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mochinomnoms · 3 days ago

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say you can't sleep, baby, I know

NSFW!Trey x Reader

Synopsis

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You're trying to rile him up, right? He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. Trey used to pride himself on his levelheadedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece. “Happy Birthday Trey~”

[wc} - 5,258

[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader (im sorry folks it's all i know how to write still), NRC is a university in this, domesticity kink, birthday sex, breeding kink (sue me), oral (giving & receiving), trey can be a little mean as a treat

[notes] - i apologize for the person i've become after seeing trey's new b-day card. it does things to me and this is 100% self-indulgent for me. also, tried to use very neutral descriptors for reader so tell me how that went and if it reads well! lastly, the outfit the reader wears is based on sabrina carpenter's outfits from her short n' sweet tour, specifically the baby doll one!

Written while listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

Let’s consider exactly the type of person Trey is.

Ever since he’s started school at NRC, he’s always taken a bit of a parental role in Heartslabyul, even before he became vice housewarden. Even Cater would joke about it when they first became friends:

“You’re, like, a total big bro! O-M-G, no! You’re like a dad friend! I’m totes willing to bet that the incoming freshmen are gonna slip up! Call you Dad or something!”

Evidently, when Riddle came into the picture and Trey was appointed his vice, Cater was proven right. He didn’t mind it too much, despite what others might think.

He liked the familiarity of it, being the oldest at home, it translated well into his position at Heartslabyul, and it came with the added bonus of being able to minimize any chaos that arose.

That was his main goal, especially with Riddle’s temper during his freshman and at the beginning of his sophomore year. Honestly, he had phenomenal conflict resolution skills, and he just wanted to make his life as easy as possible.

Everyone at this school liked to make that difficult, though, especially the freshmen of this year.

“Oh fu—I mean sh—dam—fuc—shi—FIDDLESTICKS!”

“Dude, just say fuck, why you gotta say the corniest shit—OW—Treyyy! Deuce hit me!”

Deuce had a guilty look on his face as Trey looked up from his notebook to raise a brow at the two.

“W-well, Ace cussed, so he has to put money in the swear jar!”

“Aw what! Come on Trey!” Ace whined, shoving Deuce’s face to the side as the latter grunted and started pulling at his cheeks and arm. “Riddle’s not here, he’ll never know, so I don’t gotta! Don’t make me!”

Trey simply smirked and gestured to the jar on the fireplace mantle, helpfully available to everyone in the lounge.

“You know the rules, bud, two thaurmarks for the f-bomb and a .50 cent for the other.”

Ace tossed his head back and groaned, begrudgingly dragging himself over to the jar as he dug around his pocket for change.

“Don’t be rude to your father, Ace.” A few giggles and snorts vibrated amongst the small group studying in the lounge as you wagged a finger at Ace, Grim squinting angrily at the book in your lap.

Your lips quivered as you hid a laugh, jokingly chastising the ginger.

“No need to be a brat.”

Trey had to withhold a snort at that comment, rich coming from you. He knew better than anyone that you could be as much of a brat as you were another parental figure.

“Oh ha-ha, very funny, Prefect. What, does that make you, Mom or Dad 2?” Ace stuck his tongue out at you as you grinned and focused back on Grim.

“Okay Grimmy, so remember, what alchemy recipes need mandrake root?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, Trey watched fondly as you murmured soft words to Grim. It reminded him of his Mom talking to his siblings after a nightmare, or of his Dad after one of them would get hurt in the kitchen.

Soft, soothing, parental. You’d make an excellent parent one day.

Trey felt himself get warm at the thought, adjusting himself in his seat and looking back at his musicology notes. He couldn’t sing very well, but he can memorize notes, and that’s what the upcoming exam was focused on.

That’s what he needed to focus on, not the way you cradled Grim against you like a parent with their child. Focus on his alchemy flashcards, and not the way you cleaned up the mess on the table so you could bring everyone a tray of snacks he’d prepared earlier that day. Focus on the history textbook in front of him, and not the way you cleaned up the lounge as it got later and later.

It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair how well you fell into the role. Cleaning and humming, one of his spare aprons on you as you wiped down the tables of crumbs and stacked a pile of dishes. It was unfair how sweetly you murmured to the few remaining students, and told them to go to bed and rest up.

They obliged, probably half asleep at this rate, since it was an hour until midnight. Ace and Deuce had retired a while ago, the latter leaning on the former as they haphazardly stumbled to their room.

Riddle had dropped by after his housewarden meeting, satisfied by the study group, but ultimately stuck to his very strict evening routine.

Now it was just you two. Even Grim had been tugged along with Ace and Deuce earlier, not unlike a rag doll slung over their shoulders.

“Trey? Honey, when are you going to sleep? It’s almost midnight.” His eyes fluttered tiredly as he felt your hands slide over his shoulders and a kiss pressed against his temple.

He felt warm again, heat pooling in his belly. You were so unfair.

“You should go to bed soon, come on, I’ll take care of you.”

He can think of a few ways you could ‘take care’ of him.

“It’s fine, why don’t you get Grim and head back to Ramshackle? Curfew is in 30 minutes, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing into his ear, making a tingle go down his spine.

“Okay, but please go to bed soon? I left you a little birthday surprise in your bedroom~”

Trey perked up at that, eyeing your mischievous grin as you waved your fingers goodbye, going down the hallway to the dorms to grab Grim.

To be honest, he’d forgotten that his birthday was tomorrow, he’d been so focused on his midterms that it just slipped his mind. Well, he can’t say he’s not excited to see what you got him, especially since you’d been not too subtly probing him for preferences.

He groaned, running his hands over his face and sighing, heavy and exhausted.

“Ugh, just a bit more and I’ll retire for the night.” Trey reassured himself, eyes straining as he looked between the books in front of him.

The words on the papers blurred after a bit, the sound of the grandclock lulling him further into sleep, his head nodding off until a ping from his phone started him awake.

It was Cater, his Magicam user popping up on his screen.

cay-cay_diamond: hbd trey!! 🥳🎉🎉🎉grats on being an old man now!

Blinking at the clock, Trey realized that it was now a few minutes past midnight, so it was technically his birthday. He’s lucky that Riddle followed his own sleep schedule so rigorously, or else he’d be getting a scolding for breaking curfew.

luckyclover: Old? I’m only like 4 months older than you cay-cay_diamond: yeah. old. cay-cay_diamond: anyways! enjoy the gift in ur room!!! i helped (name) pick out the wrapping 😘😘😘

Trey hummed, a small smile on his face as he imagined the two of you bickering over wrapping paper and messily wrapping up a box with a bow. You did seem very excited for him to find it earlier, maybe you two picked something out together.

He was curious on what exactly you got him and why you hadn’t waited to give it to him at his actual birthday party. And why did you need Cater to help you…you’d always shoo him away when he’d tried helping you with gifts for other’s birthdays.

Stacking his books into his left hand and walking towards the junior dorm rooms, Trey looked at his phone as it pinged again.

cay-cay_diamond: on that topic thooo…u should rly go 2 ur room and get ur present! the poor thing! they’ve been w8ing very patiently 4 u~ luckyclover: Waiting? (Name)??? cay-cay_diamond: 🤭🤫😉

Trey sighed, shaking his head and tucking his phone away and digging out his room keys. It was times like these, deep into the night, when he was thankful for having his own room. He felt a bit bad now, you probably fell asleep in his bed waiting for him.

Though, the thought of you clutching one of his pillows, maybe in one of his sweaters to keep warm, made him smile. Then he could come in, gently take your clothes and shoes off to get you more comfortable, and dress down himself to slip in right behind you.

As he finally managed to get to his room, he heard shuffling as he turned the keys. Trey smirked, noticing that only his rose lamp remained on, and all the drapes to his canopy were now closed.

He could just barely make out the shadow of you moving behind them, hearing you gasp and the bed squeak, making him let out a soft laugh under his breath.

“You’re breaking curfew, you should be asleep you know? You're such a troublemaker sometimes.” Trey teased you as placed his books on his desk, tossing his hat onto its stand and slipping his shoes off to throw them into his wardrobe and grab his slippers.

He yawned, the late night really starting to sink into his body as he started undressing, his jacket and vest getting hung back up in the closet as he worked on his sash and unbuttoning his pants.

“Only like a third of the time!” You whined, the bed softly squeaking as you followed his movements behind the canopy. “Besides, I really wanted to give you your present. Don’t you want to unwrap me?”

Trey paused at the purr in your voice, narrowing his gaze as he saw your hand ever so slightly move the curtain at the end of the bed to peek at him. You were still mostly shrouded in darkness, but there was a very soft glow coming from inside the canopy, so he could just barely make out your mischievous smile.

Though, you quickly frowned, eyeing him up and down out of concern.

“Not if you’re too tired though, you have bags under your eyes, Trey. Do you just wanna go to sleep?”

Giving you a weary smile, Trey finally tossed his sash to the side and reached for the curtains, pushing them to the side to finally take a look at your “mysterious” present.

“In a bit, let me see what you got me…”

Trey’s breath hitched, he suddenly felt very wide awake as his eyes roamed up and down your body.

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you set up string lights along the top of the canopy for ambiance, making you look like you were almost glowing. Though it wasn’t that that made him lose his voice.

You were sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs curled underneath you, dressed in the most darling sage-green, sheer baby doll dress. The dress's puffy sleeves and hem were lacy, matching the lace on the stockings.

Holy shit you were wearing stockings.

“Ha, I wanted to surprise you, I thought you could use a stress reliever.”

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

“I should’ve realized that you’d be tired from studying for midterms, sorry.”

You're trying to rile him up, right?

“But, still, do you like it? I wrapped myself up just for you~”

He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. To behave.

“In any case,” You shifted onto your knees, the dress splitting in the middle, the only thing keeping it together being a small bow at the base of your neck, revealing the lack of undergarments, just your bare skin underneath. “Even if you’re too tired and just want to sleep, I just wanted to say…”

Trey leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, batting your eyelashes and ghosting your lips over his with a teasing smile. Your hands caressed the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing soothing circles, making him melt.

“Happy Birthday Trey~”

It’s now that he noticed that you even added a gloss to your lips, and he could smell the warm perfume on your neck as you pressed your lips to his, tongue swiping over his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Obliging, Trey sighed into the kiss and tangled his tongue with yours, his hands slipping underneath the baby doll and squeezing at your waist.

He really should go to sleep. He has to wake up early for the party. He has to dress in his birthday robes. He has to make sure that the others don’t burn down the kitchen or damage his expensive bakeware as they made his cake.

But the way your skin felt under his gloved hands, skin meeting skin, lace, skin, and lace again.

How could he be expected to sleep now?

Trey used to pride himself on his level headedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece.

Humming in delight against your mouth, Trey slid his hands down, as you curled into his body in response, and squeezed at the fat of your thighs before picking you up.

A yelp left your mouth as he picked you up and tossed you up the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him as he crawled on top of you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he saw the way the dress fell open to expose your body, your chest moving up and down as you watched him with a giddy smile.

“Oh! I guess you’re not that tired—ah!”

You gasped as Trey grabbed your calves, tugging you up to place the back of your knees on his shoulders. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your right thigh, smirking against the lace.

“I was tired. I should be asleep,” Trey murmured against your stocking laced skin, pressing kisses as he went farther and farther down. “Resting—kiss—Up—kiss—but no.”

He gave you a half-hearted glare, which you responded with a smile and lacing your hands through his hair as he pressed another kiss to the bend where your thigh met your sex.

“You broke curfew, you wanted to keep me up with your little ‘present’, you know I’d get in trouble for hiding you out in my room.”

Trey gave you a bite on your thigh, groaning as he felt your hands tighten in his hair, moving back to press a soothing kiss to the mark he left.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Throw me in the doghouse?” “Cause I’ll make sure you come right with me, after a little taste of my birthday treat.”

The same time he ran his tongue up your sex, Trey could feel you shiver and pull on his hair as he ate you feverishly, like a man starved from food or water for ages.

“Mmm! Trey!” You threw your head back, bringing one hand up to slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, the walls here weren’t known to be sound-proof.

He should probably care a bit more, especially when you let out a particularly high-pitched squeal as his tongue began fucking into your hole.

“Trey! Oooh, Trey~”

Bringing a finger to join his tongue, Trey smiled against your skin as you squeezed your thighs around his head, using his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to palm at his dick.

“Trey—aaaah—wait, let me—mmph—Honey—” You let out a shuddering gasp, pulling his head up from your sex. Trey locked eyes with you, leaning into the hand you slid down to cup his cheek and caress his lower lips, wiping the slick and drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes? Honey?” Removing his hand from inside you to cover your own hand and kiss your palm, Trey smiled and hummed, “I like that, you know, reminds me of a husband coming home to his spouse.”

Pressing kisses up your body, soft and tingly, up your neck, and back to your lips where they belonged.

“Hmm, I really like the sound of that, (Name) Clover.” You murmured against his lips, smiling as you wrapped a leg around his waist to bring his dick closer to your sex, rubbing against him as you both sighed into each other’s mouths.

“Is that what you want? You want me to be a cute little spouse? Dress up in a cute apron? Greet you when you come home from work?”

So focused on the softness of your lips and the wetness sliding against his dick, Trey didn’t even notice you twisting your body to turn him onto his back, the back of his head hitting the back of his pillows as you sat on top with a cheeky grin.

“Hm? How would my husband want me to welcome him home? A hug? A kiss? Mm, what about…me?” Trey watched you with flushed cheeks as you kissed down his body, mimicking his earlier actions as you helped him tug off the rest of his clothes.

“Oh, how nice it would be for you to come back to a warm, clean home with a spouse…” Looking up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick to his tip. “...ready to give soft wet holes for you to fill~”

Giving him a vision into that sweet, sweet future, you swallowed his tip, down his shaft, and started sucking.

“Haaah—”

Trey lolled his head back into his pillow, letting out a breathless moan as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand working the rest that didn’t fit into your mouth.

“Fuuuuck. That does sound nice—mmh!” Reaching his hand down, you immediately took one of your hands to lace it with his, squeezing it as you hummed around his cock.

“My lovely spouse—nnnngh—their pretty mouth—unnnh—soft holes—aaaah—all for me to come home to every day, what a dream~”

A particularly harsh suck made Trey arch his back and squeeze your hand harder, a giggle vibrating his dick as you pulled off.

“Hehe, is this your way of proposing? Kinda dirty to do it with your dick on my mouth.” You giggled, pressing kisses and quick licks along his shaft.

“That’s okay though, you and I both know that deep down, you’re a bit of a pervert. Right?”

Trey scoffed, tugging you up with a bemused smile. “Yeah? How can you tell? Thought I hid that pretty well.”

A soft laugh escaping you, you held both of his hands, bringing them up to press kisses on his knuckles, making the green-haired man sigh fondly.

“The way you look at me sometimes, like you’re undressing me. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, especially when I piss you off.”

Both of you let out a breathless moan as your wetness rubbed against his hard dick, grinding against one another as the tip occasionally caught against your hole, making you shiver.

“Is it bad that sometimes I wanna get you mad so you’ll fuck me real mean? Is it bad that I want you to use me? To fuck your stress out with me?”

A lump forming in his throat, Trey let go of your hands to pull at the string holding your flimsy baby doll together. Eyes half lidded, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, watching it pool at your elbows as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your grinding turned into vigorous humping against him, making you both gasp in pleasure.

“Ooh, Trey, honey, baby, hubby~ Won’t you use me? Be a little mean? Pleeeease? Fuck me, fill me up like I know you want! Pleeeeease Trey? Pretty, pretty please?”

Lips smashed against yours as Trey bolted up, groaning into your mouth as he grabbed your hips in an almost painful grip.

He picked you up once again, throwing you on all fours, covers tangling against your knees and hands, as he ripped your dress off and tossed it.

Trey’s left hand placed itself on your hip, while his right pushed down on your back, following up your spine to the base of your neck where he pushed you down to shove your face into the sheets, forcing you into a doggy pose.

“So you do like getting me in trouble, little brat. Fine, I’ll be mean.”

Trey lined his dick against your throbbing hole, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your ear and moving the hand on your neck to wove with your right, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Squeeze three times if you need me to stop, otherwise, I’m going to fuck that brain right out of your pretty little head, since you don’t seem to be wanting to use it.”

In one, swift move, Trey slammed his hips to your ass, sinking nearly half his length into your warm, waiting hole.

“FUCK! YES—MMMPH” Burying your face into the sheets to muffle your cries, Trey did the same into your shoulder, shivering at your tightness around him.

Setting a rhythm, hips smacking into your ass, Trey worked the rest of his cock into you until he could hear the smack of your ass against his hips, the sound echoing with the creak of the bed.

Your tightness around him was heavenly, as was the sight of you sinking further into the bed and arching your ass to sloppily meet his thrusts. Straightening again, bending your arm back so that your hands could remain intertwined.

His left hand caressed your back and the fat of your behind, before bringing it down in a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp and squeeze his hand in a vice grip, though you also tightened around his cock.

Rubbing a soothing circle against the reddening skin, slowed his thrusts, making you whine and push against him.

“Haaah, that okay? Feel good?” Trey murmured, smiling at the frantic nod and wiggle against him. “Want me to keep going?”

“Mmmph... yessshh... mmmore, mmmore... pleeeashh, honey~” Your sounds were muffled as you bit into the blanket, getting higher and higher as he obliged, not one to deny you after all.

Every other thrust was met with a slap to one cheek, then the other, the skin turning redder and redder with his handprints marking you. The harder he went, the more and more slack you went, until he was eventually just fucking you like his personal toy.

Though, you did offer yourself as his present, didn’t you? So it was only fair that he got to use his present as he wished, and right now, he wanted to feel you cumming around him.

Ceasing his smacks, making you whine, Trey instead melded his body against yours, the weight both overwhelming and comforting, as his left hand instead moved to your sex to rub you to completion.

Trey watched as you gasped for breath, completely burying your head into the bed to muffled your screams as you came around him, trembling and squeezing him.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his shaft was becoming dangerously addicting, and he was very greedy for more of that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close! You can give me another one, right?”

Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, Trey adjusted you so that you sat on his dick, kissing the side of your neck for reassurance as he let go of your hand to quickly slide his arms under your knees.

From all his years of tossing bags of flour and sugar, from kneading dough, from all the labor he’s done as a baker, picking you up was like child’s play.

Folding your knees up to your chest so he could hold you, back flush to his chest, was nothing for him. Everything for you, though, your over sensitive hole squeezing down on him again.

“FUCK! I caaame! Treytreytreytrey—” You dug a hand into his arm, tossing your head back and lolling your tongue out with a dumb, drooly smile on your lips.

“A-almost there—nngh—just squeeze if I need to stop—I’m so close~”

Smashing his lips against yours for an open mouth, wet kiss, Trey pounded faster into you, determined to feel your walls pulsate again, this time as he filled your insides up like one of his pastries.

Then, an awful, perverted thought filled his head, like a devil was whispering in his ear.

Why doesn’t he fill them up with his kids? Don’t stop until his cum is drooling out of their hole, and go again to make up for the lost seed. He already wants them to be his spouse, why not add a few little ones to that picture?

Trey was losing any bit of restraint that he may have had as he was now determined to fullfill his fantasy. Even if you couldn’t do it, magic made anything here possible, and right now is good practice anyway.

“I’m—aaaahhh—I’m gonna come inside, okay? Fill you up, yeah?”

Digging your nails into his skin, you nodded against his mouth and whined.

“Yessssss! Fill me up! Inside! Gimme a baby Trey! I wanna make you a daaaaddy~”

Squeezing your legs further against your chest, Trey pounded faster and faster, trembling as he reached close and closer to his peak.

Warmth flooded his body, tingles, and he swears sparks, flying over his skin as he felt you clamp down on him for a third time.

Your voice squealed higher and higher, any previous attempt to be quiet for naught as you practically screamed.

Trey shuddered as he finally came, cum flooding your warm insides as you went limp in his arms.

Panting for air, both of you remained still for a minute, the bed feeling stuffy with the curtains still closed. After another minute, Trey pulled you up and off of him, shaky as his now limp dick left your warm, comfortable embrace.

Doing his best to gently place you on the bed, Trey let out a breathless laugh as you collapsed on the bed like a rag doll, blinking your eyes tiredly at the ceiling of the canopy.

“Haah, sorry, I went too hard there, huh?”

You shook your head, giving him a tired smile and reaching a hand for him, which he took and brought up to kiss.

“It was good, really, good. You liked your present?”

Snorting and nodding, Trey carefully scooped you up to move your head onto the pillows and gently roll off your garter stocking, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he did.

“Yeah, I did. Come on, let me get you a shirt.”

You whined as he pulled away, exhaustion starting to steep into him as he tied back the curtains to the canopy to let the stuffiness out. Trey picked up the baby doll he’d tossed earlier, placing it into his wardrobe drawer as he dug out a shirt and sweatpants for himself and a shirt for you.

As he closed the drawer, he noticed your backpack hidden underneath it, digging in it to grab you some underwear. You had packed a pair of pajamas, apparently, but…he’d rather see you in his clothes.

“Hmm, honey? Come to bed…” You whined, hands reaching out for him impatiently as he slipped on his clothes, crawling over to you and helping you slip your underwear and his shirt on.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Trey slowly blinked, eyelids heavy as he scoop you up to place you two under the covers, the soft mattress making him practically become one with the bed and you as you nestled into his chest.

Your legs tangled with his as Trey wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. He could feel fatigue and sleep quickly taking over him as your voice vibrated against his chest, soft and sleepy.

“Happy birthday honey, I—yawn—love…you…”

A different kind of warmth, soft and sweet, filled him as he squeezed you tighter against him, murmuring back.

“I love you too…”

*Riiiing* *Riiiiiiiing* *Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

An irritating, loud noise filled Trey’s ears as he groaned, half-awake as he turned over to smack his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm.

“Aah…Noisy…hhggh.” Trey groaned, rolling over, careful to not crush you under him to blindly reach for his glasses.

“Glasses…glasses…ah..”

Plastic and glass finally under his palm, Trey slipped his glasses on his face, ultimately throwing himself back into bed next to you, who’d begun shifting awake.

“Mmm, honey?”

Grunting in response, Trey threw an arm over his eyes, irritated at the sun seeping through the window into his eyes.

“Early…”

You chuckled, a yawn escaping you as you decided to move closer and slip a hand under his shirt to rub at his chest, pressing kisses into his neck as well.

“You’re so grumpy in the morning. Come on, you've got a big day ahead.”

“…Ugh, I do?”

Snorting at his response, Trey grunted as he felt you move, peaking under his arm to see you resting on your elbow. You had puffy, dark circles under your eyes from the little sleep you managed to get.

“Birthdays are a pretty big deal, right?” Smiling at him, Trey squinted an eye and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest.

“Ugggh, yeah…”

Hearing you hum, Trey groaned in surprise as he felt you straddle his waist and caress his neck and cheeks, making him remove his arm to blink up at you.

Your hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all sorts of places. The bags under your eyes more noticeable under the night. His shirt dwarfed you. You were a hot mess, all things considered.

He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, with how cute you were last night, but he thinks you look most beautiful like this. Better than any frilly, skimpy, or tight outfit.

“Come on, Birthday Boy, want me to give you a little pick me up?”

Kissing him with a smile, Trey moaned into the lazy, sloppy morning kiss, tilting his head back as you pressed kissed down his neck, deciding to work on leaving a love bite at the nape of his neck.

Trey’s phone chimed, making him sigh as he reached for it, letting you continue your love bites and kisses,

Squinting at the few messages, it seemed like a few of his friends and classmates were already sending him birthday wishes. Though, a message from Cater made him blot up, a sudden shock of alertness running down his spine.

“Ah! Trey, what is it?”

cay-cay_diamond: morning!! happy bday 2 the bday boi again! thought i let u no tht u owe me a favor, had 2 cast a silencing spell on ur roum last nite. totes ruined my beauty sleep! cay-cay_diamond: also i know u got ur lil cutie 2 distract ya, but liek dont b l8 2 ur bday breakfast, grimmy might eat it!

“Shit, we were too loud, Cater had to cast a silencing spell on the room.”

You made an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, giving Trey an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, but at least you enjoyed it, right?”

Trey smiled, more awake now, and nodded, sharing a sweet kiss with you.

“Definitely. You might have to consider making your go-to gift for now on, it’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve ever gotten.”

He solidified that statement with one more, firm, assuring kiss with you, before having to leave your sweet dream into the real world.

At least he could have one part of that dream with him at his side from now on: you.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi fic #twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #twst trey #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #trey clover smut #happy birthday trey #anyways thats my husband and i probably wont get this out of my system for a while

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starmapz · 2 days ago

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RATIO OVERTIME

𓉸 kento nanami x f!reader

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ your new boyfriend recently revealed his technique to you and it's had you wondering- exactly what else could he do with that technique? after all, it was meant to create a weak point, right? ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. soft dom!nanami. oral (f! receiving). fingering. nipple play (f! receiving). masturbation (m! receiving). praise. choking. mild dacryphilia. begging. pet names (darling, sweetheart, love). overstim. kento is so so careful n sweet w reader.

𓉸 words ; 3.7k.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

“Pardon, darling? I think I misheard you,” your boyfriend places his book in his lap with a furrowed brow. He’s been sitting quietly reading his book on the couch while you watch TV since he got home, but you’ve hardly paid attention to the screen; Your thoughts were completely occupied by one thing and one thing only.

“Well, your technique creates a weak spot, no?” You continue, knowing very well that Kento did in fact hear you.

“That’s correct,” his mahogany eyes examine your expression, contemplative of what it is that you’re implying.

“Sooo, could you use it on me in bed?” You ask again.

He rubs a hand over his face. “Sweetheart, is our sex life not enough for you?”

“No no no, I swear I’m very happy and not bored,” you promise, tilting your head as your gaze travels off to the side. “Just… curious if that’s something you could do.”

“No,” he decides with a stern shake of his head. “My technique is intended to cause harm. I won’t use it on you.”

“It’s meant to find a weak spot,” you try to reason with him. “My pussy is my weak-”

Your boyfriend’s brow furrows harshly as he puts his hand over your lips. “Vulgar,” he comments, eyes narrowed in a scolding manner. He sighs as he lowers his hand. “Darling, I can appreciate where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to risk causing you any harm.”

“You won’t!” You insist, scooting towards him on the couch. “We can test it first. I mean, you usually use your fists or a blade anyway, what if you use a finger?”

To your surprise, Nanami does actually seem to contemplate this for a moment, his gaze trailing down to stare blankly at the open pages of his novel. He supposes that theoretically you could have a point, but the thought of bringing you any amount of harm makes him uneasy.

“What are we testing it on?”

Your eyes shine as you bound out of the living room in an instant to the kitchen, bringing over a T-Bone steak. Understandably, Kento sighs. “You want me to use my technique on our dinner?” His tone suggests he’s barely putting up with your nonsense, but there’s a glimmer of amusement twinkling in his eyes regardless.

You nod, grinning as you set the slab of plastic-wrapped beef on the coffee table by Kento’s knees. You plop down beside him as he leans forward and-

Shockingly enough, just using the tips of two fingers does split the plastic, but that’s about it. The steak jumps somewhat but it doesn’t cause it any physical harm. This seems to shock Kento as well as he inspects the beef.

“Pleaaase, Ken?” You beg, sidling up to him. He casts you a glance before giving in with a sigh, an easy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Your pussy throbs at the realization he’s giving into your request.

“Very well, darling. But you need to promise me you’ll use the safe word if it’s even slightly uncomfortable,” he insists, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I will.”

“Please put our dinner away,” he adds with an amused chuckle as he gets to his feet to go wash his hands, setting his book aside.

With a grin, you bounce to your feet, returning the steak to the fridge before excitedly making your way to the bedroom. Kento enters the room shortly after you, shutting the door behind him as you approach, tugging on his sweatshirt.

“Needy, my dear?” He asks, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he brings you closer, the other softly stroking your cheek in a gentle and loving manner.

“I honestly just didn’t think you would agree,” you admit, your eyes shining as you look up at him.

His mahogany eyes take in your features with a soft hum. “Whatever makes you happy, my love.” Your grin is his entire world, like the sun in the sky it brightens his life, and the way your body presses to his as you cling to his shoulders to kiss him lights a flame of lust within him. Your breasts press to his chest, and he catches the way you subtly grind your hips into him. He softly kisses you back once before that same hand that was so gently brushing your cheek mere moments ago applies pressure to the sides of your throat, lightly choking you.

You whine, your lips parting as Kento pulls back from the kiss. Your eyes have already glazed over with need as your boyfriend smiles, his expression darker as he purrs “I need you to be a good girl for me tonight then, can you do that, my dear?”

You nod, gripping his shoulders tightly as he kisses your forehead softly once more before he removes his hand from your throat as he picks you up with ease. You gasp in surprise as you’re tossed over his shoulder before he lays you down on the mattress. Laying on your shared bed, you eagerly watch as he pushes his sleeves up past his elbows before making his way over your body with one knee on either side of your waist.

Kento leans into your neck, pressing a soft kiss below your ear as he sucks softly at the sensitive skin. You whine as he teases you, fingers tangling in his hair as you attempt to get him to move a bit further south as your walls flutter at the thought of having Kento’s fingers buried deep within your cunt.

Kento tuts, clicking his tongue. He pulls back, grabbing your hand by the wrist and pinning it, along with your other hand, to the pillow above your head. “Eager, hm? I plan on taking my time indulging you, my dear. You told me you would be a good girl.”

Trapped beneath his weight, you can’t move. You shuffle your hips beneath him in search of friction, whining. “I’ll be good, Ken.” You bat your eyelashes at him, relishing in the way his pupils blow out purely from your obedience.

He hums in approval, keeping your wrists pinned in place as he kisses down your neck. You pliantly tilt your head to give him better access, your breathing hitching when he reaches your collar. He shoots you a glance before moving his hands to slip them beneath your shirt. In one movement, he slides the material up over your breasts, not covered by a bra in the comfort of your home.

The flat of his tongue presses to your left nipple before he sucks on the hardened bud. You feel the way he subtly smiles as you gasp, arching into him. He releases the bundle of nerves with a pop, turning his attention to your other nipple as he pulls your shirt over your head. “Arch for me, love.” He instructs, his teeth grazing your nipple. He slides his hands down your body, pressing a kiss between the valley of your breasts as you obediently arch your back so that he can slide your pants- along with your panties- down your hips and legs.

You shiver beneath his attentive eyes that drink in every inch of your skin. Kento is a man who gets off on your pleasure, his eyes darkening as you squirm and whine from only a brush of his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He tugs your ankles until your legs hang over the edge of the bed. Getting down on his knees, he pulls your legs apart and admires the sight of you laid bare before him. His favorite sight.

“So gorgeous, darling,” he hums affectionately, pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs so slowly that you can’t help but squirm. He moves so languidly, fingers gripping at the plush of your skin as he keeps your legs parted.

“Ken, stop teasing,” you whine, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair but he pulls back before you can.

“Patience.” The tone he uses is scolding and sends heat straight between your legs, pooling in your stomach. He smirks knowingly as your cunt pulses around nothing, dripping in anticipation.

“Kennnn,” you whine desperately, bucking your hips in search of friction as he gently but firmly grips your wrists and places them at your sides with a stern look.

“Be a good girl for me, dear. Keep your hands above your waist,” he instructs. With blown pupils, you stare down at him and nod, gripping at the sheets as he hums in approval and throws both of your legs over his shoulders.

He leans in, licking a long, slow, stripe up the length of your slit. Your lips part in a soft moan before you pull your lower lip between your teeth as you watch the way your boyfriend’s deep oak eyes watch your reaction, savoring the way you melt into him. He follows up his movements with one more slow stripe before he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You grip the sheets harder, toes curling as your heels dig into Nanami’s shoulder inadvertently. He rolls his shoulders in an attempt to ease the pressure you’re putting on his back, but he’s willing to put up with the feeling if you feel good.

He releases your clit with a pop and begins to lap at your folds, circling your clit with a thumb. Your back arches in pleasure at just how well he knows you as his tongue dips into your entrance and pulls a needy whimper from your lips. Everything about the way he moves sends pleasure coiling into your stomach and, completely caught up in the bliss of his tongue, you move to tangle your fingers into his hair again.

Kento’s quick to react, catching your wrist with his hand, but you don’t expect the way he grabs your ass and lightly flicks the skin, setting his technique off. You jolt and yelp in surprise, not expecting a simple flick of his fingers to feel like that, and certainly not expecting the way your walls clench around nothing.

Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow as he observes your widened eyes. “Did that hurt?” He asks, though given the way you’re dripping for him, he already knows the answer.

You shake your head. “No it felt… a bit like a spank,” you describe it. He sets your wrist on the blanket at your side, nodding.

“You still want me to do this?”

Again, you nod. “I do,” you grin, staring at him with lidded eyes. You look so gorgeous and he relaxes knowing he isn’t hurting you and that you do like it.

“Good, darling. You remember our safe word spectrum?”

“Mhmm.”

He places a gentle kiss on your inner thigh. “Tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“Green,” you smile, using the heels of your feet to pull Kento closer to you.

He softly smiles back, pressing your thighs back down and lapping up the juices that drip from your folds, relishing in your moan. You ball your hands into fists, letting out a gasp when he slides a finger between your folds. Your walls squeeze him tightly, fluttering with each minute movement of his fingers.

Slowly, he pumps the digit in and out as he works you open for him, his tongue still relentless on your clit. He slips a second finger into your squelching pussy, still working his fingers in and out as your walls stretch for his long digits.

“Ken,” you breathe out, “please.” You feel him smile against your clit as he stands up, leaning over you while he continues languid ministrations of his fingers. It feels good, but it’s as though he’s keeping you on edge, continuing to tease and toy with you for his own pleasure. Your suspicions are confirmed when he continues watching your pretty and desperate expression while pulling his thick cock from his sweats.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is an octave lower than usual, commanding your attention. Glossy eyes meet his, dazed and drifting in a fog of pleasure that he’s causing.

“Want you to- hah- use your technique.” You breathe the words out eagerly. He curls his fingers once against your sweet spot, watching as your jaw hangs ajar with pleasure, but he immediately stops. “Ken, please,” you whine.

“Where do you want me to use my technique?” He asks, his voice strained as he fists his cock, slowly pumping up and down. Your glassy eyes watch the way he pumps his cock, barely hearing or making sense of what he said as you buck your hips, chasing pleasure. You almost go to grab his wrist in an attempt to get him to move, but stop yourself just in time, throwing your head back in frustration as you grip at the blankets again.

“Inside, inside me, please Ken, please- need you, need you so bad-” you babble, squirming as he slowly continues to tease you, the knot in your stomach remaining tightly coiled but never bursting and allowing you what you need.

“Good girl.” Nanami hums, sitting at the edge of the bed with his cock in one hand and fingers plunging deep in and out of you as he observes your expression. Your walls pulse and flutter as he curls his fingers, meanly bullying your sweet spot, only to relent and slow when your legs begin to quiver.

“Ken,” you whine as he keeps you right at the edge of your climax but never allows you to cum. He knows your body well and he knows how to get exactly what he wants from you, so when he picks up speed and sends cursed energy straight into your core, your eyes widen and you gasp as he sends you over the edge in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

Heat pulses in your walls, lightning running straight up your spine as your body tenses and quivers, wave after wave of your orgasm crashing over you as Kento much more gently works you through your climax.

When your muscles finally relax around his fingers, he slows his movements and pulls out. Your body slumps into the bed, lips parted as you pant heavily. Your mind is so foggy you barely register the way your boyfriend brings his fingers to your lips, watching with a hum as your tongue works around the digits obediently without a second thought. Hell without even a first thought.

He groans at the sight, continuing to pump his weeping length as he throws his head back. Once you’ve licked his fingers clean of your arousal, he gently brushes your cheek, making sure you’re still with him.

You smile at him with lidded eyes, your head tilting to watch the way he spreads pre-cum over the head of his swollen cock. He smiles back at you. “How did that feel, darling?”

You blink a few times. “Like-” you pause, searching for words. “I don’t know. Heavenly?” You chuckle lightly.

“Hm. I’ll take it,” he nods, his eyes soft despite the way he’s slowly pumping his length. He gives you a moment to catch your breath when you drop your head back before he breaks the silence. “Can you give me another, my love?”

He sees the fire light in your eyes again as you eagerly nod. He firmly presses your thighs into the mattress, pushing them open as he eyes your sopping folds again.

“Be a darling for me and keep your hands above your waist,” his voice lowers an octave again and you nod obediently, gripping the sheets once more. His pupils blow as he watches you jolt when he pushes two fingers deep into your gummy walls, curling them slowly as he begins to work you back to the precipice of an orgasm.

You arch your back for him, tilting your head to the side to watch Kento jerk his erection, his eyes glossy with desire and lips parted. He doesn’t see you watching him, focused solely on his fingers buried deep within you.

“Kentoooo-” you whine his name breathily, gripping the sheets harshly. You want nothing more than to cling to your boyfriend, whimpering as he works your g spot, sending sparks up your spine with each movement. He hums, moving his thumb to rub slow circles into your clit. Your walls harshly clamp down on him, your muscles tensing as he intensifies the feeling of pleasure. Your pussy drools around him, your slick coating his fingers down to his wrist as he works you towards an orgasm.

He could push you over the edge right now easily, your walls continually fluttering as the muscles of your abdomen visibly clench and contract with each movement of his digits inside you. But he wants this drawn out, he wants to watch you fall apart on his fingers, all for him.

“Ken, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it,” he commands, his voice gravelly as his eyes snap to your expression. You whimper, squirming as your walls clamp down on him again. He knows you love being at his mercy, his cock twitching in his hand at the sight of your obedience. He loves to see you laid out beneath him, only able to think of him just as much as you like being in this position. Hell, he knows he could cum just from the sight of you looking so gorgeous with his fingers to their hilt in your cunt.

“Ken-” you gasp when he begins bullying your sweet spot, his fingers curling perfectly for your pleasure. “Ken,” you whimper and whine, squirming beneath him as you feel the edge quickly approaching. “Please, please let me cum baby, please,” you beg breathlessly as Kento slows his fingers once more, keeping you from the climax that’s making your legs tremble as you teeter so dangerously over the edge.

“Good girl,” he purrs softly, his voice hardening as he shifts to watch your expression. “Cum on my fingers, darling.” With one last pump of his fingers, he releases his cursed energy into your sweet spot, sending shocks through your body as you cry out and cum hard over Nanami’s fingers again, your arousal coating him and the sheets. You shake hard, grasping desperately for your boyfriend and dragging your nails over his forearm as you attempt to push his hand away, trembling hard from the sensation of your overwhelming orgasm. Kento doesn’t relent, keeping his digits firmly buried within you as he works you through the orgasm.

“Too much, s’ too much,” you babble, squirming until he finally pulls his fingers out of your pussy. Your head falls back on the pillow as you catch your breath.

“Good, sweetheart?” Your boyfriend checks in with you. He pulls your hand from his forearm and sets it back on the bed, willing to forgive that you didn’t keep it above your waist when your mind was clearly a mess.

You nod. “Still good, Ken. Green.”

“Good, my love. I want you to give me one more, okay?”

“Oka- aah-! fuck-!” Before you have the chance to prepare yourself, he plunges his fingers back within your walls that still flutter with the aftershocks of your previous climax. You cry out in surprise, attempting to shuffle back on the bed as overstimulation clouds your senses and tears prick in your eyes. “K-Ken-!” You stammer, jolting when he bullies your g spot not only with long, practiced fingers, but also with repetitive releases of cursed energy that makes your mind go foggy with thoughts of only Kento.

“Shit,” he groans as he watches you mindlessly babble, squirm, whine, and whimper, all from him and before he knows it, he’s finishing in his hand. He throws his head back as he finishes on his thighs, slowing his movements and giving you a momentary break as he focuses on his own high, pumping himself through it.

Coming down from his orgasm, he stares back down at your drooling pussy that continues to pulse around his digits. He picks up the pace, sending multiple zaps of cursed energy straight to your core and sending you over the edge before you can even register you’re there. You scream out your boyfriend’s name, fisting the sheets as you cum again. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, seeing stars from the sheer intensity of the orgasm.

Your body doesn’t just tremble, it shakes from the way you’ve been sent over the edge so suddenly. Your chest heaves as you pant, staring at the ceiling through tears. Your mind is foggy as you barely register Kento wiping away your tears and kissing your forehead.

“You did so good for me, beautiful,” Kento whispers. His voice is so soft in contrast to how his fingers bullied you only minutes ago.

You barely manage to hum in response, blinking as you focus on him. His hair is disheveled, evidence of your slick still on his chin from earlier. You smile up at him with lidded eyes, reaching out to hold his forearm.

He smiles back at you, placing a chaste kiss on your nose before he gets to his feet. He comes back a few moments later with a warm, wet, towel, bringing it to your soaked thighs. You jolt at the feeling, blinking as you sit up on your forearms, watching how softly he wipes the arousal from you.

Satisfied with his work, he cleans himself up and pulls on his boxers, crawling onto the bed behind you. He pulls you into his lap, peppering your cheeks, neck, and shoulders in kisses. He doesn’t relent until you’re giggling, his arms wrapped around your middle.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“I’m good Ken, I promise! Don’t worry.” You shoot him a lazy grin, kissing his jaw.

“I always worry for you,” he hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It seemed like you enjoyed yourself, though.”

“I did,” you hum, leaning back into Kento. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“I’m certain of it,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Why don’t we run you a nice bubble bath?”

“Ugh, that sounds heavenly,” you groan, your body still feeling as though you’re floating.

“Consider it done, my love. Anything for you.”

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; and that's a wrap on kinktober! thank you so much to everyone for all the love on these pieces, i had a ton of fun writing them ♡ college sukuna coming soon, i'll likely put up a teaser for that series once i'm back from my trip this weekend and have a bit more written. anywho- thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated as always ♡

𓉸 taglist ; @fushitoru @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens

@r0ckst4rjk

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puckinghischier · 23 hours ago

Note

jack & luke loving quinn’s gf almost as much as he does bc suddenly they have an older sister they can call for advice on the most random things…

“so, hypothetically, if i wanted to get a pedicure, would they give it to me since i’m a guy?” jack asks you over the phone.

you stop in your tracks, right in front of your car, baffled at the question. “jack, is this seriously what you called me four times about?”

“i mean, yeah. you weren’t picking up. thought you and quinn might be screwing and wanted to break that up as soon as i thought about it,” he admits like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“jack!” you scolded, scoffing at his crudeness. “i was picking up some snacks for the guys before their game today. i couldn’t even get to my phone if i wanted to,” you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“you make it sound like you were ignoring me on purpose,” he says, basically being able to hear the pout on his face.

“i wasn’t not ignoring you on purpose.”

he smacks his teeth at your answer, returning to his original question. “anyways, will they do a pedicure on my gnarly man feet or no?”

you don’t even try to hide the laugh that escapes you, opening your door and finally sitting down in your car. “yes jack, they’ll give you a pedicure. are you actually going to go get one?”

“yes! dude, have you seen my feet lately? they’re disgusting. plus, quinn was telling luke and i about that time you made him do one with you and how much better his feet felt in his skates afterwards.”

you think about the fact that quinn now has monthly pedicure appointments with you, not shocked at all that he shared the information with his younger brothers.

“jack! is that y/n? i need to talk to her!” you hear luke yell in the background of jack’s call, stopping whatever response you were about to give.

you hear shuffling, insinuating the exchange of the phone. “hey! y/n! so, i need your advice.”

“hi, luke, i’m good, thanks for asking! how are you?” your voice drips with sarcasm.

“yeah, hi and whatever,” he dismisses you. “so, if you were a girl, would you rather your date wear a pink shirt to show he’s not a toxic guy, or would you rather him wear blue or black to show he’s serious about the date?”

once again, you pause. you look over to the side, as if there’s an invisible camera there and mouth a ‘what?’

“okay, well first of all i am a girl-“

“well yeah, but like…a real girl. one that isn’t dating quinn and would be ready to hop on the luke train,” he interrupts you, earning his own roll of your eyes.

“as i was saying,” you ignore his interruption, “i am a girl, and i don’t think it’s that serious? wear whatever you wanna wear. if she likes you, she likes you. if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. i don’t think wearing pink is going to either hurt or help the date.”

the line is silent for a moment. “i think i’m going to wear pink anyways. you know, just to let her know i’m not a douche,” he finally speaks.

“okay, well, if that’s what you want to do, then do it-“

“thanks, y/n! bye!” you’re cut off yet again, hearing the line go dead. groaning, you call quinn, letting him know you’re on your way with the food.

“hey, baby! you get the catering order yet?” quinn’s excited voice fills your car as you turn it on and put it in drive.

“yeah, i got it. on my way now. just got off the phone with your idiot brothers,” you tell him, pulling out into traffic.

“oh god, what did they want this time?” he asks you, knowing how often you’re plagued with calls from his siblings.

“well, jack wanted to know if he could book a pedicure appointment even though he’s a man, and then luke wanted to know if he should wear pink on his date so he doesn’t look like a douche,” you give the short version of your conversations.

quinn lets out a laugh, not at all surprised at his brothers.

“quinn, we’ve gotta set some ground rules. i can’t keep doing this. i don’t know how you dealt with this by yourself for all these years. and god, your sweet mother. i feel for her,” you say not entirely seriously, knowing they call ellen more than they call you, if that’s even possible.

“baby, they love you. you’re the big sister they never had, they’re just excited to finally have someone to ask this stuff to other than mom. because mom usually tells them to figure it out on their own,” he chuckles, knowing how much both luke and jack have told him they loved having you around.

“well, i’m about to take the ellen approach because they make me want to pull my hair out sometimes, those disgustingly lovable heathens,” you tell your boyfriend, never really being able to say anything bad about the brothers. they’re like excited puppies anytime they get to see you in person, and it does melt your heart a little bit each time.

“i’ll talk to them about it,” quinn’s still laughing at how you can’t help but talk about how much you love his brothers, even when you’re aggravated at them. “just focus on getting here. i miss you, wanna see you before game time.”

“okay, be there in like-“ you stop talking when your ringtone blares through your car.

“god, its jack again. i gotta go, i’ll see you in a few minutes,” you groan, ending the call to answer the interruption.

“what is it this time, jack?”

#alliyaps #idk how i feel about this #but i hope it’s what you were thinking of #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #qh43 #hughes brothers

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aurorawritestoescape · 1 day ago

Text

CRAVING YOU

Joel Miller x f!reader || 3,9k

Summary: after a breakup you throw a big Halloween party and look for someone hot to spend the night with, but no one attracts your attention. That is until you see Joel.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, age gap (how big is up to you bb), soft!Joel, soft!dom vibes, sex with a stranger, praise kink, fingering, squirting, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, reader getting emotional, aftercare, talk of past heartbreak, smoking. Pics are only for the mood but reader wears a described slutty costume. Joel can lift reader.

A/n: this is written for @mermaidgirl30 ‘s Halloween writing challenge. Thank you for the fun event, Jamie!🩷 Smooches to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Happy Halloween everyone!🎃🖤

MASTERLIST

“As if!”

You push away another drunk frat boy off yourself and head to the kitchen to get yourself a drink. Yes, you look hot as hell practically naked in your red bra, tiny red skirt and a red latex coat over your naked shoulders but it doesn’t give them the right to get handsy with you. Walking through your parents’ house, dark except for the strobing lights, drowning in loud music, you wonder why you invited all of these assholes but it’s totally on you. You wanted to throw a big Halloween party after breaking up with your long-term boyfriend. Not so ‘long’ anymore. He was the one you planned to marry. To spend all your life with. You were high school sweethearts, went to the same college and suddenly all your plans turned to ashes. You found yourself lost, heartbroken and in need of comfort. Tonight you wanted to be hugged or fucked or both.

But unfortunately nobody has attracted your attention. You’re walking through the buzzing crowd but suddenly you stop in your tracks as soon as you spot him.

He’s standing outside in the empty backyard, illuminated by the string lights and the moon. His back is to the house and the first thing you notice is a tool belt, hanging around his hips. A builder costume? Interesting.

The belt attracts your attention to his gorgeous ass and even from afar you see that it looks delicious in jeans. You bite your lip, imagining your hands on those cheeks.

His back is broad. Strong. A plaid shirt is strained over his muscular shoulders. His dark curls shine with the silver of the moon.

Like a shark finally smelling its prey, you start moving towards him, pushing away everyone in your way. You slide a glass door, releasing the music and the chatter of the party into the yard, and the loud sounds make the man turn. Internally you squeal with excitement when you see his handsome features, partially hidden behind the cigarette smoke. When it dissipates, your breath hitches. His prominent nose is asking to be sat on, his dark eyes are scorching every inch of your exposed skin yet his plush lips curve into a warm smile at the sight of you sauntering towards him.

”Hey,” you purr, waving at the stranger with your fingers. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You offer him your hand and he blows the smoke to the side, before gently shaking it.

“Sorry, miss. I’m Joel. Joel Miller.”

You tell him your name and notice his eyes linger on your body, barely covered and sparkling with glitter. In your mind you smirk— you’re so fucking him tonight.

“Jus’ havin’ a smoke. I’ll leave soon.”

“No, why, it’s allowed,” you giggle and look him up and down before adding. “I really love your costume, Joel.”

You step up closer to him and slide your index finger along the tool belt, stopping over his big bulge. You both glance down and he smiles,

“ ‘s not a costume, sweetheart. I’m a contractor. The man who owns this house wants to redo some stuff in the backyard. He told me I could come and take the measurements tonight. My crew is starting work tomorrow. Didn’t know there’d be a party.”

He glances at the house and chuckles, seeing someone do a keg stand in the living room.

“Oh.”

You realize why your father had told you to keep the guests out of the backyard. Strangely the fact that he’s a contractor makes the situation even hotter. You give Joel a little smile, batting your eyelashes at him, and whisper, “My mistake.”

“It’s ok. ‘s Halloween after all. What are you?" Joel asks, taking in your 'costume' that barely covers anything. To lure him in further, you push your chest out and your red coat opens up more, showing the man all of your assets. Joel shifts on his feet and you wonder if his jeans are getting too tight.

"I'm a girl who wants to have fun tonight."

You give him a loaded smile and in a second giggle as his eyebrows shoot up.

"I'm the devil, Joel."

You tilt your head down and point at your little red horns.

Joel nods slowly, taking another drag of his cigarette. His gaze sticks to your breasts, your belly, your barely covered thighs.

"Lookin' great, sweetheart. I'm ready to sell my soul."

Melting from the pet name, you tilt your head to the side and ask in a sultry voice, "Oh, really? And what do you want for your soul, Joel?"

The man narrows his eyes at you and his tongue slides over the lower lip as he contemplates his answer for a second.

"Jus' what every man wants, I reckon."

"What's that?"

"A sexy devil ready to grant his every wish."

It seems that you stop breathing and immediately feel yourself getting wet. Your heart is fluttering as he’s flirting with you. Your gazes are dancing over each other’s bodies, hungry and enticing, and he puts out the cigarette and inches closer to you. Your eyes lock, challenging each other to act on your desires.

“Guess you got lucky tonight, Joel” you whisper.

His smile is downright devilish.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

Your voices are barely audible with the music, blasting inside the house, but you hear each other perfectly well. It feels intimate even with a bunch of people, partying behind the glass doors. There’s no one else in the world, just Joel and you, and the moon, bathing you two in its pearly light. Heat radiating from his big body contrasts with the chilly air, and you shiver.

“Let’s go inside, you’re cold,” he offers, motioning to the house, but you’d hate to be interrupted by anyone.

“There’s a guest house over there — I’ve heard. I doubt you’ve already measured stuff there.”

You bite your lower lip as a fear grips your stomach. What if he says ‘no’? Rejection would cut you like a knife right now. But Joel surprises you.

He lifts his hand to your face and pinches your chin, holding you in place. His tone is serious all of a sudden.

“Are you drunk?”

His piercing eyes are assessing your face for a few seconds and you slowly but surely drown in them.

“No. Only had one drink. I’m fine.”

You look at his lips, your breath frozen, until he replies,

“Actually... You are right. Let’s go take a look at that house.”

Flashing him a mischievous grin, you take his big warm hand and start walking. On your way there your core is tingling with anticipation. You've never done anything like this before. Never been so turned on by someone you’ve just met. But your body burns with the need and you take a leap.

As soon as you step through the door, finally away from the annoying party in the main house, you take your coat off, hop on a desk and playfully beckon Joel with your finger. You feel sexy and ready to have fun.

He looks around the place and then his obsidian eyes focus on you. He prowls closer, taking his tool belt off.

“You can leave it on,” you purr, planting your hands on the surface behind you and arching your back.

He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna hurt you…sharp tools.”

He throws the belt on the floor and steps up between your spread thighs. You throw your legs wider apart and your short skirt rides up, exposing your pussy covered by red panties.

Joel’s eyes land there immediately and he mumbles, “Fuckin’ hell.”

Happy with the effect you have on the man, you lean forward and press a kiss to his scruffy cheek. He drags his nose down to your neck and then whispers into your ear,

“Why are you doin’ this?”

You smile at the question. “Because I’m horny. And you’re hot.”

“Hmm, let me ask again. Why— are you doin’ this? Don’t lie now.”

You pull away and glare at him, your brows furrowed. His eyes are set on your face, his expression serious, waiting, and you snap, not hiding your rising frustration.

“Can’t a girl just wanna get fucked?”

His hands run over your naked thighs, and then he brings them to your shoulders. Joel glides his thumbs over your skin there, while his warm eyes are darting between yours.

“Yes, baby, but usually there’s a deeper reason.”

A few seconds pass and his soft gaze breaks your walls, emotions stir in your chest, and you feel your throat tighten and drop your head, averting your eyes from the man.

“My boyfriend… he cheated on me.”

A few moments pass before Joel gruffs,

“The fuck’s his problem? Is he insane?”

You smile and Joel sighs before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Soft then,” he mumbles against your sensitive skin, sending vibrations through your trembling body.

“What?” you ask as your soft lips are grazing his beard. Joel presses kisses to your face, slowly moving to your mouth.

“I needed to ask— to know how to fuck you, baby.”

Your lips finally meet and he kisses you as his hands wrap around your body.

The kiss makes your head spin. He smells like a cheap deodorant and something so manly, your core floods with sticky lust. His scent intoxicates you. It’s completely different from your ex’s and it makes you throb. Your core, burning with desire, demands him inside you and the ache between your legs sends your hands to his belt. Your body is pleading, ‘Give me— please—need you’.

Joel gently bites your lower lip, slightly pulling away, and you murmur,

“Fuck me.”

He searches for your eyes and takes your impatient hands in his.

“No.”

You open your mouth to protest but he continues,

“I wanna make you feel good first. Can I?”

You nod and then softly gasp as Joel cups your pussy over your panties and his thumb slides up and down caressing your clit under the thin fabric.

”Have you let anyone touch you after… him?”

You shake your head, your lips parted, your nails digging into his shoulders, as you’re watching him take you apart even with a barrier of the material. It’s unbelievable that a fire is already smoldering deep inside you. You struggle to remember the last time your ex turned you on so hard and so fast.

“Am I your rebound then?” Joel asks and your eyes snap up to his. Your stomach drops in fear of him getting offended. But you see his plush lips curve into a smile as he reassures you,

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I don’t mind. I’d be a fool. Look at you.”

His hungry gaze slides down your face, your neck, your chest until it lands on his own hand still pressed to your pussy. Then his thumb snakes under the gusset of your panties and a lightning bolt shoots through your body when his finger finds and starts swirling your slippery clit.

A pathetic whine leaves your parted lips and he pulls you closer to him with his free hand on your lower back.

”Oh my god,” you moan and he takes a deep breath, his cheek pressed to yours. His lips tickle your skin, your whole body burning up under his caress, as he whispers into your ear,

“Do you feel it— how wet you’re?”

His finger is gliding easily over your puffy clit with all the slick lubing his and your skin, and you mewl a soft ‘yeah’.

“Such a good girl for me. But anyone can make a girl come like this—,”

“My ex rarely could,” you blurt out with a hazy smile.

Joel chuckles and his beard lightly rubs your cheek.

“Damn. What an ass.”

You’re so lost in pleasure that you just hum, breathing in his scent.

“Baby, can I put my fingers inside you? Wanna make you feel real good.”

You think, if you’re even capable of thinking right now, that you’d let him do anything to you. Of course you agree, surrendering your body to the man you see for the first time in your life, spreading your thighs a little wider as a silent invitation.

“Thank you, my sexy devil,” Joel growls and his mouth crushes against yours before his middle finger pushes into your sopping hole.

The noise you make doesn’t sound devilish. It’s a soft whimper that he swallows, not parting from your lips even for a second, even to watch his ring finger quickly join the first one. He’s kissing you feverishly, licking into your mouth, while his thick digits plunge in and out your squelching pussy with a steady rhythm. You tilt your hips up to grant him better access and he dives in deeper, claiming the furthest parts of your core.

Joel breaks the kiss and presses his sweaty forehead to yours.

“Listen to yourself— moaning on my fingers like this— imagine what I can do with my cock.”

“Joel, please,” you beg not sure why- to make him stop talking or asking him to continue. He knows the answer even better than you.

“You’ll be screaming my name soon, little devil. Give me a chance and you’ll be screaming it every day.”

He drops his gaze and you follow.

A lustful moan falls from your lips when you see his manly fingers move in and out your glistening entrance, your panties and his digits are coated in your shiny slick. The sight adds pleasure to your already ecstatic sensations.

“It’s like my fingers belong in your pussy, sweetheart.”

He almost pulls them out but then hooks them inside you and his pads start rubbing a spot that makes your core vibrate and eyes roll back.

“Yeah—oh, yeahhhh—“, you moan, digging your nails into his shoulders mercilessly as you feel your climax approaching fast.

“Fuck! you’ll make me bust into my jeans soundin’ like this —lookin’ like this.”

Joel is massaging your soft spot for a few moments and suddenly you feel tickling pressure rise under his touch and a panic grips your heart.

“Oh no, Joel—wait—,” you mumble but in a second you feel warm wetness rush out of you as Joel keeps fingering you, lewd noises filling the room, and your thighs, the desk, Joel’s jeans get splayed with your clear juices.

“Yes! fuck, yes! Give it to me, baby!”

With the added wetness you come hard, shaking on the slippery desk, and Joel holds you with a free hand, pressing his body closer to yours, while your whole world squeezes into the size of this room, where the man you’ve just met is making you see the brightest stars behind your eyelids.

As soon as your body stops trembling, you fall into his embrace and Joel holds you against his chest, letting you catch your breath. His arms, secure and strong around you, send waves of comfort to your heart and suddenly you feel wetness not only between your naked thighs but also in your eyes.

You sit up on the desk, your eyes glistening, your hands gripping his shirt, and give him a warm smile, full of affection and gratitude.

Joel chuckles and kisses your cheek,

“Have you never squirted before? You looked so terrified, little thing.”

You shake your head and drop it, hiding your eyes but also assessing the damage. The desk is a mess.

Joel notices your unease and takes your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.” Then he lifts your face to his and winks, “I’m honored to be the first.”

You’re trying to keep yourself from melting under his dark brown eyes but it’s hard. Your whole body is longing for him, his touch, his lips. Joel’s gorgeous and he’s just given you the best orgasm of your life. What chances have you got?

So you give in to your heart‘s and pussy’s desire.

“I want you, Joel. Want you to fuck me.”

Joel runs his hands over your whole body with a smile before saying,

“I’d love to fuck you, baby. But tonight I think you need me to make love to you. Let me do that.”

You feel warmth stir deep in your belly before replying with a quiet but confident ‘yes’ and in the next second Joel wraps your legs around his waist and lifts you off the desk.

“There must be a bed here,” he mumbles, carrying you to another room and you hum into the crease of his neck. You know there’s one.

The bed is soft and warm under you in comparison with the desk but you don’t think about it. Your whole being is focused on the man discarding his clothes in front of you. You can’t help but moan when he takes his boxers off and climbs on the bed completely naked. His body is strong, the broad chest and shoulders make your hands itch to touch and squeeze them, your lips desire to trace his happy trail down and to kiss his big hard cock, standing proudly. He’s perfect.

“Your turn baby,” he motions to your ‘costume’, and when you sit up he stops you.

“Let me. Please.”

You gladly give him full control and your body vibrates under his fingers when he slowly and gently undresses you.

Both naked except for the horns on your head, you immediately gravitate to each other and the sensation of his hot skin against yours sends shivers through your body.

“Cold, sweetheart? I’ll warm you up.“

Joel kisses you again and pushes you to lie down before getting between your thighs and covering your body with his. His leaking cock smears precum over your belly and you impatiently start rubbing your folds against his shaft, chasing any pressure you can get.

“My devil’s needy, huh? Pretty girl wants my cock?”

“Yes, please,” you whine and Joel locks eyes with you.

“Wait a second—“ he mumbles, about to leave you, but you wrap your arms around him.

“No, I need to feel you. Fully. No condoms.”

Joel presses his forehead to yours.

“You sure? I promise I’m clean but —.”

“Me too. I’ve had sex only with my ex. Ever.”

He looks into your eyes and you don’t see pity there, only care, respect.

“If you’re sure, baby—.”

He kisses you again and you feel his hand slither between your bodies as he grabs his cock and pushes the tip past your folds. The fat head nudges your soft hole and you gasp when he begins pushing his length in, inch by inch, careful not to hurt you.

“Fuckin’—sorry, hnggg—that’s it, little devil. Taking me so good.”

And you are taking him easily, despite his size. You’ve been opened up by his thick fingers, your recent orgasm, and you happily welcome him into your warmth and wetness.

When Joel bottoms out, he growls and you wrap your arms and legs around him tightly. With your lips caressing each other, he begins rocking his hips against you, sending his cock deeper and deeper, until it hits your cervix and you bite his lip.

Joel smirks, “Naughty devil. You feel too fuckin’ good to be real.”

You smile, your eyes hazy as they roll behind your head, when Joel changes an angle and begins rutting into you, stroking the right spot over and over.

You moan loudly and he swallows your noises with another kiss. You’re clawing at his arms and back, making him groan, spreading your thighs wider for him to take everything from you, to give him yourself completely. Your puffy clit grinds against his pelvic bone and another orgasm crests in your core.

With every thrust the head of his cock deliciously massages you from the inside and he picks up the pace sending you higher until another climax blooms behind your clit and explodes in the deepest part of your core and you come apart from both stimulations.

You scream his name just like Joel predicted and he doesn’t shut you with a kiss this time. His eyes are on you, drinking your pleasure.

“Yeah, good girl. Take it, baby— fuck! your pussy —choking me —ahhhh…”

He moans and you feel warmth spread inside you when he starts squirting his seed against your pulsating walls. You wrap your legs around him tighter to keep him in, take all of it gratefully. Your pussy is fluttering around his throbbing cock and you keep whimpering while his hips thrust in, sending his load deeper.

After Joel fills you up, he stills inside you and searches for your eyes. Through heavy breaths he asks you, brows knitted together, voice worried,

“What is it? Did I hurt you? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

When he cups your cheek, you realize that you’re crying, tears streaming down your face to your temples, your chest shaking with quiet sobs.

“No, I’m not hurt— I don’t know— I don’t know—,” you shake your head, mumbling, confused by your own reaction but he doesn’t push further.

Joel gently pulls out, lies down next to you and takes you in his arms. His body presses to yours as he covers you both with the bedspread. He leans closer and kisses your forehead, your cheeks and you slowly calm down, comforted by your lover.

“I don’t usually cry after sex. I’m sorry,” you whisper after a few minutes, still sniffing from time to time, and he glides his warm hands over your back.

“‘s ok, baby. Is it me?”

“No! Well, kinda—yes. Because it was amazing. I’ve never felt so good before.”

You feel Joel’s smile against your forehead, and you lift your face to his and whisper,

“Thank you.“

“My pleasure.”

With a twinkle in his eye, he presses his lips to yours and softly kisses you, hesitant to push too soon, too hard. But you know what you want so you deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue between his lips and soon you’re making out as your pussy clenches around nothing. Your inner thighs are wet and sticky but you don’t care.

When Joel breaks the kiss, he locks eyes with you.

“I doubt you’re the devil, baby.”

“Oh?” You sound a little offended.

“Yeah. I think you’re the most beautiful angel. Too perfect for any asshole on this planet.”

Your lips curve into a smile as you purr,

“You don’t seem like an asshole.”

“Thank you,” he smiles back.

He pulls you in closer again and you two rest together, relishing the new-found intimacy. Joel is the first to break the silence.

”Did he ever apologize?”

The question rings loudly in the quiet room. An hour ago it would make you upset, as a reminder of the biggest heartbreak of your life. Now it barely grazes your soul.

”No.”

Joel hugs you tighter and murmurs,

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of Joel’s skin. Breathing out the pain of the previous relationship.

You’re lying in each other’s arms for a few more minutes until Joel searches for your eyes.

“We can’t let this night be the only one. What do you say, baby? Can I see you again?”

Your heart sings but then drops into your stomach. You have to tell him. After clearing your throat, you admit,

”This client of yours. It’s my dad. I live here—,” You see Joel’s eyebrows rise up and quickly add, “I can stop by the backyard tomorrow? If you’d like.”

Regret is clawing at your chest. Why haven’t you said anything sooner? He probably hates you now. But Joel smirks, lifting weight off your soul.

“You’re full of surprises, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Naughty devil.”

With that he pushes you down and kisses your smiling lips.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<3

MASTERLIST

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #the last of us #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x f!reader #halloween writing challenge #joel miller x you #joel x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #craving you fic

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bwskj · 1 day ago

Text

NSFW MDI | jjk x reader

- jjk characters reacting to u asking them on call for a moaning audio -

chars: gojo, nanami, megumi, sukuna, yuuji, inumaki

notes: (text) are you; bulleted + written

tags: honestly just a lot of nsfw stuff, pls x away if ur a minor or uncomfy

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

gojo

— “baby what?”, he laughs amused, “did you just say you want me to send a moaning audio?”

— you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “ah baby, well i could do that… just not for free. give me something to look at and i’ll make it, how about that?”

output: bro sends a hand held video of him jacking off while sitting on the living room couch. a part of his laptop sitting on the coffee table with your photo/video on it is shown in the upper half of the video, behind the main character that is his thick hard cock. satoru likes talking as if you’re there kneeling in front of him, pretending he’s got your face to tap his dick on before he fully wraps his hand around the girth and starts pumping. he often groans low with the occasional sharp inhales through gritted teeth. eventually, he gets to the point wherein he’s leaking so much pre-cum it’s enough to help him make big smooth strokes over his length. his camera angle ends up wonky sometimes because he’s too zoned in jerking off to you. “fuckkk baby, god you’re so—hot” and “shit… that’s mine, that fucking pussy belongs to me.” he sure loves his dirty talk, “bet you wanna ride this huh, baby? want your tight pussy walls sucking up my cock.” when he finally cums, you can tell he’s trying his best to not hold in his moans (cause ofc that’s what you’re looking for). his thighs tense, spreading apart as his cum shoots up high, loud groans with every shot that spatters all over his bare stomach. he aims the camera down at his messy torso, laying his dick on it as he swipes it across the mess around and on his happy trail. “you better lick this clean off, baby.”

nanami

—“excuse me? a what?” (you repeat yourself)

—hunched over his desk at work, he says, “honey i… don’t do that,” he sounds concerned that you would ask for such thing, “do you need it for… something?” you can imagine the stitch in his brow when he asks this.

— (you reply with a vague and teasing “maybe”) kento lightly huffs, seeming slightly bothered (?)“well, i’m busy right now… just… wait until i get home.”

output: no audio but what did you expect he was at work! not like he would do it though if he wasn’t. instead, on the way home, he’s got one thing on his mind. the thought keeps bubbling up in excitement, making him tap his foot in impatience as he rides the elevator up to your shared apartment. when you hear the jangle of his keys in the doorknob, you spring up from where you’ve been rotting. a smile immediately appears on your face when you see your boyfriend looking even more dashing with the appearance of a man who’s worked hard all day at work. “you’re home, i—“ you’re about to tell him you’ve missed him but he cuts you off when he closes the distance, leaning in and catching your lips with his. he drops his work bag on the floor as the big palm of his hand slides onto your back. he pulls you close, not giving you the chance to speak anymore as his deep hungry kiss keeps your mouth busy. you manage to make at least the sound of, “mphh.. Kento!” when his lips pull back a bit. you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back, his jaw and shoulders feeling rigid when your hands feel over them. “couldn’t wait to get home,” he mumbles when his mouth detaches for a second — basically, yea, he fucks you pretty much the whole night or until you can’t take any more. everything he does is meant to please you; he thrives on giving you, his pretty princess, what you want, feeling fulfilled when he knows he can keep you more than satisfied.

sukuna

— “the fuck? a moaning audio? why would i do that?

— he stretches his jaw, the eyes on his cheeks fluttering a little eye roll. he speaks into the mic at a low volume, “baby if you miss being dicked down just say so…”

— “uhuh yea, keep pretending you don’t want it til you’ve got this cock in your mouth, right? stay put. i’m coming over”

output: no moaning audio. he gets to your place in 10 minutes (how the fuck he got there that quick you’ll never know). when you greet him at the door, mouth ajar in surprise, you can’t stop yourself from cheekily saying, “well, isn’t somebody excited?”

“i wanna know what the bitch who’s asking for an audio sounds like when she gets what she actually wants,” he cockily spits out as he looms over you by the still open door frame.

your eyes widen at his response but you can only stutter before his hand is suddenly holding you by your throat. he welcomes himself in, shutting the door behind him while you almost stumble back into your hallway. your hands instinctively reach to grab at the back of his hand around your neck. not even a second later and his other hand grabs one of yours, tugging it and placing it over the tent in his pants. his fingers sandwiched around your neck begins to squeeze and you accidentally sound out a moan. you can feel his sharp nails pricking your nape. his hand holding yours guides you into palming him. a dark smirk is on his face. “i’m fucking hard. do something about it.”

long story short: he rails you (on your bed, in front of the mirror, doggy style or just backshots in general— he loves pinning your wrists behind you and watching your tits bounce everytime he pounds into you. when you’re on top, he doesn’t even give you the chance to ride him on your own). “how you liking this, huh? sweet little slut. you like this fat cock fucking your stomach? isn’t this better than some shit tease through the phone?”

megumi

— his cheeks warm when he hears the words through the phone, “what’s that?” He asks though he knows full well what you mean (i think megumi would be a secret tumblr user).

— you carefully explain it to him. there’s hesitation in his voice when he says, “oh, i see…”

— alarmed by the way his voice trailed off, you reassure him that he doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.

— he replies with a slightly stammered okay and the call eventually awkwardly ends with exchanged ‘i love you’s and ‘talk to you later’s

— you feel slightly embarrassed for voicing your request but it’s not long before you forget about it. it was worth a shot.

— that night, while you’re snuggled up in your cozy blanket, you receive a single voice note from megumi with no message attached

— megumi blushes as he stares at the file he just sent, wondering if he did it okay. you don’t know that he jack offed and recorded not even five minutes after your call ended.

output: when you press play you’re immediately met with the semi-distant sounds of megumi’s shaky gasps and breathy low moans. it looks like he sent you a recording of the most interesting part of his session wherein wet stroking sounds are being picked up by his phone. there’s oftentimes soft whimpers that slip through, the noise of his bed covers shifting on his skin almost overpowering it when he gets more and more into fucking his hand (or whatever he’s slotting his dick through). you have to replay it a couple times to make sure you heard right—pride blooming within you when you’re certain he’s whimpering and mumbling out your name. his moans rise in pitch and grow more rugged the closer he gets to his climax. “a-ah… mm—hah.. gonna c-cum,” you can hear the strokes getting faster and the sheets being gripped tight. when he cums, he gets even louder, noisy staggering moans falling out his mouth. you just know his throbbing dick is thrusting up while chasing his high. when it dies down, you can hear soft panting and then the sound of his phone being picked up. there’s a silent pause before his voice comes through low and crisp, “i… hope you liked that.”

yuuji

— “a what audio??”, he laughs, “you’re kidding!” His laugh fades when he realises you aren’t.

— “wait seriously, you’re into that? like those audios on reddit or something?”

— (“… you know those?” you ask curiously.)

— yuuji gets flustered, he stutters, “i-i don’t—I accidentally came across them once. kinda freaked me out, ngl…”

— (“freaked you out?”)

— “yea, i dunno, never imagined guys to be doing that for a living. and i didn’t know there were girls who especially liked that.”

— (“really… well a lot of girls actually like that. but yea, i guess you wouldn’t really know, cuz you know,” you lightly tease.)

— yuuji rubs a hand over his blushing cheek, “you don’t have to keep reminding me that you’re my first…”

— (he always reacts like this and so you remind him again [you love reminding him], “sorry my yuuji, but you know, i love being your first, especially knowing that my competition is literally THE jennifer lawrence.”)

— you can hear the smile yuuji is trying to keep down, “and your 100x better than her,” (honestly, you just tease him to hear him say this again)

— (“so what about that audio?”)

— “hm?” yuuji didn’t even realize it until now that he’s got a hand over the boner jutting through his boxers

— you quickly reassure him that he can say no if he doesn’t want to. there’s a silence that hangs for a moment in the call, and when you’re about to say something again to dismiss the topic, he starts, “could you… maybe, talk me through it?”

output: you piece together that yuuji’s turned on. “are you… hard rn?” your voice comes gentle through the phone and yuuji grabs his dick stronger through the cloth, pushing his palm against it. he shudders, “m-maybe.” your voice sounds so good.

“are you…” you trail off, but yuuji knows what you mean. he quickly replies, “is this okay? you can tell me if it’s not, i-i’ll stop.” yuuji doesn’t want to stop but he’s stiffened his hand on his dick to try to stop himself from touching further without your consent.

there’s another short pause before you say, “mm, it’s okay, yuuji… you need help?”

“mhm,” he hums, instantly resuming his hand movement. there’s slight guilt when he clears his throat and says, “s-sorry our call kind of—went in another direction, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I can—“

your laugh cuts him off, “sweetie it’s okay. i’d like to help. we’ll hit two birds with one stone since i wanted an audio anyway.”

yuuji blushes even harder. “I… I’ll try to not… hold it in.”

you grin, biting at your lip as you lay in your bed with your phone planted on your ear. “Good… you’ll give me what i want hm?”

Yuuji’s breaths are beginning to tremble as he continues to rub himself to the sound of your voice. “y-yea, for you… i’ll do what you want.”

it gets more serious when yuuji finally takes his dick out his boxers and starts pumping it up and down; it’s almost fully hard. he loves it when you ask him what he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. his moans start off quiet but when you tell him you wanna hear him, his voice breaks and he lets a louder sound come out his throat. “can you imagine your hand as my hand, or my mouth?” you ask him. at this point your thighs are squeezed together and you can feel the wetness pool in your panties. this makes yuuji moan even louder.

after a couple minutes of this teasing dirty talk, yuuji can’t take it anymore and the needy words, “fuh… i… i want to see you. c-can i?” slip out of his mouth.

it turns into a video call after the both of you move to transfer to your laptops. you can see yuuji’s tip peeking from the bottom edge of the screen. his shirt is on and it’s lightly sticking to his skin, likely because he’s starting to sweat. when you turn on your camera, your pretty face comes into view and you’re in the usual clothes you wear at home: loose shirt, no bra, panties. you can instantly tell yuuji’s back to jerking himself, though you can’t see his whole hand or his face at all.

“let me see you, sweetie,” you say, hand digging between your sticking thighs and going over your clothed crotch.

his movement slows, “shit, you wanna see me?” he sounds embarrassed. you nod. yuuji is obviously reluctant, but he listens, repositioning his laptop further so it captures his face and dick in hand. you feel yourself throb at the sight.

it isn’t long before you’re touching your bare pussy in front of the camera, tits out on display. you’re lewd and so is yuuji, now more confidently moaning as he pleases himself to you. between your own sounds, you softly say, “gosh my pretty baby. you’re doing so well,” knowing how your boyfriend is secretly a sucker for praise. yuuji groans, body jerking as his face flushes even redder. “will you come for me?” you say. you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

yuuji’s a moaning needy mess, the hand not on his dick pinning the hem of his shirt high up. “fuugh… y-yes… yes for you. I’ll come… i’m about to—about… agh—“

yuuji’s hand pumps the tip fast and he cums strongly, head bowing as his hips thrust up and he shoots white. “Ah~ oh~,” he’s shaky and noisy all the way through his high. when he finally lifts his head up to look at you, you’re sweetly smiling (you came watching him cum but he missed it ://). you stare at one another for a moment before the both of you let out (somewhat nervous) laughter.

yuuji pats sweat off his forehead with the back of his clean hand, careful not to have the other covered in his own cum go near his bed sheets. “gosh, you’re good. i’m so lucky to have you.”

you beam. “and i’m so lucky to have such a pretty, handsome boyfriend. you did great.”

he shyly looks away, biting on his lip to suppress a smile, “thank you.”

inumaki

— you text him asking for a moaning audio (unless u want inumaki to go tuna tuna at u on call lmao)

— “?”

— “how do i make that?”

— you send him a voice note explaining what kind of audio it is, making sure to tell him he doesnt have to do it if he doesnt want to

— “…”

— “okay…”

— “i totally thought you wanted to hear me in pain and i was… concerned.”

— (“??? baby pls no?!)

— “thank god”

— there’s a pause in the chat

— “i would send if i could.”

— (“wdym? if you don’t feel comfortable about it it’s okay maki”)

— “no… um”

—(“?”)

— “i don’t really get hard unless ur here.”

— (you stare at his message before sending an “oh !”)

— “yea… nothing else does it for me. sorry.”

— (you’re both blushing and stricken by his response. “no baby don’t be sorry TT you don’t need to do this. i can always hear you in person.”)

— “sure?”

— (“yes for sure TT”)

— “:p i’ll make those sounds for you next time if you really like them.”

output: next time you see each other, it starts off as usual. a casual date outside before going back to his place for nightly cuddles and eventually… that. it’s clear inumaki remembers you’re conversation without you having to bring it up. he’s nervous at first (he’s always been pretty quiet mostly because he’s mindful of using his voice), and you see it in his eyes. “just let it out okay? it’s just me here,”

you whisper when you softly kiss under his neck, a little shy as well. soon, when you’re kissing, touching, and sucking him all over, his moans are tiny sharp inhales and whimpers rising up his throat; they come out somewhat muffled because of his closed mouth. since he can’t really risk saying anything, he’ll tell you that he feels good with a hand combing through your hair or a thumb caressing your skin. he’ll buck up into your throat when he cums, his mouth accidentally opening to sound out a breathier vocal moan. when you pull up, wiping your mouth after swallowing, he doesn’t hesitate to pull your face close, kissing you sweetly. you know it’s his way of saying ‘thank you. i love you.”

—— <3

a/n: wrote smth diff today (context: i usually write leon kennedy stuff) these are just my headcanons so i’d love to hear what u guys think! xoxo i had sm fun writing this hehe

also, can u guess who my fav char is? (it’s not the one with the longest part— mb that some are longer than others, idk how to stop smtms)

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 days ago

Note

Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕

I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol

Much love and take care!! 💗💗

(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)

You’re my…. my wife?

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.

An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).

I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!

Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.

Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.

The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.

His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.

You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.

When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.

“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.

“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.

“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.

Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.

“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.

“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.

“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.

“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.

“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”

Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.

Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.

“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?

“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.

His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.

Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.

Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.

Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo #jjk shoko #kento x y/n #kento x you #jjk kento #kento fluff

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suhsweet · 1 day ago

Text

for halloween ⟡ kmg

wc: 3097 | pair: bf!mingyu x afab!reader | genre: smut, 18+ (minors go away) | tags: horror movie mentions, brief mention of gore (in relation to horror movie), living room sex, netflix & chill, size kink, fingering, reader has medium to long hair

summary: “I want to see if we can fuck each others’ brains out, so good to the point that we forget that there’s a scary movie playing right in front of us.”

authors note: sorry, i’ve been away for forever. with halloween coming up, i rushed this to get it out in time. it's not the best, but please enjoy <3

“Kim Mingyu, we are not spending our Saturday night watching a horror movie out of all things.”

“Sure we are, for Halloween.”

You smack a palm against your forehead, watching your stupid boyfriend flick through stupid Netflix on the stupid TV to search for a stupid horror movie. The options flick past, each movie poster looking more creepy and gruesome than the last.

“You forgot the biggest issue here. We both hate horror movies. We don’t like horror.”

“I know, but I think I might come to love it after tonight,” Mingyu smirks to himself and he waves you over towards him.

“Why do you think that?” Your eyes narrow, watching your soon-to-be-dumped boyfriend choose a film that you didn’t bother to learn the name of. As the screen goes black, the movie poster remains in your mind. All you remember are the blood splatters on the main character’s face, and the shadowy figure behind them.

The image brings about a chill down your spine, causing you to spin around and start heading for your shared bedroom. “Nope. Actually, don’t worry. Enjoy your movie! I’m just gonna hide here for the next hour and forty five minutes...”

“Baby no!” Mingyu laughs and you hear him follow you.

The heavy slap of his house slippers rapidly follow you as you speed away, a squeal threatening to escape your throat. Nevertheless, you're effortlessly scooped up into his arms bridal style.

Maybe if you close your eyes and go limp like a dead fish he’ll change his mind… You give up on fighting your boyfriend's strong hold, allowing your head to flop backward and your arms to your sides.

Entering the living room once more, Mingyu's laughter echoes throughout the apartment. Still holding you in his arms, he falls onto the plush sofa causing the both of you to let out a simultaneous ‘oomph’.

He keeps you sideways on his lap, one arm braced around your waist. He fusses over you, brushing your hair out of your face as he acts oblivious to your squirming.

You're trying your best to wriggle your way out of this cage of yummy tanned skin and muscle before he presses play on the movie. “Let me goooooo!”

“No!” Mingyu grunts, and if you thought his hold was tight enough, he pulls you in even tighter.

After three minutes of Mingyu chuckling at your poor attempts of escape, you eventually give up. It's times like these that you remember that he goes to the gym everyday, and never fails to meet his target protein intake. With him sitting down, you also forget he looms over you like a skyscraper. Fighting him is impossible.

You pout, crossing your arms with a soft, "Hmmph."

Mingyu gives a satisfied whoop as he settles you in his arms. Your attempts of appearing annoyed with him immediately dissolves as the ominous music grows louder.

Suddenly, the lamp beside your sofa switches off. Apart from the TV itself, it was the main source of light in the otherwise dark room. Your head whips over to see Mingyu in the process of retracting his hand from the switch, a devilish grin on his face.

“Where is my boyfriend!?” You practically wail. “My Mingyu wouldn’t even look at the horror section on Netflix!”

Mingyu just chuckles to himself. You bury your face in his chest, and wrap your arms around his neck. The beginnings of the jump-scares and screaming starts, and you feel the thrum of your pulse quicken.

Mingyu coos at you and begins to rub his hand across your back rhythmically. His other hand cradles your head to him. His lips softly press kisses into your hair, slowly trailing down to your temple, cheek, jaw, and then your neck. The kisses gradually go from sweet and brief, to slow and burning. You can hear his lips coming into contact with your skin, and the soft suction of his mouth.

“Mingyu…” You clench the fabric of his hoodie in your fist.

“I had a thought,” he says, completely ignoring you.

“Something you should stop doing after this,” you grumble. Being scared and horny is a weird and unfamiliar sensation.

Mingyu chuckles softly. The light touch of the back of his pointer finger tickles your cheek. You notice the way his eyes become half-lidded, hypnotized. “I want to see if we can fuck each others’ brains out, so good to the point that we forget that there’s a scary movie playing right in front of us..”

A shocked laugh bubbles up inside of you. It takes you a second to process the unexpected turn of events. “For Halloween?”

“Yup,” the side of his mouth quirks up slightly as your eyes meets his.

“You better make me scream louder than her,” you point your finger to the TV screen where all sorts of terror is occurring to the main character.

Mingyu kisses up and down your jaw once more, his fingers gripping your sides as if wondering whether to rip off your clothes or take them off intact. “I’ll try my best, baby.”

Suddenly upright and straddling Mingyu’s lap, your fingers snake through your lover’s hair. Through your lashes, you delight in the way he completely succumbs himself to your touch. Like he's happy to take anything that you'll give him, his head is tilted backwards and his eyes are shut.

Mingyu is chasing your lips when you pull back from the kiss, refusing to have your faces more than an inch away from the other. You’re about to tease his dopey expression when the back of your head is held in place by his hand, and his lips are back on yours. Your teeth clash briefly before you find your rhythm, his tongue teasing your own. And all while this is happening, he’s humping up into you.

“How am I already pussy drunk and I haven’t even taken your clothes off?” Mingyu whispers into your ear, nipping the lobe before kissing your neck. He’s licking stripes, making marks, and worshipping the skin where your jaw and neck meet. The sensation has your toes curling and your eyes screwing shut.

“Min…gyu,” you sigh out. Your hands steady themselves on his firm shoulders and you begin to grind against his heavy bulge. He watches in amazement, lazily palming your breast and breathing heavily.

You’ve always loved the sounds that Mingyu makes when you fuck. His raspy voice was already attractive, but in bed? When it’s heavy with lust and need for only you? It’s fucking heavenly.

“So, so pretty,” Mingyu sighs, eyes rolling when your hips move a certain way. You pause to reach under the waistband of his black sweats, easily finding his arousal.

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of your bottom lip. You immediately catch it in your mouth and start sucking it like you would a lollypop. Your tongue in particular starts drawing patterns on the pad of this thumb. Mingyu’s gaze seems to grow darker as he watches you.

Immediately he retracts his hand, and starts stripping you of your shirt. You help take off the last of it off your body while Mingyu eagerly latches his mouth onto your chest, a hand greedily grabbing and squeezing the one that doesn’t have the attentions of his tongue.

You’re the one holding his head close this time. You watch Mingyu with his mouth on your tits, licking and sucking as if you’re his life source. He looks completely drunk on you, focused on worshipping your body. Your sounds encourage him to reach down into your pants, nudging away your panties to find your slick folds.

His fingers outline the folds of your pussy, then focus on your clit. You hum with approval as he starts drawing circles on the little nub. You feel him go back to tasting your tits, switching between kissing your neck and whispering dirty things into your ear.

“Your fingers… Fuck,” you pant. “I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Mingyu takes in your expressions with a satisfied smirk. His fingers speed up, pressing firmly. He pulls your head down to kiss you, wanting to feel you moan against his lips as you cum.

And you do; with your lips pressed to Mingyu’s, holding onto his shoulders as you buck against his fingers. His gaze burns into you, and it's so intense that if you weren’t in the middle of an orgasm, you would’ve blushed furiously.

As you come down from your high, Mingyu's there to hold you steady. You lazily kiss him, telling him thanks with your tongue and soft moans. His fingers dive into your hair, making your pretty tresses snake around his fingers. He plays with the ends of the strands just as you pull away and start to get on your knees.

"What're you doing?" He whines, hands gripping your arms firmly.

You frown. "Returning the favor."

"No, no, no," he rushes out. You're pulled back up on your feet when Mingyu unceremoniously yanks your pants down and pulls you back onto his lap. "I need you now."

You giggle at his desperation, and allow him to manhandle you. He strips himself of his shirt while you line his cock up to your pussy. You’re so close to having him stretch you out that your toes curl from anticipation.

However, after many lessons learnt you remembered to prep yourself at the last second. Effortlessly, you lean down to spit onto Mingyu’s cock, rubbing it all over the tip until it glistens.

Mingyu groans. “It’s so hot when you do that.”

You wink at him. His grip on your waist keep you steady as you slowly lower yourself. On instinct your eyes flicker to his to watch the minor changes in his expression as he feels your body take him. The softening of his eyes, the soft flare of his noise and the plush of his lips caught between his teeth.

And although the two of you have had sex enough times to know the other’s body like their own, the feeling of you bottoming out on his cock never gets old. Feeling so full, and so stretched out, nothing could feel as good as Mingyu’s heavy cock.

His eyes seem to dart across every plane on your face, wanting to take in your expressions too. You tenderly kiss him on the mouth and slowly start to move.

“Fuck…” Mingyu breathes out, his eyes fluttering closed.

As you start to work your body on his dick, Mingyu’s arms circle around your body. His trunk-like arms keep you close to him as he presses his head into your shoulder, breathing heavily and taking in your scent.

It’s so intimate, and perfect until you hear the movie and remember that it's still playing. Your attention unintentionally flickers over to the TV just in time to witness a jump scare. The sudden close up of the monster's morbid features, combined with the loud music has you squeezing Mingyu tighter, and a minor squeak leaves you as you jump in fright.

Mingyu’s perks up, alert. You briefly witness the protective side of him come out. His misplaced concern has you feeling sorry, and a small laugh escapes you.

His expression softens when he looks back at you and sees you smiling. He doesn't say anything, but his face asks you about what happened.

"I saw a jump scare," you admit, noticing your movements have slowed.

Mingyu shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Well that won't do. My theory would be proven wrong..." His warm, large hands trail upwards from your hips to your sides. His warm palms smooth over your upper back, creeping up past your shoulder blades before stopping at the curve of each of your shoulders.

You gaze up at him just as he pulls your body down onto him by your shoulders. The sudden intrusion doesn't hurt, but it makes you gasp. Suddenly feeling full brings an unfamiliar pleasure, and judging by your lover's face, he definitely loves it.

Mingyu's heavy lidded gaze never strays from your face, but he breaths heavily as he fucks up into you. His grip never weakens, even while your chanting his name, even while your legs squeeze together in an effort to halt his movements as you come. He manages to continue to fuck you regardless.

That has you forgetting about the movie in an instant.

"Holy... Fuck," you groan in between heavy breaths.

"What do you think of the movie so far?" Mingyu teases as he lifts you off of him and onto the sofa, on your back. As he covers your body with his own, you feel him tease your breasts. Each nipple is pinched, and the other even gets a little nip.

"Mmm," you gather your hair out from under you in an effort to get comfortable. You reach between your legs to reach for his cock. "What movie?"

Mingyu laughs as he slowly kisses up your chest and onto your lips. Your open mouthed kisses are interrupted by the sensation of him filling you up, and the two of you groan into each other's mouths.

"Fuck, angel," Mingyu's rasping into your mouth. He lays his right forearm down next to your head, while his other arm is next to your waist holding himself up. They both work to keep his weight from crushing you, but allows him to still feel every inch of your skin touching his own. "You don't understand how much I fucking need you."

Feeling caged in like this has you feeling so safe that you start to go delirious. Everywhere you look is Mingyu. If you look up, you'll find him watching you with your name escaping his lips like it was a prayer. If you look between your legs, you can see the silhouette of his heavy cock thrusting into you, making you feel so full. If you look to either side of you, you'd see his muscles working to keep himself up.

"So good," you gasp. He seems to agree from the way that his head dips down to kiss you. Your bottom lip gets stuck in-between his teeth as he sucks at it hungrily.

Unlike you, Mingyu isn’t caged in. He has the freedom to look anywhere but down, to avoid looking at your pretty face and increase the chances of him coming early. Yet, like magnets, his eyes can’t stray far from your pretty lips or flushed cheeks. The little sweat beads that decorate your face are his doing, just like the fucking delectable view of your breasts bouncing from his thrusts.

The possessive side of him revels in the fact that only he can see you like this. He likes that it’s because of him that you’re feeling this pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck, tugging his head back down. Your lips meet in another round of hungry kisses. The two of you are as close of you can get, sharing the same breath, with your foreheads pressed together. Your skin is slick with sweat– his or yours, you're not sure. Mingyu looks close, and to catch up, you bring your fingers to your clit.

"Good girl," he praises. "Make sure you come with me. Come on this cock, baby."

You can't even give him a proper reply. All you can do is nod as you watch him work you both to the edge.

Without warning, you feel yourself come first and your words come out slurred. "'Gyu, 'm cummin'."

Your words act as the catalyst and Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut. He buries his head into your neck, allowing only you to hear his deep moans.

The last of your orgasms drain from the two of you, and you laugh softly up at your lover. He grins down at you, leaning in to kiss you when the final jump-scare from the movie makes itself known.

A loud screech from the movie’s demon, combined with the sharp music has you both jumping in fright. Mingyu collapse onto you, hugging your body and burying his face into your neck. You instinctively stretch your arms around his shoulders as if that would protect him from any bad guys, and you shut your eyes from seeing any more of the film.

The music changes after a few seconds, making you peek an eye open. The credits are creeping up the screen, and you let out a loud sigh as you go limp.

Mingyu’s head perks up to look at you, and then the TV. “Hey! We did it.”

You laugh, remembering the stupid theory your boyfriend came up with. Your hand rises in a hi-five to which Mingyu slaps enthusiastically.

Mingyu takes in your dopey, fucked-out expression with a toothy grin of his own. You feel him press a smattering of kisses all over your face, and then the pressure of his body rolling away from you to retrieve the TV remote. Even if it's just to turn the TV off, you whine in protest at the idea of having to separate from him so soon. You rise and attach yourself to his back like a koala would a tree.

Mingyu stands, fixing his arms into the crooks of your knees to piggyback you. He walks to your bedroom with a pep in his step. He mumbles to himself, “I won’t be able to sleep all night after that movie.”

His innocuous tone makes you laugh. “Because you were definitely focused on the movie and nothing else.”

“Yeah, yeah. It had demons and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, I remember seeing that too,” you laugh. "Did you see the thing that happened to that person at that place?"

"Oh yeah, totally," Mingyu scoffs. "I know exactly what you're talking about. Wasn't scared of that at all."

He deposits you at the foot of your bed and starts to crawl up on top of you again, his body acting as a cage once more.

The predatorial gleam in his eyes elicits a shiver from you.

“You know, I normally find it hard to fall asleep after watching scary movies too,” you say as Mingyu leans down to kiss your jaw.

Mingyu hums in interest. “Glad to hear it isn’t just me. But I know a couple things we could do to help us sleep.”

You burst out laughing at the cheesiness of it all. Mingyu looks up at you, giving you another of his precious toothy grins. You smile, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging gently. “Alright, alright, let’s get into round two already.”

#mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu fanfic #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu imagines #svt #svt smut #svt imagines #mingyu imagines

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apostaterevolutionary · 3 days ago

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Okay but the thing about veilguard reviews is I don’t care what the gaming review sites think. I especially don’t care what some random ytuber who’s probably just grifting right wing nutjobs for easy money and has never actually played the games before thinks. I don’t even care what an unrelated but accomplished rpg dev thinks

The only opinions I want to hear are from 7 trustworthy sickos (affectionate) who had their brain chemistry permanently altered over a decade ago by critically hated yet loved by me specifically video game Dragon Age 2, and only after I hear those opinions will I decide if I’m buying it or not

#I do have. a prediction #but I don’t know if people really care to hear that right now #so I’m hiding it here in the tags: I think it will be good from a game perspective #but it will lack the secret sauce that makes a good DA experience #so it’ll be commercially successful but kind of a let down to long time fans #and I could be completely wrong I have no fucking idea and haven’t seen most pre release stuff lmao #but idk the choices thing… that still bugs me a lot ngl #idk how it can feel like DA like that #guess we’ll see soon enough though #text #dragon age #shut up nerd #veilguard

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jubshead · 2 days ago

Text

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦

Paring: Agatha Harkness x Reader | Platonic Nicholas & Reader

Summary: Nickie’s mom has got it going on.

A/N: I started writing this a long time ago, but procrastination took the best out of me when I realized it was going to be bigger than I expected. This is the biggest thing I’ve written so far and I hope you guys like it!

This fanfiction is inspired by the song Stacy’s mom. There are a lot of references to the lyrics and the clip, so let me now which ones do you guys catch!

OH AND if you guys click on the clothe I’m describing, a link will take you to the image a had in my mind while writing.

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my mother language, so bear with me.

Warning: Smut, age difference (18+).

Word count: 8.1k

Date: Oct 29, 2024

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist

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Being back in your hometown feels weird, the feeling of seeing people stuck in time and unsatisfied with their life always gives you a turn on the stomach. You’d rarely come up here after your family moved a few years ago, the main reason for visiting was your bestfriend Nicholas, but more times than not he was the one who traveled to spend time with you. Your city was so much better in multiple senses, especially now that you live at the college dorm.

As you didn’t have any relatives in town, you inevitably stayed at Nickie’s house. This time though, you felt like an intruder. Your friend commented on his parents’ recent divorce and how tension had been high for a while in their house before the separation.

During the years you’ve known Nicholas, you hardly ever saw his parents, they were always on some kind of work trip and left Nicholas to be the host of the house when you were there. Weirder, though, was the fact that they were never together. From what your friend had told you, they traveled at the same time, but to completely different places. Apparently they were both on the enterprise business, you weren’t really sure of what.

You’d cross paths with Mr. Scratch a couple of times, but you hadn't seen his mother since moving away as a child, you just remember her imposing presence and the overwhelming crush you used to have on her.

Your friend had mentioned that she would be home this time. She hadn’t taken a vacation in years, but the separation seemed to bring calmness to her and she was trying to spend more time with her son, at least that’s what he told you, and it wasn’t like she needed to work overtime for money, they were rolling in it.

You shyly roll your suitcase into the house’s pathway, anxiety eats you away and you hope that the person who greets you is your friend. It would feel awkward enough having Mrs. Harkness around the house while you were there, you didn’t want to re meet her after such a long time without Nicholas as a bridge.

Letting out a breath when you see your friend’s smile, you jump into his arms, barely giving him time to catch you. His forearms circle your waist and lift your feet off the ground, shaking you left and right like a ragdoll. You huff and hear the sound of your bag hitting the ground after colliding with your foot.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” You playfully pat him on his back and wait for him to settle back down.

“Excuse me for being excited to meet my friend, who I haven't seen in over a year, 'cause she’s too preoccupied with her studies.” He uses your own words to mock you.

“Well…I’m here now, aren’t I?” Your shrug and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on, be useful for once and help me with my bag.” You walk past him and leave your suitcase at the door.

“I forgot how insufferable you are.” He complains loud and clear, you turn back around in time to catch the smile in his face and stick out your tongue.

“You know you love it!”

“I might.” He mumbles under his breath and you ignore him, turning back around and going up the stairs.

Your relationship with Nickie has always been light and playful, he was like the little brother you never had and you allowed yourself to act childish in his presence. He reminded you of your childhood in this town and running across the street with the other kids. So, when he’d drop hints of something else, you’d just brush it off.

“Same room as always?” Your head peaks through the top of the stairs and you stare down at him as he struggles with your bag.

“Actually, no. My mom is remodeling that one into a massage room.” You raise an eyebrow and he shrugs. “You can stay at the end of the corridor. It’s a little further from my room, but I’m sure you won’t mind.” He settles the suitcase at the top of the stairs and leads you in the direction you’re not accustomed to.

“I sure don’t.” You assure him. “But I do wanna know where’s the illustrious Mrs. Harkness.” He lets out a chuckle at your nervous joke.

“She went out to run some errands, but said she’d be back soon and bring us pizza for dinner.” He stops at the end of the corridor. At the front wall there’s a door and on its side another one. He opens up the one on the right. “Like I said, my mom is remodeling some stuff, so this is the closest room we have available on this floor. This door is her bedroom.” He points to the other entry and you try not to react. It would be fine.

“Okay!” You exclaim and enter the enclosed space. The place was very similar to the one you were accustomed to, the only difference was spatially.

It had a window, wardrobe, bed and bathroom like all the others you had visited at the residence, but this one was faced to the back of the house. A big window opened up to the backyard and you could see the glistening pool water reflecting the orange light of the sun set. Facing the window was the bed and, on its left side, the bathroom.

Falling backwards, you bounce on the mattress and cover your eyes with the back of your elbow, all the adrenaline of the trip seems to leave your body at once.

Your friend throws your bag by your side. “What the fuck did you bring? It feels like there’s 20 bricks in here.”

“Stuff.” You reply passively, not moving a muscle.

He scoffs at you. “Okay, I can clearly tell you’re tired from your flight, so I’ll let you take a shower, put your ‘stuff’ away and I’ll call you when my mom arrives with our food. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, thank you!” You answer him gracefully and only take your arm away from your face when you hear the door close softly.

Lazily you sit up on the comfortable surface, open up your suitcase and search for your shower essentials. You feel clammy and stinky after spending a few hours at the airport and on the plane, so a bath is the first thing on your mind.

Finding a towel and adjusting the temperature is easy enough and in a few minutes you’re under the water pressure, tiredness mixes with anxiety and you slump against the wall.

You feel an overwhelming excitement at seeing Nichola’s mother and while it feels like meeting your boyfriend’s mom, it is also a completely different feeling. You don’t care if she thinks you are good enough for her son, especially since you don’t have that kind of relationship with your friend, but you wanted it, craved even, that she liked you.

Yeah, your childhood crush hadn’t passed.

You try not to let your thoughts eat you away by focusing on your routine and relaxing into the warm water.

When you’re done, you get out of the shower and wrap yourself up in a towel. Brushing your wet hair, you look out of the window, the day passed and with it the sunlight. You hope your hair will dry before bed.

You hear a soft knock and your friend’s voice. “Can I come in?”

“Gimme a second!” You scream back and hurriedly search your bag, grab a big shirt and pajama shorts. “Yes, come on in.”

Your friend pokes his head into the room and stares at you. You must be quite a sight from the way his eyes rank over your body. Your hair is dripping, wetting your shirt, there’s a brush in your cream slicked hands and your shorts are hardly poking out from the shirt’s waistband. You don’t understand the appeal.

“Yes, what is it?” You drawl out, taking him out of his trance.

“Mom is home, brought us pizza.” He beams at you. “I told her you like pepperoni.”

“And you are right as always, my friend.” You tell him in the worst southern accent someone has ever heard.

He chuckles and you throw the brush on top of the bed, grab the towel to clean your hands and follow him out of the room.

All your anxiety comes back as you go down the stairs, the smell of pizza fills the air and you hear movement in the kitchen. Entering the cooking area, you spot her right away.

“Mom.” Nickie calls by your side.

When she turns around, you feel trapped in a movie. It would be one of those scenes where a character is introduced and turns around in slow motion, with some random song in the back.

You try very hard not to gape at her. She is wearing a light brown loose suit accompanied by a white dress shirt underneath, her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and on her feet you see expensive pointy black heels. Her hair is dark and matches her gold jewelry, she aged so well you feel like you’re one point away from falling to your knees in front of her.

She opens up the biggest smile upon seeing you.

“Oh hun, come here! Let me take a look at you.” She motions her hands towards herself and you timidly step into her arms.

She places her hands on your forearms and slowly runs her eyes over your figure. You squirm under her intense gaze and uncomfortably think about your choice of clothes. You should have dressed up, she looks so elegant.

She lets out a hum deep in her throat and you feel like a bug caught in a spider’s web when she looks into your eyes and smirks.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, dear. Nicholas spoke highly of you, but I must say his words don’t do you justice.”

“Yeah? Wait until she opens her mouth.” Your friend says by your side and you shove him slightly.

Agatha laughs at your antics and winks at you when you look back at her, making you blush.

“Let's eat, shall we?” She claps her hands and brings them close to her chest, turns around and grabs the carbon box.

Nicholas leads you into the dining table and you sit in front of him, on the left side of the head of the table, where Agatha settles down. You were starving, eating was the next thing on your mind after a shower and now that you are clean, you can enjoy the meal. Politely, you wait until Nicholas takes a slice and offers it to you, nodding eagerly, you extend your plate in his direction.

You dive in and barely listen to the conversation they are having, that is, until you hear your name.

“Yes?” You swallow hurriedly and feel the piece burning your throat as it slides down.

“I was asking how college has been treating you, hun.” You gulp down the soda in front of you to smooth the pain. You are pleasantly surprised she knows something about you and is interested enough to ask.

“Oh, it’s been great! I really enjoy the course and the professors. It’s also a bonus that I moved out of my parents’ house.” You answer her excitedly.

“I bet you are taking full advantage of that, right dear?” She says with a playful smile and scrunch in her face, before sipping her glass of wine.

“Mom!” Nicholas exclaims by her side and you let out a nervous chuckle at the joke.

“I’m just kidding, honey.” She winks at him and waves her hands in the air in a dismissal movement.

“I sure am, Mrs. Harkness.” You return the jab and she turns to look deep into your eyes, her mouth slowly grows into a grin.

Distantly you hear your friend clean his throat and mumble “I didn’t need to know about that.”

You slowly let go of her intense gaze to turn into your friend’s direction.

“Don’t be a baby.” You throw your napkin across the table and he huffles in response.

After that, dinner doesn't last long. You patiently wait for Nicholas to finish what must be his fifth slice, before getting up and unspokenly offering yourself to clean up the dishes by grabbing the plates.

You feel a light touch on your arm. “You don’t have to do that, dear. You must be tired from your flight, Nicholas will clean up for us.”

“I really don’t mind, Mrs. Harkness.” You feel her hand run lightly up to your elbow and you hold in your shudder.

“Well, I insist.” Looking in your friend’s direction, he gives you a small smile and a nod. “And call me Agatha, hun.”

Rapidly blinking, you turn to face her and are met with a smile.

“Okay, humm…” Gently setting down the plates, you feel her hand slip from your arm.

You hesitate and Mrs. Harkness encourages you. “Go on.”

“Goodnight, then.” You practically run out of the room, stopping to glance back at them and give an awkward smile.

As much as you’d like to protest, Agatha is right. With a full belly, you feel your energy drain, your eyelids become heavy and you can only think about the big warm bed waiting for you.

The worry of being a bad guest slips from your mind as soon as your head hits the pillow.

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The detergent runs down your hands and into the drain.

The window in front of the sink gives you a full view of the house’s backyard. The midday sun shines down into the grass, the pool glistens invitingly and a light breeze blows away a stuffy day.

Your night was uneventful, exhaustion seemed to take the best out of you and you woke up practically at lunch time. This time, though, you insisted on washing the dishes and wouldn’t take ‘no’ as an answer.

You got carried away by your task a while ago and now your hands move in their own accord. The idea of spending a day under the sun brings a renewed energy into your body and you practically vibrate in anticipation. It’s been a while since you’ve been to a pool or the beach.

You startled when your friend jumps to sit on the counter next to you.

“Jesus, Nicholas!” You exclaim loudly, stopping your sopped hand midway and preventing a wet shirt.

He gives you a boyish smile and says. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” You murmur out.

One second away from articulating your thoughts and suggesting your idea, you are interrupted by your friend.

“Should we spend the day outside?” He says and you look at him with big eyes and a wide grin.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” You exclaim. “I’m almost done here. You can go upstairs and change already.”

“Okay, bossy.” He playfully jabs while hopping out of the counter. On his way out of the kitchen he tells you. “I’m going to ask my mom if she wants to join us.”

Your whole body freezes. The image of Mrs. Harkness wearing only a bikini comes into your mind and leaves you lightheaded, when you look back at him, he’s already gone. Fuck.

You rapidly finish the dishes and dry your hand on a towel, run upstairs into your room and close the door softly.

Placing your suitcase in the bed, you sort through your clothes in an attempt to find your best bikini. Sprawling everything around and leaving a mess behind, you try to breathe and be reasonable. She wouldn’t be looking at you in the same way that you would look at her, there is no reason to be worried. Yeah, right. Just because she wasn't attracted to you didn't mean you didn't want her approval.

Pulling out your favorite red bikini, you let out a small commemorative sound. The two-piece consisted of a top adjustable sideways and held by two strings that made a bow on your nape. The bottom was very similar in style, the front covered you up and was held by little bows on the side that lead to a thong.

You change into it and look at yourself in the mirror. The color complemented your skin tone and the shape matched your body type. You repeat to yourself: there is no need to be worried.

Easier said than done.

You distract yourself by going into the bathroom and grabbing the sunscreen, the last thing you needed was to overthink and start biting your nails.

As you leave the bedroom, you follow the sound of someone in the kitchen and find Nicholas eating some kind of fruit.

His back is turned and you take a moment to really look at him. He was tall and defined, with a boyish light nature that seemed to make life easier. His light brown hair matches his father’s, but, other than that, he was Agatha though and though. Just as attractive as her and definitely broke as many hearts as his mother did. Maybe in another life things would be different between you two.

You shudder at the thought. Definitely not this one, though.

You approach him and grab a strawberry, barely registering his gaze appreciating your body as you lean into the counter and try to casually ask.

“What did your mother say?” You take a bite of the berry.

It takes a hot minute for him to take his eyes off of you and respond. “Said she’s happy to join us. She’s changing, but told us to go ahead if we want to.”

“Let's go then!” You exclaim and rapidly grab your friend and the bowl of fruit.

You open the glass door and a light breeze invades the house, you don’t stop to appreciate it. Afraid of fainting if you saw Nickie’s mother only in a bikini, you struggle to get into the pool before she comes down.

Placing your towel and the sunscreen in one of the chairs, you ignore your friend sitting next to you and move into the pool stair.

“Why are you acting crazy?” He asks with a frown while you step down into the water.

“I’m not.” You reply and he lets out a hum. Fuck him for seeing right through your bullshit. “I’m just excited, that’s all.”

You dive in. The pool is in the perfect temperature for the hotness of the day. It was mostly covered by the shadows of the trees, so, for now, you don’t have to worry about sunscreen.

Resurfacing and pulling your body into the pool’s edge, you throw a bit of water into your friend and say.

“Aren’t you coming in?” He nods and you add. “Bring the strawberries with you.”

Resting your head in the water, you let your body float freely. Your hearing is muffled and you take a moment to breathe in the space and relax. Having Nickie’s mom around was making you more anxious than you were prepared for.

You look up into the bright blue sky and observe the clouds. The day was so beautiful and your need for praise and validation was quickly increasing. There was nothing wrong with having a crush, but if it was affecting you this much, you needed to let it go for a while.

Your arms flow by your side and you clean your mind.

Time seems to stop in this position and you feel your body ease up for the first time since your friend told you his mother would be around. You hear a commotion outside of the pool and remain with your eyes closed, enjoying the empty pool before Nicholas jumps in and disturbs your peace.

That doesn’t last long. A few seconds later you feel drops of water splashing on your face. You look up from between wet lashes to find Nicholas with his feet partially inside the water and his mother by his side. He had been calling you.

“Yeah?” Wiping the excessive water from your face, you stand up.

“Would you mind sharing your sunscreen?” He asks you.

“Of course not.” You reply and change focus.

His mother looks even better than you’d imagine, if that’s even possible. She’s wearing a black two-piece and from afar you can see the lace covering the fabric. It fits her body perfectly, the top is similar to yours, but it isn’t sideways adjustable. The bottom, though, is very different, where your bikini is thin and revealing, hers has thick strands and you can see that it covers her butt a lot more than yours do. You were right in assuming you’d faint if you saw her outside of the pool. The image makes you dizzy.

“Enjoying the water, hun?” She tracks your body with her eyes and licks her lips.

You follow the action and it takes a noticeable second for your brain to process the question.

“Yes, I am, Mrs…Agatha.” You correct yourself and blush, from the slip up and the delay. Your face gets even hotter when she smirks and you realize you’ve been caught staring at her.

You just can’t help yourself. She sits down and spreads sunscreen on herself. This woman is a goddess you’d pray for until the day you die. Her belly is straight and defined, her boobs are small and compliment her body perfectly. When she turns around, asking Nicholas to help reach her back, you blatantly look at her ass. It was round and perky. You feel like a pervert, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wish it was you spreading sunscreen on her back.

God, if you had seen her anywhere else, you’d never guess she was more than 45 and had a son.

She catches you staring for a second time and winks at you. You dive back into the water to hide your red cheeks.

The afternoon runs smoothly. Nicholas joins you in the pool and you try to distract yourself by playing with him. If took a peak or two at his mother bathing in the sun, who could blame you?

It's around 4pm when your friend decides to go inside and grab more fruits. You had devoured the strawberries a long time ago and were now starving after splashing, fighting and swimming with him like a kid. The day had turned out as great as you had expected it to be.

You rest your tired head against the edge and hear a faint sound. You feel Agatha walk behind you, all the way to the pool ladder and fight against opening your eyes to stare at her backside.

It is the first time she joins you on the water and you hear Nicholas from inside in the kitchen. Your thoughts run free and as relaxed as you are, you get distracted by the image conjured up in your head of your friend picking up fruits and washing them.

You get slightly startled when you feel a hand running through your hair ends. Opening your eyes, you breathe in and try not to take a step back. Somehow, in your relaxed state, Agatha has crept up on you and is now standing a foot away. Her eyes are focused on the way her fingers twiddle your tips and in this proximity, you feel how hot her body is from soaking in the sun all day.

“I was trying to remember you as a kid.” She starts and looks up into your eyes. “You were the one with the pigtails, right?”

“Yeah.” You let out a laugh as you remember your signature hairstyle back then and add a nervous joke. “I’m all grown up now, though.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She replies slowly, her gaze drifting to your breasts.

Her hand leaves your hair and descends through the water until you feel a faint touch of fingers in your waist. She smirks, closing up the space between you two. The top of her bikini brushes against yours and pressed against the pool’s edge and her body, you panic when you hear the glass door open behind you.

She laughs at your wide eyes and dips her head into the water. Thanking all the heavens and architects that built this house, you turn around in time to see Nicholas rounding the corner.

“There you go.” He sits on the floor next to your sprawled arms and places the bowl in front of your face.

Feeling your heartbeat on your throat, you shove a grape on your mouth to calm yourself down.

“I think you should put on some sunscreen now. Your cheeks are really red.” You cough and blush even more, he runs his thumb through your face and you try not to flinch at the image he could have walked on.

“I was actually about to get out and stay under the sun for a while, so I’ll definitely do that.” You push yourself out of the water and feel eyes on your backside as you place your knees on the floor before getting up. Like mother, like son.

“Aw, you are getting out already?” He asks you with pleading eyes and you ignore him as you place yourself in one of the chairs.

“Already? I’ve been in there for hours. Look at my fingers.” You raise your palm up to show the wrinkled digits.

“You do look like an old mop.” He tells you with a side smile, you can only roll your eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Come on! My mom just got in, we can’t leave her inside the water by herself.”

“Oh no, I’m not staying.” You both turn to look in her direction. “I just wanted to dip in to cool down. Grab me a towel, will you?” She tells her son with a flourish of hands.

He picks one from the pile while she steps up the pool stairs. You close your eyes, it wouldn’t be good to stare at your friend's mother in his presence.

They exchange a few words and Agatha goes inside. Nicholas sits by your side and relaxes into the lounge, mimicking your facing up position. The bowl is placed between you two and from time to time you brush your hands against his when grabbing a berry.

The sun shines down and your body heats up. The droplets of water evaporate and you avoid thinking about your little moment in the pool, you had promised yourself you would stop getting anxious around the house. What if Nichola’s mother may or may not be interested in you? That doesn’t change anything.

Yeah, right.

God, if Nicholas found out about this crush he’d be heartbroken. It’s been clear for a while that he has feelings for you that aren’t reciprocated.

He doesn't even know you are a lesbian.

“Tell me again, when will your classes start?” You ask and remain in the same position. A plan to let him down gently already formed in your mind.

“Same as yours.” He replies without looking at you.

You hum. “Are you excited for college?”

“I honestly am, which is unexpected.” He holds the conversation and you both remain with your eyes closed.

“Yeah.” You let out a small chuckle. “For a few years there I thought you had given up on the idea.”

“I had. I was thinking of taking over my parents' company.”

“Oh yes, I forgot you are a nepo baby.” You interrupt him and snort when you feel a towel landing on your face.

“As I was saying. I might still do that, but I shouldn’t run the business just because I’m their son. I want the knowledge to back me up.” He looks into your eyes and you give him a small genuine smile.

“Well, I think that’s very mature of you. I’m sure moving out of your mother’s house will help you decide what you want.” Sometimes you forget the 2 year difference between you two.

“Yeah.” He replies and pauses before adding. “Sorry about my mom’s comment yesterday.”

You frown and take a while to remember what he was talking about. The dormitory innuendo.

“It’s fine really, she’s right.” You laugh.

“She is?” He looks at you with big puppy eyes and you brace yourself for the blow.

“Yes. My roommate is cool about it and, more times than not, she thinks the girls I bring in are only friends.” You try to respond to it conversationally.

You look into his eyes and wait for a reaction, his brain doesn’t automatically catch up and he stares at you like you had grown a second head. As soon as it dawns on him you watch in slow motion as his eyes grow abnormally wide and his mouth hangs open. You were more worried about his feelings than a rejection, you know he’d never hurt you intentionally.

“Oh.” He lets out in a breath.

He seems to be stuck in place as he takes in the information, so you decide to move for both of you. Grabbing a towel, you place yourself on your feet and get up from the chair. Stretching your arms up and letting out a small groan, you turn in his direction.

Out of curiosity, you take a second to look at the house and search for your room’s window. It doesn’t take long to find, it’s the second last to the left and by its side a balcony leads to a spaced bedroom. Squinting your eyes against the sun, you try following the movement you see inside. It takes a while, but your eyes settle against the difference in clarity and you almost fall over.

Your brain catches up with the fact that Agatha’s room is next to yours a little late and inside the space you observe as she slowly unties her bikini with her back turned to you. She passes her head through the top knot and stretches her head from one side to another, before smoothing her finger through the indents caused by the bikini. You register your friend calling you and answer without taking your eyes off of her.

“Yeah?” You hum and add. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

You start walking without waiting for a response. You can’t take your eyes off of the scene being displayed in front of you, wishing she would turn a little more in your direction. When she starts removing the bottom, you feel the ground under your feet evaporating.

Literally.

One second you are walking along the pool’s edge and the next one you feel the breath leave your body as you collide hard against the ground. Your head swims and your left side hurts like a bitch, with your attention somewhere else you forgot the pool floor was wet and slipped on it, hitting your back and hip.

You faintly hear your friend getting up and have difficulty breathing through the pain, the world seems to twirl in front of your eyes and at the back of your mind you hear Mrs. Harkness calling out for her son.

“Did you hit your head?” Nicholas casts a shadow on you as he crouches down to inspect the situation.

Your only response is a groan.

Embarrassment doesn’t even cross your mind, the pain radiates all the way from your ass to your left shoulder and leaves you thoughtless. The only thing you can concentrate on is trying to help your lungs do their work.

“Can you get up?” Your friend tries again.

“Give me a second, will you?” You wheeze out.

“She’s fine!” He turns his back and shouts.

Dropping your head in the direction he’s facing, you see his mother’s face full of concern as she leans over the balcony with a towel on.

Your friend helps you up and you put all your weight on him as you hop into the house.

You throw yourself in one of the kitchen’s chair and your friend grabs a cup of water and pain medication, unspokenly offering to you.

Nicholas helps you all the way upstairs and into your room. When he leaves, you rapidly get under the water stream and wash out all the chlorine sticking to your body before exhaustion leaves you infunctional.

Out of the shower, you take a moment to look at your back in the mirror, purple spots are already forming and you just know you’ll be sore for days.

You throw yourself in bed and immediately pass out, wet hair and naked. A day in the pool has drained all your energy and the medication seems to knock you out completely.

Even as tired as you are, your sleep in conturbed. You turn around and rumble your bed, trying to find a comfortable position for your throbbing left side.

When you wake up, you are completely disoriented, night has fallen over and your room is pitch black, the only light comes from the moon as your open window curtain is blown away by a light breeze. You search around in the dark for your phone, the bright light shines in your eyes and you squint to look at the time: 1AM. You throw your head back and groan, you had fucked up your sleep schedule and everyone else was probably already asleep.

The feeling of an empty stomach gives you enough energy to get up and move to the kitchen. Ignoring the main light, you turn on a few lamps and lighter illuminations around the house, creating a cozy environment. You find a white box on top of the balcony and pop a pill into your hand, swallowing it down with a cup of cold water. The effect of the medication had passed during your afternoon nap.

Opening up the fridge, you find the leftovers of last night's pizza. You settle in the counter and eat it straight from the box, don't even bother heating it up. You shove up three slices and, in the meantime, decide to watch a movie. Throwing the empty box on the trash, you go into the television room and settle yourself laying sideways, your right side resting against the sofa.

You hear a faint sound of steps coming from upstairs and ignore it. Someone must be going to the bathroom. Deciding on a random channel, you relax into the couch, the ambience and light sound from the television helping with your pain.

The medication must be really strong, because you doze off once more. You open your eyes slowly and take a second to realize what has woken you up. Someone’s fingers are brushing through your hair lightly and a voice calls out your name.

Your vision settles on the image of your friend’s mother sitting by your side. She’s wearing a long black robe, its pattern has a mixture of purple and green and her hair is resting mainly on her right shoulder. You thank the darkness for hiding the blush covering your cheeks as she looks down at you and asks.

“How are you feeling, hun?”

“Better. I just took another pill.” You whisper.

“Do you mind if I take a look at your back?” Her fingers move from your hair and settle themselves lightly in your left rib.

You shake your head and lay more into the sofa. A shiver runs down your body as she slides the thin material of your silk pajama blouse and brushes her hands through, what you assume, is the purple blooming on your skin.

“Oh.” She lets out.

“Is it that bad?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, but I’ve got just the stuff for it.” She tells you and gets up, disappearing into the house.

You frown at her ways and focus on the television while waiting. Nicholas was probably asleep and wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow, being alone with his mom made you nervous beyond words, especially after earlier. You had no idea if she was only pushing your buttons, because she noticed you had a crush on her or if she was actually interested.

The teasing made the thoughts of her having been with a woman cross your mind again. You could imagine, she traveled a lot, her husband was never around and she didn’t seem to have an interest in him anymore. It would be so easy for her to fall in bed with a woman on one of her trips.

You hear her bare feet walk into the living room and look up to catch a smile on her face.

“Come one, turn over for me.” Her choice of words makes you obey without a second thought.

You cross your arms in front of your face and rest your forehead against them. You feel her presence behind you. Your back is turned to her and this time she doesn’t ask for permission before lifting up your shirt. Her nails run through your skin, following the movement.

“Nicholas has probably mentioned to you that I’m turning the upstairs room into a massage space.” You hear the lid of a bottle opening, before feeling something cold against your back. “Actually, dear. You should remove this.” She grabs your pajama top and you lift your head without a word.

Your bare breasts rests against the cushions and your head swirls.

She hums before spreading the lubricant around, it brings a nice sensation to your heating skin. Inspecting the damage, she concentrates the oil mainly on your left side.

Her movements are light until they aren’t, she puts pressure at the purple spots and you groan, pain blooming from your back and making you arch your chest into the couch, trying to avoid her feeling. She holds onto your waist to stop the motion, her hands are slick and placed much lower than normally appropriated.

“Come on, this will be good for you.” She whispers close to your ear and her hair tickles your back.

Like a child waiting for praise, you relax into her touch.

She continues the torturous massage and you can only let out painful moans that seem to sputter her on. Her fingers focus firstly on your shoulders, the reason for removing the shirt apparent now as her fingers circle around the muscle and ease up the tension. This part doesn’t hurt as much and you’re able to appreciate it when her fingers work on the tired knots. The tension starts leaving your body and from time to time you let out timid groans of appreciation.

The oil heats up against your back and her hands press down into your ribs. Her hands circle your body and her thumbs work hard on liberating the coagulated blood under the skin. The burning sensation brought by the lubrication helps with the pain and the way she aggressively grabs onto you leaves traces behind, you feel your hard nipples brushing against the sofa.

“Oh, honey. This is worse than I thought.” She tells you as her hands cascade into the worst part.

You fell ass first and most of the impact has been on the area. She runs her digits on the lower side of your back, brushing from time to time against the thin material covering your bottom. This part is more painful, but you face it up like a big girl. The bone causes a harder surface and she incessantly moves. You hiss through clenched teeth and pray she will be over soon. The pain is worse than in the other parts and the massage seems to stretch for an absurd amount of time, in agony you can’t even appreciate the fact that Agatha Harkness has her hands on you.

She finally stops and you relax into the couch. The silence hangs around you and you wait for her to get up and go back to sleep.

“Do you mind if I take this off?” She asks, stretching the waistband of your shorts before letting it go.

You blink rapidly and freeze. The question catches you off guard and you don’t have an automatic reaction.

“I’m not wearing underwear.” You whisper shyly.

“Not a problem, hun.” Somehow you can hear the grin on her voice.

Before you can move, she’s already running the fabric down your legs. Changing your body’s weight into your forearms, you help her by lifting your behind.

“Wait. Stay like this.” Your brain short circuits at the demand.

You are practically doggie style and your naked center is squeezed by your thigh in a pitiful attempt to hide it from her. You feel her moving behind you before placing a pillow under your hip.

“There we go. Are you comfortable?” She asks you without reservations.

You inspect the position you’re in. A large bolster props your uncovered ass up, your back is partially arched, following the weight deposited in your arms. Your hair is in a bun and your skin is covered in oil. Your nipples are hard rock and your breasts are begging for attention. You feel wetness in your lower lips.

Biting your lips, you nod.

“Great.” She lightly claps behind you.

You feel the couch dip by your side and tense up as she straddles the upturned side of your legs. Her thighs are pressed against yours and her weight doesn’t bother you. You estimate your ass is leveled with her ribs. If she got on her knees, she could be fucking you from behind.

Oh god, honestly the worst thought you could have when your cunt is practically in her face.

Her body shifts as she picks up the bottle on the table, a light texture is poured on top of your rear and you feel it run down your legs. She places the bottle back down and grabs a fistfull of your ass, you let out an involuntary moan and hear a malicious chuckle behind you.

“Enjoying yourself?” She teases you.

Your cheeks heat up at the joke and you don’t respond, your voice seems to have escaped you.

Her hands wander around and squeeze, you have the vague impression that she’s feeling you up instead of actually doing a massage. The palpation worsens your current aroused situation and you try to close your legs as much as possible without her notice. She focuses all of her attention where the purple is mostly concentrated, her fingers are firm and direct, this time though, the pain mixes with pleasure and you grab hard into the sofa in an attempt to hide your needy moans. Her hands graze your center a few times and everytime it happens, you buck into it.

You feel like a bitch in heat.

The wetness between your legs seems to gather unstoppable and you are barely able to contain your sounds. You’ve never felt this aroused in your life.

You faintly register Agatha calling out for you.

“Yes?” You hoarsely let out, previously unnoticed drools run down your chin and your eyes are shut closed.

“You are making a mess of my hand, hun.” You blush so furiously a salmon would be jealous of you.

You register the wetness of your center sticking in your thighs and joining the oil she was using. You are left speechless for what feels like the 100th time in her presence. Her hands move up through the outside of your legs before harshly grabbing your hip and bringing it close to her own center. She leans over the curve of your back to whisper in your ear.

“Let mommy take care of you.”

You moan aloud at the name.

You feel her breath ghost against your cheek as she laughs at you. Her nails run down your ass and brush your center, ignoring it. You knew in your state it wouldn’t take much for you to come, but, unfortunately for you, Agatha’s number 1 hobby seemed to be teasing.

She pulls back and focuses her attention on your backside, while her white acrylics run from your knees all the way up, her mouth works on scratching her teeth through your right ass cheek.

Her palm carefully grope your purple spot and you let out a small yelp at the harsh bite she delivers on your good cheek. She kisses it better and shows the same light appreciation to your hurt side.

Her lips leave your skin as she manhandles you. The grip on your hip pushes your ass higher and you rise up on your elbows. If you were playing about having your center in her face before, you definitely weren’t laughing now.

“Oh, dear. You are drenched.” On her knees, she parts your folds with her fingers and you lean against her. She runs her digits down and easily finds you clit, pressing it lightly and causing a restrained whine to escape you.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear all your pretty sounds.” She tells you in an almost sing-song voice, but you know she's not asking.

Obeying as she applies more pressure, you let out a free moan. Your face burns and you pant against the couch’s armrest. The oil on your skin seems to be some kind of special brand as it burns you up, your nape feels sticky as sweat starts to leave your body and you can’t focus on anything else besides the pleasure Agatha is giving you.

Your head swims when you feel her digits run up your slit and enter you. She pauses inside and you thrust back, whining from the delay. She seems to find amusement in your torture and laughs before slowly moving her digits.

She takes pleasure in watching you bend yourself to chase her finger and holds into your waist to contain part of your harsh movement. She teases you by letting her finger plunge in the slowest motion possible.

Even with the leisure pace you feel your pleasure building brick by brick. It’s a new sensation to have your orgasm sluggish reach you and, as good as it feels, it’s also not nearly enough to drive you over the edge. You moan, whine and trash against the sofa.

“Agatha, please!” That’s just about what your brain is able to formulate in your aroused muffled head.

“Such a pretty girl using her words.” The praise only seems to worsen your condition and you let out a frustrated cry at the light way her fingers keep moving.

The sound has an effect, though. She applies pressure and curls her fingers, hitting just the right spot to make you sob. She sets a forceful rhythm by using her hips as leverage, enough to make you hit your head against the couch headboard and hold onto it for dear life.

Your moans come out uncontrollably and you barely register, you could be screaming at the top of your lungs and you wouldn’t know. The pleasure comes in waves, your back undulates against her firm grip and your nails scratch at the fabric under your fingers. It’s so much and not enough at the same time. You try to voice your thoughts, but only a groan leaves your mouth.

“Yes, I know.” She smoothes you and gently takes your hair from your face, contrasting her other actions.

She does seem to know, because a few seconds later her hand joins the other one in your center, her movement is continuous and it takes a second for her to find your clit. When she touches it and applies pressure your vision turns black. You’d be worried about your temporary blindness if the circular motions on your clit, coupled up with her finger hitting the perfect spot inside you and her nails leaving a delicious stinging behind, hadn’t made you double over as your climax finally hit you.

You’re sure this is the longest time you’ve spent coming in your life. The waves seem to crash into another as Agatha keeps entering you and drawing out the pleasure. Her pace doesn’t slow down and when you think it’ll be over it starts for a second time. Your head in thoughtless, you had literally been fucked stupid and was pretty sure that somewhere your mind couldn’t reach, you heard yourself moaning like a bitch.

After what felt like minutes, your body completely slumps down into the couch. Your breath is coming out in harsh puffs and you don’t even feel the pain of the fall anymore. Someone brushes fingers through your scalp and you look up to catch Agatha’s dirty smile.

Her robe is rumpled and open, you barely have time to appreciatively run your eyes down her naked figure before hearing.

“Mom?”

Fuck.

#I’m actually proud of this one!#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #fanfiction

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pucksandpower · 2 days ago

Text

Collared

Day 29 → BDSM 💋 Toto Wolff

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The bar pulses with low, red lights, casting shadows that stretch and bend with each flicker of the candles lining the tables. You sit quietly at the table, trying to focus on your breathing, the rhythmic pounding of the bass beneath your feet, the way the leather of your collar tightens just slightly around your throat every time you swallow.

It’s supposed to be comforting. A reminder. But tonight, it feels like a noose.

Across from you, your boyfriend — no, your Dom, the man who’s supposed to make you feel safe — leans back in his chair. His eyes are cold tonight, detached in a way they rarely are. You glance up at him, searching for something — anything — to read in his face. But he’s unreadable. The cool, collected mask he puts on when he’s decided to shut you out.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you anymore,” he says, his voice sharp enough to cut through the music. He leans forward, arms crossing over the table, as though the weight of his words needs extra support.

Your stomach drops.

“What do you mean?” You manage to ask, even though your voice wavers.

He sighs, rolling his eyes, and the way he does it makes you feel small. “You’re not … cut out for this. For us.” His eyes flick to the collar around your neck, a disgusted curl of his lip. “You’re a horrible submissive. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You want to argue, to explain, to tell him that you’re trying — you’ve always been trying. But the words stick in your throat like shards of glass, and instead, all you manage is a strangled, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not enough,” he spits, loud enough for the tables around you to hear. He looks over his shoulder, and now you can feel the eyes on you. People are staring. Whispering. “You’ve embarrassed me for the last time. I’m taking my collar back.”

Your heart stops. “Wait-” But before you can finish, his hands are already at your throat, unclasping the leather with a precision that’s almost practiced. He holds it up, examining it like it’s some trivial thing, and then — God, no, please — he tosses it on the table like it means nothing.

Your knees give out. You don’t even realize you’ve fallen to the ground until you hear the gasps from the crowd around you. You try to get up, try to stop the tears, but the panic is rising in your chest, fast and hard, and suddenly you can’t breathe. Your hands fly to your throat, but the collar’s already gone. There’s nothing left. He took it.

You’re nothing.

Your chest tightens, your vision blurs, and the world around you fades to a dull roar. You think you hear his voice — maybe he’s still talking — but the words are swallowed by the pounding in your ears.

“Get up,” he snaps. “Jesus, you’re pathetic.”

The room tilts, and then someone’s hands are on your shoulders, strong and steady. Not his hands. Someone else. You blink through the tears, your head swimming, trying to focus on the tall figure looming over you.

Toto Wolff.

You know him instantly. Everyone does. He’s a legend in these circles — the Dom that no one can touch, no one can ever seem to get claimed by. And right now, he’s looking down at you like he’s going to destroy the man who just broke you.

Toto’s voice is low, but firm, addressing your ex with an authority that leaves no room for argument. “Get out.”

“What the fuck-” your ex starts, standing, but Toto’s hand is already raised, a warning.

“You don’t want to do this.” His eyes narrow, and there’s something so deadly in them that it makes the entire room go still. “Leave. Now.”

For a moment, it looks like your ex might fight back. His jaw clenches, fists tightening at his sides. But the weight of Toto’s presence is overwhelming, and slowly, too slowly, your ex stumbles back. He shoots one last hateful look at you, but it’s fleeting. He’s nothing here. Not anymore. He slinks away into the crowd, muttering under his breath, but you don’t hear it. You can’t hear anything.

You’re trembling. Still on the floor, your hands are cold, numb, clutching at your sides as though you might disappear if you let go.

Toto crouches in front of you, his hands hovering near you, but not touching. Not yet. He’s careful, respectful. “Breathe,” he says softly. His voice is steady, soothing, as though he’s done this a hundred times before. “I need you to breathe for me, okay?”

You nod, trying to take in a breath, but it catches in your throat. It’s too tight, too raw.

“I know,” he murmurs. “But you’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.” His hand brushes against your arm, and it’s warm, grounding you. “Can you stand?”

You don’t know. You’re not sure if your legs will work. But before you can answer, Toto’s already moving. Gently, he slides his arms around you, lifting you with an ease that makes you feel weightless. He cradles you against his chest, one hand resting on the back of your head, the other under your knees.

You bury your face in his shirt, and the tears come faster now. You can’t stop them. You’re shaking, the sobs wracking your body, but Toto holds you closer, murmuring something under his breath that you can’t quite hear. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, a metronome of safety in a world that just collapsed.

“Shh,” he soothes, his lips brushing against your hair. “It’s okay. Let it out. You’re okay.”

He carries you through the crowd, and you barely notice the way people step aside for him, the way they avert their eyes. He’s not just powerful here — he’s respected. Feared. No one would dare challenge him, not tonight. Not when he’s got you in his arms, broken and fragile.

Toto kicks open the door to a private room, the noise from the bar fading as he steps inside. It’s quiet here. Safe. He sets you down gently on a plush couch, kneeling in front of you, his hands still resting on your arms as though he’s afraid you might fall apart again.

“You’re safe,” he repeats, and this time, you believe him.

You wipe at your eyes, embarrassed by the tears. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so-”

“Don’t.” His voice is soft, but firm. “You don’t apologize for this.”

You shake your head, struggling to find the right words. “I should’ve been better.”

Toto’s brow furrows, and for the first time, you see something like anger in his eyes — not at you, but at the thought of someone making you believe that. “No,” he says, and it’s almost a growl. “You were perfect. He didn’t deserve you.”

The weight of his words settles into your chest, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you take a full breath. It feels strange. Like maybe he’s right.

Toto studies you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, without breaking eye contact, he pulls a pillow from the couch and places it on the floor in front of him.

“You need to kneel?” He asks, his voice gentle. “For yourself?”

You nod, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for. All you know is that the world feels unsteady, and you need something — anything — to hold onto.

Toto doesn’t hesitate. He helps you slide off the couch, guiding you to your knees, but not in a way that feels humiliating. It feels … right. Like maybe this is where you’re meant to be. At peace, for once.

He settles in front of you on the couch, his legs spread, his hands resting in his lap. “Look at me,” he says softly.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes are dark, but there’s something tender in them, something that makes your heart ache in a way you can’t quite describe.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and it’s the first time in hours that you feel like maybe — just maybe — everything will be okay.

***

Toto watches you closely, his eyes never leaving your face as you kneel before him. His expression is calm, steady — grounding. You’re still trembling, but the storm inside you is slowly starting to settle. The silence stretches between you, warm and safe, the first real calm you’ve felt in hours, maybe days. You’re breathing again, slower, more measured.

“Good,” he murmurs after a moment, his voice low, smooth as velvet. “You’re calmer now.”

You nod, unable to find the words, still reeling from everything that’s just happened. The weight of your ex’s cruelty, the embarrassment of being stripped of your collar in front of everyone—it’s all still sitting heavy in your chest, but with Toto here, holding your gaze with his strong, steady presence, it feels … manageable. Barely.

He’s quiet for a few moments, and then his voice cuts through the silence. “I need you to talk to me.” The command is there, laced through his words, but it’s gentle, coaxing.

“About what?” You ask, your voice shaky, unsure.

“About him. Your ex,” Toto says, his eyes narrowing slightly, though not at you. “What was that relationship, really? What did he do to you?”

You hesitate. The flood of emotions is still too fresh, and you’re not sure where to begin. Part of you wants to hide from it, shove it all down where it can’t hurt you anymore, but the way Toto looks at you—like he’s not just asking for your words, but for the truth—you find yourself unraveling.

“It wasn’t always like that,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not at first.”

Toto tilts his head, watching you with careful, measured patience. “But it changed?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “He started getting … impatient with me. Like I could never be good enough, no matter what I did.” Your hands twist nervously in your lap, the shame crawling up your spine. “It didn’t matter how hard I tried, it was never enough for him.”

Toto’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains gentle. “What would he say?”

You blink back the tears threatening to fall again. “He’d tell me I wasn’t obedient enough. Or that I was too needy. Too emotional. He said I made him look bad in front of his friends.” The words spill out faster now, like once they started, there was no way to stop them. “I thought if I tried harder, if I just did better, he’d see that I was … I don’t know, worthy of him? But nothing ever changed. He just kept pushing me down. And I-” Your voice cracks. “I let him.”

Toto’s fingers twitch in his lap, as though he’s barely holding back the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms again. But he stays where he is, giving you the space to continue.

“How long were you with him?” He asks, his voice dipping low, as if he already knows the answer will hurt to hear.

“Two years,” you say, your voice small, like the weight of it is too much to bear. “Two years of trying to be good enough. Of hoping that one day he’d just — he’d see me.”

“And he never did,” Toto finishes softly, the understanding in his voice breaking something inside you.

You nod, the tears slipping free now, running hot down your cheeks. “No. He never did.”

Toto shifts forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and the intensity in his eyes softens. “You don’t have to be ashamed of that.”

You blink up at him, startled by the words. “I-I should’ve known better,” you whisper, your voice thick with self-blame. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I stayed too long.”

“No,” Toto says firmly, shaking his head. “You trusted him. That’s what you’re supposed to do in a relationship like that. You gave him your trust, and he abused it. That’s not on you.”

You look away, your chest tightening again. “I still feel like it is.”

Toto’s voice drops even lower, steady and unwavering. “Then you’re wrong.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes you want to believe him. Maybe it’s the absolute certainty in his tone, or the way his gaze never wavers, but for the first time in what feels like forever, the self-doubt that’s been gnawing at you doesn’t feel so all-consuming.

You wipe at your cheeks, sniffling. “I don’t know what to do now,” you admit, the vulnerability in your voice both terrifying and strangely freeing. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Toto’s brow furrows, his attention sharp, like he’s assessing a problem that needs solving. “What do you mean?” He asks, though there’s a note in his voice that suggests he’s already starting to piece it together.

You hesitate, shame creeping back up your throat. “He — he’s the only one on our lease,” you say slowly, the words bitter on your tongue. “He always said that as the Dom, he should have full control of everything. Our finances. Our apartment.” You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t have anything now. He made sure of that.”

Toto’s eyes darken, and for a moment, his hands clench into fists before he forces himself to relax again. “He controlled your money?”

You nod, feeling smaller than ever. “He said it was part of being a good submissive. That I had to trust him with everything.”

The silence between you is heavy, charged with an emotion you can’t quite place. But Toto doesn’t speak right away. He just watches you, the muscle in his jaw working as he processes what you’ve said.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “You’ll stay with me.”

You blink, surprised. “What?”

“You’re not going back there,” Toto says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll come with me. You’ll stay at my place until you get back on your feet.”

You shake your head, the shame overwhelming. “I can’t. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You won’t be,” Toto says, his voice as steady as ever. “You need a place to stay. I have more than enough room. And …” His eyes soften again, just slightly. “I’d rather you be somewhere safe. Somewhere you can heal.”

Your heart skips a beat at the word *safe*. It’s been so long since you’ve felt truly safe, since anyone’s cared enough to offer you a lifeline like this.

“But I don’t want to intrude,” you protest, still not fully convinced.

Toto leans forward, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You won’t be intruding. I’m offering this because I want to.” His voice lowers, a gentle but firm command. “Say yes.”

You open your mouth, but the words are tangled up inside you. There’s something so powerful in the way he speaks, in the way he sees you, that makes it hard to resist. Not that you want to. You want to say yes. You just … don’t know if you deserve it.

Toto must sense your hesitation, because he reaches out, resting one large hand on your knee. His touch is warm, solid, grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

“You’re not alone in this,” he says softly. “You don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.”

The knot in your chest loosens just slightly, and you nod, unable to hold back the tears any longer. They fall, hot and fast, but this time, they’re not from fear or shame. They’re from relief. The kind that comes when you realize you don’t have to fight alone anymore.

“I’ll stay with you,” you whisper, the words feeling like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed.

Toto’s hand squeezes your knee gently. “Good girl.”

The praise hits you in a way that surprises you. It feels like balm on a wound, like maybe — just maybe — you’re not as broken as you thought you were.

Toto stands, towering over you for a moment before he offers you his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You take his hand, and he pulls you to your feet, steadying you with a hand on your back as you find your balance. The room feels smaller now, quieter, as though the storm that had been raging inside you has finally begun to calm.

Toto picks up your discarded collar from the table, turning it over in his hands for a moment before tucking it into his jacket pocket. “You won’t need this anymore.”

You nod, the weight of that statement not lost on you. It feels like a chapter closing, like you’re finally walking away from something that’s been holding you down for far too long.

Toto leads you out of the room, his hand still resting on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd that seems to part for him without a second thought. You keep your eyes forward, not daring to look at the faces that had watched your humiliation earlier. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re leaving with Toto, and that’s all that matters now.

***

The guest bedroom is beautiful, opulent even — more luxurious than any place you’ve ever stayed. The bed is soft, the linens expensive, the walls tastefully decorated with muted tones. The space should feel safe, like the sanctuary Toto promised it would be. But sleep doesn’t come easy. It never does, not anymore.

You toss and turn under the sheets, your mind a storm of memories you can’t escape. The room may be beautiful, but your head is still trapped in the dark. You pull at the covers, kicking them off as your body grows restless, heat prickling at your skin. The emptiness at your throat burns, and you unconsciously reach up, fingers grazing your neck, searching for the collar that’s no longer there.

You find nothing but skin. Bare. Exposed. Unprotected.

The panic wells up before you can stop it. It surges in your chest, quick and violent, like you’re drowning in your own bed. You tug at your throat, pulling harder as if trying to force the collar back, trying to make yourself feel whole again. But it’s gone. He took it, and he left you with nothing.

In your sleep, you whimper, and the sound builds into a cry — frantic, desperate. You thrash against the sheets, tugging harder, scratching at your own neck. The empty space where your collar used to be feels like a gaping wound. You scream, raw and choked, and your hands fly to your throat again, nails digging into skin.

Suddenly, strong hands are on you — grabbing your wrists, pulling them away from your neck with firm, unyielding strength.

“Stop,” a voice commands, deep and steady.

You jolt awake, gasping, your heart hammering in your chest. The room is dark, unfamiliar, and for a moment, you don’t know where you are. Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as you struggle to orient yourself.

“It’s okay,” the voice says, softer now, soothing. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

Toto.

Your eyes finally focus, and you see him crouched beside the bed, his large hands gently holding your wrists. His grip is strong but not painful—just enough to stop you from hurting yourself. He watches you with concern, his face bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains.

“I … I-” You choke on your words, your body shaking uncontrollably.

“You were dreaming,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in the darkness. “You were hurting yourself. I had to stop you.”

You look down at your wrists, realizing how tight his grip had been. But it wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t like him. It was to protect you. Slowly, your breathing starts to steady, though the tremors in your body remain.

“I couldn’t breathe,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “It felt like I was choking …”

Toto’s expression hardens, but not with anger. There’s a deep sadness in his eyes, a kind of understanding that makes your heart ache. He releases your wrists slowly, carefully, as though he’s afraid you might break again. His hands linger near you, close enough to grab hold if you need him to.

“I shouldn’t have let you sleep alone,” he says quietly, almost to himself. He stands up, his tall frame towering over you, casting a shadow over the bed. “I thought … I thought you’d be okay.”

“I don’t know how to be okay,” you admit, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I don’t know how to sleep without feeling like I’m falling apart.”

He watches you for a moment, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. There’s a decision forming in his eyes, a quiet resolve that you don’t fully understand yet.

“You need me to take control,” he says, his voice low and certain. It’s not a question — it’s a statement.

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you nod, unable to find the words. He knows. Somehow, he knows exactly what you need.

Toto moves with purpose, walking over to the nightstand. He opens the drawer with a smooth, deliberate motion, his eyes still on you, gauging your reaction. Inside, nestled among other carefully chosen tools, lies a paddle — sleek, polished, made of dark wood. He pulls it out, holding it in one hand as if testing its weight.

Your heart skips a beat. You know what this is. You’ve seen paddles before, felt them before. But there’s something different about this moment. The air between you shifts, thick with anticipation.

Toto steps back toward the bed, his presence commanding but not overwhelming. “You trust me?” He asks, his voice quiet but firm.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. There’s no hesitation in your answer. You do trust him. More than you ever trusted anyone else.

“Good,” he says, satisfaction flickering across his face. “Then listen carefully. I’m going to help you, but you need to let me take over. No thinking. No questioning. Just do as I say. Can you do that?”

You nod, your heart racing, the tension inside you slowly unwinding at the promise of his control. The weight of your decisions, the confusion, the pain—it all feels lighter now, like maybe you can let go for just a moment and let him carry it.

“Words, liebling,” Toto says softly, reminding you with gentle authority. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you reply, louder this time, your voice steadying. “I’ll do as you say.”

A faint smile touches his lips, approval shining in his eyes. “Good girl.”

He walks back to the side of the bed, motioning for you to sit up. “Get on your knees, facing the headboard.”

You comply without question, moving to the center of the bed and positioning yourself as he instructed. Your body feels tense, but it’s the kind of tension that promises release. You’re not scared—not of him. You trust him with every fiber of your being. The fear that had wrapped itself around you earlier is slowly unraveling, replaced by something else, something warmer.

Toto moves to stand beside you, the paddle still in his hand. He trails one finger down your spine, the lightest touch, but it sends a shiver through you. His voice is calm, deliberate. “You need to be reminded of what you’re worth. You need to feel it.”

You bite your lip, anticipation building in your chest. “Yes, sir.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel him watching you, reading you. “Do you know your safe word?” He asks, his voice quiet, but the seriousness of his question is undeniable.

You nod. “Red.”

Toto nods in approval, his eyes dark with focus. “Good. You say it if you need to.”

Then, without another word, he raises the paddle and brings it down against your ass — not too hard, but firm enough to send a jolt through you. The sound of wood meeting flesh fills the room, sharp and clear. You gasp, your body instinctively tensing, but the pain is quickly followed by a rush of warmth.

Toto leans down, his mouth close to your ear. “You can take this,” he murmurs. “You’re strong enough. You’ve always been strong enough.”

Another strike. Then another. The rhythm is slow, measured, and you find yourself sinking into it. Each smack of the paddle pulls you further from the chaos in your mind, grounding you in the present moment. There’s no room for doubt here, no space for the fear and confusion that usually haunt you.

It’s just you, him, and the steady beat of the paddle.

“You’re not broken,” he says between strikes, his voice steady and low. “You’re not weak. Don’t ever let anyone make you believe that.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but not from pain. It’s the words, the weight of them sinking in. For so long, you believed you were weak, that you were nothing without someone else to validate you. But now … now it feels different.

You feel different.

“Say it,” Toto commands, his voice firm. “Say you’re strong.”

“I’m strong,” you gasp, the words catching in your throat.

Another strike, harder this time, but the warmth it leaves behind spreads through you like a balm. “Again,” he orders.

“I’m strong,” you repeat, louder this time, the conviction in your voice growing.

Toto lowers the paddle for a moment, his hand resting on your back, warm and steady. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so well.”

You breathe deeply, the tension in your body slowly melting away. Each strike, each word of praise, is like a piece of the armor you didn’t know you were building. By the time he sets the paddle down, you feel lighter than you have in years.

Toto pulls you into his arms, guiding you back down onto the bed. You’re trembling, but it’s not from fear. It’s from release. From the overwhelming sense of safety that only he seems capable of giving you.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers, cradling you against his chest. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe him. You’re safe. You’re strong. And with him, you can finally start to heal.

***

Morning light filters through the wide windows of Toto’s dining room, casting soft, golden hues across the hardwood floor. The house is quiet, serene in a way that makes you feel like you’re in a different world — far removed from the chaos of the night before. As you sit at the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the warm blankets from your sleep, the memory of Toto’s firm, steady control lingers, calming your racing thoughts.

You spent the night in his guest room, but not alone. After the paddle, after the soft words and the gentle touches, Toto stayed with you, holding you until you fell asleep, cocooned in the safety of his presence. It was the first time in what felt like forever that you didn’t wake up gasping for air.

Now, with the sun rising, you feel a strange mix of emotions. There’s a sense of peace you haven’t felt in so long, but there’s also a flicker of nervousness. You wonder what happens next. What does Toto expect from you now that the night is over?

Dressed in one of the soft robes Toto left for you, you make your way down the wide hallway, following the smell of coffee and something warm cooking. As you reach the dining room, you see him — Toto, seated at the long, polished table, a newspaper spread out in front of him and a plate of food waiting beside it.

He looks up as you enter, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. “Good morning,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, like the rumble of an engine. There’s a softness to his tone, a warmth that sets you at ease.

“Good morning,” you reply, shy but hopeful. You take a step toward the table, and then hesitate, biting your lip. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you’re not sure how to say them. The air between you feels lighter, but still charged with the weight of everything that happened last night.

Toto tilts his head, sensing your hesitation. “What is it?” He asks, his eyes never leaving yours.

You swallow, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. It’s a simple request, but one that feels loaded with meaning. “May I …” You pause, gathering your courage. “May I kneel for you?”

For a moment, Toto says nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he puts down the newspaper, folding it neatly and setting it aside. His eyes soften, and the faintest trace of a smile pulls at his lips. “Of course,” he says, his voice gentle but sure. “You don’t need to ask.”

Relief washes over you, and you feel your body relax as you move toward him. There’s something about kneeling for him that feels right — like it’s where you belong, like the world makes sense when you’re at his feet. You sink to your knees beside his chair, the cool floor beneath you grounding you as you settle into the familiar position.

Toto watches you carefully, his gaze filled with quiet admiration. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and the praise sends a rush of warmth through you, filling the hollow spaces left by doubt and fear.

You look up at him, your hands resting on your thighs, waiting for his next move. There’s no rush, no urgency — just the steady rhythm of your breathing and the quiet hum of the house around you.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, his voice low and intimate. It’s a simple question, but the way he asks it makes you feel seen, cared for. Not like an obligation, but like someone who matters.

You nod, your stomach fluttering. “Yes, sir.”

Toto reaches for the plate of food beside him — fresh fruit, toast, and eggs, all arranged neatly. But instead of setting it in front of you, he picks up a piece of fruit, holding it delicately between his fingers.

“Open,” he instructs, his voice calm but commanding.

You part your lips, and he gently places the fruit in your mouth, his thumb grazing your lower lip as he pulls his hand away. The sweetness of the fruit spreads across your tongue, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. It’s such a simple act — being fed by hand — but it fills you with a deep sense of connection, like you’re being cared for in a way that goes beyond words.

Toto watches you, his eyes dark and focused, as if he’s studying your every reaction. “Good?” He asks, his voice soft.

You nod, swallowing the fruit. “Yes, sir.”

He picks up another piece, this time offering you a small bite of toast. “Tell me how you slept,” he says as he feeds you, his tone conversational but still holding that edge of authority.

You chew slowly, thinking about the question. “I … I slept better than I have in a long time,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t wake up … panicking again. Not like I usually do.”

Toto’s gaze softens, and he nods, as if he expected that answer. “You felt safe,” he says, more a statement than a question.

“Yes,” you reply, looking up at him. “I did.”

He feeds you another bite, his eyes never leaving yours. “That’s how it should be,” he murmurs. “You should always feel safe. You deserve that.”

His words are like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your emotions. For so long, you believed that you didn’t deserve safety or kindness — that you were only worth something when you were serving someone else’s needs. But Toto’s care, his quiet authority, makes you feel like maybe you’re worth more than that.

He offers you another bite of fruit, and you take it without hesitation, the act of being fed by him making you feel more connected, more grounded in the moment. You don’t have to think or worry. All you have to do is trust him, let him guide you.

Toto sets the plate down after a while, wiping his hands on a napkin before reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is soft, tender, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he says quietly, his voice thick with understanding. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to rush anything. You take your time. You come to me when you’re ready.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. “I … I don’t know what to do now,” you confess, the vulnerability in your words making your chest tighten. “I don’t know where to go or how to start over.”

Toto’s hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he says, his tone reassuring. “You’re not alone anymore. I told you last night — I’ll help you. You’re safe with me.”

The sincerity in his words makes your throat tighten with emotion. You never expected to find someone like Toto — someone who could take control without making you feel small, who could care for you without making you feel weak.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with gratitude. “For everything.”

Toto smiles, a small but genuine smile that makes your heart swell. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says. “Just focus on taking care of yourself. That’s all I ask.”

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you. There’s still so much you don’t know, so much you’re unsure of. But in this moment, kneeling at Toto’s feet, being fed by his hand, you feel like maybe — just maybe — you can start to heal.

Toto reaches for his coffee, taking a sip before glancing down at you again. “Do you want to stay here with me?” He asks, his tone casual, but you can hear the underlying importance of the question.

Your heart skips a beat, and you look up at him, searching his face for any sign that he might be offering this out of pity. But all you see is quiet determination, a calm certainty that tells you he means every word.

“I … I don’t want to be a burden,” you say softly, though the thought of leaving fills you with a quiet dread.

Toto shakes his head, his expression firm. “You’re not a burden,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You never were. And as long as you want to be here, this is your home.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel the stirrings of hope. Maybe this is the fresh start you’ve been searching for. Maybe, with Toto’s help, you can finally begin to rebuild the pieces of yourself that were broken.

“Then … yes,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I want to stay.”

Toto’s smile widens, and he nods, as if that was the only answer he was expecting. “Good,” he says, his tone final, as though the decision has been made and that’s the end of it. “You’ll stay with me, and we’ll figure it out together.”

As you kneel there, with Toto’s hand resting lightly on your shoulder, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found the place where you truly belong.

***

The sun is warm against your skin, a soft, golden light that glimmers across the surface of the pool. The water is crystal clear, reflecting the bright blue sky overhead. You’re stretched out on a plush lounger, eyes closed, feeling the tension melt away from your body as the heat sinks into your muscles. For the first time in what feels like forever, you can actually breathe.

Toto’s house is like a sanctuary — a far cry from the cramped, tension-filled apartment you’d shared with your ex. Here, everything feels expansive, open, and safe. The sound of the water gently lapping against the edge of the pool is the only noise around, a soothing backdrop to the peaceful afternoon.

You turn over onto your stomach, adjusting your bikini to soak in more of the sun’s rays, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything that’s happened. Here, in this moment, there’s no anxiety clawing at your chest, no panic bubbling just beneath the surface. Just the warmth of the sun and the soft breeze ruffling the leaves of the nearby trees.

It’s strange, being here without Toto. He left for work this morning, after making sure you had everything you needed, and though he’s been gone for hours, you still feel his presence lingering around the house. It’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You can’t help but wonder what it will be like when he returns, how he’ll look at you, what he’ll say.

The thought brings a small smile to your lips, and you close your eyes again, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over you. For the first time in ages, you’re not afraid of what the future holds. With Toto, things feel … different. Better.

By the time the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the pool, you’ve already showered and changed into a light sundress, feeling refreshed and relaxed. The house is quiet when you make your way to the dining room, but you know Toto will be home soon.

As if on cue, you hear the soft hum of an engine outside, followed by the sound of the front door opening. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flutter of nervous excitement in your chest. You glance toward the door just as Toto walks in, his tall frame commanding the space without even trying.

“Good evening,” he says, his deep voice sending a familiar warmth through you.

“Good evening,” you reply, your voice soft but steady. “How was work?”

He smiles, a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips. “Busy,” he says simply, walking over to you. His eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in your relaxed posture, your bare feet against the hardwood floor, and the soft fabric of your dress. “I see you’ve been enjoying the pool.”

You nod, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “It’s beautiful out there.”

Toto steps closer, his presence as calming as ever. “Good,” he says, his voice low. “I want you to feel at home here.”

You do. More than you ever expected.

He gestures toward the table, where dinner is already laid out, simple but elegant, with a bottle of wine breathing in the center. “Shall we eat?”

You take a seat across from him, and the two of you settle into an easy rhythm. There’s no awkwardness, no tension — just the quiet sounds of silverware against plates and the occasional murmur of conversation. As you eat, you steal glances at Toto, watching the way he moves, the way his eyes darken when he catches you looking at him.

It’s peaceful. But there’s something else simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken but palpable. You can feel it in the way Toto’s gaze lingers on you, in the way his voice drops an octave when he speaks. There’s a tension, but it’s not the kind that makes you anxious. It’s the kind that makes your pulse quicken.

After a while, Toto sets his fork down, leaning back in his chair. His eyes find yours, and there’s a new intensity in his gaze, something that makes your breath catch.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “About us. About what you need.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you swallow hard, suddenly feeling exposed under the weight of his gaze. “What do you mean?” You ask, though you have an idea of where this is going.

Toto’s eyes never leave yours as he speaks. “I think you know,” he says quietly. “Last night was just the beginning. There’s more to this, to us, than what we’ve explored so far.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words. There’s something about the way he says “us” that makes your heart race, something about the promise of what’s to come that sends heat pooling in your core.

Toto leans forward, his eyes dark and focused. “I want to know if you’re ready for more,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “If you want to do a scene with me.”

The question hangs in the air between you, thick with anticipation. You can feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitching slightly at the thought. A scene. With Toto.

You’ve imagined it — more than once, if you’re honest with yourself. But hearing him say it, seeing the way his eyes darken with desire as he asks, it makes everything feel real in a way that sends your nerves tingling.

“I … I think I’d like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toto’s lips curl into a small, satisfied smile. “Good,” he says softly. “Finish your wine, and I’ll show you the playroom.”

Your heart is racing as you take the last sip of your drink, the anticipation building with every second that passes. When you finally set your glass down, Toto stands, offering you his hand. You take it without hesitation, and he leads you through the house, his grip firm but gentle.

He leads you to a room you hadn’t noticed before, down a long hallway at the back of the house. The door is heavy, made of dark wood, and when he opens it, your breath catches in your throat.

The room is stunning.

It’s large, with high ceilings and soft lighting that casts a warm glow over the polished floors. Along the walls are racks of gear — everything from ropes to floggers to paddles, all meticulously arranged. In the center of the room is a large, padded bench, and beside it, a St. Andrew’s cross. It’s a dungeon, but one that’s been designed with care and attention to detail.

Toto walks you further into the room, his presence calm and steady, but you can feel the shift in the air. There’s an unspoken power here, something that makes your skin tingle with anticipation.

He picks up a set of wrist ties from a nearby rack, running his fingers over the soft leather. “We’ll start with these,” he says, his voice low. “They’re comfortable, but secure. I want you to feel safe, but I also want you to surrender.”

You nod, your breath coming faster now as the reality of the situation sinks in. You’re about to do a scene with Toto Wolff — the man who has been nothing but gentle and caring with you, but who is now looking at you like he’s ready to take control in a way that leaves no room for hesitation.

He steps behind you, his hands brushing against your wrists as he fastens the ties, his touch firm but not painful. “Let me know if it’s too tight,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck.

“It’s perfect,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling slightly with nerves and excitement.

Once your wrists are secured, Toto steps in front of you, holding a flogger in his hand. It’s light, with soft leather strands, not designed to hurt, but to tease, to stimulate.

“Tell me your safeword,” he says, his voice steady.

“Red,” you say, your throat dry with anticipation.

He nods, satisfied. “Good girl.”

Toto steps back, giving you a moment to adjust to the feeling of being tied, the weight of the flogger in his hand a promise of what’s to come. His eyes are dark, focused, and there’s a hunger there that makes your knees weak.

Without another word, he begins, the flogger landing softly against your skin, a gentle rhythm that builds with each stroke. It’s not painful, not yet — it’s more like a caress, a reminder that you’re here, in this moment, with him.

As the strokes continue, the sensation shifts from gentle to something more intense, and you feel your body responding to it, your breath coming faster, your skin tingling with each impact. It’s overwhelming in the best way, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips.

Toto’s voice cuts through the haze of sensation, calm and steady. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you breathe, your head spinning. “I feel good.”

He nods, his movements never faltering. “Let go,” he murmurs. “Surrender to me. I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, you do. You let go of everything — the fear, the doubt, the pain of the past — and you give yourself over to Toto, trusting him completely.

For the first time in a long time, you feel whole.

***

The restaurant is exquisite. Soft lighting glimmers off crystal glasses and polished silverware, casting a warm, intimate glow over the white-clothed tables. The hum of quiet conversation fills the room, an undercurrent of sophistication and elegance that’s perfectly in tune with the setting.

It’s one of those places you’d only ever heard of — an elusive three Michelin-starred restaurant tucked away in the heart of London, where every dish is a masterpiece and every detail, no matter how small, is perfectly curated.

You glance across the table at Toto, who’s sitting across from you, calm and composed as ever. He’s wearing a tailored suit, dark and understated, but it fits him in a way that makes it clear he’s no stranger to this world of luxury. There’s something about the way he holds himself, a quiet authority that commands attention without ever needing to ask for it.

You, on the other hand, feel a bit like an imposter in this world. The dress you’re wearing — sleek, black, and impossibly flattering — had been a gift from Toto, something he’d picked out for tonight. It fits like it was made for you, but you still can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re playing a role in a scene that doesn’t belong to you.

Toto catches your gaze and smiles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You look nervous,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “Everything alright?”

You nod quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, just … I’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “It’s just dinner,” he says, his tone teasing but gentle. “No need to be nervous.”

You know he’s right. It is just dinner, but there’s something more tonight — something unspoken but heavy in the air between you. For the past few weeks, everything has been perfect. Since the night Toto took you in, since he showed you what it meant to truly be cared for, things have only gotten better. You’ve never felt more seen, more understood. He’s given you space to heal, to grow, but he’s also taken control in ways that make you feel secure, grounded.

And yet, tonight feels different. There’s an anticipation simmering beneath the surface, something you can’t quite place. It’s been there ever since you left his house this evening, when he helped you into the car, his hand lingering on your waist just a second longer than usual.

The waiter arrives to clear your plates, and you offer him a polite smile, though your mind is elsewhere. The main course had been an experience in itself — delicate and flavorful, the kind of dish you’d never forget. But now, as you sip the last of your wine, you find yourself unable to focus on anything other than the man sitting across from you.

Toto hasn’t said much since the food arrived, but there’s a certain intensity in his silence, a weight to the way he looks at you that makes your heart race. When dessert is brought out — an intricately plated creation of chocolate and caramel — you glance at Toto, waiting for him to start.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back in his chair, his hand slipping into the pocket of his suit jacket. For a moment, your stomach flips with confusion.

Then, he pulls out a large black box, the kind you’ve only ever seen in high-end jewelry stores, and sets it on the table between you. The room seems to grow quieter, though you’re sure it’s just your nerves making everything else fade into the background.

Toto watches you carefully, his expression soft but serious. He opens the box, and your breath catches in your throat.

Inside is the most beautiful collar you’ve ever seen. Solid white gold, sleek and elegant, with delicate diamonds studded along the edges, catching the candlelight in a way that makes them shimmer like stars. It’s not ostentatious, not overly extravagant despite its luxury — it’s simple, perfect, and breathtaking.

Your eyes widen, your hand instinctively flying to your throat, where the absence of any collar has been a reminder of everything you’d lost. The weight of your ex’s cruelty still lingers in the back of your mind, but in this moment, that’s not what you’re thinking about. All you can focus on is the collar in front of you, and the man offering it to you.

“Toto …” you breathe, your voice shaky with emotion.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve thought about this for a long time,” he says, his voice steady, but there’s an unmistakable vulnerability in his words. “You’ve been through so much. You’ve given me your trust, and I don’t take that lightly.”

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them back, your heart pounding in your chest.

Toto continues, his gaze unwavering. “I want you to know that this — this collar — isn’t just a symbol. It’s a promise. A promise that I’ll take care of you, protect you, and guide you. If you accept it, it means you’re accepting me as your Dom. Officially.”

You’re speechless, your mind racing, your heart swelling with so many emotions all at once that it’s hard to process. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you never thought you deserved after what happened with your ex. But Toto … Toto is offering it to you freely, without any hesitation or doubt.

He leans forward slightly, his eyes softening. “I want you to be mine,” he says, his voice low, filled with sincerity. “But only if that’s what you want too.”

Your throat tightens, and you can’t hold back the tears anymore. They slip down your cheeks, but you don’t feel embarrassed. Not here, not with him.

“I …” You struggle to find the words, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Toto smiles softly, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch is warm, reassuring. “You don’t have to say anything. Just tell me what you feel.”

You look down at the collar again, the beautiful, shining piece of jewelry that represents so much more than just an accessory. It represents trust, care, safety —everything you thought you’d lost forever. And now, with Toto, you realize it’s all possible again.

“I want this,” you say, your voice trembling but certain. “I want you. I want to be yours.”

Toto’s smile deepens, a look of pure, unguarded affection crossing his face. He stands slowly, moving around the table toward you. You rise from your chair as he approaches, your heart hammering in your chest as he gently takes the collar from the box.

“May I?” He asks, his voice soft but filled with meaning.

You nod, unable to speak, too overwhelmed by the moment.

Toto steps behind you, his hands warm as he gently brushes your hair aside. You feel the cool weight of the collar as he fastens it around your neck, the clasp clicking into place with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not tight, but it’s firm enough to remind you that it’s there — a constant, grounding presence.

He steps back in front of you, his eyes searching yours. “How does it feel?”

You lift a hand to your throat, your fingers brushing over the smooth metal. It feels … right. Like it was always meant to be there.

“It feels perfect,” you whisper, tears still shining in your eyes.

Toto’s expression softens even more, and he cups your face gently in his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth and affection. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

Your chest tightens, and you can’t help the smile that breaks across your face, despite the tears. “I think I’m starting to.”

Toto leans down, his lips brushing softly against your forehead, a gesture that’s both tender and protective. “You’re mine now,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’m yours.”

The weight of those words settles over you like a warm blanket, comforting and reassuring. In Toto’s arms, with the collar around your neck, you finally feel safe. Safe, loved, and most of all, home.

***

The bar is just as you remember it — dark, atmospheric, and pulsing with a kind of energy that once felt daunting but now, with Toto at your side, feels like a familiar rhythm. You had known this moment would come eventually, but the thought of returning to the place where everything fell apart had lingered like a storm cloud in your mind for weeks.

Yet tonight, as you walk through the entrance with Toto’s hand resting firmly on your lower back, it feels different. You’re not the same person who left this bar shattered. You’re stronger now, grounded in ways you never thought possible.

Toto leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you alright?” His voice is low, gentle, but the command behind it is unmistakable. He’s checking in, as he always does, ensuring that this is what you want.

You look up at him, giving a small nod. “Yes, sir,” you say softly, the words carrying a weight of truth and certainty.

He smiles down at you, his hand squeezing your waist briefly in a silent message of reassurance. “Good girl.”

Your body reacts to his praise, warmth spreading through you. Every time he says those words, it’s like a jolt of electricity, but tonight, it’s especially potent. You’ve come here with a purpose — not just to face the ghosts of the past, but to show yourself and everyone else, including your ex, that you are no longer that fragile, discarded version of yourself.

The bar is packed tonight, the same familiar crowd — subs and doms, some here to watch, others here to play. You scan the room briefly, and then your heart stops. Your ex is here. Sitting in one of the corner booths, drink in hand, his eyes scan the room — until they land on you.

You freeze, and for a split second, the memories of that night come rushing back — his voice, cruel and dismissive, the public humiliation, the way your knees had given out beneath you. But then you feel Toto’s presence beside you, solid and unwavering. His grip on you tightens, pulling you out of the past and back into the present.

Toto follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as they land on your ex. There’s no need for words. He knows exactly what’s running through your mind, and his jaw sets in a way that tells you he’s already decided how the rest of this night will go.

He bends down to your ear once more, his voice a soothing contrast to the tension in the air. “I think it’s time to show everyone exactly who you belong to.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. You nod again, this time with more confidence. “Yes, sir.”

He leads you through the crowd, toward one of the platforms reserved for public scenes. It’s in full view of the bar, the perfect stage. Your ex watches, his eyes locked on the two of you, but you don’t look away this time. You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you feel nothing but indifference. He has no power over you anymore.

Toto stops in front of the platform, turning you to face him. He brushes a thumb over your collar, the one he gave you at dinner just a few weeks ago, and you swear you see pride flash in his eyes.

“Are you ready?” He asks, his voice a quiet command.

“Yes, sir,” you respond, your voice steady.

He steps up onto the platform first, motioning for you to follow. You do, climbing onto the raised platform as the crowd’s attention starts to shift toward you both. There’s an air of anticipation, curiosity — everyone here knows who Toto is, and it’s rare to see him take part in public scenes. But more than that, they know you now too. You’re not the timid girl from before, you’re Toto’s submissive, and that means something in this world.

Toto walks to a sleek black bag he placed earlier at the side of the platform. From it, he pulls out something that makes your breath catch: a pair of dragon’s tongue whips. They’re long, thin, and flexible, made from braided leather that tapers into a sharp, stinging tip.

Most doms wouldn’t dare use them in a public scene — they require immense skill and precision to wield properly. In the wrong hands, they can cause real harm. But Toto … you trust him completely.

He turns to face you, holding the dragon’s tongue in his hand. His eyes meet yours, and in that moment, the rest of the room fades away.

“Kneel,” he commands softly.

You drop to your knees instantly, your heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. You glance out into the crowd, and your ex’s eyes are glued to the scene. You can see the shock in his expression — this is something he never could’ve done. He didn’t have the skill, the control, or the understanding of what it truly means to be a Dom. And now, he’s watching you submit to someone far more powerful, far more worthy.

Toto steps behind you, the dragon’s tongue sliding lightly over your bare shoulders. “You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he says, his voice low but full of affection. “And tonight, I’m going to show everyone just how beautifully you submit.”

The first strike lands, light but firm, sending a sharp sting across your back. You gasp, but it’s not pain you feel — it’s release, surrender. The second strike comes, and then the third, each one carefully controlled, perfectly measured. Toto is a master of his craft, and with each lash, you feel yourself falling deeper into the scene, into the space where nothing exists except his voice, his commands, and the sensation of the dragon’s tongue against your skin.

The crowd is silent now, watching with rapt attention as Toto works, his movements graceful and precise. You can feel their eyes on you, but you don’t care. You’re not performing for them. You’re here for him, and him alone.

“Good girl,” Toto murmurs after a particularly sharp strike, his voice like a balm against the sting. “You take it so well.”

Your ex is still watching, but his face is pale now, his expression a mixture of disbelief and something darker — jealousy, perhaps, or regret. But you don’t focus on him. You focus on Toto, on the way his voice grounds you, the way his touch brings you back from the edge.

When the final strike lands, your body is buzzing with sensation, your mind quiet and peaceful in a way that only Toto can bring. He steps in front of you, setting the dragon’s tongue aside, and kneels down to meet your eyes. His hand cups your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“You did so well,” he whispers, his eyes filled with warmth and pride. “I’m so proud of you.”

Tears well in your eyes, but they’re not from pain or sadness. They’re from the overwhelming sense of belonging, of being cared for in a way you never thought possible. You look up at him, and the only words that come to your lips are the ones you know he wants to hear.

“Thank you, sir.”

Toto smiles, a rare, unguarded smile that’s just for you. He stands, helping you to your feet, and guides you gently off the platform. The crowd parts as he leads you toward a quiet corner, away from the eyes of the bar. He sits down in one of the plush armchairs, pulling you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

“You were perfect,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “Absolutely perfect.”

You nestle into him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the scene, but your mind is calm. You’re safe, you’re his, and nothing else matters.

Toto reaches for a bottle of water, uncapping it and holding it to your lips. You drink gratefully, letting the cool liquid soothe your throat. He continues to take care of you, checking in with soft, reassuring touches, whispering praises that make your heart swell with warmth.

And as you sit there, wrapped in his arms, you glance across the room to where your ex is sitting. He’s watching still, but now, there’s something defeated in his posture, as if he finally understands what he lost. But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re not his, and you never will be again.

You belong to Toto now, and that’s all you need.

***

The sun is low, casting a golden glow across the living room, filtering through the sheer curtains that sway gently with the breeze from the open windows. You’re sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch, legs folded beneath you, waiting for Toto.

The anticipation hums in your veins, a familiar pulse that always settles low in your belly whenever you two are about to engage in a scene. It’s a quiet evening at home — rare, given how often you’ve been traveling with him to races lately. But tonight is just for you and him, no paddock, no chaos, no cameras. Just intimacy.

Toto emerges from the hallway, his presence commanding, even in the casual black shirt and dark jeans he wears. The simplicity of his clothes contrasts with the intensity in his eyes as they lock on you, a silent question hanging in the air between you. You nod — your answer always the same when it comes to him.

“Come here, liebling,” he says softly, the endearment rolling off his tongue in that deep, soothing voice of his. You rise and step closer to him, the distance between you disappearing as he pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head gently before guiding you toward the center of the room.

Tonight’s scene is something more intimate, more casual than the ones you’ve typically done before. It’s not about spectacle or showing anyone else what you can endure — this is just for him, for the trust between you. He’s chosen a light flogger for tonight, one you both know well, designed for sensation rather than pain. It’s more of a way to ground you, to connect with him in the quiet of your home.

“Strip,” Toto commands, his voice a velvet command that wraps around you like a safety net.

You begin to undress, taking your time, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. You fold your clothes neatly beside the couch before turning to face him, hands clasped behind your back, your breath already coming in soft, steady waves.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, stepping forward to lift your chin gently, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip. His approval is everything, and the warmth in his gaze fills you with that familiar, addictive need to please him.

Toto motions for you to kneel, and you drop down, your knees pressing into the soft rug beneath you. He takes a seat in the armchair across from you, leaning back casually as if this is any other evening, as if what comes next is just a natural extension of your time together.

He picks up the flogger, running the leather strands through his fingers slowly, deliberately, letting you watch. The anticipation builds, tightening your muscles with every passing second.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, even though the answer has already been given a thousand times over.

“With everything,” you reply, your voice steady.

The first strike lands across your shoulders, light and measured, a soft hiss of air leaving your lungs. It’s not pain — it’s connection. Every swing of the flogger, every strike that follows, is a conversation between you. The leather caresses your skin, each touch more intense than the last, your body warming under his control, but never overwhelmed. You float, suspended in this perfect, peaceful place, completely in sync with him.

Toto’s voice grounds you. “Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, and your heart swells with pride, each strike a confirmation of your submission, of the bond you share.

He continues, alternating between strokes and soothing touches, checking in with you through words and the soft brush of his hand across your skin. You lose yourself in the rhythm, the flogger a steady, pulsing reminder of the safety and love you’ve found with him.

So engrossed are you in the scene, you don’t hear the front door creak open. You’re barely aware of anything beyond Toto’s voice and the sensation of the flogger against your skin. But then, the unmistakable sound of someone gasping cuts through the haze.

“Uh … what … the …” George Russell’s voice cracks, full of disbelief.

Your head snaps up in shock, and Toto stills, the flogger dropping to his side as he turns, slowly, to face the unexpected intrusion.

George is standing frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open in pure horror. His face is pale, and he’s gripping the door handle like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He’s not even trying to look away — he’s too shocked to move.

“Oh my God,” George breathes out, his voice strangled. “I — what the hell — what — Toto!” His voice rises in panic as he throws his hands over his face. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

Toto stands calmly, his expression a mixture of amusement and mild frustration, as if he’d been interrupted during an important meeting rather than an intimate scene. “George,” he says in his usual calm, measured tone, “you really should knock.”

“I didn’t think I had to knock at your house!” George cries, his voice muffled by his hands still covering his face. “I thought you were just … I don’t know … watching TV or something, not-” He cuts off, his voice trailing into a horrified squeak.

You’re frozen on the spot, embarrassment flooding your face, your body still kneeling on the floor. The moment is so absurd, so unexpected, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You glance at Toto, and his calm demeanor seems to anchor you once more. But George — poor, poor George — he looks like he’s just witnessed something that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I — oh my God, I need bleach for my eyes,” George moans, stumbling backward toward the door. “I need therapy. I need to forget this ever happened.”

Toto steps forward, his hands raised as if to calm the younger man. “George, calm down. It’s not-”

“Calm down?” George interrupts, his voice an octave higher than usual. “Toto, I just saw you whipping your girlfriend in your living room! What part of this is supposed to be calm?”

At this point, you can’t hold it in anymore. A giggle escapes you, completely unexpected and uncontrollable. The absurdity of the situation, the sheer panic on George’s face — it’s all too much. You cover your mouth, trying to stifle the sound, but it’s no use. Laughter bubbles up, and before you know it, you’re leaning back, laughing so hard you can barely breathe.

Toto glances at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it either — he starts laughing too, a deep, rich sound that fills the room.

George stares at the both of you in disbelief, his hands still hovering near his face, but slowly, realization seems to dawn on him. “Are you two seriously laughing at this?”

Toto nods, wiping at his eyes. “George, it’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” George sputters. “What else could it possibly be?”

Toto walks over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “George, Y/N and I are adults, and we have an understanding in our relationship.”

“Well, I don’t want to understand! I want to un-see!” George exclaims, pulling away. “I came here for strategy discussions, not … this! Why didn’t you text me you were busy?!”

“I didn’t think we’d be interrupted,” Toto says, shrugging with a grin. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

George groans again, burying his face in his hands. “I need to go … bleach my eyes or … meditate or something.”

Toto chuckles, patting him on the back. “I’ll send you the race notes later, alright? Just knock next time.”

George spins on his heel, practically sprinting for the door. “Yeah, yeah. Never coming over without notice again. Noted. Bleach, then therapy. Lots of therapy.”

The door slams behind him, leaving the house in a stunned, laughing silence. You look over at Toto, still kneeling on the floor, your body trembling with laughter. He kneels down beside you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face, his smile wide and relaxed.

“Well,” you say, catching your breath, “that was unexpected.”

Toto raises an eyebrow, still chuckling. “You could say that.”

You both dissolve into laughter again, the absurdity of the moment too much to handle. When the laughter finally subsides, Toto pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple gently.

“At least now we know George will knock in the future,” he teases, his voice filled with warmth.

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and loved, even in the midst of the chaos. “Maybe we should lock the door next time, just to be safe.”

Toto hums in agreement, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. “Next time, liebling.”

And as you settle back into the peaceful quiet of the evening, the memory of George’s horrified face will be something you’ll both laugh about for years to come.

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neuvilyney · 2 days ago

Text

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ how/when they first realized that they're in love with you ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ft. Tighnari, Wanderer, and Xiao

★ I can't remember if this was a request or not, but I found this draft from last June and I couldn't let it go to waste, so here's this! :D

★ No content warnings that I can think about. Just fluff and the boys not knowing how to cope with catching feels lmao

𝗧𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶 " 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿 "

★ Tighnari is extremely in tune with himself: this includes his feelings, his body, and his thoughts. And yet, he finds that around you, everything gets mixed up into one big puddle of goo. Whenever you weren’t watching, his observant eyes were trained on you. He’d analyze you like a foreign species of flora, trying to pick apart what about you made his heart pound in his ears, what made him stutter and blush like a lovesick teenager, what caused the ache in his chest whenever you weren’t nearby. He’s considered the thought of having a crush on you, but each time, he’d simply brush it off as a hormone imbalance or try to rationalize it as a perfectly normal reaction.

★ Realizing his love for you felt like a double take. “Oh.” and then “Oh.” It’s a split second that changes his entire perspective, and it hits him in the most random of times. He could be pressing flowers and then smile at the realization that those were your favorite flowers. Or maybe he’s jotting down notes and finds himself writing a few letters the same way you do. It could even be something as small as looking up at the sky and wondering if you saw the same shape in the clouds that he did.

★ Once he realizes he’s in love with you, everything makes sense. The puddle of goo slowly melts away and everything feels okay again, and the clarity of everything hits him like a truck. He needs to say something. Tighnari is a man of action. He thinks before he speaks, but he speaks before you can think. He’d take a moment to think about what he would say, but then he’s standing right in front of you with rosy cheeks and a determined look on his face. And then finally, he’d say those three special words to you--

- 𖦹 -

“You’re a pain.” Tighnari couldn’t help but sigh as he crossed his arms, looking at you up and down with a tired expression. Yet, a faint smile tugged at his lips as he watched you struggle with a particularly invasive type of vine. You’re tangled in it like a bug in a spiderweb, a defeated look on your face as you hang limply from the vines.

You groan, crossing your arms as you glare at him. The sight of him looking at you so smugly made you want to slap him and possibly kiss him. Maybe not in that order though. “I am no such thing! I’m just-- ugh…” The vines dug into your skin as they held you by your ankle, and you sighed in defeat before reaching out to him. His fluffy ears twitched with delight at the way you frowned so adorably, and he swiftly used an arrow to cut the vine, catching you when you fell. However, he clearly didn't think this through all the way. As he held you, watching your expression shift from relief to shock to a mixture of embarrassment and bashfulness, his own eyes widened and a warm blush spread over his cheeks, his fluffy ears twitching whilst his tanned skin continued to redden.

Oh.

Tighnari was dead silent when he put you down, and he briskly turned around before starting to walk away. “Wait! Don’t just leave me here!” You sighed, starting to swiftly follow him, doing your best to ignore the way your heart pounded. The walk back was painfully awkward, your attempts at conversation followed by dry responses if a response at all. And eventually, you had enough! The way he refused to meet your gaze, how his hands clenched at his sides just to make sure they didn’t touch yours, he was avoiding you like the plague despite being right beside you. And so, you pivoted on your heel until you stood right before him.

“Okay, what’s with you? Ever since the vine thing, you’re acting like I did something wrong! Did…did I do something wrong?” Your confused and hurt expression made his heart ache, and Tighnari couldn’t help but shake his head fervently-- the way his ears bounced with each movement would have been adorable had it not been for the hurt you felt. Tighnari’s cheeks blushed a soft red, his multicolored eyes trained on you in a serious manner. It looked like he was about to scold you, with his serious frown and crossed arms, so you mentally prepared yourself for yet another lecture.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Well, getting tangled in the vines was rather stupid,” You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to say it wasn’t your fault, but he continued regardless. “But, I’m grateful you did. Had it not been for your adorably clumsy nature, I would not have had the chance to catch you in my arms.” As your eyes widened, a small smirk tugged at his lips and he took a step towards you. “And if I hadn’t held you so close, I don’t think I would have realized this just yet.” Tighnari seemed to trail off on this annoying cliffhanger, and you sighed before looking up at him.

“...Realized what?” As if he’d been waiting for you to ask, he leaned close- close enough that his hair tickled your nose and his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered:

“That you have me foolishly, hopelessly smitten.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝗪𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗿 " 𝗞𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗸𝘂𝘇𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶 "

★ It took him ages to realize he loved you. No seriously, it would take years. Some part of him knew you were special, but he could never figure out why. Was it the way your smile made him anxious? Or perhaps the way your voice made his face heat up with-... with rage? Maybe it was the way every little thing reminded him of you, like an annoying bug that wouldn’t go away. Yet, he found that none of these things were actually…bad. He loved your smile, the way it made his artificial heart race. He adored your voice, the way it made him blush so heavily. And he absolutely loved the way everything reminded him of you, like some part of you was always with him. It took him a while to realize he did actually like you, and not hate you. And then after that, it took even longer to realize he loved you.

★ Realizing he was in love with you felt like a nightmare. It was a panic, a moment of weakness. Him? Love? Please, what a sick joke. Yet…after the panic subsided, he found his heart reaching out to you who he adored so dearly. You would understand, wouldn’t you? Surely you, who had the patience of a mother, would understand his pathetic feelings? Or would you turn him away, and leave him behind yet again? He’d spend days agonizing over the what if’s though he tried not to. He was too prideful to admit someone like you could reduce him to a total mess. The amount of questions circling his brain only served to make him angrier, and he swallowed back his fears for just long enough to shout a very upset sounding “I THINK I LOVE YOU.” Honestly, it almost sounded like he was cursing at you.

★ In summary, Wanderer is an emotional mess. His hundreds of years alive have been dedicated to anything but his feelings. He was destined for something greater than human emotions in his mind. However, when he sees the way your face shifts from shock to a relieved happiness, he realized maybe this was his destiny all along. Maybe loving you, who made him truly feel, was the divine purpose he was meant for all along.

- 𖦹 -

A chill ran down your spine for the fifth time in the past few minutes, and your eyes awkwardly shifted to the ground. He has been staring at you for a creepy amount of time, but it wasn’t his usual glare- and somehow, that only serves to make you more nervous. You gulped thickly, drumming your fingers over your arm before your head snapped to him, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, what is it?” In response, Wanderer simply shrugged. Gods, he could be so infuriating. You could feel your eyebrow twitch as you gritted your teeth, resting a hand on your hip. “I see, so you’ve been staring at me for five minutes just for fun?” Once again, he shrugged. The faintest shade of red dusted the tips of his ears, and his hands limply rested in the pockets of his shorts. You could see the way he turned his head, hiding it behind his intricately-detailed hat. The sight of his blushed ears made your eyes narrow, and you reached out to grab his wrist- causing him to let out a curse. Finally, a reaction!

Wanderer looked down at your hand on his wrist, and then back up at you. And then down to his wrist before he tugged his hand away. Though, he found that he quickly missed the feeling of your soft hand warming his cold skin. The way his hand subconsciously reached out to hold yours once more made him scoff and he shoved his hand back in his pocket, quickly looking away. “What’s the big idea, huh?” His indigo eyes crinkled when he snarled, but a certain glitter swirled within them that made you smile knowingly. Wanderer leaned forward, flicking your forehead when you didn’t respond. He did this a lot, and always smiled at the way you yelped and/or pouted. But this time, his smile wasn’t mocking or amused, but oddly…endearing?

“You’ve only insulted me three times today!! Come on, we both know something’s up.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms- and you didn’t miss the way he mirrored your expression.

He sighed, shaking his head before looking up at you. “You really wanna know? Really?” His arms crossed as his wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his face, but even through the dark, you could see a blush begin to coat his pale cheeks. When you nodded, he sighed again, leaning close to you. “You’re making my head do weird shit and I don’t like it one bit.” Your confused expression made him groan as he tried to explain further. “Come on, don’t play stupid!! I keep having these…gross and cheesy thoughts about you whenever you get close. And the way you smile…it makes me…happy.” He spoke the word with such disgust, it almost made you laugh. “When I see your hand, I want to crush- no, hold it…” The more he spoke, the more those dark eyes softened until they were nothing more than pools of indigo honey. But sadly, he snapped out of it, growling in frustration and grabbing your shoulders. “S--So what’re you doing to me, huh?! What, are you some kind of witch? Do you enjoy making me feel this weird?!”

The more you processed his words, the more you smiled. Slowly, your head tilted to the side and you laughed, shaking your head when his blush only worsened. “Wanderer…do you lik--” He quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing his eyes shut before shouting-

“I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU OR SOMETHING, OKAY?!”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝗫𝗶𝗮𝗼 '𝗔𝗹𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀'

★ Realizing his love for you felt like a insult. He figured that his romantic feelings towards you were just…a glitch in the matrix. There was something about you that made his heart do backflips, and he did not like it. And so, he avoided you like the plague. But, distance makes the heart grow fonder after all. With each moment that passed without you beside him, he only felt lonelier. Even despite his eons of solitude, a mere moment without you felt like another thousand years. And so, one lonely night, you call out his name. And there he is, red faced and wide eyed, standing before your teary eyes.

★ He didn’t want to admit he was in love with you. Could he, The Conqueror of Demons, feel something as human as…love? Did he even deserve to? And so, the mere thought of falling in love with you felt almost insulting to him. It was a shock, something that almost angered him. He shouldn’t feel these things! But…if it wasn’t meant to be, then why does he like it? Why does he love the way his face heats up when you smile up at him? Why does he love the way you make him blush and laugh like a fool? Why does he love the way he loves you? Ultimately, he decides these questions are futile. Slowly, his feeling of betrayal and offense morphed into a feeling of fondness. And even slower, he’d finally brush the dust off of the lonely heart he’d safely sealed away behind the armor of his ribs.

★ He didn’t want to tell you at first. He didn’t know how to tell you. Despite that, after the realization of his feelings, he just couldn’t wait! He felt like an impatient child, bouncing on his feet and biting the insides of his cheeks. But, when you rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder at the sight of his pensive face, he knew it would all be okay. As you gave him the sweetest smile he’s ever seen, he understood his feelings for the first time. For Xiao, falling in love with you was a confusing, terrifying process full of heartache and betrayal. But, loving you? God, it was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

- 𖦹 -

You’ve never seen him so anxious before. It was oddly unsettling, to be honest. Watching him shift his gaze every few seconds like a guilty child, the way his fingers fiddled with the material of his pants, even his scowl looked more like a nervous frown. Slowly, you set your pencil down, looking up at him with a concerned gaze from where you watched him pace around the inn. “Xiao, are you oka-”

“YES.”

You deadpanned for a moment, wanting to be amused at his immediate answer that contradicted his expression of pure nerves. Instead, you were only more worried. Slowly, your hands pushed against the table to prop you up and your shoes glided over the wooden floor before you were an arm’s length away from him. Xiao sighed slowly, resting his hands on the sill of the balcony with his head tilted away from you. This is a common occurrence for the both of you. Standing on the balcony, resting on it while watching the sun set. It was calming for both of you, but also made it much easier to discuss feelings neither of you liked. Past memories, traumas, bad days, any and all of it. But this…this was different.

“...No, I’m not.” Ah, there it is. Xiao’s eyes averted from yours, trained on the sky above the both of you as his hands gripped at the wooden sill. Patiently, you watched him, awaiting his next words. He was tense, and in all the time you’ve known him, you hadn’t seen him this afraid since the fall of Rex Lapis. Slowly, his head tilts to meet your gaze. His eyes were wide, glimmering in the fading sunlight while his pale skin carried a rosy tint that reached all the way to his elven ears.

You smiled gently, reaching over to pat his shoulder- he still tensed, but it was nothing like before. He wasn’t one to let people touch him. Not even you, not at first. He would flinch, shove your hand away, and move from you- always the same actions in different orders. But, over time, he started to relax under your touch. This time was no different as he let out a small sigh.

“There’s something bothering me.” Xiao spoke slowly, his voice gruff and low but also hesitant. “I feel…weird around you. I’ve heard of these feelings in those stories told by Liyuen romantics, how one’s heart flutters around those they…love. But I’m not…capable of that.” He continued on this spiel, and your eyes widened at the way he indirectly confessed to you. But, even as a wobbly smile overtook your lips, you remained quiet. “I’m a Yaksha, an adepti, I-I can’t feel something like this. And yet, I am. I am, and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Xiao groaned, raking a hand through his hair before he turned to you, a small frown on his lips when you rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. You hummed softly, scooting closer before resting a head on his shoulder. “I feel the same way, Xiao. You may be an adeptus, but you still experience human emotions. Feelings confuse all of us, even adepti like you and humans like me. But, there’s no need to be afraid of them.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, letting your eyes flutter shut as his hand shakily reaches over to hold yours. He sucks in a quick breath, letting out a slow exhale before whispering:

“In that case…I think I’m in love with you.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Word Count: 2907

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

- Ky♡♡

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