it? Something happened.”

You flush, and Remus feels suddenly like this is a conversation he has no right to be in. Of course Sirius would be the one to pick up on it if your family was what was making you act this way. No wonder he’d been so insistent they needed to get to the bottom of it. That’s something he can understand, whereas Remus and James never could.

“Nothing happened,” you say, and Sirius narrows his eyes like he doesn’t believe you. “I just…okay, don’t be mad.”

“No one is going to be mad at you, sweetheart,” Remus says, feeling like his heart is working its way up his throat with the words. “We’re just…you’ve seemed so different, and it’s scaring us a little bit. We just want to know what we can do to help.”

You look hesitant, and James reaches forward, taking your hand in both of his and rubbing at it with his thumbs. You nod, seeming a bit more confident now, and say, “There’s nothing you can really do. I just need some time.”

James nods back, looking at you with brown eyes big and open and understanding. Remus often wishes he could convey even half James’ earnestness, but he doesn’t know anyone with the same capacity for warmth. “Time for what, darling?”

You nibble on your lower lip, and Remus has to repress the urge to rescue it from between your teeth. “Well, we didn’t really get close until a couple months into fall term last year, right?”

“Right,” James agrees.

“So…I wouldn’t expect you to know, but it always sort of takes me a bit to…adjust back to school life.”

Sirius still looks like he wants to fight something, but he’s more careful to keep his anger out of his voice now. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “You’re not wrong. My family isn’t always as…patient with me as you guys are. They’re not awful, it’s just, I get into a habit of being quieter around them.” Remus’ heart feels like lead in his chest. “It takes me a while to get out of the habit once I get back.”

“Honey,” James murmurs, not looking much better than Remus feels. “I’m sorry.”

You give him a little smile, shifting uncomfortably. “You don’t need to act like it’s such a tragedy,” you joke. “I’ll get over it soon.”

James looks distressed, but Remus cuts in. “I’m sorry you don’t feel like you can be yourself at home, lovely girl,” he says in what he hopes is a light but soothing tone, unsure what you need right now but gathering from your demeanor that it’s not their pity. He slides his arm around your back to tug you closer to him. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

You hum contentedly, leaning against his side. “Not really,” you reply. “You guys are too good to me, it’s hard to be quiet around you for long.”

“Good,” Sirius says firmly, “because we don’t want you to. Want to go scream off the astronomy tower, sweet thing? Maybe that’ll help loosen you up.”

“Actually, I’d really like to clean up my mess before someone comes down here and steps on it,” you admit. “But maybe we can try your yelling thing tomorrow.”

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speaknow-sw · 13 days

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«𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻, 𝓘 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮»

Summary : When you question Don’s abilities to loosen himself a bit, he decide to show you how precisely he meant when he said he’s enjoying life.

Word Count : 2.9k

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ: mdni, age gap (Don is 38, Reader 20), pastor kink, God complex, pussy eating, nipple playing, vaginal fingering, PiV, rough sex, daddy kink if you squint, mustache kink, seashell position, degradation if you squint, huge breeding kink, mention of sequestration, faith kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, pet names, dumbification, choking, orgasm denying, cockwarming.

AN : this is the nastiest piece of shit I’ve ever written and the main idea comes from the lovely @mathesonlvr who I share my passion for Don mustache with. (I think). Anyway that’s like hella dirty so enjoy !

The large, old house stood as a symbol of everything he believed in—solid, immovable, a structure built on faith and discipline. Pastor Don Piper, a man well into his thirties, was known for his devotion to the church and his deep convictions. Every sermon he delivered was woven with scripture and firm, unyielding guidance. And then, there was you—his much younger wife, with a heart full of kindness but a spirit still uncertain of the boundaries that came with marriage to a man like him.

Don sat at his desk, reading scripture with the same unwavering focus he gave to all things. His life was built around discipline, faith, and order—he had lived every moment according to the rules of his belief, and it had brought him peace. But now, sitting in the silence, there was a tension he couldn’t quite name. It came from you, his much younger wife. You had been married to him for only a year, and while your sweetness and enthusiasm had drawn him to you, there were times when your innocence, your naivety, seemed to test the very boundaries of his patience.

You were in the other room, humming softly to yourself as you tidied up the living room. He could hear the occasional clatter as you absentmindedly dropped a vase or bumped into a piece of furniture. It was something you did often—your clumsiness was just another piece of the puzzle he had come to accept about you. But tonight, after a long day of counseling and sermons, the sound grated on his nerves more than usual. "Careful with that," he called out, trying to keep his voice calm but feeling the edge creeping in. "Oh! Sorry!" you replied, your voice light and airy, as if nothing in the world could ever bother you. It was part of what he loved about you—your innocence. But that same innocence sometimes left him feeling like you didn’t truly grasp the gravity of the life you had stepped into.

A few moments later, you appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly, holding a plate of cookies you had made earlier. "I thought you might want something sweet while you work." He glanced up from his Bible, taking in your wide-eyed expression, your gentle smile. There was no malice in you, no understanding of the inner conflict that simmered beneath his composed surface. "Thank you," he said, trying to soften his tone. He reached for a cookie, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. You set the plate down on his desk, hovering awkwardly beside him. "You’ve been working a lot lately," you said, your voice filled with concern. "I worry that maybe you're too hard on yourself. You always seem so… serious."

He paused, looking up at you fully now. Serious. It was a word you often used to describe him, but he couldn’t understand why you found it strange. "My work is serious," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "The church, faith… these are not things to take lightly." You nodded quickly, but the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your blouse told him you didn’t entirely understand. "I know," you said, "but I thought maybe… sometimes it’s okay to not think so much about all the rules. To just… you know, enjoy life a little." He stiffened at that, the tension rising. This wasn’t the first time you had said something like this, and each time it struck a nerve deep within him. He had spent his life devoted to his faith, to guiding others on the path of righteousness. And here you were, with your innocent and almost childlike outlook, suggesting that perhaps it wasn’t all that important.

This innocent and naive look sent him into arousal right away. How should he took you ? On the desk, soft and sweet or in the bed, your beautiful and supple body laid bare for him as you whimper breathlessly under him. Oh, how he wanted to see your belly swell with his love for you. His pretty little housewife round with child. Your naive nature would be perfect to keep you locked in the house, nursing child after child. Looking pretty at his arms was your only duty right now but he could promote you to being the pretty mother of his children. His mind went wild and he imagined what it would be like. « Donnie ? » You squealed innocently seeing him dozing off. Don's eyes snapped open, a brief flash of panic crossing his features before he saw it was you, his beautiful, innocent wife. He smiled then, the tension from earlier dissipating as he looked at you, his heart swelling with love and desire. "Yes, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

You walked closer to him, your hair cascading over your shoulders as you stood beside his desk. "It's late, shouldn't we go to bed?" He nodded, his hands moving to the back of your neck, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. "Yes, my love. Let's go to bed." As you walked with him, your hand resting in his, he couldn't help but imagine the delightful sin he'd commit with you tonight. As you climbed into bed, he followed, his eyes never leaving your body. He watched the way your nightgown hugged your curves, the way your full breasts peeked out from the top.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, his hands skimming over your body, teasing your nipples through the thin fabric. "Sugar," he whispered, his voice thick and low, "I’m going to take your advice to enjoy life." You bit your lip, your eyes wide and innocent. "Really, Don?" He smiled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Yes, my precious little lamb. Tonight, I'm going to show you that I really enjoy you." And with that, he began to unbutton your nightgown, revealing your soft, supple skin.

His fingers traced over your body, making you shiver in anticipation. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck. "Tonight, you're going to feel the glory of God," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "through me." His hands moved lower, sliding under your panties, his fingers finding your wetness. You gasped, your body arching into his touch. "Donnie," you moaned, your voice a sweet, innocent plea. He chuckled softly, his voice full of adoration, "Just wait, darling. Just wait."

You whimpered « Don… please… » Your nails dig in his shoulders as you threw your head backwards. Suddenly Don's fingers danced over your aching clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He watched you, the sight of your sweet, innocent face filled with pleasure driving him wild. "Do you like that, sugar ?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. Your hips bucked against his hand, your back arching as you cried out, "Yes, please…"

He smirked, his fingers delving deeper, finding the sensitive spot that made you gasp and moan. "You're such a good girl, aren't you?" he cooed, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. "Such a sweet, innocent thing." Your body quivered, the pleasure building within you, threatening to spill over. "Don…" you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving tiny crescents of red. He grinned, his fingers slowing as he felt you on the brink. "Not yet, my love," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Not until I'm buried deep inside you." Suddenly he leaned down between your thighs. You whimpered just from the sight. « Don …what are you doin—… » You moaned loudly when his lips kissed your cunt.

Don's lips brushed against your swollen folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He inhaled deeply, his senses flooding with your scent—sweet and pure, like you. He flicked his tongue against your clit, making you buck and moan. "Daddy," you breathed, your body trembling.

He chuckled against your flesh, his tongue dancing and teasing, making you squirm beneath him. "Such a naughty little thing," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "But I bet you'd be even naughtier if you were mine completely." The thought sent shivers down your spine, your body quivering as you felt the edge of your climax growing nearer. You couldn't help but whimper, your hips thrusting up to meet his mouth.

« Don…please…your mustache is scratching so good » You whimpered loudly. Don grinned, his mustache brushing against your sensitive skin as he continued his assault on your body. "Is that so, my love?" he purred, the sound low and deep. "I must remember that." He increased the pressure of his lips and tongue, his fingers still teasing your wetness. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure mounted. "Donnie…" He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you want to cum for me, sweet girl ?" he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Do you want to feel the love of God through me?"

Your body shook, the words sending you hurtling over the edge. "Yes, unh," you cried out, your orgasm washing over you in waves, your body shuddering and trembling. He continued to tease you, his tongue flicking against your clit as you came down from your climax. When you were finally still, he pulled back, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh. "Now," he said, cooing, "let's go to Heaven." He positioned himself between your legs, his thick, uncut cock pressing against your wet entrance. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "Are you ready, sweetheart ?" he asked, his voice a deep, seductive rumble. Your body tingled with anticipation, the thought of having him inside you making you tremble. "Donnie," you breathed, your voice soft and sweet. "Please, I'm ready."

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, his mustache dripping from your cum, pearls of it coating the once silky hair. Don's stared down at you for a moment, his eyes filled with desire, before he pushed into you slowly. The sensation of his thick shaft filling you caused you to gasp, your eyes widening as you adjusted to the feeling. "Oh, God," you whispered, your voice a soft, sweet moan. He paused, his hands gripping your hips as he looked into your eyes. "I'm going to take you to Heaven, little lamb," he growled, his voice low and full of promise. "And I'm not going to let you come down for a very long time." The words echoed in your mind as your body responded to his, the pleasure building within you, threatening to consume you. All you could do was cling to him, your body arching, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out his name.

Soon enough you were reduced to a babbling mess who couldn’t form a word as he pounded into you, his heavy sack slapping against your ass. Don took your desire as a challenge, his hips thrusting into you with a force that left you breathless. His hand slid down your body, his fingers digging into your hip as he pulled you closer, his thrusts growing more and more brutal. "Take it, you little slut," he growled, his voice a low, rumbling purr. "Take it from your husband, your God." He felt your body trembling beneath him, the wet sound of his cock slapping against your ass a symphony to his ears. Without warning, his hand left your hip, snaking around your throat, his fingers tightening as he fucked you harder.

« Uh, uh, uh » You couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe… you couldn’t even think as Don fucked you dumb. His left hand squeezed your throat and some of his thick right digits flickered on your clit making you moan loudly. Don's fingers worked your clit with precise, lewd motions, causing your body to shudder and buck under the dual onslaught. "Such a good, dirty little girl," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "You love it, don't you?" Your body responded without the need for words, your moans filling the room as you clung to him, the pleasure building within you. "Do you want to cum for me again, sugar ?" he asked, his voice a deep, rumbling purr. "Do you want to feel your God's thick cock pumping inside you as you explode?" Your moans grew louder, your body shaking as you felt the edge of another climax drawing near. "Ungh, ungh…" you whimpered, your voice a sweet, innocent whine.

Don's thrusts grew rougher, more primal as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine, you know that, little lamb?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to feel this cock, this seed, this miracle, pumping into you again and again." His fingers worked your clit with a frenzied intensity, his other hand tightening around your throat as he fucked you, driving you closer to the edge. "I'm going to fill you up, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to impregnate you, make you full and round with my babies, over and over." His eyes looked crazy, like a wild animal under attack.

Don's thrusts grew wilder, his face contorting with the pleasure of claiming his wife, his sweet, innocent little lamb. "You're going to be my personal breeding machine," he growled in a guttural moan. "You’re my wife, my church, my everything." His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, his other hand squeezing your throat, his cock pumping into you with a fervor that bordered on animalistic. "You're going to be nothing but a vessel for my seed, a temple for my cock," he said, his voice a grinding, lewd purr. "And I'm going to use you, over and over, until you're nothing but a broken, satisfied, and pregnant shell."

You drooled, your head falling backwards as you let out raw screams of pleasure. Tears flowed down your cheeks. Don's thrusts grew even more brutal, the rhythm of his cock slamming into your tight, perfect pussy echoing through the room. You could feel the shadows of his manhood disappearing deep within your core, the connection between your bodies visceral and primal. With a grunt, he took your legs, hooking your ankles around his neck, nearly folding you in two as he took control. "Such a tight little pussy," he growled, his voice thick with lust. The sight of you drooling, crying, and whimpering, your body trembling beneath him, sent a surge of carnal pleasure coursing through him. "Makes me think that maybe I married you just for her," he whispered, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "A tiny, young cunt to snuggle my cock perfectly while I decompress."

He pressed into you, his hands gripping your hips, his thrusts fierce and unrelenting. "You're my little plaything, my doll," he breathed, his voice a mix of dirty possessiveness and love. "You're my wife, my bitch, my love." Don's hips continued to thrust, his grip on your legs tight as he folded you into an obscene position. The sight of his thick cock disappearing deep into your body, the outlines of it, showing on your stomach, elicited a groan from his lips.

The sight of your pleasure, the way you drooled and screamed, drove Don wild, his hips slamming into you with a brutal force. "That's it, sweet girl," he groaned, the primal need to claim you, to bury himself in your body, overwhelming. "Daddy wants you to come." He felt your body tense beneath him, your screams growing louder as you reached the peak of your climax. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you, your body tensing, the edge of your climax drawing near. And as your release crashed over you, you cried out his name, your body convulsing around his cock. "Yes," he roared, his own release surging through him, his cock throbbing inside you. "Cum for me, my love, cum for your God."

Don felt your body tighten around him, your walls milking his cock as he let out a guttural groan. "Lord, darling," he breathed, his own release surging through him, his cock throbbing inside you. "Such a good little cunt for your husband." He collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged as he came down from his high. The sounds of your pleasure, the feel of your body still quivering beneath him, left him feeling both satiated and insatiable. His fingers slowly released their hold on your hips, his cock still buried deep inside you. "We're in Heaven, my love," he whispered, his voice thick with love and desire. "Let's stay here for a while, don’t move. » He kissed your cheek with his wet mustache as you laid, broken, on the folded position he put you through it all.

« Gotta make sure it takes… » He patted gently your belly and his hand caressed the swell of your breasts, occasionally playing with a nipple. You whimpered helplessly from your position, feeling his thick cock in your guts every single time he moved. Finally he pulled away and a big pool of sperm squirted out of you in the most obscene way Don ever saw. He patted your left butt cheek. « You did good, baby. » He cooed softly and pushed back the cum in your fluttering hole. You whined from exhaustion « Donnie ? » You called meekly. « I’m right there, sweetheart » He said reassuringly kissing your forehead.

Nine months later, Don introduced your child to his community with a big smile, pride in you fluttering in his chest for giving him a little miracle.

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #james kelly #sam monroe #scott barringer #stephen glass #evie writes #clay beresford #don piper

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nalyniavadelletargaryen · 2 months

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{ TWIN FLAME - Aegon Targaryen + Rhaegar Targaryen }

{ SUMMARY/PREVIEW CHAPTER }: Twins carry a shared soul, a force that only exists between them. One may pull, and the other may push, but by fate's hand, they’ve been conjoined by a shared will for power. The elder strays from the path of morality while the younger strides upon it with just as much pride. Both men share a desire: an attraction to what they are forbidden to have.

{ WARNINGS }: MDNI + SMUT + ANGST + TARGCEST + AGE GAP + BLOOD + LANGUAGE + VIOLENCE + NIECE/FEM READER + MATURE THEMES

{ PRESS ▶️}:

"To war then!"

Aegon's voice rang loud and clear through the council room, setting unease on those who sat on either side of him, but one man remained unmoved by his heady announcement.

Rhaegar smirked, a broad amusement in his expression, "Good..."

The two men share a fulfilled grin; the elder is pleased to see his dark-haired half so encouraged by his decision.

They'd never agree on most things, but inciting rightful violence to achieve personal satisfaction was a common interest.

However, you were another exception to their differing worldviews.

Aegon slid down into his chair, glancing away from his second younger brother to eye the men and his mother, who sat in tense silence. "You are all dismissed..." he left no room for debate on the command. Alicent swallowed hard, holding back the words of wisdom she knew neither man would listen to, and with a slow exhale, her anger dwindled to plain discouragement.

Rhaegar did not shrink under her turning gaze. Unmoved by her silent plea for help, he was firmly comfortable in his seat as she and the rest of his brother's councils rose from their seats.

"Arrogance.." she mumbled bitterly, walking past him with a swiftness he and Aegon had learned to overlook.

"They refuse to act and fear a war that's already started," Rhaegar spoke freely when the last council member had stepped out, the doors to the room slammed shut by the king guard on watch, and a moment of shared silence short-lived between them. Aegon scoffed loudly, a smirk plastered on his face, "That's quite obvious, brother. Our mother intends to be timid about bloodshed. It's quite pathetic." He tossed his hands up in apparent disbelief, shaking his head at the thought of the woman who'd so proudly pushed him to be sovereign now seeking a quick end to a great conflict, and Rhaegar shared his disdain for the anomaly that was their mother.

"She'd sooner trust the gods with our fate than be reasonable. I don't see why you keep her at this table.."

Aegon eyed his twin, his face dropping to a callous frown. "As relieving as it would be to put her aside, you know well how our mother would never cease prying into our dealings with or without permission."

A more accurate statement had never left his elder brother's lips, and Rhaegar was impressed by him for a solemn second.

"Hm. It's surprising to hear you, of all people, see my side of reason." He chuckles, taking a brave gulp from his wine chalice. "Need better spirits at a time like this," the brunette bit out, tongue-numbing from the dull sting of alcohol in the wine, and his observation drew an offended reaction from Aegon

"It's the best drink to my taste." His amusement faded quickly on the premise of his preferences being questioned. "Do you take issue with me-"

Rhaegar laughed, a hearty sound that eliminated anything his twin was apt to spit out, "Oh, don't you dare twist my words, brother!" He set his cup down with a firm shake, grinning wide as Aegon glared at him directly.

"You speak too freely, Rhaegar.."

His laughter halted, grin falling to a closed smile as he relaxed into his chair at the end of the unoccupied table, "I speak what I think, Aeg. Which is much more than you can offer..."

The silence returned, filled with mounting animosity between a brother of pride and another of worthy praise.

A king and a warlord.

A rake and a hidden saint.

Made of one blood but with many contrasts in life.

Silence and lingering hate connected them.

Aegon poised to further it with a heady retort, greedy for triumph in a conflict many knew to be brotherly rivalry, but a solid rap of knocking on the closed council doors stopped him.

Rhaegar raised a brow at the sound, intrigued rather than annoyed as his brother seemed to be.

"They've come back for another debate so soon?" He chides out loud, unbothered by Aegon's grimace.

"Bothersome imbeciles..."

The knocking came again, quicker and louder. Each tap was executed with an exciting pace, different from the slow, solid thumps of a man readied to spill his thoughts on warfare.

Aegon hesitated to allow the visitor entry, glancing at his brother, who already had his eyes on him.

"They seem eager.." he mumbles, finishing his wine without care for his brother's exasperated sigh.

"Enter..!" Aegon announced, taking a gulp of his drink and sucking his teeth at the bitter taste.

The king's guards swung the doors open, nodding their heads to the culprit of the sudden interruption. "Thank you, Ser Lanis and Ser Daleon." Your gentle voice cut through the air in a familiar cadence, alerting the two men of your presence before you came into their direct view.

Both knights showed you a grateful smile, quick to shut the doors again as you paced up the steps leading to the nearly empty table. Rhaegar greeted you first, smiling as he reached a hand for your own. You gave him the courtesy, slipping a hand into his open one, returning his smile as he placed a chaste kiss on the back.

"Niece..." he muttered against your skin, his voice tender and hardened eyes softening completely as you swipe your fingers along his jawline affectionately. "Uncle," you greet him back, chest tightening with pure delight when he chuckles upon hearing it. However, your shared moment abruptly ended as Aegon called you.

"You'd leave your King unnoticed, sweet girl?"

He did not attempt to mask his jealousy, and you yelled at it with practiced grace. "No, my King. You'll always have my attention." You show him a smile, not afraid to roll your eyes at him as you step away from Rhaegar and stride towards him.

Aegon is far less cordial when greeting you, standing from his seat to look down as you bow to him. You are respectful in your initial approach and stand up straight when he rests a hand under your chin. "I'll hold you to that, princess," he lowered his voice as if to tell you a secret, and you merely hum sweetly in response, accepting the lingering kiss he placed on your cheek. Unlike his brother, Rhaegar could hold his tongue to some restraint, seeing you receive affection from his counterpart.

However, it did not last long as Aegon stepped closer to you, clearly set on keeping your attention on him and him alone.

"Why have you come here?.." Rhaegar poised the question in earnest curiosity, satisfied to see it gain your focus and ruin his brother's apparent intentions. You shifted away from your eldest uncle, looking between him and his nearly identical half before divulging why you'd found your way into the council room.

You never seemed to stay away from either of them long enough, with little motivation not to when your mother had urged you to do so longer than you could recall. By consequence, you'd been left in their care at the turn of your grandfather's death, present at his side the night before he took his last breath in hopes of keeping him company since your mother could not manage it. Still, with little warning, you'd found yourself in opposition with your closest kin by association.

You found your position to be a cursed blessing. I'm glad to be within reach of the men you cared about most besides your older brothers; you were highly aware of the danger the nearing conflict of birthright claims would surely bring.

You tried hard not to reminisce about the war's aftermath, keeping yourself observant yet pliable in the grip of the Green faction.

Even as you stood in the presence of the men you'd grown to trust despite all outside protests, their very existence reminded you of fate's tricky hand.

"I've come for your help." You tread carefully with words, pacing them to carry on your voice softly, knowing well what a simple change of tone could do to either man. Rhaegar sat up straighter, eyes never leaving you as he inquired for a better understanding of your intended words.

"Our aid for what, ..?" You paused, hearing the doting nickname he'd chosen to call you since your first encounter, resolve to melt a little as he followed it with a reassuring smile.

Feeling Aegon resting a hand on your lower back did not keep your heart racing slower, his firming touch stealing your train of thought for a split second, but one glimpse at the head seat he'd been sitting in only a moment ago brought your sense back to you.

They had been your weakness for far too long, filling a craving for experience and attention you couldn't satisfy in your mother's household, but now the time for a stronger mindset was needed.

Your mother deserved the seat Aegon so proudly claimed now; no matter your love for him and Rhaegar, you intended to see her in it, and with a steadying inhale, you continued with your mission to do so.

"I've been...having some trouble finding peace as of late. Especially at night, the masters can't find a remedy for my issue.."

Sleep. You hadn't been able to rest since the coronation, and it was no help that both men had made it a point to create boundaries with you that hadn't existed before. You'd grown accustomed to seeking one or both out for a good night of sleep, never having to exchange any flesh for the security they provided, but not above laying your head on their pillow to dream of it.

Aegon smiled at you, his hand on your back sliding in a small circle as if to ease your strife as minimal as it seemed to him, and you flashed him a grateful upturn of your lips in return.

"I...I had hoped that either of you would give me peace of mind. I'm aware of many things but still am left in the dark in the light of the most important knowledge."

Your heart sank as the faces of your brothers, mother, and father crept past the forefront of your mind. Every single one of them dawned an expression of distant concern, so clearly betrayed. Imagine their reaction to the news of your lingering presence with the side of the family who had no right to the throne, which made your stomach twist with knots.

You wanted to get back to them, to be beneficial even if they'd never considered acknowledging you as applicable. Yet, as you implemented a plan to find your way back to them, you couldn't feel entirely confident in their presumable welcome when you did return.

Jace might be the only one who'd be genuinely happy to see you again and not hold a dormant grudge towards you for staying at the late King's side and inevitably supplanting yourself as a hostage for the Greens.

Rhaegar studied you, sensitive to the minor details of your request, discerning every word you spoke on instinct to hang onto each one.

"You wish to know of your place in..." he waved a hand, motioning to the air of war that loomed closer and closer with each passing day, and you nodded tentatively at his gesture. "Yes...or at least if I'm to be used as leverage..."

Your blunt reply cuts through both of them differently. Aegon glares, momentary anger consuming him as he inches closer to you, head lowering so that his voice reaches your ear directly. "You are safe with me. Here in my..." he hesitated, meeting Rhaegar's observatory gaze before finishing his quiet declaration, "...in our protection. That I can swear to you with certainty ."

His noticeable overconfidence peaked through his tone, and your anxiety was anything but calmed by his promise. Your chest lightened from relief, knowing he still harbored adamant devotion to your well-being rather than wishing to use it as an advantage over your mother.

Rhaegar held a similar attachment to you, expressing it with less egoism than Aegon did through an even response. "Our opinion of you has not changed. You shall be kept here in fair respect."

He stood from his chair, leaving his chalice with it as he came to stand on your unattended side.

Your gaze automatically shifted to him, struggling to stay there as Aegon's burned into you with unabashed envy. "You have the King's word and mine," he passed a thumb over your cheek, speaking directly to you as if his brother did not exist inches from you just as he did. Your breath caught in your throat, heat rising to your face and spreading to your lower belly as he took his time gauging your reaction.

"Let that be the answer to your questions. War plans are nothing for a young girl like yourself to be concerned with, understood?"

Rhaegar pressed you into submission with a tailored ease, pairing the underlying demand with a lazy smile that never failed to make your head spin. You bit back your own, nails digging into the draped sleeves of your dress as you clasped your hands behind you.

Of course, he'd seen right through you, cut off your prying for knowledge like any intuitive man of his nature would, and you desperately wanted to push past the restrictions he intended to set up. Still, the possibility of appearing too apt for valuable information made you hold your tongue.

You swallowed the pride, bubbling up to spill from your lips, pressing them into a small smile as you nodded in agreement. "I understand, uncle."

Rhaegar hummed in satisfaction, not bothered by his brother's palpable disdain. "She knows better than to ask us for such details, brother. You needn't mold her to be compliant." Aegon tugged you closer to him, hugging your side and making no move to let go.

You went still in his embrace, familiar with it, but not all pleased with how he spoke of your intentions or concerns.

Stupidity and obliviousness were never your strong suits, and having been pushed to the side and ignored by so many throughout your life made it easy for you to play on those faults better than most.

Rhaegar had grown wiser to your act sooner than Aegon, mentioning nothing of your love for secrets and manipulation to anyone in the simple efforts to bring you to heel at the direst times.

This was the perfect opportunity, and if his all-powerful brother could realize your intentions too, he could have the chance to relish in the delight Rhaegar did seeing your innocent facade falter. Aegon remained unwise to it, resting his chin on your shoulder after placing a ginger kiss on the exposed skin as a wordless apology for his younger's implication.

"No soul in this castle is out to get my throne, Rhaegar. Not my darling girl, anyway..." You shuddered against him as he kissed behind your ear, feeling the smile on his lips as he hugged you tighter. A blush painted your cheeks as his hands kneaded your waist through the fabric of your dress. This openly lustful action brought butterflies to your stomach and agitated Rhaegar to the point of impulsivity.

"Pawing at your niece is unbecoming of you, brother..." he made no effort to mince his words, mirroring Aegon's glare as you lowered your head in slight embarrassment. "She has yet to tell me to stop. It seems to bother you more than it does her..." Aegon chuckled at his blatant mocking, nipping at your ear to earn a soft whine and solidly his claim.

Rhaegar held his stare, failing to withhold an equally rousing laugh before lowering his head to meet yours. He found your eyes with his own as he spoke to you softly.

"Come to me.."

He says it only once, and you react with little thought, longing to feel him like Aegon held you. Your body shifted toward him, one step eliminating the space he'd maintained, and your lips found him with little hesitation or shame. Aegon grunted a scathing curse as you reached for his dark-haired twin, leaning back into him as the younger wrapped a hand around your throat, deepening the kiss with the slip of his tongue into your mouth. Rhaegar peered at his brother as you moaned against his lips, a smirk tugging at him the entire time.

"Bastard..." Aegon grumbled, refusing to show the shreds of amusement he felt seeing you crumble at the simplest pleasures, drooling trickling down your chin, and your weight pressing against him as the emanates of sense left you. It came as no surprise to Rhaegar when the older raised a hand to tangle in your hair, pulling on it so you had no choice but to break away from the heated kiss and his low whine of pain.

You let out shallow breaths, afraid to look into either of their eyes as you tried to compose yourself and ignore the needy warmth culminating in your belly. Aegon turned your head to him with subtle force, taking in the dazed expression on your face, the gradual swell of your plush lips, and the gloss of combined spit that lingered on them.

"Open." He commands in one breath, smiling when you do just as he asks and part your lips for him. He steals a glance at Rhaegar, smug as ever, and spits into your mouth with natural ease, turning his gaze back to you as it slides down your throat with a quiet whimper of his name. His lips come to meet your then, slow and harsh. A complete contrast to his brother's swift and sweet approach. He bites at your bottom lip, drowning in the muffled groan you give at the blooming pain he inflicts, returning it with a timid nip on his.

Your lungs burn for a breath. Aegon won't let you catch, so you peek at Rhaegar for help. You are torn between gratitude and confusion as he tightens his grip on your throat before using it to pull your lips away from his brothers and back to his.

He lets you go when your eyes water with tears, allowing Aegon to turn you around in his arms and hug you close. "It's been some time since we shared you, little one..."

It's a statement. It is a clear fact that you have no will to deny. Too lost in your head to respond appropriately or notice Rhaegar sitting in the nearest council chair. He lounges in it leisurely, head resting on one hand as he watches Aegon's hands begin unlacing your dress strings with unconscious finesse. You find your bearings then, feeling increasingly vulnerable as the eldest of them unties your bodice and steps forward until you have no choice but to be within his twin's reach.

"You've been so faithful and well-behaved for us, too. We'd hate to see you left unrewarded for that. Wouldn't we, brother?" Aegon eyed the brunette over your shoulder; a bittersweet smirk reflected as he nodded in agreement. "Wouldn't be very fair to her at all..." he speaks lowly compared to his brother's boastful tone, deeply embedded in his desires at the sight of your bare skin being exposed to him as your bodice slips to the stone floor.

You shiver as the air douses your skin, breasts pressed to Aegon's clothed chest, and the warmth he emits prompts them to be sensitive and pertinent. His hands find your sides again, steadying you in his hold while Rhaegar rips the fabric of your skirts. He does the same to your small clothes, letting them fall atop the torn clothing. "Wouldn't be very fair to us either."

A/N: A cliffhanger on a smut?... yeah, I know. I'm sorry, but I must lead you guys on before giving you the complete filth of it all...

{ BONUS CONTENT + }

Credits to creator and I literally watch this edit on repeat …it’s so fucking good ;) 🖤

#aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x reader #animated divider #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #tom glynn carney x reader #tgc x reader #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #house targaryen #the usurper #gaius julius caesar #gaiusjulius dominia

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1eoness · 1 year

Text

professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 22 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon ♡

[to clarify, i am 18. anyone <18 and anyone >18 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #guys im sorry if my writing is pretty vague idfk lmao #re4remake leon smut #THIS IS SO BAD AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut

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myjealouseyes · 11 months

Text

You Are In Love.

Harry James Potter x wolfstar!daughter!reader

Fluff, friends to lovers, pining, cuddling. (References to the lyrics are in bold)

Your friends and Harry’s have made themselves comfortable in your room. beanbags, pillows, and a few pieces of salty microwave popcorn scattered across the floor as some old gory horror movie plays on the TV. You stopped paying attention a while ago, being more concerned with your popcorn and how warm Harry’s skin felt on yours as you leaned on his shoulder; his arm wrapped around your waist.

You feel his eyes on you. His intense gaze nearly burns a hole in the top of your head. As you turn your head up quietly to see what's wrong he takes your chin into his hand. Your throat goes dry and you feel your hands get clammy. The churning you get in your stomach is new, it’s exciting, it's nothing like you’ve felt before. “Look up,” Harry mumbles as he raises your chin. He swipes a small piece of popcorn off the side of your cheek with his thumb and lets his hand fall back in his lap. Your eyes follow it.

Your heart speeds up and time slows down. Your eyes stay fixed on his hand. One touch was all it was. A single brush, nothing abnormal compared to how touchy you two usually are. So why did something so minor give you such intense feelings?

Your mind tries to dwell on it but a sudden and loud noise from the TV breaks you from your thoughts. The group of friends you’d forgotten about all shriek and flinch at what you guess had been a jump scare. You become aware of your surroundings again and right at that moment, the realization hits.

You are in love.

With your best friend, your Harry.

What were you to do now?

A few weeks later you’re in Harry’s room for your weekly sleepover. You’re in one of his hoodies and a pair of pajama pants he thought he lost a while ago. You two talk and laugh and shush each other under the blankets, just like normal. You ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly and the voice in the back of your head shouting “Tell him! Tell him!”

It doesn’t matter how much butterflies flutter or how hot your face gets. You won’t tell him. You can’t risk it. You won’t take a chance if it means potentially ruining your friendship forever. You couldn’t handle losing Harry. It would break you.

You and Harry are cuddled close under his sheets. You’re almost nose-to-nose and you can feel his breath on your face. Your fingers trace over Harry’s cheek slowly, softly, almost longingly. He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you try to savor the feel of his lips on your skin. Your body is still begging you to tell him, but you don’t. Instead, you open your eyes and they trail over his face. You soak him in like it’s the first time you’ve seen him, even though this is the same face you've had committed to memory since before you could properly say your own name.

Harry’s eyes don’t move. They stay locked in yours as he strokes your arm in slow, repeating patterns. At that moment, he didn’t think he would need to look at anything that wasn’t you ever again. As long as he could see the crease by your eyes the dimple on your cheek he’d be okay. Harry seems to dissociate for a bit as his eyes focus on you. Your eyebrows furrow as poke his cheek softly, silently asking him what’s wrong.

He shakes his head and snaps out of his trance. He’s got a strange look on his face. He looks conflicted as he takes your face in between his hands and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re my best friend.” He mumbles breathlessly, like he’s just finished running a marathon.

At first, you don’t think anything of it. But after a few minutes of mauling over his worlds silently, your heart jumps to your throat.

You pull away from him. Shocked, happy, wide-eyed, and grinning.

You knew what it was,

He is in love.

#dividers by cafekitsune #there’s references to hits different and daylight in there too.#wolfstar!daughter!reader #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x wolfstar!daughter #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x wolfstar!daughter #wolfstar!daughter #harry james potter imagine #Harry James potter x you #harry potter x black!reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter x wolfstar!daughter!reader

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doormatty3 · 9 months

Text

Pushing Further (Josh Lambert x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Josh Lambert x Female Reader] [Josh Lambert x You] There is nothing more stressful than moving day - the campus is packed with freshmen and their parents. And you just want some peace and quiet. However, amidst the tumult, a tall, broad, and handsome man grabs your attention that is until he sends you sprawling to the floor. Annoyed you go on with your life and meet Dalton who you soon befriend. When you find out that the stranger is his father - you're doomed. Josh Lambert is everything you want in a man but there are reasons why you should not give in: He's almost two decades your senior, divorced and most importantly your friend's dad So you go out of your way to avoid him and walk the tightrope between attraction and avoidance. That doesn't make him any less hot though - even more when you discover that the attraction is mutual. OR: And they were friends - except you fucked his dad.

Wordcount: 7,134

Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues

A/N: There is a criminally small amount of Josh Lambert ffs, so I decided to change that

ALSO: Insidious 5 plot (Josh Lambert) >>>>

You hate move-in day.

The college campus swirls with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Freshmen, wide-eyed and eager, navigate through the labyrinth of unfamiliar buildings, their parents hovering nearby, taking in the scenery, a mix of pride and reluctance in their gaze as they prepare to part with their newly-minted scholars.

The sun bathes the bustling scene in its warm rays, transforming the campus into a vibrant panorama. The old grey stone building looms tall and resolute against the canvas of the sky. It wears the patina of years with a dignified charm, its weathered facade a testament to the countless stories etched into its walls.

As you observe this annual rite of passage, a sense of nostalgia mingles with a tinge of wistfulness. Your own move-in day, with its mix of excitement and trepidation, feels like a distant reverie. Now a senior, the campus teeming with eager newcomers stirs conflicting emotions. The excitement and youthful energy are heartening, yet the multitude of people and the bustling activity feel almost too much, too overwhelming.

You sit at a secluded spot beneath the sprawling canopy of one of the many trees that grace the campus. From this vantage point, you observe the ebb and flow of people, hesitant to venture into the dorms that will surely be crowded.

The leaves above gently rustle in the breeze as you sit, absorbing the sights and sounds of the day.

Your attention is drawn to a cluster of fellow students distributing flyers, unmistakably advertising a fraternity event that you have never attended and will never attend - the frat boys just creep you out. Self-assured and arrogant has never been your type to hang out with.

However, amidst the lively scene, your gaze lingers on a lanky young man strolling by, seemingly impervious to the flyers being thrust into the hands of passersby.

Artist, you think. Everything about him just extrudes an artistic flair and you’re sure that your assumption would be right if you were to ask him.

You watch him stride away from the frat boys and you can’t help but think that he made a good choice by not interacting with them.

Your attention shifts from the bustling crowd to the presence of a man making his way down the path. Intrigued, you furrow your brow, momentarily curious about whose father he is. Your eyes linger on him, drawn by a magnetic quality.

As he walks, you find it hard not to notice his striking appearance. Despite the rough edges, there’s a rugged handsomeness about him. He is tall, with broad shoulders and his short, wispy light brown hair catches the sunlight, adding a subtle sparkle to his presence. A scruffy stubble grazes his face, enhancing that rugged charm.

Your gaze can’t help but follow the flex of his muscles as he carries a considerable amount of stuff for his child. The hot summer day is a blessing, you think, since it prompted him to don a tight polo shirt and shorts. You silently appreciate the view - the way his biceps and triceps tense with each step, and the way the shirt accentuates the breadth of his shoulders and chest.

Silently observing, you witness him engaging in conversation with the fraternity members, taking one of their flyers, presumably for his child. You can see him being a frat boy in his younger years - he certainly has the looks.

As he walks away, the flyer securely in his grasp, your eyes remain fixed on him. The contrast between his mature, composed stature and the frat boys is striking. His steps are deliberate, and everything about his presence seems secure and strong.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you watch him and you’re somewhat surprised - even if also glad - that he doesn’t acknowledge your burning gaze since you’re practically undressing him.

Part of you hopes that you’ll see him more often on the campus and that that won’t be the last time your paths cross - maybe you’ll be able to strike up a conversation with him.

Your gaze lingers in the direction where the broad man disappeared and you find yourself momentarily lost. The vibrant energy of those who come after him seems to pale in comparison, they fail to capture your interest and it begins to feel boring.

With a sigh, you stretch your limbs, the pull of your muscles urging you to stand up. The prospect of a quieter atmosphere within the dorms becomes increasingly tempting, and hope that the flow of people there will have dulled.

_____

Rounding the corner and approaching your dorm, you eagerly open the door, hoping for a reprieve from the bustling crowds. However, your optimism is quickly diminished as you find the space still densely packed with a mix of eager freshmen, parents, and the occasional irritated senior, annoyed at the number of people - a hive of activity and a melting pot of an array of voices.

Undeterred, you press forward, determined to make your way to your room despite the persistent throng.

Navigating through the diverse sea of faces you make your way down the corridor. The air is charged with a blend of anticipation, familial warmth, and a touch of exasperation from those who had hoped for a quieter return to their familiar living spaces.

The sounds of conversations, laughter, and occasional sighs create a lively symphony that fills the air, providing a vivid backdrop to the varied emotions playing out in the cramped dormitory corridor.

Turning another corner, your curiosity is piqued, and you slow your pace to observe the activity around you. As you walk past a series of doors, your attention is drawn to the scenes unfolding in each room - freshmen unpacking with enthusiasm and parents offering last-minute advice.

Lost in this observational moment, you’re caught off guard as someone collides with you, sending you sprawling to the floor suddenly. A breath escapes you and you blink disoriented.

In the abrupt stillness that follows, you glance up to see the source of the collision, and to your surprise, it’s the handsome man from earlier. In the fleeting seconds your eyes lock, and you notice the striking shade of blue in his gaze and the sadness that seems to emanate from him.

Rather than offering a hand to help you up, he mumbles a quick apology and resumes his stride without missing a beat. A sense of frustration flares within you - as handsome as he is, his manners are clearly lacking.

Arsehole, you think as. you gather yourself from the floor with a shake of your head.

The brief encounter leaves you with a mix of bewilderment and a lingering sense of irritation as you make your way to your room.

______

Professor Armagan’s voice reverberates through the expansive art studio, commanding the attention of her assembled freshman class as she introduces you.

“Today, I want you to meet one of our seniors—she’s really gifted, and it’s important to me that you get to know more students of mine,“ she declares, her enthusiasm evident in the cadence of her words.

You raise your hand in acknowledgement, a subtle greeting to the newcomers, and take a moment to let your eyes wander across the room. The art studio, a sanctuary of creativity, is filled with eager faces, each potentially harbouring a unique artistic voice.

As your gaze travels through the room, you spot the lanky boy from the first day.

Ha, I knew it, a quiet sense of validation washes over you - your intuition about him being an artist appears spot-on and judging by the strokes on his canvas, a talented one at that.

The lesson unfolds with a straightforward tempo, and your role is mainly confined to sharing insights about the college and providing a glimpse into how art functions in Professor Armagan’s class. The information is delivered efficiently, and you find yourself relieved as the session concludes.

“Hi, I’m Dalton,“ the lanky boy strides up to you, extending a hand in greeting.

You reciprocate with a friendly smile, taking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Dalton,“

As your eyes fall upon Dalton’s pencil drawing, you can’t help but offer a genuine compliment. “Wow, this is really good. You’ve got some serious talent,“ you remark, appreciating the skill evident in his work.

Dalton’s face lights up with a grateful smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that,“ he replies, the sincerity in his tone confirming your initial impression of him as a genuinely nice individual, and you find yourself thinking that Dalton is the kind of person you could see yourself being friends with.

“You have to work on your disguise though - I could tell from a mile away that you chose the art program and was just wondering whether you made it to her class,“ with a playful grin, you jest to Dalton.

Dalton chuckles at your remark, and there’s a warmth in his response, “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious, huh? Can’t hide the artist in me, I suppose.“

As you both exit the art studio together, the door softly closes behind you, the ambient sounds of the campus filling the air. The sunlight casts a warm glow over the pathway as you begin to make your way through the bustling campus, the occasional laughter and conversations of students blending into the lively background.

Turning to Dalton, you initiate a conversation about his college experience so far.

“So, how are you finding college so far? How’s it treating you?“ you inquire, a casual smile accompanying your words.

Dalton reflects, “It’s been an interesting ride. Meeting new people, navigating through classes, and, of course, diving into the art program. It’s everything I hoped for, honestly.“

The two of you continue to stroll, the campus unfolds around you.

Dalton shares more about his classes and the artistic projects he’s eager to explore, and you reciprocate with your own anecdotes.

Continuing your conversation, you find a natural segue to inquire about Dalton’s residence on campus. “By the way, which dorm are you in?“ you ask curiously with a casual tone.

Dalton smiles, “Oh, I’m in the last one down the path. How about you?“

As he reveals his dormitory, you can’t help but feel a spark of excitement. “No way! Me too,“ you respond, a genuine grin spreading across your face.

Dalton’s eyes light up with joy, and you pick up on the enthusiasm that suggests he might not have a large circle of friends.

He suggests, “We should totally hang out sometime. And you’ve got to meet my roommate, Chris – she’s really cool.“

You quirk an eyebrow and playfully tease Dalton, “Rooming with a girl, huh? The administration must have a wild sense of humour.“

Dalton chuckles, “Yeah, it was a bit of a surprise for both of us. Chris is fine, though. We make it work.“

You share a laugh, the notion of unexpected room assignments becoming a shared source of amusement. “Well, I’m definitely looking forward to meeting this mysterious Chris. Maybe the three of us could grab a coffee or something,“ you suggest, already envisioning potential hangout sessions.

Dalton’s eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm. “That sounds awesome! Chris will love it. She’s been itching to make some new friends around here.“

“How about this? There’s this amazing little coffee shop I’ve been a regular at since my first year here. It’s got this cosy vibe, and I think you and Chris would really enjoy it,“ you suggest, your enthusiasm echoing through your words.

Dalton’s eyes light up even more, his excitement matching yours. “That sounds awesome! I’m in, and I’m sure Chris will love it too.“

As you and Dalton walk through the dormitory halls, he suddenly comes to a stop and points to a door. “This is my room,“ he says with an appreciative smile, gratitude evident in his eyes.

You return the smile and quip, “Well, look at that! I guess I’ve been on the unofficial welcome committee. My room’s just further down the hall.“

Dalton laughs, appreciating the light-hearted exchange. “Thanks for walking with me. Do you wanna stop by tomorrow? I’d introduce you to Chris and we can get that coffee?“

“Absolutely, sounds like a plan,“ you respond. “See you tomorrow, dude,“ you add with a nod and a parting wave, continuing down the hall to your own room.

_____

The next day, you make your way to Dalton and Chris’s room, thankful to do something today. The familiar dormitory halls lead you to their door, and you give a light knock before it swings open.

Dalton greets you with a welcoming smile. “Hey! Glad you could make it. This is Chris,“ he introduces, gesturing towards a short, black girl with braided hair, vibrant clothes, and a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you! Dalton’s mentioned you,“ Chris says and extends her hand, you grab it and shake it.

Upon entering the room, your eyes are immediately drawn to Dalton’s paintings adorning the walls. “These are really nice,“ you remark, genuinely appreciating the artistic talent displayed.

Dalton beams with gratitude. “Thanks,“ he responds, a hint of pride in his voice.

As the three of you settle into conversation, you decide to delve into a bit of small talk. “So, Chris, do you also major in art?“ you inquire, curious about her academic pursuits.

Chris chuckles, her demeanour warm and friendly. “Nope, not at all. I’m actually a math major. Total left brain-right brain dynamic we’ve got going on here,“ she says with a playful twinkle in her eye.

As the conversation flows, a sudden knock interrupts the camaraderie. Chris and Dalton exchange confused glances, both wearing expressions of mild bewilderment. “Were you expecting someone?“ Chris asks, looking at Dalton.

Dalton shakes his head, equally puzzled. “No, I have no idea. Were you?“

“Nah,“ Chris mirrors the headshake.

The room falls into a brief silence as Dalton opens the door, revealing a man standing on the threshold. Dalton’s confusion is palpable as he utters, “Dad?“

A breath hitches in your throat as recognition sets in. It’s him - the handsome man from your first day, the same person who unintentionally sent you sprawling to the floor and didn’t have the decency to help you up. The lingering ache in your hip serves as a constant reminder of that memorable encounter.

“Hey. Sorry for the surprise visit. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by and talk to Dalton,“ he says, his eyes widening a bit as they lock onto yours. Recognition flickers across his face. “I’m Josh, by the way.“

Holding his gaze, you find yourself momentarily captivated, drinking in the details like a starved soul. His blue eyes, once a passing detail, now reveal a depth that draws you in. The slight curl of his hair at the nape of his neck and around his ears adds a touch of casual charm, accentuated by the scruff of his beard that now appears more prominent. Your gaze appreciatively lingers on the nuances, savouring the details.

Your appreciative gaze shifts downward, taking in the way his dark blue, tight dress jacket with rolled-up sleeves complements the form-fitting light blue t-shirt beneath. The fabric spans deliciously over his broad shoulders, chest, and the little tummy he has, accentuating his physique effortlessly. It makes you want to be under him, your bodies pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly with his strong body - you’re sure that he’s soft in just the right places while being muscular and powerful.

The spell of fascination is abruptly broken as Chris, standing next to you, coughs purposefully to snap you out of your trance. The sudden interruption startles both you and Josh and you tear your eyes away from him.

You can’t shake the feeling that the attraction is not one-sided. Josh’s lingering gaze and the subtle shift in his expression suggest that he, too, was captivated.

The realization that the attraction might be mutual, even in this unexpected and somewhat inappropriate context, leaves a tinge of discomfort. Josh is not just a stranger; he’s Dalton’s dad, Dalton who is your friend. You silently hope that Dalton didn’t pick up on it.

Meeting Dalton’s gaze, you instantly sense that hope is futile - his raised eyebrow speaks volumes,

Josh clears his throat and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, your eyes involuntarily follow the movement, captivated by the subtle gestures.

For a brief moment, you indulge in the thought of his lips on yours, and his tongue on you. You wonder, if the stubble would scratch you, leaving marks on your skin so you could remember and feel him days later.

“Well, I should get going—I didn’t want to interrupt you,“ Josh says, directing his gaze at you again. “It was nice to meet you.“

As Josh offers a tight-lipped smile and exits the room. Once he’s gone, both Dalton and Chris turn their attention toward you.

“What was that?“ Chris’s inquiry comes with a hint of humour.

“Could you not undress him with your eyes next time - he’s my dad,“ Dalton says to you and you feel your cheeks heating up.

“I’m sorry, man,“ you mumble, a tinge of embarrassment colouring your words, “It isn’t my fault he’s hot.“

_____

The next time you encounter him, you’re on your way to your dorm as Josh is just leaving.

“Hey, Josh,“ you greet him with a bright smile.

He responds with a big, bright, and goofy grin etched on his handsome face. You can’t help but think that he looks good when he smiles.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you again,“ he greets you, his eyes sweeping over your form, lingering longer on the neckline of your tight shirt than is appropriate.

“I’m sorry for running you over when he first met,“ he starts, scratching over the hair on the back of his head, “ Or at least just walking away and not helping you up again.“

You reach out to place a reassuring hand on the skin of his arm. Intending for it to be a featherlight, brief touch, as soon as your fingertips trace over his arm, it feels like electricity is being passed through you.

Josh, in response to the touch, swallows heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a visible display of tension. Instead of pulling away, he surprises both of you by taking your hand in his. Intertwining your fingers, he begins to rub soothing circles over the back of your hand with his thumb.

You notice the size of his hands—big and fitting for a man of his stature.

At that moment, it feels as though time stands still. Both of you just stand there, locked in a gaze, drinking in each other’s presence.

As he moves a bit closer, you become acutely aware of him, and his scent engulfs you like a private cocoon. It’s uniquely him - a blend of cologne and something inherently Josh. The cologne carries a woody fragrance, specifically dry wood, with nuanced undertones of sandalwood and amber.

The sun casts shadows on his face and accentuates the contours of his features. You observe that the short beard framing his face is threaded with salt-and-pepper hair. The interplay of light and shadows makes him more than just attractive—it renders him captivating.

His blue eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, reveal a depth that draws you in. They are akin to fire in water, reflecting a passionate intensity that burns within the warm sun-lit undercurrents of his gaze.

The healthy shine of his hair catches your attention, and you can’t help but notice the vibrancy it adds to his overall appearance. Your fingers itch to push the wayward locks behind his ear again, to feel if it is as soft as it looks.

The enchanting moment is abruptly shattered as someone carelessly bumps into you, jolting you out of the reverie. In the sudden disturbance, Josh releases your hand.

“I-,“ he clears his throat, the remnants of the charged moment still lingering, “should get going.“

There’s a palpable pause, a shared awareness of the disrupted connection. At that moment, you sense that he, too, is affected by the sudden intrusion into the private bubble you unintentionally created. The unspoken understanding between you deepens, and as he looks at you with an intensity that mirrors your own feelings, you find yourself nodding in agreement.

As Josh begins to move away, you’re left standing there, your gaze fixed on him. Your eyes trail along his departing figure, captivated by the sight of his muscular back.

_____

The inappropriate thoughts about Josh weigh heavily on your conscience, creating a turbulent storm of emotions within you that refuses to settle. Part of you acknowledges the relief of not having seen him in quite some time, while another part feels a twinge of sadness - There’s an undeniable sense of loss or longing; you want to see him again.

But you cherish your friendship with Dalton and don’t want to jeopardise it. It feels like you walk on a tightrope between desire and loyalty, especially because you’re fairly certain that this perpetual tension will snap at some point. So you find yourself consciously avoiding Dalton and Chris’s room. The fear of running into his handsome father fuels you, in particular, because he seems to make frequent visits - and the question lingers in the front of your mind: does he purposefully stop by so often, driven by a desire to see you?

Your gaze drifts around your dorm room, and you spot a sketchbook that isn’t yours. A moment of realization hits you like a sudden jolt—shit, that’s Dalton’s. He’s forgotten it again.

With the certainty that both Dalton and Chris are currently in class, you entertain the idea of stopping by to return the forgotten sketchbook. The timing seems opportune—no risk of encountering them, and by extension, no chance of a surprise visit from Josh, Dalton’s father.

The thought forms a plan in your mind, and you decide to seize the moment. The dormitory halls echo with quiet solitude as you make your way to Dalton and Chris’s room.

The door swings open, and to your surprise, the room isn’t as empty as you expected. There, standing in the middle of the room is Josh,

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes with him, and an involuntary thought escapes your mind— Jesus, your memories really didn’t do his handsomeness justice.

You find yourself taking in the details—the way the room frames him, the play of light accentuating the contours of his features, and the way his presence seems to fill the space.

All the subtle nuances of his appearance, from the slightly tousled hair to the hint of scruff on his jaw, draw your attention. His blue eyes, usually a captivating shade, seem to shine darker than normal, adding a layer of intensity to the moment.

“I didn’t expect you here,“ the words escape your mouth, almost breathlessly, and you curse the involuntary reaction you have to Josh.

Instead of responding immediately, he looks you over, his gaze lingering on your form. Then, he opens his mouth and says, “You’ve been avoiding me.“

It’s not a question; it’s a statement, and it holds a truth you can’t deny. You have been avoiding him, but it’s more about not trusting yourself in his presence than anything else.

As you remain silent, Josh takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand lands on the wood of the door, near your head, applying gentle pressure. The muscles in his chest and arms tense as he leans against the door, closing it with a quiet click.

Instead of moving away, he keeps standing there, effectively boxing you in between the door and his body.

He maintains an unbroken gaze on you, his eyes locked onto yours. The close proximity allows you to observe the intricate details of his eyes. They are not uniformly blue; instead, there’s a fascinating interplay of shades. A ring of light blue delicately encircles the pupil, creating a mesmerizing gradient with the darker blue that surrounds it. The hues blend seamlessly, forming a captivating dance of colours within the confines of his gaze.

The fragile silence hangs in the air, and a subtle fear lingers—fear that any spoken word or sudden movement might shatter the enchanting spell woven between you and Josh. In the cocoon of quietude, you choose to remain still, each heartbeat echoing in the confined space, cautious not to disrupt the delicate equilibrium of the moment.

You can’t help but feel lazy arousal starting to pool through your veins, fueled by Josh.

“Tell me to stop,“ Josh speaks, his words almost a whisper, “tell me to walk away.“

The quiet plea hangs in the air, revealing the internal struggle he faces. He’s your friend’s dad, divorced, and almost two decades your senior—valid reasons to resist the magnetic pull drawing you both in. Yet, in this charged moment, those rational arguments seem to lose their significance in the haze of him that clouds your thoughts.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, and as quietly as he had spoken, you finally respond, “Kiss me.“

And so he does.

Josh’s lips descend to yours, capturing you in a kiss that feels both urgent and consuming. His warm hand gently cups your cheek, adding a tender touch to the intensity of the moment. It’s a kiss that feels like an act of hunger as if he’s been starved and you are the only remedy to satiate it.

Your hands find their way to his strong shoulders, instinctively pulling him closer as you reciprocate the kiss. The texture of his lips against yours becomes a tactile language, each brush and press conveying a depth of emotion words might fall short of capturing. You feel his stubble scrape over your skin. The taste of his kiss is a fusion of want and need, a shared desire that resonates between you, eclipsing any reservations that linger in the back of your mind.

Josh breaks the kiss, and both of you are left breathless. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,“ he confesses, his voice laden with a mixture of desire and relief.

He starts leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, and you laugh quietly in response. “Well, I have an idea,“ you playfully remark and reminisce of when you first met him - you wanted to do that since then.

“Yeah, tell me,“ Josh smiles, his hand finding its way into your hair, tightening its grip. He is looking directly into your eyes smouldering blue burning into you as he leans down to bite into your bottom lip lightly.

“Josh,“ was all you managed to say in a breathy voice.

His lips move to your jaw, leaving soft kisses and sucking a mark into the soft skin of your neck, letting his teeth nip over the spot before moving on. You let out a moan and dig your fingers into his shoulders, before loosening your hold and roaming his whole back. You feel the strength of his muscles between your hands as well as the heat he emanates.

Not being able to contain yourself, you are desperate for some skin so you lift up the hem of his shirt and slip your hands under it, feeling his skin.

With a groan Josh presses his hips into yours, making you feel the hardness of the erection he is sporting. You grind against it as you feel your heart beating fast in your chest.

Josh pulls back, his eyes dark and glinting with arousal.

He slips his thick fingers under the thin straps of your dress and pulls them over your shoulders, leaving burning pathways in the wake of his touch. At that moment, you’re so glad you decided to wear a dress. And you second that again, when he tucks down the upper part of your dress, exposing your breasts to his nimble fingers and hungry eyes.

Almost instantly his hands find their way to your tits and you groan when he rubs the pad of his thumb over your nipple.

Josh takes his sweet time exploring you and finding out which sound he can wring from you by just his hands touching your chest. Deliberately, he flicks his forefinger against the hardened bud before capturing it between two fingers, rolling and tugging on it.

His lips skate over your collarbones, nibbling and sucking leaving more marks in his wake.

Something shortcircuits in your brain when you notice how his hands span over your ribs, making you feel fragile beneath him. And in that moment you want nothing more than for him to just lift you and impale you on him, manipulate you to his liking until the only thing you can remember is his name.

You hook your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, pulling his hips against yours, wishing that he wasn’t wearing anything. You feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your belly as you grind down on him.

When his lips and fingers leave your skin you almost whine at the loss of contact but Josh wraps an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his thick frame before covering your mouth with his own again, possessing you.

He presses one of those strong thighs between your legs, pressing it against your clothed cunt, locking you against the wood of the door again. Without a coherent thought, you moan into his mouth as the rough fabric of his jeans rubs over your wet pussy.

Frantic your hands undo the belt and open his jeans, pushing it down, before tugging on his shirt, desperate for more skin. Josh takes pity on your frazzled attempts and takes off his shirt, pulling it over his head as well as letting his jeans fall to the floor with a quiet thud.

His skin is damp, a thin sheen of sweat giving it a dewy glow that catches the light of the room. Your eyes trace over him appreciatively, taking in the details that make him undeniably attractive as he just watches you with dark, hooded eyes.

The rise and fall of his chest, accompanied by a scattering of sparse chest hair, draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on the muscles that play beneath the softness of his belly. In this moment, you find that he is a perfect harmonious mix between being ripped and soft.

Driven by a need to touch - to feel - him your fingers trace a delicate path across Josh’s chest, shoulders, and belly, exploring the terrain of his skin with a gentle curiosity.

As your fingertips navigate the expanse of his chest, you feel his breath and breathing heart, a subtle rhythm syncing with the beating of your own heart. The transition to his shoulders unveils the sinewy strength that lies beneath, a testament to the physicality that drew you in. Moving lower, your touch encounters the softness of his belly, tracing the trail of hair that leads into his briefs.

Without warning you cup his hard cock that’s straining against the fabric of his underwear, making him groan, a deep sound that reverberates through his chest.

Josh wraps his arms around you, lifting you up as he dips his head to kiss you. He bites your lip, the sharp nip of his teeth making you whimper into his mouth. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass as he carries you, prompting you to wrap your legs around his thick middle.

With one fluid movement, he sets you down on the desk, dimly you register the books on the table being swept to the floor. He slots himself between your legs as he tangles his hand in your hair to tilt your head back to force you to meet his gaze.

“If you want to stop - at any point - you tell me,“ Josh’s voice is a quiet, husky murmur, the darkness in his eyes reflecting the pleasure shared between you. His lips, now deliciously pinked from your kisses, hover close.

Wordlessly, you nod. In this moment, he embodies everything you desire and more, a captivating presence that has ensnared your senses. If this is your only chance at tasting him, feeling him, having you - you’ll gladly take it. If not somewhat sad, because you’re sure you will not be able to forget him.

He captures your lips in another short kiss while hitching your dress up higher. Josh’s hand is between your legs now, rubbing one finger over your clothed cunt. You just know that the cotton has to be damp, that he now feels how much you want this - want him.

When he applies more pressure, scraping over your clit you arch your back into his touch. His eyes are on yours, drinking in your every reaction.

Josh repeats the act and you rake your fingers over his back so hard you’re certain to have marked him. It’s making him moan, low, deep and frantic as if he’s enjoying this as much as you. Your entire skin fizzles with electricity upon his reaction.

In one fluid motion, he seats himself beneath your things and yanks your ass off the edge of the desk. His fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and he pulls them down, off your legs.

Just the sight of Josh between your legs edges you closer to an orgasm. His big hands are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you open for him. If you had to describe the look in his eyes you don’t know if another word than feral was fitting.

He makes you want to paint him, to capture this moment for eternity, with his messy hair and dark eyes.

Your head falls back and every thought becomes impossible when he presses a featherlight kiss on your clit, the stubble prickling like electricity. You cry out when he draws a circle around it with his wet tongue.

“You need to be quiet, sweetheart,“ he says, voice low, rough and deep. “Wouldn’t want anyone to come in here, right?“

You can’t do much other than nod - you know that you can try but you also surely know that you will fail.

As soon as Josh presses his palm across your stomach to hold you down and tastes your cunt with a long lick you lose that train of thought again.

He builds you up with a slow and dexterous tongue, determined to make you cum beneath him. Your back arches off the desk, only held down by his strong arm as you whimper.

You feel your cunt clenching and you’re sure that you’re staining the desk with your wetness.

Arousal crashes through your vein and you feel yourself getting closer - and he apparently also does because he hooks his arms around you, to pull you closer to his mouth.

A curse rolls over your tongue when he sinks two of his thick fingers into your cunt, curling them inside your so you spasm around him.

While you know that your orgasm is drawing closer it still hits you like a freight train. The mixture of his fingers and his mouth on your clit brings you over the edge.

You cry out and your back arches off the desk, fire pulsing through you. Josh’s mouth is still on you, licking through your wet cunt, catching every drop. You feel like your muscles are locking up and the fire has extended to your lungs as he continues to work you through it. Only when you whimper against him, overstimulated he pulls back.

Josh’s neck and chin are coated in your wetness, glistening in the light of the room. A blinding smile is etched across his features, reaching his eyes. The pleasure radiating from him is palpable and genuine, he likes how you react to him.

Your fingers instinctively dig into the firm contours of Josh’s shoulders, a desperate longing urging him to rise and meet your lips. In response, his strong arms envelop you, pulling you irresistibly close as your mouths meld together in a fervent kiss. You taste the salty tang of yourself on his tongue.

His hard cock is pressed against your bare cunt and you grind down on him, making him groan into the kiss. Just from feeling him, you know that he’s big and you ache to get your hands on him.

You reach into his briefs, following the trail of hair. Josh’s cock is thick and twitching in your palm as you smear precum over him to jerk him off easier.

God, he’s going to split you in half, make you burn from the stretch as he forces you to accept every thick, hot inch of him.

Driven by need you push his underwear over his hips, mesmerizes as you finally see him naked. His dick stands proud and hard in neatly trimmed pubic hair. You wrap your hand around him again, tracing the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. Josh jerks his hips into your hand and you wet your lips as you clench around nothing.

It’s almost surreal, the realization that this handsome and gorgeous man is as captivated by you as you are by him and you itch to return the favour and take him into your mouth to see what sounds you can elicit from him.

But when you show signs of slipping from the desk he stops you with a long-fingered hand on your thigh.

“You can return the favour next time, we have to be quick,“ Josh’s voice is husky and dark as his eyes are on you intently.

Next time? Fuck, yes, you really hope that there will be a next time because you don’t think you can get enough of him.

His arms wrap around you again to claim your mouth before lifting you up from the desk. The dig of his fingers into your skin lingers are you just hope that they will bruise. He walks both of you over to a bed in the room, laying you down on your back.

Josh is a solid form above you, chest heaving as he braces his weight on his elbows. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, before licking a stripe along the length of your pulse.

The feeling of his weight pressing you into the bed with his bare chest on yours is indescribable. The soft swell of his stomach against yours is heavenly s you claw into his shoulders and back to pull him further on you,

“Fuck me, please,“ your voice wrecked and hoarse as you buck against him, feeling his hard dick press against you.

He pushes his cock against your cunt, nudging your clit with every stroke, just slicking himself with your wetness.

You whimper when you feel the tip of his broad dick slide into you, keeping it buried inside you, “Josh, please .“

Josh takes pity on you. He leans forwards and his eyes are on yours as he fills you with short and shallow thrusts, inching his cock further and further inside you. Your eyes fall closed at the overwhelming feeling of him in your cunt and he stops again.

Your eyes fly open when his hand finds its way around your throat, wordlessly telling you to keep your gaze locked on him. The slow drag of his dick elicits a high-pitched whine from you.

When his hips are flush against yours, he stills, giving you time to get used to him.

“Just like that…. You’re doing so well,“ his voice is low as he praises you.

The combination of the barely contained edge in his voice and the praise causes you to clench around him, making Josh groan. You’re drunk off him, off how you feel every ridge, every vein against the wall of your cunt.

When he pulls back and only leaves the tip inside you again, you whine. That is soon replaced by a loud moan as he slams his whole length into you.

He feels impossibly deep in your cunt, like he’s carving himself inside with every slap, stroke and thrust of his hips. There is nothing you can do but lay there and take it.

With every thrust, he almost growls into your ear as he possesses you. The slap of his balls against you and the wet squelch of your cunt is loud in the room as he continues to wreck you.

The head of his cock drags over that spot that makes you see stars and you twitch and jerk against him, completely overwhelmed by him.

You hiss when he reaches between you to press the pad of his thumb against your sensitive clit. He flicks it against it before starting to rub small circles that make you quiver under him and clench around him.

Josh’s face is the epitome of concentration as he drives his dick inside you again and again, his brow furrowed as he fucks the both of you towards your high.

You scream when you come. Blinding pleasure shoots through your veins, expanding from inside you and engulfing you. His lips come down to kiss you, capturing you in a feverish and feral kiss. Your teeth click together as he devours you and continues to slam into you.

With a load groan, he pushes into you as deep as possible, clutching you tightly as his hips jerk and he spills inside you.

He kisses you, hard and short while he keeps his hips flush with yours as he rocks them, milking himself dry.

It feels almost soft when he pushes your damp hair from your face and cups your cheek as you catch your breath. The kiss you share is lazy and soft, your hands comb through his hair lightly. You wrap your arms around him tightly, holding him close and savouring the feeling of his body on yours.

The post-orgasmic bliss disperses suddenly when you feel him soften inside you, his cum leaking onto the bed.

“Shit, Josh,“ panic is evident in your voice, “Get up.“

The realisation hits you, that Josh just ruined you in the room of his son - on his desk and bed. You know that you can’t pretend that this never happened, not when you know how perfect he feels inside you or how he looks when he comes.

His quiet laugh irritates you at first but your eyes flutter closed again when he presses his lips against yours.

“It will be fine,“ Josh’s blue eyes shine bright as he traces your lips with his thumb, “Let’s get cleaned up first. And then I’d like to take you out for some food.“

“Yeah… yeah,“ you start, a smile on your features, “I’d like that.“

#patrick wilson #patrick wilson x reader #patrick wilson smut #the conjuring #ed warren #insidious #fanfiction #josh lambert #insidious smut #josh lambert x reader #josh lambert smut #orm marius #aquaman #insidious fanfiction #insidious the red door #aquaman the lost kingdom #aquaman and the lost kingdom

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mohavesun · 10 months

Text

pretty boy - josh futturman x reader <3

going back in time was weird. granted, everything was weird. but seeing your boyfriend in women’s lingerie? weird. but also weirdly sexy.

content warning: 18+!!!, oral (male receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, a bit of choking. josh wearing lingerie in that one episode has me in a chokehold. not proofread so just ignore any mistakes lol

“fuck it, i’ll do it,” you grab the bag off of the asphalt, exactly where tiger dropped it to chase down wolf.

the bag was filled to the brim with silky robes and lacy panties, corsets and garters that would dress your curves perfectly. josh grabbed the bag out of your hands, a mortified expression on his face as he exclaims, “no! no, you can’t, that’s… no, no way.”

your lips curl into a frown. “josh. it’s for the future.”

“wh-f-fuck the future! no! you’re not… i’m… let me do it. i’ll do it.” your boyfriend’s face contorted into a conflicted expression. he looked into the bag, at the lingerie. his lips pressed into a thin line, an evident sign of a thought process emerging from his brain. he finally looked up, putting his hands on your shoulders. “i’ll be right back. love you.” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, before dashing off behind a bush and behind kronish’s house. you just watched, left standing on the sidewalk with an exasperated expression.

would that shit even fit on him? he did have a thin waist. sure, most of your clothes fit him. but he had never worn your lingerie, or underwear, or bras. although the thought of your boyfriend wearing lingerie was… exciting, in a strange way.

after what seemed like a million different people running into kronish’s house, tiger being one of them, josh finally ran out.

wearing… a set of silky lingerie.

“josh?” you couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of you. he was wide-eyed, sweat clinging to his forehead, his hair messy, as though he had been jumping through windows or crawling around on all fours. best of all, a shade of coral lipstick was smeared across his lips, smudged across his chin.

he smiled, a fleck of lipstick on his front tooth. “we gotta go, i can’t be seen wearing this,” josh huffs, reaching to your shoulders, an attempt to take your jacket off.

a familiar warmth stirred in your belly as your eyes lingered onto his body, a corset clinging to his chest and a pair of leopard-print panties, making his bulge very prominent, as well as thigh garters hugging his legs. a feather boa was draped around his neck. and fuck, he looked delicious.

“uh.. what?” he looked at your strange expression. your cheeks were lit a flame, your pupils blown, and your mouth suddenly dry, along with a fluttering sensation in your lower stomach.

you stared a moment longer, causing heat to erupt into his face, a blush spreading all over his pale body. “wh-what?” he looked like a deer in headlines, his sweet brown eyes wide, his hands fluttering over his crotch almost self-consciously.

you snap out of your lustful fog, shaking your head with a comforting grin. “no, no, you, uh- you look good! uh, too good. hot. fuck, we have to get you in different clothes, i think i’ll actually have a conniption.” you shed your jacket, throwing it around his shoulders with one last glimpse at his body, soft and kissable, wrapped like a christmas present.

“what?” your boyfriend was dumbfounded, but you could see his pupils blow with the realization that you were into this. he stuttered, “yo-you what? you mean, you’re, like… turned on, right now?”

you grab his hand, hastily pulling him down the sidewalk. he struggled to keep up with your stride, his breathing growing heavier by the moment.

“you’re seriously, like, you’re into this? right now?” josh stutters, trying not to overthink, his eyes fixated on the ways your hips moved in front of him.

“how—how could i not be?” you scoff, practically sprinting towards the futturman house.

“slow down, i-it’s hard to.. fuck,” josh kicked off his heels and began running barefoot behind you.

“god, why do you look so good?” you grumbled, helping him into the window of his—or, his uncle barry’s—room. you climbed in behind him, tumbling onto the floor.

josh’s cheeks were bright red, nearly the color of the lipstick that smudged across his lips to his cheek. “i-i didn’t know you were into this kind of thing,” he stammered, holding his hands out to help you stand, like the gentleman he is.

however, as you looked up to grab onto his hand, you were met with the mouth-watering sight of his half-hardened cock pressing against his leopard print panties, a wet patch along his tip.

suddenly, you didn’t feel like getting off the ground anymore.

“you like seeing me like this, don’t you? god, you look so fucking pretty, josh,” you murmur, hands on his knees, trailing your fingertips up his thighs.

josh’s legs trembled under your touch, as sensitive as he always was. “i-ah… yes, yes…”

you hooked your finger under the garter belt, pulling the elastic band back and letting it slap against his thigh, eliciting a soft gasp from your boyfriend.

“please,” josh whimpered, his cock now fully hard in a pair of panties that could barely contain his excitement.

you shift closer, sitting up on your knees and looking up at him. his big, brown eyes were wide, eyebrows knit together and lips slightly parted. you stared into his doe-like eyes as you drag his panties down to his ankles, only breaking eye contact to look at the throbbing, leaking cock in front of you.

you’d never get tired of seeing josh like this—and you’d certainly never seen a prettier cock than his. his tip was flushed a beautiful shade of pink, weeping precum, dripping down to the veins that adorned his shaft. another throb of arousal shot through you at the sight.

“oh, f—oh, my god, please,” josh whined, his hands pulling your hair out of your face, “need you—s-so bad…”

“be patient, pretty boy,” you murmur, dragging your tongue along the inside of his thighs, eliciting a sharp gasp from him.

you pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to his thighs, leaving a trail of hickeys only for you to see, before finally dragging your tongue against his heavy balls, grazing the underside of his cock before reaching his tip, tongue swirling the drop of precum that seeped from his slit.

“oh, mmph—oh, y-yes—“ josh released a series of gratifying moans, his fingers curling in your hair so tightly that it invoked a stinging sensation along your scalp. “feels… so good, oh, god… doing so g-good…”

your mouth enclosed around his tip, tongue along the underside of his shaft, encompassing his dick completely into your warm, wet mouth, until your nose was buried in his tuft of public hair and his tip prodded at the back of your throat.

his lips parted to an O shape, his thighs trembling as he tried desperately not to buck into your mouth.

“mmm…” you hummed against him, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through josh’s veins. your hand teased his balls, gently caressing them as you bobbed your head back at a mind-numbing pace.

your name fell from josh’s pretty red lips, a string of praises following, his hands still tightly wrapped in your hair as he guided your mouth, careful not to gag you.

he was so considerate, even when his cock was stuffed in your mouth.

“soo—so good, fuck,” josh cried, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as his glassy eyes watched you with blown pupils.

you hummed again, allowing him to push your mouth down and back up, pulling your hair just enough to send goosebumps along your skin. your pace gradually increased, bobbing along with the rhythm he created, every movement causing a whine or a whimper from josh.

“i’m close, fuck, can i…? i—mmm, oh, god, let me cum in your throat, please,” he cried, his stomach contracting and his cock throbbing in your mouth. his legs stuttered, hips beginning to twitch and shudder, meeting your mouth half-way with sloppy thrusts.

“mm—mhm,” was the only response you could muster, drool dribbling down your lip and down your chin.

the vibration of your voice only amplified his orgasm, causing him to push your head against his cock, messily fucking into your mouth as his dick twitched, releasing spurts of hot cum down your throat, choking and gagging you.

“so—sorry, i’m-im so—oo sorry, mmmphh!” josh moaned, eyes rolling back as he choked you against his cock before pulling out, tip still seeping cum onto your chin, a string of semen connecting his slit to your lips.

you gasped for air, swallowing and taking deep breaths, hands holding onto his thighs for support.

“holy—shit, a-are okay? oh, god, i’m sorry, it just—f-felt so good,” josh knelt down, his hands wiping away the sweat on your forehead. his fingers were shaky as he tried to clean your face, eyes wide with worry and cheeks flush from his orgasm.

“i’m—fine…” you breathed, nodding before raising your hand to his cheek, thumb swiping at the smudge of lipstick, “you’re… so hot.”

#josh futturman #josh hutcherson #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman smut #future man

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alexiroflife · 3 months

Text

‘don’t hate me’

“Across the Earth” Part 2: satoru gojo x reader

part 1 | part 3

Synopsis: satoru struggles with your constant anger at him and ponders if you've ever cared about him the way he cares about you. his temporary solution to his conflict is to force you along with him to his villa

to sum it up: "why can't she love me?"

WC: 8,821

“Wakey, wakey!”

You groan as the blare of the sun irritates your eyes until you open, unsure of whether the voice that sang into your ear moments ago was a hallucination inspired by your sleepy state or not.

You rub your hand over your eyes, stretching your arms out and rolling over to find Satoru leaned over, his face inches away from yours with a dopey smile.

You screech, jumping up and shuffling to the other side of your bed, eyes wide as your vision adjusts to the blue eyed man’s figure standing at the edge of your bed with a to-go bag in hand. He chuckles to himself, looking over you mischievously. “Oops, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You grumble incoherently to yourself, adjusting to your steady regain of consciousness. You turn to look out the window and see that it is still early morning by the way the sun sits in the sky. You sigh and crawl over to your nightstand to reach for your phone, eyes hazy when you catch the time reading 9:05.

“What are you doing?” you exhale tiredly, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed and looking up at Satoru with sleepy eyes as you scratch your head. You miss the way he stumbles over his words slightly and averts his gaze for a second before he’s placing the paper bag he held onto your lap.

“Wishing you a happy morning,” he says. “I got you breakfast.”

You furrow your brows, peering into the bag’s contents to find a lox bagel with cream cheese, something you had loved for years. You blink, reaching in to grab it instantly, your mind fixing solely on hunger that bubbles at the sight of the bagel.

“You would not believe the line I had to wait in to get this thing. New Yorkers are so bossy, pushing each other around and yelling for no reason that early in the morning,” Satoru rambles about his first experience at a bakery in the city. “This one guy almost took off my head because I tried to move around to see the display case. He thought I was cutting the line or something.”

“You went out this morning?” you ask softly, peering up at him as you grasp the large bagel in your hands.

“Yeah, just got back,” he answers casually.

You hum in appreciation. “Thanks, Toru,” you say mindlessly before taking a huge bite.

Satoru’s cheeks warm slightly and he’s waving you off like it’s nothing. “So, what time are we heading out?”

You look at him inquisitively, mouth full. “We?” your muffled voice repeats.

“That’s what I said.”

You don’t have the capacity to ask further right now as you still wake yourself up. “In ‘firty I go,” you tell him, mouth full.

He snickers. “Thirty minutes?”

You nod.

“Alright then, you go get dressed and I’ll wait for you out here,” Satoru makes his way to the doorway leading to the living room. You furrow your brows, swallowing harshly.

“Wait,” you stop him. “What do you mean? Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“Out to breakfast.”

“...Why aren’t you with them?”

“Cause I was getting you breakfast.”

“But,” you shake your head. “Why are you waiting for me? You know I have somewhere to go soon.”

“Oh, that’s because I'm coming with you,” he smiles and you straighten up, perplexed.

“What?”

“I wanna see where you’re working.”

You purse your lips. “I don’t think that’s…”

“And I want to visit the museum.”

“...Okay, then can’t you visit later?”

Satoru tilts his head back over his shoulders, casting you a sarcastic gaze. “Why? ‘You pushing me away again already?”

“Um- no?! It’s just not professional for me to pull up to a meeting with my friend hanging around!”

He smiles. “Relax, I’ll be good. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

“No, Satoru,” you stand, putting your bagel down to rummage through your drawers for an outfit. “I’ll see you after, but you can’t come with me.”

“Come on,” he complains dramatically. “Not even for a little bit?”

“No.”

“What if I just take a peek inside?”

“I said no.”

“Can’t you at least let me drive you there?”

You halt, turning to look at his pleading eyes. “And what about our friends who are out?”

“I can always go pick them up when they’re done,” he persuades. “Come on, come on,” he drawls. “Let me give you a ride, pretty please with a cherry on top?”

You exhale, pressing your lips into a straight line. “Alright, fine!” you begrudgingly accept. “But just one ride, and you don’t go inside. Got it?”

“How about two rides, one and there and back,” he presses.

“I don’t know when I’ll be done or what I’m doing after, Satoru.”

“Sure you do, you’re hanging with us, remember?” he reminds you of last night’s conversation.

“I never agreed to that.”

“That’s too bad, I wasn’t asking,” he grins.

“God, you’re so annoying! Okay, sure, whatever, two rides. But that’s it, you hear me? You’re not going into that museum while I’m meeting there.”

“Ugh, you wound me,” he frowns theatrically. “But I suppose that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go away while I get dressed,” you dismiss him. “And take a shower while you’re at it.”

Satoru’s face falls in horror. “Do I stink?!”

You pinch your nose and pucker your lips in fake disgust. “Not yet, but the longer you keep those clothes on from yesterday without bathing, you will.”

“You’re so mean,” he pouts. “At least you don’t hear me saying anything about your morning breath.”

You grit your teeth, picking out a pair of random jeans and chucking them at the white haired man who caught them in his hand with ease. “Get out now!”

He laughs, turning to take your pants with you. “You’re not getting these back,” he sings, pulling the door closed behind him.

The two of you are refreshed and dressed on time for you to make it to the museum with a few minutes to spare. Satoru walks you to his rental car parked on the side of the street a few blocks down, a sleek black convertible with no hood greeting your sight.

You stare at the vehicle in agitated awe as Satoru holds the passenger seat door open for you, lenses of his dark glasses gleaming like the pride in his blue eyes as he watches your expression. “After you,” he says with a goofy tone.

You scoff, stepping into the car cautiously. There are times when Satoru’s wealth, though a constant fact nagging in the back of your head, truly astonishes you. This is the same guy who drops thousands at the mall every other weekend for fun when the group tags along, showering his money into registers like it’s nothing. And of course, there’s the fact that Satoru planned and booked a trip across the world within a day and managed to find a rental car and a villa that suits his expensive tastes. You roll your eyes. He’s so obnoxious with his money at times.

“You’re insane,” you mumble and he giggles, shutting the door behind you and rounding the car to step into the driver’s seat.

Despite Satoru’s privilege, however, he is and always has been a very very poor driver. You are sorely reminded of this fact when he weaves through the already hectic streets of New York, honking impatiently with his arm slung over the side and nearly ramming into bumpers at a stoplight, his driving matching his carefree personality and the chaos of the city rather well. You simply pray that you won’t die in the passenger seat of his car.

As some time passes, you look over and catch a glimpse of his stunning side profile as he drives, loose sweater teasing his collarbone and neck muscles while his veiny hand grips the wheel tight, fingers occasionally running over and thrumming against the leather.

Your eyes then drift down to his exposed forearms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His muscles tense every now and then with the rotation of the wheel, his head throwing over his shoulder to glimpse behind him before merging sloppily.

He catches your eyes once as you’re staring, and you’re quick to look away, clearing your throat and hardening your eyes. It’s his turn to look at you now, seizing his opportunity when he hits another red light.

His blue eyes roam over your face, studying the curve of your brow and the subtle pout in your plump lips. He breathes in slowly, chest rising as the sight of your face makes his heart skip a beat. You blink a lot, he notices, your lashes fluttering against your soft cheeks, the curve of your cheekbone brightened by the glow of the morning sun.

He sees you turn to face him, round (e/c) eyes reaching his and making his throat run dry. He doesn’t look away, and his hearing is muffled until you nudge his shoulder harshly. Suddenly, the blare of car horns and your urgent voice registers.

“Satoru!” you shout. “The light!”

He looks up and sees that it has turned green and the car in front of him is long gone. He snorts, immediately slamming into the gas and jerking the two of you into motion. “Whoops,” he grins, and you’re flicking his forehead.

“Being in the car with you is a threat to my life, I swear,” you roll your eyes, turning to hide your flushed face.

“Wouldn’t you rather be with me than in a taxi?”

“What do you think?”

Satoru chuckles. “Sucks for you then, because as long as I’m around you’re riding with me.”

“Gee, I’m so lucky,” you quip sarcastically.

“I know right?”

After a grueling fifteen minutes, you finally pull up to the sidewalk by the museum behind a row of cabs. Satoru puts the car in park and leans over you to look up at the building over his glasses. “Wow,” he comments. “You must be losing your shit over this, huh nerd?”

“Insult me all you want,” you say. “I’m having a great time here.”

“I’m sure you are,” he hums. Your eyes scan the steps to the MET swiftly before you spot Aoto to the left while Satoru examines the area curiously.

“Oh! I see Aoto,” you announce, unbuckling your seatbelt and slinging your back over your shoulder.

Satoru’s brows pinch together, his gaze attempting to follow yours to locate your research partner. “Where?”

You point out to the brunette dressed in a light button up and slacks, seemingly waiting for your arrival. “There,” you say. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“Hold on,” he stops you, grabbing your arm gently to keep you from leaving just yet. You look at him with a strange expression.

“What is it now?”

“Well, it’d be rude of me not to introduce myself now that I’m here,” he says flatly.

“Why would you need to do that?”

“To be polite.”

“But he doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Exactly, hence introducing myself,” he says, looking at you blankly.

You don’t have the opportunity to stop him before he’s honking his horn, waving into the air aggressively and calling out to Aoto. Your eyes go wide and you turn to grip his extended arm to lower at, hissing at him to shut up, but it’s too late.

The commotion catches Aoto’s attention as well as the attention of many others. You watch the brunette turn into your direction, scrunching his face oddly before releasing it when he sees you next to the odd white haired man calling him over.

You panic when he heads your way, slapping at Satoru’s chest and knee. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” you hiss, and he’s smirking evilly.

Aoto steps down and approaches your passenger door, ducking his head to look into the car. He looks at you first, smiling kindly as Satoru stares, observing intensely with a tight lipped smile. “Morning, (Y/n),” a laugh bubbles lightly in his words as you tighten your face with embarrassment and flash him a nervous smile, ripping your hands from Gojo’s body.

“Hi,” you greet shortly.

“I see you’ve found a better ride today,” he jokes, and Satoru can feel a muscle in his eye twitch at the sound of him being humorous with you a day after meeting. Aoto looks at Satoru, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “How’s it going?”

“Oh just great,” Satoru grins, his one hand still taut on the steering wheel. “You must be uhhh… Apollo?”

You crick your neck when Satoru purposely fumbles the brunette’s name to his face.

Aoto takes it well, chuckling softly. “Uh, close, it’s Aoto,” he smiles. “But people butcher it all the time,” he lies.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Satoru nods slowly.

“(Y/n), this a friend of yours?”

You sigh. “Yeah, he’s just visiting-“

“Satoru Gojo,” your albino friend extends a hand over your lap into Aoto’s direction. Your research partner clasps it firmly, shaking with a friendly grip. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.” You notice Aoto move to tug his hand away, but Satoru holds on for a second longer, keeping his grip tight before letting him go. “That’s a hell of a handshake you got there.”

“Thank you,” Satoru grins. “So I hear you and (Y/n) are working together?”

“Sure are. We’re actually heading in soon to meet with a historian,” Aoto explains. “Your friend here is a really passionate girl. It’s already a pleasure to get to chat with her about all this stuff,” the older man compliments you, and you laugh bashfully.

Gojo, however, does not find anything funny. His tight smile is frozen on his face as he watches Aoto look at you with what you would call a “friendly” gaze, but what Satoru knows as a look that reveals his hidden desire to have sex with you.

He can feel himself losing his cool, the very thought of you spending all day with this creep making him lose his mind.

You turn to look at Gojo oddly upon detecting a sudden foulness in his mood.

“Funny, you got all that out of her in one day?” Satoru lifts his brows, glossy lips parted as he holds a finger to his chin as though he is completely indulged in what Aoto is saying. You don’t understand why he is all of a sudden behaving so rudely. He has no right, after all, since this is your sanctuary he insisted upon intruding.

“A day is generous. Maybe even less,” Aoto jokes in high spirits, and you try to laugh along with him, but the glare in Satoru’s eyes distracts you as he looks between you and your research partner repeatedly.

“Well, gosh, luckily for me, I’ve known her for three years,” Satoru smiles, turning to look at you. “Isn’t that right?”

You give him a warning glare, to which he blatantly ignores and turns back to face your research partner.

“She gets shy when I put her on the spot, but it’s true.”

“In that case, I’m sure you guys have a great friendship.”

“We really do.”

“Alright,” you jump in to cut the strange sense of strain in the air. “I think it’s about time we head in,” you say to Aoto.

He shrugs with a soft smile. “Sure, let’s go. Hey, nice meeting you Gojo,” he waves to the blue eyed pain in the ass next to you, and the said man grins.

“Take care, buddy.”

You are about to hop out of the vehicle to join Aoto when you pause. “Actually, Aoto, could you give us a minute? I think my chapstick fell out in here somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem. I’ll just be inside then.”

“Okay.”

You wait until Aoto is far enough to be out of earshot before whipping your head around and punching Satoru square in the shoulder. “Ow!” he yelps, rubbing the sore area, his uncivil facade fading. “That hurt!”

“What the hell was that, huh?” you ask through gritted teeth. “Why were you being so rude?”

“I wasn’t,” he exhales with irritation. “I was just scoping him out, no big deal.”

“It is a big deal, Satoru, because that’s the guy I’m working with! You know, for a real research opportunity?”

��Yeah, so you’ve said a hundred times already,” he remarks sassily. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“Nothing ever is to you, is it?” you growl, anger consuming your mind. Your thoughts of why you stepped away from Satoru in the first place instantly return, face flustering in embarrassment and heart pounding.

Why did he always have to make a scene everywhere he went? Why does he have to constantly be the center of attention with no regard for how his behavior impacts anyone else?

Satoru looks at you with a slightly hurt and befuddled expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a child,” you huff, gathering your belongings into your lap with haste. Satoru grabs your arm again before you can leave for the second time.

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on,” he rushes out. “Did I actually piss you off just now?”

“Answer your own questions, Satoru, since you seem to know everything.”

A dent forms in the space between his brows as he peers down at you incredulously. “You’re getting this worked up over me messing with some random guy?”

“My research partner,” you clarify.

“Whatever! Why does it matter?”

“It matters because you don’t think it does! You only give meaning to the things you care about, and you knock everyone else down along the way. It’s exhausting!”

“How was I supposed to know that you’d care so much about what I say to him? You just met him yesterday.”

“You still don’t even get it,” you shake your head. “Why would you?”

“Why are you snapping at me, (Y/n)?” Satoru frowns. “I thought we were good. I thought I didn’t do anything to make you mad at me.”

“That was yesterday, Satoru. This is today.”

“And you’re this angry at me over something so small? Nothing built up to you blowing up on me like this?”

“Maybe I’m just sick of you being an asshole.”

You yank your arm away, throwing open the door and slamming it behind you. Satoru sits back, lips parted in shock, reeling at the rate at which you had grown upset with him. He feels his heart ache, unsure of why you care so much about one interaction he had with a guy neither of you knows.

You’re right. He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand.

He can’t understand how this man gets to spend all of his time with you after you stripped your time away from Satoru forcefully, without even telling him why. You can’t understand why you defend Aoto, grow angry for him, resentful and hurtful. You called Satoru a child, you called him an asshole, you claimed that he didn’t care about how things affected others when all he cares about in this godforsaken world is you, and yet somehow, you’ve antagonized him and left him behind.

Where is your gratitude for the years he spent by your side ensuring that you weren’t lonely? Where is your gratitude for the tears he wiped away, shed for your isolation from an unloving family? Where is your gratitude for remembering all of your favorite foods, your likes, your dislikes, the things you are allergic to, the things you dream about attaining, your favorite animal, your favorite piece of clothing, your best and worst subjects in school, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, what makes your nose scrunch up in disgust and your eyes shine with enthusiasm?

Why are you so keen on shoving your memory of all he has been for you away? Why is it so easy for you to yell at him, to push you off of him, to glare at him, to dismiss him, to ghost him, when he knows there is no reality in this universe where he would be able to rip his eyes from your beautiful face for longer than one second?

It didn’t take much for you to leave Satoru behind, and he mourns over you. He mourns over your presence and your love that he begins to question was ever there. He mourns your touch, your gaze, your affections, your praises. He mourns the thought of you leaning into him and accepting the lengths to which he would go for you, the planets he would conquer, the oceans he would swim, the beasts he would tame.

Satoru would have given you his entire existence if you asked for it, but he mourns the notion that you would do the same as he realizes that you never will.

Instead, you choose Shoko over him. You choose Suguru over him. You choose an empty phone over him, a new country over him, and an older man over him. When Gojo would pick you in every universe he encounters within his dreams, you would cast him away for the chance of finding something better.

You do not love him, and he understands now.

To you, he’s an asshole, a child, a careless man with no regard for the impact he has on the people he cares for. To you, he is his legacy, his privilege, his wealth, his pride, his family. You are everything to him, the stars, the sun, and the moon, but he is nothing to you but a burden.

That must be why you stopped talking to him, why you were practically mortified to see his face in New York. Suguru had been right though he didn’t want to accept it. You want space away from him, far away, and while chases you, you continue to outrun him, seeking another hand to hold.

Satoru can feel himself growing cold, eyes angry and jaw taut. He doesn’t know why he tries so hard with you, or whether his blatant desire to keep you near has pushed you away further. He doesn’t know why, no matter how many times your voice and body tell him that you don’t want him around, he still follows you. He can’t bring himself to leave you the way you try to leave him, for you hold too much weight within his mind and bring him too much happiness. Christ, you’re one of his best friends, the only woman he has truly cared for beyond himself, and you give him nothing. Even so, he clings to you like you’re his last breath, surviving off of the ropes you throw and pull away as though he has no other option.

And to Satoru, there is no other option. You’re it. You’re everything. He can’t walk away, so why should you be able to?

He pictures you with Aoto, his rugged stubbled face and dark eyes. He pictures you laugh alongside him, fingers brushing his elbow as you steady yourself on your feet. He pictures you watching him with enamored eyes as he drones on about art, about the things you like that Satoru has never comprehended but has learned for you.

He pictures you hugging him, tucking your face against his chest as he pulls you close, his lips brushing your forehead as you thank him for this wonderful opportunity. He pictures you out at a grungy restaurant, sharing a meal in celebration of your remarkable intelligence, clinking glasses as your eyes meet in the haze of the candle lit space.

He pictures you going home with him, falling into him, lips crushing together and hands wandering over bare skin, skin Satoru alone is meant to touch, to kiss, to cherish.

The white haired heir clenches his fists together, rage overcoming him at the tormented images flashing through his brain. You’ll probably leave him for this place one day, for this life, for this guy, throwing him behind as if he held no value to you. You’ll go again without telling him and Satoru will find out through a friend, too late for him to chase you into a new life. He imagines you happy without him, and his heart shatters.

You, on the other hand, are fuming.

Why does Satoru have to be so obnoxious? Why can’t he let you breathe without him hovering over you, tracking you down just to make you angry again?

What right does he have to treat a stranger as if he is beneath him? Someone who you happen to work with? Could he be any more pretentious?

Your blood is boiling as you picture him looking at you, then competing with a man that you hardly even know through the tone of his voice and his unwarranted possession of you. What gives him the right to treat you as though he owns you, grinning smugly at Aoto as though he could never amount to his image?

You recall the nights you stayed up watching stories of Satoru with some random girl on your social media, his pretty face leaning into the camera as he sweet-talks the unassuming woman behind it with no intention of following through. You recall the times Satoru shoved profiles of girls who follow him into your faces, making remarks about how attractive they are before accepting their friend requests. You recall every time you have ended up sobbing in Suguru’s arms after a night of drinking, the dark haired boy himself blaming your emotions on the alcohol when in reality they were sparked by the sight of a girl grinding up against him in a club.

You replay all the instances Gojo has made you and hundreds of other women feel like a fool, and he has the audacity to challenge the poor guy you work with?

It’s unfair, all of it.

You’re supposed to be getting away from him, but instead, he’s here, just like he always forces himself to be. He’s invading your personal space, making judgments about other people, and all the while doing so and expecting not to be reprimanded. How much more inconsiderate could a person get?

You spend your entire day thinking about him, his face appearing in your head as you try to listen to the things the people around you are saying. You try your hardest to rid your mind of Satoru, but the task proves impossible. He’s like a plague, ailing your train of thought every chance he gets.

Why can’t he just leave you alone? It was already enough that he had made you fall in love with him, so why couldn’t he give you space? Why is he always so close to you, lingering in every nook and cranny of your heart and soul?

By the time late afternoon rolls around, you and Aoto are done in the MET and you are given a list of artifacts to organize on a spreadsheet by the end of the day. You had not called Satoru to see where he was, and you almost think he isn’t showing up, but when you descend the museum stairs, you see him parked by the sidewalk with Suguru sitting passenger and Shoko in the back.

You exhale slowly, preparing yourself for what is to come as you approach the car. “Hey, guys,” you greet with a wave, and your friends’ heads are turning except for Satoru, who leans his head back against the headrest and stares forward emptily.

“How was your day?” Shoko asks as you climb into the back with her.

You shrug. “Good. Got some good work to do.” You look forward to finding Gojo’s dull eyes in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t move to greet or look at you, which you find unbearably unusual. “What about you guys?”

“Suguru and I actually saw a huge rat after we finished breakfast,” the young woman beside you snickers. “So he’s not in the greatest mood.”

“I need to get out of this fucking place,” you hear Suguru mutter and you laugh at his tone of dreadful severity as Satoru pulls out and starts driving.

“Hate to break it to you, Sugu, but your friend has other plans for you today,” you say, hardly addressing the man you are speaking about aside from a vague allusion to Suguru.

“Actually,” you hear Satoru speak up, and you look up at him to find his eyes on you through the mirror. He looks slightly perturbed, the usual bubbliness in his tone and playful glitter in his eye replaced by a flat indifference. “There’s been a change of plans.”

You keep his gaze for a moment, eying him skeptically. “Oh?” is all you muster up the energy to say.

“We’re going back now.”

“Back where?”

“To the villa.”

Your shoulders drop as you process his announcement. All of a sudden, he wants to leave?

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry though. You’re coming with.”

You perk up, eyes shooting wide. “Huh?”

“I think you heard me perfectly clear,” he says. “Your stuff’s already all packed and in the front with Suguru. We’re heading straight up there now.”

“How the hell did you get back into my house?”

“I saw the code you put into the keypad when we left.”

You perch yourself up, gripping the back of Geto’s seat and leaning to look over at Satoru’s face. “Are you crazy? I’m not coming up there! It’s too far! I have to stay here.”

“Calm down. Your computer’s packed and I’ll have you back in the city by tomorrow morning.”

You fume. “Satoru, why do you think you can just drag me around wherever you want me to go?”

“I don’t think that. I just think it would be unfair to our friends if we forced them to hang around the city any longer without an extra pair of clothes. I’m thinking ahead for everyone, ‘cause, you know, I try to be aware of how my actions impact others,” he quips with a straight face, refusing to spare you a glance once you’re staring directly at him and leaning over the console.

Your face darkens when those last few words leave his mouth. “Is this really how you’re choosing to react to this morning?”

“Like I told you before, (Y/n), not everything’s about you. I’m doing this for Shoko and Suguru. So just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

He turns the volume knob up on a random station, blasting music he doesn’t even listen to as he drives. You lean back into your seat feeling even more agitated than you had been earlier, crossing your arms.

“He didn’t tell you about this before?” Shoko asks you quietly, the blare of the radio overpowering her voice enough for the boys in the front not to hear. You throw your hands up and into your lap, preparing for a rant.

“No! Literally just this morning he was trying to make you guys stay here longer so we could walk around the city,” you fume, turning to complain to your friend. She shakes her head with an exasperated smile.

“Typical Satoru.”

“I just can’t with him sometimes, honestly,” you huff.

“What did he do this time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pissed, he’s pissed, you mentioned something that happened this morning,” she lists as though this is nothing new. “What did he do?”

“Am I really that obvious when I’m mad at him?”

“I mean, yeah, but Satoru even more so when he’s bothered,” she glances up at him. “He never gets upset with you, so it’s weird.”

“Now why the hell would he be upset with me? He’s the one constantly out of line,” you accuse quietly, turning to look at the streets passing you by. “Like- you can’t just take people wherever you want to go. It’s selfish.”

“Tell me what he did, girl,” Shoko repeats for a third time and you exhale.

“It was just this weird thing this morning. He wanted to meet my research partner and he made a whole scene.”

Shoko listens as she pulls out a lighter and a pack of almost finished cigarettes. “What kind of scene?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, he was just acting like a dick… like really… really…” you struggle to find the word.

“Territorial?”

You give Shoko a strange look, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sort of.”

Ieiri shakes her head, flicking her match open to light the stick in her hand. “Figures.”

“I just wish for once he’d stop being so difficult.”

“I think you’re asking for the impossible,” Shoko cups her hands around the flame to block it from the wind. “Satoru will always be Satoru, and when you’re involved, he’s Satoru on Xanax.”

“Yeah, because he loves to piss me off.”

Shoko doesn’t respond, puffing smoke from her now lit cigarette as she ponders how you still can’t see what is so clearly standing right in front of you.

The car ride is silent for the most part, though not as long as you assumed it would be. After a few stops for gas and snacks, you finally make it to Long Island, the scent of sea breeze drifting through your nostrils and into the wild wind as you lean your head against the door, looking around you and observing the captivating scenery.

You watch the large, expensive houses pass you by until you’re pulling into a secluded villa at the end of a row. You lift your head and look up in awe as Satoru pulls into the driveway. The home is obnoxiously large, trees shading the front porch and sun pouring richly through the overhead leaves. There’s two stories, but the house stretches so wide it looks as though it was built for a family of twelve. The exterior is mostly wood with tall window panes and a glass dome connecting two legs of the house sitting in the center, where the front door resides. Your jaw hangs open as everyone piles out of the car casually, as though a two hundred thousand dollar vacation home isn’t sitting right before their eyes.

Suguru grabs your light overnight bag and tosses it over to you, catching you by surprise once you step out the car and rush to clutch it to your chest. “Welcome to Satoru’s overcompensation,” Suguru smiles at you, and Satoru grumbles at him to shut up as he closes the door behind him.

Shoko skips around you, racing up to the front door. “I call dibs on the big shower!” she claims, disappearing into the house.

Geto sweatdrops, trudging in behind her. “All the showers here are big, Shoko.”

The two leave you and Satoru alone as he rounds his car to grab your bag out of your arms wordlessly. His eyes, yet again, don’t meet yours. “I’ll show you to your room.”

You can feel your heart clench at his coldness, though frustration with him still bubbles, and you follow him into the house silently. Once you step through the glass doors, you see that the majority of the bottom level opens up to the back of the house, where a fresh cut lawn surrounds a crystal blue pool and lawn chairs. You stare baffled. The house is admittedly beautiful, but for Satoru to have splurged this much on a last minute trip is insane.

He leads you upstairs and down a long hallway before nudging open a door to your right that you realize is your bedroom. Satoru lets you walk past him into the room first, and you examine the large space carefully, the window on the left, the small couch in front of the queen bed, the television, and the marble dressers. It’s a nice room, you admit to yourself.

Satoru walks in to put your bag down on your bed, then turns to walk out. “We’re going out at ten,” he says, moving to leave.

“Wait,” you stop him, and he stills. He turns around to face you, an almost pained yet bothered expression on his face. You don’t know what to say now that you have his attention. You only know that you’re confused, though still angry with him for earlier. You’re confused as to why you’re here with him, why he’s all of a sudden mad at you. You can see it written all over his face now that Shoko has brought it to your attention. “What was the point of taking me here?” you choose to ask him, a question simple enough, you think, to not rouse more tension.

But you’re wrong.

“(Y/n),” he exhales. “I don’t know what to tell you if you can’t comprehend the fact that we just want to spend time with you.”

You swallow hard. He is mad. But why? You’re the one who’s supposed to be mad, not him. “Okay, but you’re not understanding where I’m coming from at all. Randomly making me do things without asking first sparks a few questions, don’t you think?”

“Okay then,” he nods. “What would you have said if I asked you?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know.”

“Be honest,” he demands sternly, and you look him in the eye when you answer.

“Probably… no, Satoru.”

“Exactly. So why ask if you’re just gonna turn me down again like you have been for weeks?” You feel your heart sink. You don’t like this feeling, though you know it’s partially your fault you’re in this situation.

“Didn’t we already talk about this last night?”

“I don’t think we’ve talked about it enough, but you don’t really wanna explain yourself, so I’m letting it go and making an executive decision for everyone.”

“Everyone?” you repeat.

He stares at you a moment, perturbed. “Yes,” he fibs, and you know he is. “If you have any more complaints about how I approach our relationship, take it up with the others,” he says, turning back around. “I won’t keep putting myself in a position where I have to defend myself caring about you.”

He’s gone within a second after that, swiftly leaving your room as if he was never there. You stand in the door, watching the entrance speechlessly.

You don’t know why Satoru’s behavior toward you is completely throwing you off, for if you’re mad at him, it really shouldn’t matter if he’s mad at you, right? But you have never seen him look at you so tiredly, speak to you with such agitation in his eyes and his tone. With you, he’s normally always bright, playful, loud, and obnoxious but in an endearing way. This tone he’s taking with you now is void of all that glee, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s making you anxious and, dare you say, hurting your feelings.

You know you’re being unfair because you’re normally always the one upset with Satoru and not the other way around. You know that he’s a human being and has a right to whatever he feels, despite the fact that you were angry with him this morning, but that doesn’t make this feel any less strange, like the world is being thrown off kilter. Despite your initial frustrations with him, you’re beginning to miss his smile, miss the way he follows you, the way he pesters you, the very same things you always claimed drove you insane.

Have you been taking advantage of him all this time, overlooking the life that he has always brought to your own? Are you the selfish one, though you have always accused Satoru of being self-centered?

And those words he had said earlier… I won’t keep putting myself in a position where I have to defend myself caring about you.”

All this time, all the pranks and the harassing, the constant texts and the frequent company, had he been just caring about you instead of trying to make you angry? Instead of trying to get a rise out of you?

You don’t understand. You don’t understand anything anymore.

You’re drowning in your thoughts, head submerging into an ocean of memories replaying constantly in your head. You somehow end up on the second floor balcony, peering straight ahead of you. The awareness of Satoru lounging on a beach chair and Shoko laying in the pool on a float below you remains in the back of your head, but you’re not fully paying attention. You can’t stop thinking about Satoru, about your friendship, about how you thought it would be best to push him away, about how he looked at you with aching eyes at the thought of you turning away from him again.

Had you messed up?

You’re deep in a trance when Suguru stalks up behind you quietly. He saw your figure standing alone on the balcony as he walked by and decided to accompany you. When he comes into your line of sight to stand beside you, you jump, glancing at him then relaxing when you see the dark haired man smiling gently at you. “Hey,” he greets you casually. You notice that his hair is down and damp and his clothes are fresh, likely having just gotten out of the shower.

You exhale slowly. “Hey,” you say, turning back to face forward. Suguru can immediately sense that your mind isn’t all there as he leans against the glass railing and observes your body language. He then glances down below him to find Satoru glaring ahead, eyes shaded by his glasses as he sucks harshly at the straw of his lemonade.

Suguru understands immediately.

“How’re you holding up?” the hazel eyed student asks. “You know, after being dragged here and all.”

“Feeling like I should be working.”

“Why aren’t you?”

You shrug, angling your brows. “I don’t know, I can’t focus,” you say.

“Is it because of the house?” he looks around. “It can be a bit much.”

“Actually, no,” you tell him honestly. “I wish I could, but I don’t hate it here. It’s nice.”

“Uh oh. Satoru’s finally gotten to you,” Suguru chuckles and you look over at him, slightly panicked.

“What makes you say that?”

Geto’s eyes meet yours and he lifts a brow. “The house. He’s got you liking his expensive taste.”

“Oh,” you mutter in relief. “I guess. A nice place is a nice place.”

He hums, looking forward into the direction you had been staring off in. The two of you stand beside each other silently for a moment, watching the sun ease its way behind the trees, when Suguru speaks up once more. “(Y/n)?”

“Hm?”

“I have a question for you.”

You turn and grimace. “Anytime you say that, I get scared.”

Suguru laughs, a refreshing, genuine sound. “How come?”

“You always ask the most intimidating things.”

“Do I?” he tugs his lips in an amused smile. “I guess you won’t like what I have to ask you then.”

“Just get it over with already,” you groan.

“Alright…” he pauses, scanning his eyes over your face as he tries to find the best way to approach. “Why’d you stop talking to Satoru?”

You knew it was coming. How could you not, when you and Satoru are behaving so strangely? You sigh loudly again, hanging your head low. “I knew it.”

“It’s really not that crazy of a question,” he says smugly and you push at his shoulder.

“Please, you know what you’re doing,” you roll your eyes and he chuckles.

“Do I? I’m only asking.”

“Whatever,” you huff, rubbing your temple in exasperation.

“Well?”

You’re mute for a moment, trying to determine what you want to say or how to respond. Suguru has always been very good at detecting when people are lying to him or not, and you know that if you lie to him, you will only be making the situation more painful for yourself. And by the way the dark haired man is looking at you now, you have a feeling he already knows the answer.

“...Why do you think I stopped talking to him?”

“I know what I think, (Y/n), but if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong.”

You look at him, your eyes telling a story that Suguru has read far too many times over. He hums in understanding, looking back down at Satoru.

“Doesn’t seem like I am though,” he says and you slump, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I just-” you stop, unsure of where your mind is directing the words that are coming out of your mouth. “I just thought that… it would be best if I took some time away.”

“Best for who?”

“For me?” you answer though you aren’t sure. “I don’t know!” you exclaim again. “It was hard enough just having him around and letting him make a fool out of me.”

“Huh?” Suguru makes a baffled face. “Making a fool out of you? How?”

“Look at him,” you hiss. “Look at this place, look at the money he spends, the attention he gets, the life he lives! I’m nothing compared to that and he knows it.”

“Your difference in societal standings is hardly something that Satoru would ever care about.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a blaring difference between our lives and how we approach things,” you explain. “I had to fight to get here. He just snaps his fingers and it’s done, and because of that, he behaves like he can do anything he wants. In some ways he can, but he shouldn’t be able to when it comes to his friends. Not when it comes to me,” you emphasize. “You see what he does, you’re his best friend. He makes things happen the way he wants and pulls everyone along with him, not caring about whether you want to go with him or not.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

His eyes grow intense as he studies you. “Do you want to go with him?”

“I-” you part your lips because you think you can answer easily, but you surprise yourself when you don’t. You frown, suddenly feeling rather pathetic. “Who wouldn’t want to go with Satoru Gojo wherever he takes you? It’s better than him leaving you behind.”

“But, (Y/n),” Suguru begins adamantly. “Satoru has never once left any of us behind. That’s why we’re here. He could’ve hauled his own ass to America, but instead he forced us along with him. And while it can be irritating, it’s kinda nice to know that he wants to share his privilege with the people he cares about.

“Satoru may be a lot of things. He’s impulsive, he’s clingy, he’s dramatic, but he’s not uncaring. You can’t categorize him as that just because he’s different,” Geto says wisely, and another wave of shame washes over you when you realize that he’s right. It’s just easier for you to call Satoru inconsiderate when he can’t see how helplessly in love you are with him. “And I’m sorry if this is blunt, but if we’re talking about leaving people behind… you kinda did that to him.”

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do,” you urged. “I thought that if I stepped away, I wouldn’t have to face my…”

“Your feelings,” Geto concludes, and you flush as your lips and brows curl in discomfort.

“I couldn’t stand it,” you whisper. “I still can’t stand it… watching him, watching the way girls glue themselves to him, watching the way he just tosses them aside without caring… I’m horrified that he’d only do the same to me if he knew, and I can’t stand it.”

“You wanna know why Satoru doesn’t pay any of those girls any mind and leads them on?”

“No,” you tighten your lips.

“Come on, it’s the same reason why he snatched the chance to show his face to your research partner earlier with so much to say. It’s the reason why he can’t help but try to follow you wherever you go, and when he can’t, he finds a way.”

You stare at Geto with hard eyes, eager yet perplexed. “I still don’t get it.”

“You’re hopeless. Both of you are,” Suguru sighs. “Either way, whatever’s going on between you two needs to get fixed. Immediately.”

“But, Suguru, I don’t know how to just be friends with him anymore without getting mad or- or letting these feelings get in the way,” you say desperately. “I don’t know how to be around him anymore.”

“Let me pose it this way. Do you want to be around him?”

“Do you seriously expect me to answer that?”

“Yes.”

You close your eyes, heart pounding hardly in your ears. “Of course I want to be around him…” you admit under your breath in embarrassment. “That was never the problem. It was that it hurt to be around him without him knowing about how I feel.”

“Then tell him.”

“Oh, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

“I’m being serious, (Y/n),” Suguru groans. “You need to tell him.”

“I can’t do that, Suguru, it would ruin everything.”

“That’s what you’re afraid will happen. You don’t know what will actually happen.”

“I know enough,” you cut him off. “I know enough about Satoru to know that if I tell him everything, he’ll use it against me or take it as a joke. I’ve seen it. So many girls confess to him, he’s become numb to it by now.”

“Those are other girls. Not you.”

“What makes me any different?”

“More than you know. Trust me,” he says sternly. “So just tell him. Right now, I'm pretty sure he thinks you hate him. Especially after everything with you coming here after ghosting him, and I’m sure your fight this morning didn’t help.”

“Hold on, how did you even know about that?”

“Satoru’s got a big mouth.” Though you know Gojo didn’t tell Shoko, you don’t know why you’re surprised that he blabbered to his best friend about this morning’s incident. “And a big heart too.”

“...Suguru, I’m scared. If I confessed to Satoru and he…” you trail off, images of Satoru laughing at you, telling you that he’s known all along, that he’s been taking pity on you floods your mind and you're consumed with fear. Fear of his rejection, fear of his indifference, fear of his mocking. You love him too much to endure that if that’s too happen. “I couldn’t handle it.”

“You’ve got it really bad, don’t you?” Suguru observes and you grit your teeth together in reaction to his blunt address of your love, something you don’t want to acknowledge as overpowering enough to be the way Suguru defines bad. “I pray for you.”

“Gee thanks.”

He laughs softly, leaning his head on his palm. “You’ve gotta stop letting fear drive your actions,” he looks at you gently. “Fear didn’t get you to college without the help of your parents, and it didn’t get you here to America. What could fear possibly get you now with Satoru?”

You know that Geto is right, as he always is. You can tell he only has your best interest at heart, his words carrying both friendly endearment and foresight. You always admired that about him, the way he carries such understanding and knowledge in his advice. “I’ll think about it,” you tell him, and that is all he wants to hear.

“Good. Because I’m getting kind of tired of suffering on behalf of you two,” he jokes. “I thought I was losing a friend because you can’t process your emotions.”

You gape at Suguru’s innocent smile. “Can you leave me and my coping mechanisms alone?”

“I don’t think I will,” he decides matter-of-factly. “I’m sure you’ve heard enough of this, but we really have missed you. The past month hasn’t been the same without you around.”

“Are you getting all sappy with me, Suguru?” you tease, and he shrugs.

“Just being honest.”

“When are you not?” you say. “I really didn’t mean to put a wall up in front of you guys. I got kinda swept up in everything I was feeling, I didn’t even notice I was being so isolated until I was already too deep in.”

Suguru leans over to place his hand atop your head consolingly. “It’s okay, (Y/n). Shoko and I understand.”

“I know, but I won’t do that to you guys again. I’ll try to get a handle on things before they can get any worse.”

He smiles down at you again kindly. “We’re here for support when you do.”

Below, Satoru is painfully aware of the two of you talking, standing close beside each other and smiling. The blue eyed man broods, for you treat Suguru with the kindness that you should have been treating him with. He tries to concentrate on something else, anything else, but the lull murmur of your voice and Suguru’s drifts into the air and into his thoughts, taunting him.

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daydaydayrk420 · 18 days

Note

So basically...

Could I please request a fluff smut with a male reader and Tony Stark where Tony wants to have sex with reader (for the first time) but when he asks reader about it reader feels conflicted and uncomfortable about it thanks to his trauma? To the point of breaking down?

Tony is sorry and comforts him, telling him they don't have to do anything. Reader calms down and tells him he would love to but he doesn't know...how. He was never loved and never loved anyone, never had sex, etc.

So Tony takes it as a challenge to make him as comfortable as possible, talk to him, comfort him, love him and stuff and they both make the most loving and mind blowing sex? Ofc reader's the top and Tony the bottom.

Backstory: Reader used to be a soldier on his home planet, but his people lost in the last one, the remaining got locked up, tortured and killed. He thankfully escaped and ended up on earth. Avengers found him (after causing a mass hysteria that there's a feral devil on the loose) and gave him a safe space under the condition he would become an Avenger. Through his time recovering he got close to Tony who was curious about his kind/race and story (also because he's a huge hot buffed guy).

Reader comes off as cold, stoic, almost insensitive, but it's just him not tolerating bullshit. He's also not naive or dumb.

Reade's not a monster ofc, he's just been through a lot. In reality he's a loyal, kind, loving and gentle gigant.

Tony also likes him because he laughs at his stupid jokes (they both gossip and hate on Steve), listens to him and they both understand each other because both know how it feels to be the black sheep and unlovable. They hit it so well together they started "dating".

Reader never was in love and could never be with someone, have sex or have a family, being stripped of such privileges because he was only a soldier, just a tool to kill and win battles, if you survive you survive, you die and you die. Sex was also used as a tool to only make children or as a way to punish or reward someone (not him). The saddest thing was that he thought, from the day he was born, that this was the way of living and he never questioned it. His time on earth ofc changed it, Tony changed it.

Thank you for the opportunity love~! ❤️

God dayum. You sure you don't want to start a blog too? XD

My first request!! I'll try my best!! And thank you for all the details I won't have to write XD

How do I do this

Tony stark X male reader

⚠️trauma, first time, soft sex, bottom Tony, top male reader, marking, creampie⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

______________________________________________________________

Screams.

That's all he hears when he sleeps.

Which is what he's hearing right now. He can't help but thrash around in the bed. Mumbling soft pleas for silence.

"Y/n" Tony mumbles as he rubs his eyes. He looks at the sleeping giant. Sleeping is a strong word.

Tony and Y/n have somehow become a couple. It started with Tony calling him Winter Soldier 2.0. Then Tony changed his mind about his cold and lifeless demeanor when he heard him laugh at a poorly made joke. Since then Tony has been making jokes left and right just so he could hear that laugh again. One day they were the only ones in the tower so Tony used it as an excuse to get to know him.

They actually share a lot in common. They both have trauma and absent fathers, and they both hate Steve.

They've gotten so close they practically became a couple but they never really specified it.

"Y/n" Tony calls out again to try and wake the giant. Y/N only grunts in response and twitches in his sleep. Tony leans over and kisses his forehead. Y/n sits up wide-eyed and looks around.

"Easy big guy. It's just me." Tony took his hand. Y/N lets out a sigh and lays down. He runs a hand over his face in frustration. Tony lays his head on the giant's chest and traces his faint scars. Y/n closes his eyes and rests his free hand on the smaller man's head.

"Your planet?" Tony asks even though he already knows an answer. Y/n just nods not wanting to talk about it. Y/n's home planet is probably dead by now. He doubts anyone is left.

Tony kisses his chest gently. Y/n tenses not used such care or touch in general. He only started sleeping in Tony's room two days ago. So this position is new to him. Why is he shirtless? He sleeps without his shirt in this weather. Which gives Tony more access of course.

Tony caresses the giant's chest and lulls him to sleep.

The next morning y/n wakes up to breakfast in bed. Tony is making sure the tray is secure and stable as y/n moves. "Morning sleepyhead." Y/n only response with a soft hum. He's still a bit disoriented.

"I made you some pancakes." Tony smiled and sat down next to him. "Did you or did you hire a chef?" Y/n jokes. Tony shrugs. They both know he can't cook.

The day goes on like any other. There's no missions to go through so the tower is pretty calm. Most of the people are either home or somewhere at the park. But Tony and y/n are in the tower. Watching TV. "Baby?" Tony's voice suddenly calls out and grabs Y/N's attention. He looks down at the smaller man and tilts his head.

Tony is looking at him with something in his eyes the giant doesn't understand.

"Can we have sex?" Tony asks bluntly. The giant is stunned. His eyes widen as he looks at the younger man with uncertainty. "Tony i-" "please?" Tony begged with puppy eyes. The giant shakes his head. "I don't know..."

Tony tilts his head. Trying to understand what's wrong and why he doesn't like the idea.

Y/n looks at Tony. "I was never in a relationship Tony. Everything we do is new to me. Including that." His confession made Tony's eyes widen. He never thought of that as a possibility. But considering y/n was raised as a soldier since day one was an understatement. Tony lets out a quiet "oh.." as he thinks of all the possibilities his unofficial lover would be comfortable with.

"I won't force you into anything. But I will make it my mission to make you as comfortable with it as possible." Tony said with determination. The giant smiles. He feels warm in his chest as he realizes how different his current life is. And how Tony makes it better.

Tony kept his word and every day he made the baby steps forward. He started with more physical touch. Holding hands whenever he could. Running his hand over the giant's shoulder, giving massages, high fives when he was playful. Which of course made y/n make use of his height and always put his hand high up so Tony had to jump up. He was getting more comfortable.

Then he started giving more kisses. Pecks on the cheek. Morning pecks on the lips when the giant wouldn't want to wake up. Pecks on the chest or anywhere Tony could reach when the gentle giant didn't want to bend down. Sometimes Tony would climb on a desk to be on eye level with y/n. The giant found that amusing. And adorable.

Then he started to show his body more. Y/n is used to sleeping shirtless and sometimes in just his boxers. But Tony? This is unusual for him. He starts off by wearing more revealing clothes. Like a thin tank top. Or a band crop top. Then he started sleeping without pants with only a large shirt and loose boxers. He made sure to cuddle with the giant so he could get used to their skin touching. Then he removed the shirt and started only sleeping in his boxers.

And now? He walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing and laid on the bed like nothing was unusual. Y/n on the other hand is staring. Not with hunger. But with confusion. He didn't realize he was staring but Tony knew. He was filled with butterflies as he thought that this could be the night.

"Did you forget to wash your laundry again?" Y/n asks with genuine curiosity and confusion. Tony can't help but laugh at his boyfriend's cluelessness. "No. I've been getting hot in bed recently with the summer heat so I decided to shed some clothes." Tony lied. Well not really. It is pretty hot but the actual truth as to why he's naked is that he wants his lover to get comfortable with the nudity.

"Oh." The giant looks ahead of himself as he thinks that it's a good idea. It is pretty hot tonight. He removes the sheets and stands up. Tony watches with curiosity. Y/n removes his boxers too. Tony shamelessly looks down. And he is very satisfied with the view. He knows his boyfriend is a giant. But he didn't imagine it being that big.

Tony feels his dick get hard against the mattress. He blushes and stays lying on his belly. He doesn't want y/n to be uncomfortable.

But he didn't realize that the giant had gotten used to their every nightcuddles he would notice how he was not already throwing his tiny arms around him as soon as he laid down.

"Tony?" Y/n asks confused. Tony snaps out of it and looks at the giant. He didn't realize he had laid down next to him. "Yeah?" His voice comes out shaky.

"Are you alright?" The giant runs his hand over the smaller man's back. He felt the sudden shiver his touch caused and raised an eyebrow. Tony buried his face in the pillow. He doesn't know why he's feeling like this. He's been with both men and women before obviously. But y/n's touch had a different effect on his body than anyone else. Y/n realizes what's happening. But he doesn't stop. No. His body is screaming for more. So his hand moves on its own. Lower. And lower.

Tony moans into the pillow which only fuels the giant's needs. The giant watches his hand move as he contemplates the situation. But he kept going. Until he reached the curve of Tony's ass. Tony whines as the hand stops. "Why'd you stop?" His voice is quiet and shaky as he lifts his head from the pillow. He looks at the gentle giant and pauses. He can see the hesitation. He can practically hear the cogwheels breaking.

"Hey." He sits up and takes Y/N's hands. He looks into his eyes and smiles softly. "We don't have to do it." He said softly as he caressed the giant's knuckles. The giant in return was staring at the smaller man's body. The way his dick was hard and yet he's still saying that it's okay to leave it. He looks Into the smaller man's eyes. "I want to..." He whispers. Tony's heart exploded.

"Are you sure?" He has to make sure. He'd be lying if he would be disappointed if he said no. But fuck does he need him. And he knows forcing it won't do anything. The giant nods. But Tony wants to hear it. He needs to hear it. "Use your words big guy." Tony whispered as he kneeled and leaned closer. Y/n'd eyes fall to his lips. "I need you." That's all Tony needs for his mind to go blank and his lips fall against the giants.

Y/n is fast to respond. His larger hand is cupping the smaller man's cheek as he deepens the kiss. Tony moans and wraps his arms around the bigger man's shoulders. The giant takes his time and slowly moves his hands down the smaller man's boy. He wants to memorize everything. Every inch of his skin.

"Tony..." Y/n moaned. Tony's knees buckled. He always imagined him moaning his name but he didn't think it would affect him that much.

All he knows is that he doesn't want it to end. Once the giant's hands reach the smaller man's thighs he slowly lowers him onto the bed.

They separate for air. Tony looks up with cloudy eyes and shivers once he sees the primal hunger staring dead at him. Even if his eyes are hungry, he can still see their gentle care.

Y/n kisses down to his chest and gently marks it. "Do you uh... Do you have any lu-" Before he can finish Tony is already pulling lube from under his pillow and handing it to him. The giant chuckles and takes it.

He wets his fingers. He reaches down and barely circles Tony's hole. Even if it's a featherlight touch it makes his stomach burst with butterflies. Y/n watches every reaction as he does what feels right. He carefully inserts the first digit of his middle finger.

Judging by Tony's whines he assumes he's doing it right. So he moves his finger around and pushes further in whenever the tight ring of muscle will allow him.

Tony whines and moves his hips against the giant finger. He may be going slow and easy but his larger fingers make it feel like he stuffed in two at once.

"Oh my fucking god." He groans and arches his back. Y/n stops and looks at the smaller man with worry. "Did I hurt you?" He starts to pull his finger out but Tony growls. "Don't you fucking stop." Y/N hesitates. He's never seen him like this. He doesn't like it. It feels like an order and that makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't pull his finger out but he doesn't move it either. Tony realizes what he said and forces himself to relax. "Please don't stop." This time his voice is more gentle and pleading.

Y/n looks through Tony's eyes. He relaxes and slowly moves his finger again. Tony lets out a really high-pitched moan. He moves his hips against the giant hand asking for more. So the giant slowly adds a second one.

Y/n keeps watching Tony making sure he's doing everything right and that he's comfortable. Tony is not here with his mind. He's too focused on the large fingers stretching him out. If this is how he feels from the fingers he doesn't want to know how pathetic he'll be once he gets the real deal.

"Please please please please" Tony whimpers for more. Y/n doesn't know what he's begging for so he only adds a third finger. Tony groans and arches his back. He knows he has to be stretched well for a man his size. But fuck was he getting impatient. He has to wait, for y/n's sake and comfort.

"Are you feeling good?" Y/n asks and gently moves his three fingers. Tony wants to laugh but all that comes out are moans. "SO good."

The giant nods and speeds up a bit. He also is getting impatient.

Tony basically crumbles in his hands as his fingers hit the right spot that makes him see stars. "Tony I need you" Y/n whines as he begs for permission to get on top. Tony whines too. "I need you too."

That's all it takes for Y/N to remove his fingers and tower over the smaller man. He pauses a bit to admire how Tony looks. Eyes half-lidded and face flush with pink.

Y/n suddenly realizes what's happening and is filled with hesitation again. Does Tony actually want this? Does he want it? Does Tony have a box of condoms somewhere? Do they even make his size?

"Y/n?" Tony's concerned voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Y/n looks at him. "Hm?" He whispered. Tony reached up to caress his cheek. "We don't have to if you're not ready." His voice is soft and sweet.

Y/N takes a deep shaky breath. They have already gone so far.

"Should we use a condom?" Y/n whispers. Tony relaxes and lets out a chuckle. "I don't think I have one your size big guy." The giant lets out a small chuckle at Tony's teasing.

He grabs the lube and squirts some into his hand. He makes sure to lube himself up as best as he can. Tony shivers as he realizes that's about to be inside him. He grabs a pillow and rests it under his hips.

Y/n adds a little bit more lube to the smaller man's hole and throws the bottle aside. He lines up and looks up into the smaller man's eyes. He waits for permission. Tony also looks up and nods.

The giant slowly slides the tip in. Shivers go through his whole body at the unfamiliar sensations. His mind goes blank as he keeps pushing in. A soft whimper from Tony snaps him out of his daze and makes him freeze in the spot. He looks up at the smaller man's face afraid he hurt him. The smaller man shifts a bit getting used to the larger size. He's been with men who got lucky with their sizes before but never like this. Which is obvious considering that the man is a literal giant from a different planet.

Tony whines and holds his abdomen. Y/n gives him time to adjust. In the meantime, he caresses and kisses the smaller man's body.

"I'm good." Tony breathes out. The giant nods and slowly pulls out and then slowly pushes back in. He repeats that multiple times until he finally bottoms out. They both let out loud moans. Y/n moans because of the new feeling. And Tony moans out because of the large bulge that has appeared under his hand.

"Oh my god, you feel so good, Tony." The giant moans as he rests his forehead on the smaller man Tony uses his free hand to run it through the larger man's hair. "You feel amazing Y/n."

They just hold each other like that until Tony commands for more.

The giant nods and slowly pulls out and then slowly pushes back in. He moves slowly. Pouring all his love and passion into his touches and kisses. Tony whines and begs for more but the giant never complies. It's his first time and he wants to memorize everything about it. Y/n angles his hips trying to find the right spot that makes Tony let out one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard. You'd think that with a size like that, he'd be hitting it every time. You're not wrong but it does take a certain angle for the actual pleasure to spread through Tony's body.

So he finds the perfect angle and makes sure to hit it every time he can. Tony becomes a whimpering mess. His nails are clawing at the bigger man's back and his back arches right into Y/n's touch. The way his back is arched gives the giant better access to kiss and mark his body. Y/n never gave anyone a hickey. Only bruises. But it¨s basically the same thing. Right? So he does anything he can think of that would make a hickey. He bites harder than just a nibble but that only leaves a love bite. He licks it and that reminds him of how Tony gave him a hickey once. He remembers he sucked on the skin. so he does just that.

He sucks in a good chunk of Tony's pec and bites it too for a longer effect. Tony practically screams out in ecstasy.

"Oh my god, you're so deep. How are you so deep." Tony moans and keeps resting his hand right above the abdomen. Y/n can only grunt out in response as he holds him close. His body is tingling in multiple places. He doesn't know why but he doesn't want it to stop.

"oh fuck fuck fuck fuck wait-" Before Tony can call out in time he's covering his belly in white sticky streaks. Y/n only watches in amazement at how Tony's body can squirt and squirm in his arms. But he's nowhere close. Not that he can tell. He wants to continue but thinks he should give the poor man a break. So he slows his thrusts. Tony is blissed out of his mind but the moment the thrusts slow more than they already make him snap out of it.

"Don't stop." Tony calls out in panic. He doesn't want this night to end yet. The giant hasn't even cummed yet! Of course, he doesn't want to stop. "Please don't stop." He pleaded instead of ordering around. Y/n nods and starts to move again. Tony's body shakes as it's slowly being overstimulated.

But he only begs for more. And the giant gives him more. His chest is covered in large deeply colored hickeys.

"Yes yes yes yes." Tony chants with shaky breaths as he shakes with extreme and pleasurable overstimulation.

It takes everything in y/n to hold back the urge to rut into the smaller man. But he keeps fighting his urges because he wants this night to be the night when he takes care of Tony.

Tony's nails dig deep enough into the bigger man's back. Which causes the giant to groan out. He can feel the blood on his back but he doesn't care. He loves how everything feels. How he feels. How his Tony feels. His Tony. His. "Mine" Y/n growls out before he can think and marks the small spots of Tony's skin that haven't been marked yet.

The smaller man grips onto the giant's hair and cries out. His body is so sensitive it's overwhelming. "Holly fuck!"

Y/n starts to feel a tingling sensation in his abdomen. Is this it? Is he close? "Tony" He moans. "I think I'm close." He whines and buries his face in the smaller man's neck. Tony whimpered and wrapped his shaky and barely working legs around the bigger mans hips. "Me too."

Y/n manages to give a couple more deep thrusts before that tingling sensation in his abdomen changes into a warm feeling that spreads throughout his body as he spills himself into Tony. He moans loudly and drops his head. His forehead rests on Tony's chest who's also shivering from his climax. The overstimulation has caused to make Tony to squirm more than before which made his streeks of cum reach further and some even reached y/n's cheek. Which only gets him to chuckle and lift his head up to look at the art under him. He smiles to himself as he watches how Tony uncontrollably whimpered and shook.

Eventually Y/n finally pulled out and left to grab something to clean up with.

Tony's arms fall to his stomach. His eyes fall closed and a small smile forms on his face. He feels a bit bloated with how much y/n has cummed but oh god does he love it.

The gentle giant returns with a warm wet rug and crawls back into bed to clean the smaller man up. But he stops once he sees how happy Tony looks as he holds his belly. He admires him for a while. Tony's hair is a mess, his eyes are closed, he's smiling so sweetly, and his chest is covered in large hickeys. Y/n can also feel how his back is burning from the multiple scratches the smaller man left behind. Especially the deeper ones. He gently touches Tony's dick to clean him up which makes his body jolt. "You're so responsive." He chuckles. Tony mumbled. "I'm so overstimulated every little touch will make my body jump." He responds tiredly but there's no annoyance behind his words. Only satisfaction and bliss.

Once they're both clean Y/n lays down. But his back burns with immediate protest which makes him wince and flip onto his stomach. Tony turns his head and looks at the bigger man with worry. His eyes widen once he sees the scratched red marks he left behind. "Oh god, I'm so sorry." Y/n chuckles at his reaction and turns his head to the side to face him. "I like it." That made Tony relax. He wants to so desperately move closer and cuddle the larger man but his body wouldn't respond even if he tried.

"Cuddles in the morning then?" He teased. The giant chuckles in response but nods. "Happily."

Before they both fell asleep Y/n spoke up with a sleepy tone. "Will you be my boyfriend?" Tony lets out a sleepy chuckle and responds with also a sleepy tone. "Of course, I will numbnuts."

They both fell asleep with goofy smiles on their faces.

#top male reader #x male reader smut #male reader #tony stark x male reader

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