#so grab my favorite track and vibe

[quaddmgd]

SUN TAN OIL, STALE MARGARITAS AND GREED

[front-facing-pokemon]

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I WANT YOU CLOSER, CLOSER EVEN STILL ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; in the midst of a rainshower, you run into your mysterious classmate.

word count; 6.1k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, implied no curses au, fluffy summer vibes, forced proximity (my beloved <3), pining, very shoujo manga coded, vague allusions to sugu having a troubled background, (kind of same w reader), switching povs, gojo slander, stsg implications if you squint (my brand), he’s a sweet sweet boy and i love him :((

a/n; teen sugu reminds me a lot of the kind upperclassman type of otome game li… with secret emotional baggage that makes his route really hard to complete….. anyway i dedicate this fic to hit mobage jujutsu kaisen: phantom parade PLEASE bring sugu home to me please please please ple

geto looks beautiful in the rain. 

it’s an embarrassing first thought to have, as he rounds the corner and comes into view. a black head of hair, making you stop in your tracks, breathe in a gulp of humid air.

you can’t help it, though.

it’s raining. droplets ricochet against the sidewalk in an endless cadence, the sky above you blanketed by gray clouds; enveloping your city in a summery shadow, the scent of hot concrete and blossoming hydrangeas. everything smells of a blistering summer, youth in a bottle cap. tasty on your tongue.

those very same hydrangeas surround him, on all sides, framing his figure like a painting come to life — splotches of colour, flecks of purple and pink and blue, clashing with the gray sky and the black umbrella in his hand. he looks a little disheveled, hair a little frizzy, bangs sticking to his skin. oddly at peace. when his eyes meet yours, you see a flash of recognition — a tiny spark in the amber hue. 

you take that as your cue to move closer. 

he waits for you, always so patient, smiling as you look both ways before crossing the street — shoes hitting the concrete in a steady thud, thud, thud. a splash from the puddle you step in.

you’re in a good mood. veins flooding with sugar and buzzing with joy, raindrops sticking to your skin and the plastic bag in your hand, absently humming along to a song playing through your headphones. your clothes are soaked, but you’re smiling; swinging the bag of treats as you walk. bags of chips, colourful lollipops, bottles of ramune, clinking together for every step you take. enough to last you a couple weeks. in your good mood, you ended up stocking up on your classmates’ favorites — bouncing on the balls of your feet at the thought of giving them away, seeing their satisfied little expressions.

you even got something for gojo. he’ll have to fight for it, obviously, but you look forward to seeing his face light up when he takes a bite of the soft mochi.

(you like giving them things. it’s fun. it makes you feel like a normal high school kid.)

nothing can dampen your spirits right now. the entire world smells of rain, and hydrangeas, and apple blossoms from the backyards behind you. a scent that creeps into your bloodstream, sneaks into your breath. a smile grows on your lips — blooming even brighter when you step into your classmate’s orbit.

”hey!” you chirp, raising a hand up in greeting.

”hey,” geto echoes, voice honeyed and smooth, bringing a hand up to wipe at his forehead. wet from the humid air. ”out on a walk?”

with a smile, you lift the plastic bag, grabbing his attention. clasping it tightly, with your wet fingers. ”just went to get some snacks. you?”

”i wanted to get some fresh air,” he smiles. eyeing you up and down. ”did you forget your umbrella?” 

silently, he takes in your appearance. your breathing is a tiny bit laboured, and the flimsy, oversized hoodie you’re wearing is sticking to your skin. it’s all that protects you from the steady downpour; no umbrella to be seen. you look small, tilting your head up, meeting his gaze. he feels the beginnings of a smile play at his lips. exasperated. all you do is blink, seemingly unbothered, as if you aren’t straight on the road to catching a cold. you can be a little scatterbrained. 

maybe that’s why he can’t help but dote on you.

(that’s what satoru calls it, at least. suguru thinks it’s just called being nice — not like satoru would know anything about that.)

”oh. no, i didn’t forget.” you scratch at the back of your neck. ”just didn’t know it was going to rain.”

the sudden downpour gave you no time to prepare, heavy and abrupt — clouds obscuring the glowing sun in what felt like no more than a second. like someone high above flicked the light switch of the world. all you could do was pull your hood up, try to walk under whatever apple tree you came across. it didn’t help much, though. 

you shift your weight from one foot to the other, soles weighed down with dew. sort of sheepish.

geto chuckles, raspy and soft. the sound makes your heart skip a beat. ”didn’t you see the weather report?”

”well, it… just slipped my mind, i guess.”

silently, you avert your gaze. now you remember — yaga-sensei did mention that, didn’t he? you heard him say it. but you just forgot.

geto is laughing at you, a little, from within his eyes; at least that’s the impression you get. so you continue, eager to defend your honour. 

”it’s fine, though,” you assure him, smiling brightly. a sunny grin. ”i like the rain!”

geto raises an unimpressed brow, but the expression fades away just as swiftly — giving way to something softer. ”you’re heading back to the dorms, right?” he asks, continuing once you give him a slight nod. ”then we can share.”

you blink. one moment passes, then two. but geto only smiles, shifting his umbrella a little, hoping you’ll get the hint. silently beckoning you over. 

it makes you feel oddly flustered.

in truth, you and him aren’t particularly close. he’s nice to you, sure, but geto is nice to everyone. you’d like to call him a friend, but what do you actually know about him? not much. 

suguru geto is a bit of an enigma. a little mysterious. he’s polite, well-mannered, and he seems like the most normal of your classmates — but the bar is in hell, because you know for a fact geto isn’t normal either. no normal guy deliberately chooses to keep his bangs like that. 

there’s a gap, there. a kind of inconsistency. he’s hard to approach, but he puts you at ease. pulls you in and scares you off. with a soft voice and kind smile, keen eyes and a heavy palm on your head. sometimes he brings you snacks when you study in the library, or helps you with homework. kind of like a dependable senpai. someone to lean on.

… but then there’s that gap. 

the real geto, who you’ve only seen glimpses of, only ever in gojo’s vicinity, is boyish and bright — he laughs and pouts and takes up space. he glows brighter than the sun. but the geto you’re seeing, right now, is more like the moon. wearing a polite, patient smile. standing up straight.

waiting for you to join him under his umbrella.

(he’s kind. but is he doing it because wants to, or because he feels obliged to?)

”… oh.” a pause. ”no, it’s fine!” you take a step back, quick to reassure him. ”i can walk there without it! i’m already soaked, anyway.”

geto observes you. for a moment, something in his expression flickers; a crease between his brows.

then he shakes his head. still wearing a comforting smile, the same one he always slips on when he’s around you. ”still. we don’t want you catching a cold,” he persists, sounding something like a nagging mother. ”you’ll miss the exam next week.”

and with that, your shoulders drop. 

right — the exam. the one you haven’t been studying for in the slightest, completely distracted by the feeling of summer in the air. the one you can’t fail, under any circumstances, because yaga-sensei can and will force you to take summer classes ad compensation. that exam. 

a wistful sigh leaves your lips. ”god, i wish.”

geto chuckles — a little deeper than usual. it makes your heart flutter. then he’s beckoning you over, again, with a slight shake of his head. 

”c’mon. there’s enough room for two.”

he gives you that same familiar smile, and you’re forced to admit that you might be slightly weak to it. something about the way his lips tug upwards, the light crinkle of his eyes. a certain glint in them that tells you he’s not budging on the issue. 

you’re still a little hesitant. but…

(this is a chance, isn’t it? a chance to bridge that gap between you.)

silently, shyly, you join him under his umbrella. shielding you from the still falling rain.

pitter patter, pitter patter. you don’t know where the rain ends and your own heartbeat begins. he’s so close — your shoulders nearly brushing together. it makes your nerves bubble up, in rhythm with the droplets bouncing off the cover up above. you feel stiff. the tiny, miniscule gap between you feels like a sweltering stove, radiating a heat that warns you to stay away. as if his touch could burn you. like this, you can even smell him; fresh laundry, an earthy cologne. the slightest hint of caffeine and tobacco. you blame it on shoko — the whole dormitory smells of cigarettes, thanks to her. 

it’s comforting, though. his scent. blending together with the aroma of rain, wet earth, blooming flowers. with his fragrance smoothing over all your senses, the closeness between you a constant reminder of the situation you’re in, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

all you do is murmur out a quick thanks, as you begin to walk, in tandem.

geto can’t help but steal a glance at you, out of the corner of his eye. you look a little meek, a little flustered. he hopes the narrow distance between you isn’t making you feel too uncomfortable. 

just to be sure, he angles his body away from yours. ever so slightly, one subtle step away, to make the gap a little wider. then, as discreetly as he can manage, he tilts the umbrella in your direction — not wanting the never-ending drops of rain to graze your skin. he can feel them, now, soaking through the material of his shirt, hitting his shoulder. but he doesn’t mind. to his relief, you don’t seem to notice. he’s pretty sure you’d protest; and as enjoyable as another friendly squabble would be, he’d prefer to avoid it for now.

you’re nice. accommodating, he thinks, in a subtle kind of way. always showing up with trinkets after your little outings, offering to get everyone a drink on your way to the vending machines. you’re friendly with the other two; always nagging at shoko to stop smoking, even when she just rolls her eyes and calls you a goody two shoes. recently, you’ve even started to be patient with satoru, even when he tries to get a rise out of you. it wasn’t like that at the start of the year. geto wonders what changed. 

he’s a little interested in you. just a little. you’re sweeter than the other two, easier to worry over. he saw you trip over your own shoelaces last week. you’re a little clumsy, a bit of a ditz — airheaded. maybe that’s why he can’t help but feel protective of you. satoru brushes everything off with a cheeky grin, and shoko is self-sustaining, but you’re often in need of a helping hand. the last time he tried that with the other two, they wouldn’t stop calling him mother geto until he smacked them over the head with satoru’s shounen jump issue. 

it makes him feel out of place — when he doesn’t have anything to tend to. itchy, a feeling of dread crawling up his throat. peace and quiet feels suffocating, when he isn’t in total control over it.

so, in his own way, small as it may be, geto enjoys taking care of you. grabbing you a carton of strawberry milk, or warding satoru away when he’s annoying you a little too much. he likes the smile you grace him with when he does. it’s pretty. and it’s all geto really knows about you — that, and that there’s a tenderness to you that’s hard to fake. it’s not much to go on.

so this is the perfect opportunity to learn more. 

(a heartfelt connection. something he’s always, always craved. something that maybe he can finally have, with satoru, and shoko, and you — 

if you’re willing, that is.)

”hey,” he starts, breaking the rainfilled silence. keeping his umbrella steady, leading you both away from a big puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. ”can i ask you something?”

you raise your head to look at him. blinking owlishly, at the sudden question, nerves beginning to rise again. he sounds kind of serious. did you do something? paranoia gnaws anxiously at the ridges of your ribs, but all you can do is swallow empty air and stammer out a meek reply.

”… uh, sure!”

geto glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours. that gaze of his is kind of heavy — the deep colour of his eyes coaxing you closer, luring you in. honey and amber, splotches of cedar and flecks of gold.

they’re pretty.

”this might be kind of a weird question,” he begins, reaching a hand up to adjust his bun, sneaking a finger under the black hair tie. voice light; to put you at ease. ”but i’m just curious.” 

he looks ahead, at the street before you, only meeting your stare once you give him a slight tilt of your head. then he parts his lips.

”why did you come here?”

you blink. 

silently, confusion painting the interior of your iris, you stare at him. waiting for a clarification that doesn’t come, before giving him a hesitant answer. ”… to get snacks?”

geto has the audacity to laugh, after such a vague question. the sound is light and breathy, melting together with the pitter patter of the rain, and for some reason it strikes you as sincere. ”not like that,” he grins. ”i mean, why did you come to the school in the first place?”

ah. 

that’s a different question. harder to answer. he must notice your hesitance, the puzzlement in your features, because he’s quick to elaborate. hiding a smile behind his fist, disguised as a cough.

(you’re sort of cute when you’re confused.)

”i mean — it’s an odd choice, isn’t it? far off the map, barely any students....” you nod along, and he continues. ”i don’t know about your background. but moving away from home must be kind of tough, right?” when he glances in your direction, you notice a sparkle of genuine curiosity in his eyes. ”so i was curious about your reason. if you feel comfortable telling me, i mean.”

a hum. it buzzes in your throat, absentminded, as you stare into space. brows furrowed. 

geto gives you time, as much time as you need, always willing to wait. for a minute or so, the only sounds that fill the space around you are the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the plastic cover of umbrella, and the sound of your shoes meeting puddles on the street. silently, you ponder the question. thinking of your answer.

geto has a point. you’ve been curious, too — about how your classmates ended up in such an eccentric little school, so detached from the rest of the world. a quirky private school in the middle of nowhere. you must all be a little eccentric yourselves. that’s probably why you feel so safe with them — you get the sense that you’re all lacking something. something that would ward normal kids away from such an unorthodox choice.

you could say you were just going with the flow. a relative of yours used to work with yaga-sensei, and heard about his position at a newly reinstated private school — heard that he was looking for students to fill the roster. 

so you accepted.

(if it was really that simple, geto would already have his answer.)

what drew you in, more than anything, was the promise of something new. a strange, small school, far away from home; from the people you know, the town you know, the life that you’ve lived. far away from the person you are, the person you was, the person you’ve always been.

an escape. that’s all it was. 

a way out.

he’s still waiting for your answer, even now, trying to read your thoughts off your face. eyes trailing over every contour. very briefly, you consider dodging the question — but his silent, steady presence squeezes a little honesty out of you. 

you want to give him a genuine answer.

”… i guess,” you begin, weighing the words on your tongue. they feel stale, a little awkward, but not dishonest. ”i wanted to stop being me for a bit.” 

the words are unexpected, surprising even to your own ears — like your mouth and your mind weren’t quite cooperating, one ahead of the other, one not weighing in on the honest choice. they catch geto off guard. 

he looks at you, silently, attempts to dissect your expression; but he doesn’t succeed. 

for a second, something flashes in his eyes. a glimmer that you just barely catch, that you can still sense behind his eyelids when they flutter shut. you’re not sure what to call it. recognition, maybe, or something like empathy. a sense of acknowledgement. it’s gone when he opens his eyes. 

he doesn’t look at you when he answers.

”… i get that.”

there’s a depth to his words that you’re afraid to uncover. you feel their weight, all the same, glancing up at him, studying his expression, the humid drops of dew that stick to his lashes. and you feel a tug. faint, non-existent, the string between your pinkies —

a growing connection. 

(it makes you feel oddly bare.)

all you can give him is a chuckle, a little breathless. ”do you?” you ask, grinning weakly. ”it’s a little melodramatic.”

geto only smiles. silent, comfort personified. there’s no judgement in his eyes, none whatsoever — because he knows exactly what you mean.

fleeing from the past. 

it’s a kind of murder, he thinks. a rebirth.

maybe the two of you are similar. similar in the sense that he recognizes the shadow in your eyes, the one he sometimes sees in mirrors; familiar in the sense that you both suffer from that same sickening awareness. 

(maybe you want the same thing he wants, what he’s always wanted — 

control.)

it’s a realization that creeps up on you, the both of you, slow and steady. a sense of kinship. it envelops you, cradles you close, in the same way molten clouds cover the summer sky.

geto isn’t lying, you can tell. he does get it. you know, just from that tilt of his voice, the way his eyelashes flutter, his absent shifting from one foot to another. and it soothes your worries.

everything is silent, for a bit. you look down at the asphalt, at your own reflection in a puddle, and geto gazes at the bushes of hydrangeas to his right. you feel safe, right next to him, under his umbrella. and he feels content to have you there. your shoulders brush together, for a moment, and it sends a jolt through your heartbeat.

geto inhales a breath.

”by the way —” 

”— have you studied for the exam?”

you both still. blurting out the words at the same time, turning to look at each other; sheepishly blinking in the other’s direction.

then he barks out a laugh.

”sorry,” he hums, a sleek smile on his lips. bright and sheepish. ”what was that? the exam?”

”ah — yeah,” you feel heat settle on the back of your neck, crawling up your ears. ”have you, um, studied for it at all?”

geto moves the umbrella from one arm to the other, smoothly directing you to stand on his right instead of his left. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, ghosting the fabric of your clothing. he stretches his free arm, a little stiff.

”yeah,” he exhales. ”not a lot, though.”

”really?” you blink up at him, trying not to blush at how easily he maneuvered you. stupid, stupid heartbeat. ”you strike me as the honour student type…”

geto scoffs. it leaves his lips before he can tug it back. ”satoru said the same thing.”

a breath spills from your lips, almost a chuckle. you’re not sure how to feel about being compared to gojo, of all people, but you’ll let it slide this once. ”well, you just kinda have that vibe.”

now he’s huffing, tethering on the edge of something childish, and your smile grows. you’re seeing him make a lot of new expressions today. 

”why, though?” comes a sigh. he must be playing it up, a little — you almost get fooled into thinking he’s pouting. ”is it the hair? i don’t even wear glasses anymore...”

”well —” you pause. ”hold on, you used to wear glasses?”

all you get is an absent hum. he doesn’t notice your wide, shellshocked eyes. ”when i was younger. i got rid of them a couple years back.”

“oh…” you try to imagine it, for a second. he’d look frighteningly good in them. just barely, you manage to keep yourself from saying it out loud. ”i think it’s more just your general personality. like, you’re responsible and polite… or something.”

and geto chuckles; the intersection between a teasing smile and a soft grin. it’s just a little bit ethereal, painted over with the humid summer air. he turns towards you.

”and that makes me an honour student?” 

”… okay, maybe not.” you bring a hand up to your hair, fixing it absently. deflating a little. ”you just strike me as intelligent, i guess.”

geto smiles, again, as always. the chuckle that escapes him is faint and fond, and awfully soft, dripping down his lips. ”well, thank you.” 

his eyes are warm, burning into yours. all you can do is glance away. you still don’t really understand this sensation — why he’s suddenly so easy to talk to. why he feels like something other than just a classmate, when he looks at you like that. 

then again, geto has always been a natural at putting people at ease. maybe that’s why you can’t help but warm up to him, compliantly, the way a child dutifully follows the first butterfly they ever see — it’s a little too pretty to resist. 

you want to slip deeper into his world, you realize. you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

”you guys really get along, huh?” you change the subject, speaking slowly, savouring every syllable. there isn’t any rush to get the words out all at once, when you’re with him. 

geto blinks, tilting his head. 

”hm?”

“you and gojo, i mean.”

a glimmer passes through his eyes, as your query sinks in. ”ah. yeah.” his gaze strays upwards, and a contemplative look settles into his face. he knows what you’re after, what you’re really asking; why are the two of you so close? why do you put up with his antics? 

what do you see in him? 

he thinks it’s a fair question. it’s not like he hasn’t asked himself the very same thing, before — satoru can be annoying. ignorant, too, and terribly rude. a little prick. when he stole his curry bun yesterday, geto wanted to kill him. spoiled little brat.

(then again, he’s…)

”he’s… well.” geto exhales, a little breathless. tasting the words on his tongue. ”you know how he is — but he’s not a bad guy.” 

and it’s true. he really isn’t. satoru is a lot of things; rude and spoiled, cocky and bratty, an expert at ticking everyone off. but there’s a kind of charm, there. an innocence that geto admires. 

satoru is childish — because he is a child. a child who knows a lot of things that children shouldn’t know. a child who doesn’t know the most basic of things. satoru doesn’t know how to make friends. he doesn’t know how to ask for help, doesn’t know how to give it. he doesn’t know what cotton candy tastes like, because he’s never tried it before. 

his childhood couldn't have been very warm. it definitely wasn’t normal. 

is that why he puts up with him, then? out of pity? of course not. the bare thought of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. he’d never look down on satoru, like that — and he knows he’d hate him for it. if anything, geto thinks that maybe the two of them are close because he doesn’t give him any special treatment. even if satoru wasn’t treated with warmth or love, he was certainly coddled. spoiled. it’s evident, in the way that he acts.

but satoru isn’t a god, and he shouldn’t act like one. 

one punch, right across the face; knocking the white-haired boy off his feet. that’s where their friendship began. there were stars in satoru’s eyes, geto thinks, when he looked up at him from the ground. sunglasses fallen off from the impact, blue eyes entirely on display, catching the light of the sun — gleaming with a certain bewilderment. almost amazement. like he didn’t know he could be hit, didn’t know it was possible. the sun shone down on him, illuminating the vague bruising on his cheek, and geto wondered if that was the first punch the boy had ever taken.

it certainly wasn’t a first for him, when satoru lunged at him next —

it was a little juvenile. more than a little deranged. geto isn’t one to throw fists, in the first place — he’s out of practice. the punch he fed satoru might’ve been a little too forceful. he couldn’t help but feel bad, every so slightly, for putting a bruise on that irritatingly pretty face of his. 

but it still ended with satoru’s arm around his shoulder, a buzzing voice by his ear, proclaiming them as friends. cheery and bright.

geto couldn’t help but echo the statement.

(satoru is a lot of things. 

most of all, he’s really hard to hate.)

geto’s answer brings a smile to your face. ”yeah,” you hum, soft voice breaking him out of his reverie. ”he isn’t.”

he looks at you. silently, a question of his own brewing in his irises — and with you so close, close enough to touch, smiling at him like he’s an old friend… geto can’t help but indulge in his own curiosity. 

he tries to appear nonchalant, stealing a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. ”seems like the two of you are getting along better, too.” 

”me and gojo?” you blink, surprised. a little flustered. huffing out an amused breath, trying to brush off the bare thought. ”no way.”

geto laughs — it’s a deep sound, a full one. somehow very earnest. you wonder if that’s how his laugh always sounds, whenever gojo’s involved. ”oh, come on. you don’t hate him that much.” a teasing glint blooms in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you. ”or am i wrong?”

you pause. faltering, a little, gaze falling down to the pavement — then to the sky — then to him. and then back to the pavement. 

”… i mean…” you attempt to squeeze the words out from within your chest, but you can’t help but feel hesitant. as if gojo could jump out of the bushes at any moment, ready to tease you if you say anything that paints him in an even moderately decent light. ”i don’t… hate him. but he’s still annoying.” a pout slips onto your lips. “he has it out for me, you know.”

geto laughs, again. you note that you’re fond of the sound. ”isn’t that because he likes you, though? he just doesn’t know how to show it. it’s like pulling pigtails.”

”don’t even joke about that,” you scoff, shooting him a scowl. “and that wouldn’t make it any better, even if it was true.”

a fond smile. ”yeah, you’re right.” he opts to dial down on the teasing, shifting into a more sincere tone. ”you do seem more friendly now, though. before it felt like you really hated his guts.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. brows furrowing, as you mull on what to answer with. unsure how you really feel. it’s not like you’re suddenly super close, or anything — but you have gotten friendlier. just by a smidge, but still. you’ve gotten better at putting up with him and his antics, at finding comfort in how open he can be.

after a tiny pause, you speak up. 

”… i still don’t really understand him.” you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip, trapping it between your teeth. “but i think i might be starting to.” 

you’re a little embarrassed over the words that fall from your lips, barely above a whisper. 

”… he’s not the worst.”

geto smiles, but you don’t see it — gaze still lingering on the droplets that bounce off the pavement. ”i’m glad,” he hums, earnest. ”that guy needs more friends.”

something about his tone of voice urges you to look at him. that smile of his is bright, gleaming in the rain, in the midst of the flowers all around you. a little teasing, a little boyish, but somehow very sincere. you didn’t think you’d get to see it up close.

and you can’t help but chuckle. the raven-haired boy glances over at you, confusion in his eyes.

noticing it, you breathe out a quiet chuckle. ”sorry, it’s just —” a teasing grin smooths over your lips. ”you guys bicker a lot, and you act like he annoys you… but you really care for him, don’t you?”

this time, geto almost stops in his tracks. his eyes widen, slightly, and you’re not sure why he seems surprised — when he always sounds so fond saying satoru’s name, talking about him like they understand each other fully. maybe he didn’t notice it until now. 

a moment passes, before he collects himself, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. awfully good at keeping his composure. 

(though he fails to fully conceal the flustered look on his face.)

”i wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbles, but it only makes you chuckle again. his lips curl up slightly, at the sound; despite his embarrassment. ”someone’s gotta look out for that idiot.”

”right. of course.”

geto gives you a displeased little look. you bite back a laugh. feeling at ease, by his side — you get the sense that you can trust him, that you could tell him absolutely anything, and he still wouldn't use it against you. it’s a relief.

standing there, under geto’s umbrella, in the shadow of summer, rain obscuring the world — you reach a definitive conclusion.

you want to get to know him. want to see inside his heart, hear more of his thoughts. if you could only step over that gap between you, wriggle your way into his world — 

you think you’d be happy.

so, as you walk side by side, narrowly avoiding puddles and breathing in the humid summer air, you try to coax them out of him. little thoughts, bits and pieces of the suguru geto you yearn to meet.

(unbeknownst to you, he’s doing the same.)

you continue to talk. about miniscule things, meaningless things, a comfortable sensation of trust simmering in the air between you. and before you know it, you’ve stepped onto the school grounds, stopping right in front of the dormitory.

”here we are,” geto hums, folding the umbrella and tucking it between his arm and torso. you turn to look him in the eye, taking an absent step away.

”thanks, geto,” you can’t help but smile. ”for letting me walk with you.”

”don’t mention it.” he brushes you off with ease, quick to drag the door open; waiting for you to step inside before following suit. always so accommodating. 

for a second, he hesitates. a glimmer of uncertainty, in his eyes, that you miss — stretching out your tired limbs with a shallow groan, enjoying the warm and dry air on your skin. 

finally, geto takes the leap.

when he parts his lips, his voice comes out soothing. natural and breathy, floral patterns blooming on his tongue; as silky as jasmine petals. ”you can call me suguru, you know.” he lets the silence linger, for a moment. ”if you want to.”

you turn to look at him, eyes widening, at the sudden offer, and he can’t get a good read on the emotion reflected in them. you seem caught off guard, but he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

after a moment or two, you fumble for a response. 

”oh. um — okay? i will, then.” you shake your head, as if brushing off the hesitance you feel, mustering the courage to imitate his offer. ”in that case, you can call me by my first name, too.” 

a brief pause. 

”… if you want to.”

geto smiles. it’s laced with relief, hard to notice, impossible to miss. instead of answering with an affirmation, he takes a more teasing approach — unable to resist the temptation.

so he says your name. your first name, dragging the syllables out on his tongue, as if tasting it. trying to get used to the way the letters bend as they come out of his mouth. despite the teasing lilt it carries, the sound is oddly earnest; he pronounces it clearly, like he’s trying to call you to his side. you almost feel compelled to take a step towards him. 

geto looks you in the eye, as he calls you by your given name, for the very first time — and you can’t help but grow flustered.

”… suguru,” you echo, for whatever reason. you think your brain may be slightly fried. but it feels right, to say it. suguru. 

(what a pretty name.)

suguru smiles at you. you think it’s just a little wider than usual, a little more sincere. almost giddy, if you squint. in the open air, the intimate atmosphere simmers.

finally, you clear your throat, glancing in the direction of your dorm room. a silent que for him to follow.

and he does. leaving the umbrella by the hall, before walking you to your door. his steady, soothing presence sticking to your skin. you’re just about to place your fingers on the doorknob, when a pang of realization hits you — stopping you in your tracks.

”oh — right!”

swiftly, you turn on your heel, facing suguru again. he gazes down at you, bemusement in his eyes. watching as you rummage through the plastic bag hanging off your arm. finally, you find what you were looking for; holding it out towards him. 

”here,” you give him a warm smile. ”as thanks.”

suguru accepts it, compliantly, allowing you to slip a pack of gum into his palm. he recognizes the brand, one he favours over others. it helps him, on days he can’t find his appetite. 

did you see him chewing it at some point, he wonders? when, though? 

maybe you’re always paying attention to the people around you. the way they like their coffee, their favoured flavour of gum. it may be a small kindness, an absentminded one, but suguru thinks that makes it all the more meaningful. a kindness that seeps out of you, that draws him in. 

he wants to know more, about you. he really does.

but for now, this is enough. a walk back to your dorm, your shared home, talking and growing closer than before. 

it’s a small step, but in the right direction. 

the pack of gum stirs a mellow, tender feeling in his chest. all he can do is give you a smile, and a thank you that you’re quick to brush off. then you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind you — flopping down on your bed with a muffled squeal. a giddy kind of excitement swimming in your veins. because finally, finally, you feel like the gap between you has been dented.

you know what his real laugh sounds like. that the tips of his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed. you know that he used to wear glasses, that you’re a little more similar than either of you could have assumed.

you know that you’re fond of him. fond of a boy with black hair, who smells of summer and rain and chewing gum. fond of a boy you’ve only scratched the surface of.

on the other side of the door, suguru walks back to his room. with a pep in his step, one that satoru notices — because of course he does — appearing from around the corner with a shit-eating grin.

“oh? what were you doing over there, suguru?”

suguru ignores him. popping a piece of the gum you gave him into his mouth, a flavour of apricot melting on his tongue — he sinks his teeth into it, slowly, feeling his lips curl up into a smile.

it tastes of summer and youth. a memory that both of you will savour, for many years to come.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: racer!john b x s/o!reader x racer!jj

cw: dom/sub undertones, spanking, dp in one hole, goes without saying but… unrealistic sex lol, threesome, armpit action (jj with john b), BOYS KISSING 😨, written in the middle of night while watching the powerpuff girls so once again don’t think just vibe, f1 racer john b & jj coded but i didn’t care enough to make it super accurate 💀, fucking on the hood of a car, possibly ooc since this is my 2nd obx piece, implications of plus sized reader

wc: 999

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

“C’mon dude, be careful, ‘m gonna hit my head on the windshield if you don’t slow down.” JJ moans, lazily sucking your tongue. Every one of John B’s thrusts sends you further up the hood of his race car, which the three of you are recklessly fucking on top of. They just wanted to celebrate their positions on the podium with their biggest fan.

The garage in which the car is being kept is so cold your nipples could fall off, but the body heat being shared between the three of you will probably keep it at bay. Probably.

Both John B and JJ were drenched in sweat and some kind of grease, the smell only makes your pussy clench tighter around JJ, his hips shoot up in surprise.

“Oh F-fuck! Just like that, mama~ So tight….”

John B’s pace in your ass slows so he can smack JJ upside the back of his head, “Told you to be fuckin’ quiet, don’t wanna get your bare ass on the news, maybank.”

Before JJ can retort that he very much would not mind him accidentally mooning whatever poor race track employee stumbles upon them, John B is grabbing his hair in one fist with the hand that’s not clutching at your fat ass and shoving his smug face into his hairy armpit.

The lesson does nothing, like usual, JJ just moans as his boyfriend’s strong musk invades his senses. He can wet smacking sounds that are obviously you and John B making out while John B rams your asshole. Since JJ already came before the two of you earlier, he busies himself with cleaning John B’s armpit and weakly slapping his balls against you when the friction fades away too much.

“Always yapping our baby’s ear off for no reason, when you know what else your mouth should be doing instead.”

The unabashed freakish behavior tests John B’s resolve, and he slaps JJ’s face to signal him to stop so he can drag him into a sticky kiss. Your clit throbs at your favorite sight of your boyfriend’s tongues curling around each other, especially when the string of spit that connects them when they pull away snaps and falls on your face.

You’re suddenly taken hostage into a threeway french kiss, which you pull away from to gasp when out of nowhere John B gropes your jiggling ass before harshly spanking it. You moan and try to stick your hips out as far as possible in your sandwiched position, earning you more rough spanks that leave the flesh stinging like hell. Just what you wanted, with a red handprint to match too.

“Yeah I know you like that, baby. This pretty little ass looks so good in red.” John B coos, smoothing his hand over the raw skin to soothe the welcome pain.

JJ pouts at the display, despite his cock seeming to harden inside of your creamy cunt. You lean down to suck on his nipples to placate him, silently communicating that he always gets spanked after you anyway.

JJ threads his hands into your hair, making sure you keep his chest lookin’ pretty as he mentally prepares himself to start fucking up into you again. You’re just so heavenly and wet and warm and tight, he really does think you were put on this earth to drain the life outta him via his balls.

John B’s warning glare stops him, and when he obeys and keeps his hips still, the former’s gaze softens and JJ’s rewarded with a soft kiss on his forehead.

John B slowly eases out of your throughougly fucked ass, his thick tip catching on the puffy rim. You look over your shoulder to watch as he gives his stupidly big cock a few quick pumps before aiming the head at your stretched pussy. You nod and bite your lip when he shoots you a questioning look, having been together so long at this point that none of the three of you really needed any words to speak to each other.

The look of sheer excitement on JJ’s face when he feels the other man’s cock slide up along his inside of you is almost better than how pleased your greedy hole is.

“Oh shit, are you sure you can take it, mama? You’re already shaking over me, ‘s cute.”

“They’re doing just fine, aren’t you, peach? So good for us, our little cheerleader.” John B answers for you, you moan out a ‘yes, babe i can always take it’ to JJ as you get used to the stretch.

You don’t indulge in this often, and truth be told your boyfriends are usually hesitant to give you both of their dicks. Winning never fails to get them so horny that they’d be willing to listen to the devils on their shoulders that are their cockheads though. It’s why you always run to jump in their arms with an extra pep in your step when they break through the crowd of press and racing personnel.

You wiggle your hips to indicate that they can move, and they start fucking with gentle thrusts. They speed up their pace soon after, both of your boyfriend’s moaning at the feeling of their cocks rubbing together inside of you. Not one of you is thinking coherently, you’re all too preoccupied with panting into each other’s mouths and scratching red lines down whatever parts of your sweaty bodies you can reach.

It’s a miracle you and JJ don’t slip off of his car’s hood, there’s countless kinds of fluids all over you and you depend on John B behind you to hold you up. JJ’s too fucked out to down to earth. You suck bruises into his neck when he throws it back against the car as John B hunches over to bite down your back.

Two sets of hands toy with your fat clit, and your orgasm makes you black out so hard that you miss the questioning shouts outside.

[bad268]

Same to You

Aftermath Affair Pt. 5/Finale

(Oscar Pisatri X Reader + Ex! Lando Norris X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope, happy 5 years! (So this was supposed to come out on Saturday last week but I fucked up the schedule lol)

Warnings: VERY heavy use of language and violence (reader gets trapped between Lando and a wall and reader shoves Lando against the wall), cheating, Song referenced: Same to You by The Vamps

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1576

Chapter Summary: First race of the season, first race after the breakup, and first race hard launching. What could go wrong? Oh right! A teammate!

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 4

~~(^Both from Pinterest)

Six months. Six amazing months later, and you were ready to go back on the track. Oscar was also so different compared to Lando and how he wanted you at the track. Lando wanted you there to keep up appearances. You had to dress the part, and despite how uncomfortable you were, it was the only way Lando would agree to have you in his garage.

Nope, not Oscar. He wants you to have fun, do whatever you want, and take you anywhere you want in the paddock. When you first got together, he asked you almost every week if you were interested in attending a race. He always said he could get you a pass, just give him the word and he’d do anything for you.

This time was the Australian Grand Prix. Season opener, one of your favorite tracks, and Oscar’s home race no less. You wanted to be there for this. You let him know plenty of time in advance, and Oscar may or may not have already gotten you a pass, hoping you would agree to go to his home race.

Now, being on the track, you never wanted to leave again. Whether it was the atmosphere or vibe of Australia or not, you were feeling the buzz around the paddock. You wanted to always be a part of it. You were thriving in it!

Given that it was Thursday, you had walked in with Oscar’s hand tightly grasped in yours, but he had to go for the media, panels, and interviews. He said you were free to go practically anywhere, and he showed you around the McLaren Hospitality and his driver’s room before his PR manager came calling for him. He said he would have his phone on him the whole time just in case you needed him or got lost.

You found a little corner table on the second floor of the hospitality building that faced a large window, overlooking the pitlane. You grabbed a small plate of food and your favorite drink as you sat comfortably in the corner and opened a book. You should have known the peace would not have lasted long.

“Hey, what’s up?” A voice broke your concentration. Looking up, and of course, it was Lando.

“Hi Lando,” You greeted with a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing much, how about you?”

“Same,” Lando replied quickly, pulling out the second seat from the table to take it. “I heard you moved on. How’s that?”

“It’s going great,” You smiled a little more laid back, thinking about Oscar. You put a bookmark in your book as you set it down, thinking this could be a kindhearted conversation. “He’s amazing.”

“I think you’re lying,” Lando smirked as he leaned forward on the table, his face just inches away from yours. You looked at him confused, which had him chuckling ominously. “I have to smile really. You packed up your things and drove for miles, but you really couldn’t get that far away from me.”

“What the hell are you saying?” You scoffed in disbelief as you leaned back as far as humanly possible from him. “Are you trying to say that I’m with Oscar to be closer to you?”

“All I’m saying is, would someone who hated my guts willingly be with someone so closely related to me?” Lando teased as he chuckled more. He leaned back and laughed a little louder, garnering a few stares. “Be honest, you miss me already. Does he love like I do? Touch like I do? Does he hold you like me? Make you feel free?”

“You can shut up, Lando,” You seethe, moving to gather all of your things in haste. 

“You’re hurrying because I’m right,” Lando gloated as he stood up as well and moved to follow you when you grabbed your things to make a run toward Oscar’s driver’s room. Unfortunately, Lando decided to put his body between you, and the only door you knew would take you to Oscar’s room. “Open your eyes and you will see that everything you do with Oscar, you wish it was with me.”

“You’re lying to make yourself feel better,” You pressed as you tried to go around him. He just blocked your body and turned to cage you between him and the wall. “Lando, let me go.”

“Babe, does it feel the same to you?” Lando whispered as he leaned in and breathed against your ear. You had to bite back the gag as he leaned his head down to your shoulder as his breath fanned over your neck. “Tell me, does this feel the same to you?”

“No, it feels better,” You hinted, knowing you meant one thing, and Lando took it another. You felt him chuckle against your skin as he dropped a hand from the wall to rest on your waist and you knew that was your chance. 

You grabbed his wrist, spun his arm around, and pushed him against the wall, locking him in place. You pushed his head against the wall to keep him in his place as you ranted.

“Lando Norris, did you ever think I would stoop that low to get back with you? I’m not the one who fucked up here!” You raised your voice a bit which gained attention from some of the McLaren staff. One of which you recognized as Oscar’s PR manager, who took off, probably to find Oscar. “You were the one who cheated on me. You were the one that ruined a 7-year long relationship because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants. And to make it worse, you introduced her to other drivers as your girlfriend as if I never existed!”

“Ok listen to me-” He tried to cut you off.

“No!” You shouted, “I’m done listening to you! Oscar is the most caring, attentive, and supportive person I know. You have nothing on him. He is everything to me, and you are nothing. Do you understand me, Lando?”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Lando mumbled in a mocking way and that just pissed you off even more. 

“Oh, almost like forcing your teammate to endure all the sounds that come with cheating?” You mocked back with a large smile. “Yeah, you wanna talk about harsh, take a look in the fucking mirror. You have always said shit to me about anything and everything I did. Oscar encourages me to be myself. Here, I’ll give you this, I’m sorry that when we first got together, I didn’t have a backbone. I can say it now. You hate the way that I walk? Shit outta luck. You hate the way that I talk? Get over it. You hate the way I dress? Fuck off! The world doesn’t revolve around you! I don’t revolve around you! It’s not my fault you cheated on me with a sponsor no less, and it’s not my fault that you can’t accept it. Go bury your sorrows in Ava Small’s pussy for all I care.”

With that, you gave him one last shove and turned around, taking a deep breath before facing the crowd. Most of the McLaren crew were smiling at you and giving you reassuring nods, but one in particular captured your attention. Oscar Piastri, your knight in shining armor, stood a little closer than the rest of the group as if he were ready to jump in for your defense at any given second. His face was in awe as you slowly walked up to him, holding out your hand. That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts as he shook his head a bit and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to you. At this moment, Lando Norris was the furthest thing from your mind as you gazed at Oscar. He pecked your lips lightly before leaning his forehead against yours.

“That was hot,” Oscar whispered as he peppered kisses around your face while you giggled and gently pushed him away. He finally stopped, wrapped his arms around you and left one last kiss on your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Your therapy’s been working.”

“It’s not just therapy,” You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “It’s you. I wouldn’t have any of the confidence to stand up to him without you.”

“Don’t discredit yourself,” He played off, “You’ve come a long way in a year.”

“And a lot of that is thanks to you,” You pressed as you poked Oscar’s cheek before leaving your hand resting on his cheek. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“I have an idea,” Oscar whispered as he pulled away slightly. You looked to the side to see all of the McLaren crew pull out their phones, and when you looked back over to Oscar, he wasn’t where you left him. No, he was kneeling before you, holding out an unopened ring box. “I’ve been thinking-”

“If this is a proposal, yes,” You replied excitedly, not needing to hear anything or see the ring. If Oscar had a whole speech planned (which he did!), he could share it in private since you two would more likely prefer to keep that moment between you two. 

“I really worried for nothing," Oscar joked as he opened the box and gently slipped the ring on your left ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Just like you and Oscar.

~

Tags- @barcelonaloverf1life

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[iinumakiis]

Put Your Records On

prompt: first date with yuuta!

pairing: yuuta okkotsu/reader

warnings: noncurse au, fluff, two idiots in love, yuuta's a nervous wreck, ooc (?), not proofread

a/n: first yuuta fic let's goooo >.< likes + reblogs appreciated!

A light knock sounds from your door, pulling you from the frantic effort to make yourself presentable. Upon opening up, Yuuta is stood in the doorframe, hands wringing together nervously.

"Hi Yuuta," you beam, flashing him a small smile, "I'll be out in just a second, let me grab my keys." He nods in response, opting to stuff his hands in his jean pockets. Returning with your keys, you shut and lock the door behind you, setting off walking on the sidewalk.

"So, did you have anything in mind?" You ask, glancing sideways to look at his face.

"Yeah, there's somewhere I wanted to show you, I haven't taken anyone here with me yet." He answers, a light blush dusting over his face.

A small laugh makes it's way out of your chest, forcing him to look over at you. He takes in how your eyes crinkle when you laugh, head thrown back ever so slightly, the way you expose your teeth in a grin, and he's bewitched.

One of your hands comes up to fan your face as you try to calm down your laughter. You glance towards him, cocking an eyebrow curiously, having caught him staring at you. Yuuta's face lights up again, quickly snapping his field of vision away from you, his own embarrassed smile tugging at his lips.

"See something you like?" You flirt, playfully knocking your arm into his, causing him to actually laugh.

"Yeah, I think so." He smiles towards you, his smile, that smile that makes you feel like sunshine.

After another 20 minute walk and some flirty-playful banter, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into what looks like a bookstore. Tall shelves line the room, each cluttered with books of any genre you could think of. You inhale, savoring the comforting dusty smell of old books.

"Oh my god, Yuutaaaa!" You squeal, excitement evident in your voice. A hand of yours instinctively comes to clutch his arm and squeeze gently, the enthusiasm coursing through you. "You know me so well."

Much to his dismay, he can feel his face heating up again at the contact, one of his own hands coming up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "This actually isn't even my favorite part."

With a gentle hand, he takes yours and guides you to a set of stairs leading to a lower level of the building. At the end of the stairs, a soft gasp leaves your mouth, awestruck by the sight. The lower level was overflowing with records and CDs, a record player sitting on one of the shelves playing an old 70s love song.

Yuuta glances at you, anxiety obviously overcoming him as he speaks quickly, "I know it's nothing crazy or super exciting, I just normally come here when I want to get away. I thought you might enjoy the whole vibe of this place as well-"

His rambling is stopped in its tracks when you wrap your arms around his neck, effectively pulling him into an embrace. "Yuu, I love it! This is amazing!" The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile, sighing in relief.

The next several hours are spent with both of you bouncing back and forth in conversation over music, books, movies - anything that came to mind. Conversation felt easy with Yuuta, and each lull in said conversation felt comfortable.

Well past when you thought you'd be home, you finally make your way outside the store, noticing that the sun had set. Each of you carried a bag with one book and one record, having decided to pick personal favorites for each other and share.

"I should probably be getting home, Yuu. It's dark and I'm really not trying to deal with weirdos after such a good night," you sigh, not wanting to leave him.

Yuuta catches this easily, softly grasping your hand into his and interlocking his fingers in yours. "Don't worry, I can walk you home," he says easily, flashing you his sunshine smile that never fails to make you weak in the knees. Without thinking about it, you're nodding along in agreement, and he's leading you back home with slow steps.

"I really did have fun tonight, Yuu, thank you for taking me somewhere so special to you," a faint blush creeps up your cheeks, mentally thanking whatever higher power that the only light to acknowledge it were the sparsely placed streetlights.

His eyes catch yours and he chuckles, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Why wouldn't I want to share my favorite place with my favorite person?"

At Yuuta's words, the light pink darkens to a scarlet. Too scared that if you speak you'll say something stupid, or your voice will crack, you opt to just hum contentedly in response.

Two pairs of feet tap the stairs up to your front door, and he releases your hand. Arriving home has never felt more tense then it does now, him staring at you, with his ears twinged pink in a blush.

"Well... Uh- I hope you have a good rest of your night, [y/n]," He concludes, starting to spin away from you, mentally cringing at himself for being so awkward.

"Hey, Yuu?" You ask quickly, abandoning your bag on your porch. "Hm?" He turns again to face you, only to find you directly in front of him, breathing a little harder than normal. "Are you oka-"

Navy eyes widen as you softly press your plush lips against his, your hands coming to gently take his face between your hands. Slowly, his eyes flutter shut, letting himself sink into the kiss, silencing any thoughts he had about himself ruining things. His slender fingers find your waist and tenderly hold you, almost as if he let go, you'd vanish like a figment of his imagination.

You pull away first, looking at him with hazy eyes, hands coming to rest delicately on the chest. A love-drunk smile plays on your face as you slowly steady your breath and racing heart.

"Now I will have a good night."

© iinumakiis - please do not repost, alter, copy, or translate my works!

[moviecritc]

hii ! i was wondering if i could request a fanfic about Max verstappen and y/n —or you can give her a name UR CHOICE :) — anyways could you possibly follow the lines of them being complete strangers meeting in the Mexico GP, to becoming friends, then later on being lovers.

I’m not sure if you like to write sad stories but could you also possibly make a sad ending where towards the end they break up and whenever they are around eachother they act like complete strangers

Hopefully you take my request :) it was mainly inspired by a song called “strange” by Celeste !

Thank youuu !!

fortnight ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reporter!reader

word count: 2.7K

warnings: bad boyfriend behaviour, angst (sort of)

a/n: it took me so long finishing this, and im not fully convinced with the result :( i also changed things a bit. anyways i loved the whole vibe, so maybe i write something similar soon

also this ended up giving massive fortnight by t swift vibes so i named it bc of that

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

They were made for each other, or at least that's what everyone said. They had their first encounter at the Mexican Grand Prix. Y/N had been working as a reporter and interviewer for the races all season, but she had never had the chance to interview Max.

Mexico must have been one of Y/N's favorite places, all the culture, food, and people made her feel very welcomed. The race week in Mexico was the one she felt most nostalgic about once the season was over.

She arrived at the airport on Tuesday or Wednesday, she didn't quite remember, the only thing she remembered about her arrival in Mexico was the jet lag and that instead of grabbing her suitcase, she took Max Verstappen's.

She had always felt a certain intimidation towards him, by his way of driving and treating his teammates on the track. So, she was terrified to have to contact him. Surprisingly, it was Max who contacted her.

He called a few hours after she arrived at the hotel, she still wondered how he got her phone number and her name.

"Y/N L/N?" he asked. She recognized the voice and took a few seconds to process it. "I'm Max. I think I have your suitcase."

"Hello, yes. Uh, I think I have your suitcase too," She scratched her neck a bit.

"Ah, fantastic. Are you free now to exchange them?"

"Sure, yeah. Where?"

"I can come to your hotel, I don't want to cause you too much trouble," Max commented in a calm tone. That seemed like a super sweet gesture coming from him.

"Alright, I'll send you the location, come whenever you can," And they hung up.

Y/N was quite impressed by how nice Max had been, and that it was him who contacted her and offered to go to the hotel, even though she was the one who took the wrong suitcase.

Literally five minutes later they called her room phone, telling her that someone was asking for her. She went down with the suitcase immediately, meeting the pilot and his suitcase.

Max waved his hand a bit so she would know it was him, although Y/N knew perfectly well who he was. Max observed her, she had brown hair with lighter tips than the rest of her hair, probably from dyeing it in the past, and quite long curtain bangs. Somehow her face looked familiar to him, as if he had seen her before, but at the same time not.

"Hey, here you go," Y/N handed him the suitcase and they made the exchange. "I'm really sorry for the trouble, really, I didn't even realize it wasn't my suitcase,"

"It's okay, don't worry. Did you open the suitcase?" He slightly bit his lip.

"Well, yes. But I only saw the eight or nine Red Bull shirts, I realized it wasn't my suitcase," she said, smiling.

That made Max laugh. "Are you here for the race?"

"Well, yes, I'm a reporter for DAZN," Y/N nodded.

Max raised his chin a bit, understanding why the brunette looked so familiar. He looked around and then at his watch. "Are you busy now?"

Y/N blinked, was he…?

"No, not now," she pressed her lips, trying to hide a smile.

"Can I invite you for a coffee?" he smiled shyly.

"Oh," Y/N pondered for a few seconds what to tell him.

"If not, don't worry," Max spoke. Maybe she had been thinking about the answer for too long.

"No, of course. I'd love to,"

Was it a strange start? Yes. But only that afternoon they connected in such a strange way that it scared them. Y/N had two Siamese cats, Max had two Bengal cats. He spent hours on the sim, she could spend hours watching the same series, which wasn’t exactly the same, but close. They both supported FC Barcelona and the most surprising thing was that she had been on exchange in the Netherlands, at the same school Max was attending. The only thing was that he barely went to classes because he was going from championship to championship.

That afternoon it felt as if someone had made them meet, because it was too much of a coincidence to find someone so similar to you because of one suitcase.

"Will I see you in the paddock tomorrow?" Max asked, as they were saying goodbye.

"I hope so,"

"Stop by the Red Bull garage if you have time,"

Y/N nodded and bit her lip, still unable to believe the instant connection she had with Max. She even forgot she had terrible jet lag. At no point did she consider that this could end badly.

…

At the Brazil Grand Prix, they were already sharing a hotel room. Nobody knew yet that they were together so they could come and go as they pleased. Y/N was still a reporter for DAZN, although now that she spent so much time with Max her reports started to be shorter and with fewer details. She barely paid attention to the races, she stayed near the Red Bull garage, trying to see him when he entered the pits.

By that time, Y/N realized that maybe she was spending too much time with Max. In just those two weeks, Max had been pivoting between the sim and the hotel bed. At first, he said nice things to her and stayed with her for a while, asking her what she had been doing or what movie she was going to watch now. But the last time, he dressed immediately and went back to the sim.

Y/N even remembered how well they had connected and how comfortable she had felt, although it had only been fourteen days ago. She didn't even think about confronting him, after all, they were nothing, they never were.

Why? A serious relationship would only take up time that he could use for much more productive things for his career. That was better, even if it made the brunette feel as if he only wanted to satisfy himself with her.

"Max, it's late and I'm hungry, what if we go out for dinner?" Y/N entered her room where he had all the set up, it was the first time she saw it and she thought it was crazy that Max had all those screens, all those gadgets just to pretend to drive.

"I can't now, schat," he said, moving his hand a bit to try to make physical contact with her, but he didn't manage to because he didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Well, remember we have the flight to Las Vegas tomorrow at noon. Come to bed soon," Y/N commented, looking at his crown.

She fell asleep before feeling Max's weight on the bed.

She didn't know why, but she really thought that in Vegas something would change, maybe because of the atmosphere or because it was the last races, maybe he would be slightly more relaxed now that he had practically won the championship. She even thought they would enter the paddock together, that she would have a fixed spot in the Red Bull garage or something, but a minimum of recognition from him towards her.

But it was quite the opposite. Max didn't show up in the paddock until Thursday afternoon while she had to be there since Tuesday. He made her take the plane alone and he didn't even text her when he landed. She had to find out he was already in Las Vegas when she saw him passing by her in the paddock and Y/N made a gesture to greet him, smile at him or make a simple gesture, but Max passed by without even looking at her.

That's when she realized she would have to confront him. He was behaving like a complete jerk, and Y/N was sure she wasn't the first woman who got fed up with him for that.

With a couple of calls and several messages, she managed to find out the hotel and the room where Max was staying. After a day full of interviews, Y/N went straight to the hotel address, knocking on his door.

"Hey, hello," he said, already in his pajamas and with a tired look. "I was thinking about you."

"Oh, me too," Seeing Max's hand on her waist, Y/N pulled away from him immediately.

Max raised his eyebrows at once, surprised by the abruptness of the brunette. "Are you alright?"

Y/N lowered her gaze slightly, choosing her words. Suddenly she was more than nervous to say something. "What… what are we?"

"In what sense?" he asked cautiously. He thought it was too soon for that conversation.

"What sense is it going to be?" she approached, realizing that Max probably was just a man like the rest, who had an unjustified fear of naming relationships.

"Uh," he said. Y/N blinked, waiting for a more complete sentence. "Do you want to make it public or something?"

Y/N ignored the 'or something', sticking only to the first words. She smiled a little, getting closer to Max.

"Is that what you want?" He asked again, putting his hands on her waist now that she let him.

"I would like that, yes," she nodded, before Max gave her a quick kiss. "You've been leaving me hanging for a few days."

"Schat, you know I have to train and prepare for the races," Max insisted, sliding his hands much lower than her waist.

Y/N was going to say something, but Max caught her lips and didn't let go until he felt satisfied.

On Friday they arrived together at the paddock, attracting attention from the media. They didn't talk much, she was afraid they would read her lips.

Y/N had to go with her team to interview the Ferrari team and they kissed in front of a couple of cameras as a goodbye. The image went viral in minutes. After finishing the interviews, she received a couple of comments from people around the paddock about how lucky Max was to have found her.

Y/N couldn't understand how he was the lucky one. After all, she was the one with the Formula 1 star pilot. She got on Twitter, seeing how several users commented on how amazing she was, how she had managed to make a name for herself in motorsport, how sweet and funny people found her, Y/N would never in her life use "funny" as an adjective to describe herself. And the best part, that Max should feel more than lucky to have her. That they made a practically perfect couple, that they coordinated super well. Just a few steps in the paddock had made them the couple of the moment. The example to follow.

Max won that race and jumped into her arms when he got out of the car, giving her a strong wet kiss in a very unsexy way. That totally took Y/N by surprise, she couldn't believe his first thought after winning was her. Who knows which of his PR team told him to do that.

"I'll see you in a few hours, wait for me in the hotel room," Max told her, kissing her cheek.

"Max, I also work here. I have to do interviews," she reminded him, with a somewhat serious look.

"Ah, alright,"

"Let me know when you're done," Y/N turned without saying or doing anything else.

She worked until late at night without being able to get out of her head that she and Max had progressed so much in the relationship that they had skipped all the really good parts, the honeymoon phase. And this time it had been her fault, it had been her idea to make it public maybe too soon.

She arrived at Max's room, which was dimly lit and cold. She took a long shower, still wondering what she should do now that their relationship wasn't working out at all.

When she came out of the shower, with wet hair and pajamas on, she found Max lying on the bed, sliding his finger over the screen of his cell phone.

"The shower is free now, were you waiting for long?" Y/N spoke, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm already showered, I was waiting for you," Max admitted with a sweet look.

"Oh," she said. "You didn't have to, I'm sure you're tired,"

Y/N walked cautiously to the free side of the bed, because they hadn't even talked about their sides of the bed. Max got up and changed his clothes, Y/N remembered how good shape Max was in and how good he was in bed as he was with the car. She discreetly bit her lip.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Max mentioned as he sat down next to her, giving Y/N goosebumps. "Did you see that people adore us?" Max hugged her by the shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N let out a sustained thread of air in her lungs and smiled. "Yes," It seemed strange to Max that that was the only thing that came out of Y/N's mouth. "Is that a good thing, isn't it?" he asked, now somewhat confused. "Of course, someone should."

Max blinked, now separating from her body so he could see her well. "What do you mean by that?"

"Since we don't adore each other," she mentioned, as if by chance.

"What do you mean by that?" Max asked, having no idea what Y/N was saying.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. She wondered how someone couldn't realize something so simple.

"Forget it, Max," she fixed, getting comfortable in bed. "I'm tired."

"Wait, let's talk," he insisted, getting closer to her, with a worried look.

Y/N clicked her tongue, sitting up on the pillow. "Do you like me?"

"Of course, you're beautiful and attentive and intelligent. Why wouldn't I like you?"

That made her heart shrink a bit. "But do you see me as something lasting?"

Max thought about his answer. No. "I don't know,"

That was enough for Y/N to know the real answer, she clicked her tongue and moved slightly away from him.

"Y/N, you have to understand that I have a complicated job and…"

"For God's sake, Max, we both work in the same field. If you want to blame the distance or something like that, it won't work," Y/N denied, biting her cheek with anger.

Max pressed his lips, trying to hide that that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I think I better leave," Y/N commented, pulling the sheets.

Max saw all her movements, from when she got up until she picked up her things and left through the door. Y/N still somehow hoped he would say something, but Max didn't even move. He simply waited for her to leave so he could lie down and go to sleep.

Y/N didn't cry, she didn't even consider it. It had been a short time and there was no need to waste time thinking about what could have happened. For God's sake, she didn't even know if it had been a real relationship.

It had started perfectly but had been declining just a few days after they met.

In the last Grand Prix, Y/N was with her team most of the time, writing columns for DAZN's website report and preparing questions for her colleagues' interviews.

"Y/N, here are the questions for Max's interviews," her colleague said.

"Huh?"

"Everyone wants you to interview Max, for obvious reasons," he nodded, as if it were totally normal.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Y/N mentioned, making a face.

"Y/N, he and everyone else are waiting for the interview," he insisted, nodding his head behind his back. Y/N turned discreetly, observing Max leaning against a wall, trying so hard not to look at her.

"Fuck," she muttered with a soft frown. "Ok, let's do this quick,"

She standed up with a bored and sick stare, there was Red Bull's engineers everywhere and even people taking pictures of her.

"Hey," he greeted her as she approached.

"Let's get this over with quickly, okay?" she nodded.

"Try not to be too harsh, people still think we're together," Max commented.

Y/N's gaze hardened. "I'll do whatever I want, Max," she clenched her jaw and gave the cameraman a nod to start broadcasting the interview.

[wcbblife]

Ok I have another one, can you do juju x fem reader where reader is on live and she’s reading comments and someone says “ juju mid asf” and reader defends her by saying “ juju and mid don’t belong together in a sentence unless ‘not is between them’ ” or something like that (idk I was half asleep when i wrote this in my notes so you can change that if you want 😭). Then blocks the person cause she doesn’t allow anyone to talk abt her gf like that . Then juju gets sent the live from her teammates, so she txt reader or post it on twitter saying “my girl 🫡” or something 😭 I just had to write it in my notes before I forgot bruh 😭

Live Love

a/n: Kinda cheesy and short but I like it ngl. Hope you like it anon!

You’re live, chatting with your followers, enjoying the rush of interactions. The comments are flowing in, and you're responding to questions. After seeing fans online practically begging for you to go live following the volleyball team’s tournament win at home, you figured it’d be a great way to kill time while waiting at the airport for your next game. It was mostly fun, a comforting distraction.

You scroll through the comments, selecting a few to answer.

What’s your favorite thing to do on a day off?

“Great question! Honestly, I love just chilling at home, maybe cooking something new or catching up on shows. If Juju’s free, we’ll go grab some food or watch a movie. It’s all about relaxing and recharging.”

More questions flood the chat, and you pick another one.

Any book recommendations?

“Absolutely! I’ve been reading ‘The Song of Achilles’ lately. The writing is beautiful and so immersive. Highly recommend it. It’s a bit sad, though, so read it if you’re into that.”

Do you have any pets?

“Juju got a little puppy recently. You guys should see him—he’s the cutest. Juju calls him our kid now.”

As you continue engaging with the audience, the flood of comments and emojis feels like a warm embrace. But then, a comment stops you in your tracks, and your smile falters.

juju mid asf 😂

You pause, staring at the screen in disbelief. Juju’s been working tirelessly and seeing someone dismiss her like this hits unexpectedly hard. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the fire spreading through your body.

“Now I know I ain’t just read what I think I did, right? Juju mid as fuck? Don’t overstep. Juju’s my girlfriend. Juju and ‘mid’ don’t belong in the same sentence unless ‘not’ is between them, and I’m not going to stand by while people talk down about her in front of me.”

You pause, steadying your voice, determined to stand your ground.

“Keep her name out of your mouth. She’s achieved so much, and she deserves respect, not baseless criticism. You’re not going to get on my live and talk bad about my girlfriend, that’s for sure. I’m blocking you, bruh. Get out of here with that. If you don't have anything nice to say, shut your mouth. Let’s keep the vibes positive.”

Blocking the user brings a wave of satisfaction and relief. You continue engaging with your followers, but a part of you is still buzzing from the need to defend Juju.

“Alrighty, y’all, I’ll have to cut the Q&A short. We have to get on the plane now. Peace!”

Meanwhile, Juju’s phone buzzes with notifications. Her teammates have sent her clips from your live stream that fans had recorded and posted on TikTok. Watching, she feels a swell of pride.

Feeling touched and a bit playful, Juju opens Twitter to share a thought:

“My girl 🫡 #Proud #NotMid”

Shortly after her tweet, your phone vibrates with a text from Juju.

“Saw your live. Thanks for having my back. You’re amazing.”

A smile spreads across your face.

“About to take off. Love you.”

“I love you too, babe. Call me when you land.”

[chloeangelic]

Reflection of the Moon,

Ch 6 - Eyes on me

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

Series summary: An affair and resulting pregnancy with Joel in post-outbreak Jackson forces you both to reflect on what it means to forgive.

Chapter summary: You and Joel settle into your new roles and your new routine.

Warnings: Smut, age gap (reader is 28, Joel is 52), ass play, fingering, pregnant sex, creampie, fluff, extreme domestic vibes.

Word count: 4.5k Rating: 18+ AO3

A/N: This isn't very long, but it's my favorite chapter so far. I love when Joel is hot and overbearing and I love their dynamic.

All Joel seems to do is work; work to contribute to the community in Jackson, work to make his house a safe place for a baby, and work for your forgiveness, for your love, for you to let him be a present father, a good partner, even a husband if you let him propose to you. He made you promise to let him take care of you, feed you, keep you company, walk you places - overbearing already, not even a new father yet, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The thought of you having a lack of anything makes him incredibly stressed, incredibly worried and incredibly distracted when he’s out on patrol. He desperately needs to know that you have  every little thing you need, whether it’s a safe home or a snack in your bag or a sweater to wear or someone to keep you warm at night. The same routine every morning you leave his house, your lunch, your books, socks, sweater, keys, and you’re coming over for dinner, okay? Come straight here when school’s out and if you ain’t here by five, I’ll come lookin’ for you. 

And when you arrive at his house fifteen minutes late, saying you ran into Abby and Owen and got to chatting; the roll of his eyes, his head shaking, ”Out of control little lady, always got me worried about you”. You roll your eyes at him back, muttering helicopter husband, smoothing your hand down his shoulder while you look at the food he has cooking on the stove. His hand comes up to grab your jaw, tilting your face up to look at him with innocent eyes, batting your eyelashes and stifling a giggle. If you were a good girl and did as you were told, I wouldn’t have to be overbearing, would I now? 

“It’s more fun when you chase me around,” you say, twisting and turning in his grip so you lean your back into his chest, and his hand falls to your stomach, rubbing his palm over your steadily growing bump and running his nose up and down the side of your neck, oh, I bet. You grab the spatula to free up his other hand, and stir around the pan a little, chuckling to yourself, “Imagine how hard your life will be when there’s two of me running around you gotta keep track of.” Don’t remind me, you hear him mutter into your skin, followed by a huff of a laugh. 

Then, after a moment, “You know I’m gonna be the happiest man in the world, right?”, he whispers, and you can hear a little hint of a sniffle as he buries his face in your hair.

“Jesus, don’t tell me you’re fucking crying again, Joel,” you say, trying to sound surprised, annoyed, anything but painfully familiar with how much of a sap this man truly is.

You try to turn around to face him, but his strong arms have snuck under yours and wrapped around your belly, his face dug into the crook of your neck now, not letting you turn around, leaving you to no option but to stand there for a while, running your fingers through his hair, letting your nails drag through his beard on the way down as he kisses your jaw. 

-

Despite having your class schedule written out and hanging on his fridge, Joel somehow manages to interrupt another few classes to drop off your lunch, his inability to remember when your lunch break is, now resulting in your students asking for Mr. Joel quite frequently, and being overjoyed when he comes in the door once again. You wave him in, reaching your hand out and tapping your fingers together like a crab, gimme gimme, gesturing at the lunchbox in his hand.  

He seemed shy, very shy, the first two times he came in, but he seems to have softened over the last little while, opening up more and more, unable to hide his smile when the kids remember his name. You figure you might as well take a breather, and open the box on your desk to see a stack of pancakes, a little container of syrup, and a set of cutlery neatly wrapped up in a little cloth.

“How about-” you start to say as you drizzle the syrup, not paying your students or Joel any mind at all, smacking the tips of your fingers when you’re done pouring, “You all ask Joel anything you want, and I’ll sit here and eat my lunch." 

And so you sit there, listening to their questions and his stories, enjoying your pancakes and looking up at this man, this beautiful and caring and responsible man, who is so good with children and teenagers, so attentive and patient and interested in everything they have to say. It makes your heart flutter and twist around itself, your baby refusing to stay still while you try to eat.

The girls in the front row, gossipy little chicks, giggle and look at you, then at Joel, then back at you, mocking you a little for how longingly you look at him. You don’t care, you could spend your entire day looking at him and listening to him talk, let his voice and his laugh fill your ears over and over. Your heart is about to burst when he tells a dad joke, a really shitty one, finally welcoming the role so warmly, excited about being a father again. 

It comes especially close to bursting when he walks you home and those same little students from the interrupted classes come up and tug at his jacket, wanting to tell him a joke, or a little story, about them or the class or their family, talking to him as if he were their uncle.

He crouches down and entertains them as you stand and watch, hear him laugh as they say, “My dad thinks you're scary but I think you're very nice, Mr Joel.” Despite his size, despite his grumpy demeanor, most of the time, and his ability to be downright terrifying, he is so, so gentle with them, speaking in a voice you’ve never heard from him, one that makes your insides melt, verging on cooing as he speaks the youngest ones. 

“Why are you such a dad?”, you ask as you walk away from the school, your hand locked in his, keeping you warm.

He shrugs, a careful smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “It’s all I know how to be." 

-

Jesus, he mutters as steps inside, looking at himself in the mirror and running his fingers through his hair. “You mind givin’ me haircut?”. he asks, “I got scissors in the bathroom somewhere.” 

You rummage around in the bathroom and listen to him starting dinner downstairs, moving to his bedroom when you’ve ransacked the medicine cabinet and cupboards to no avail. Your rummaging efforts move onto the dresser, carefully sliding a large drawer open to see a stack of baby books, parenting books, probably thirty years old, twenty at best. You pick them up one by one, flipping through to discover his bookmarks near the end of all four of them. 

Your eyes flutter closed and you take a few deep breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay as they press up against your waterline. He’s not leaving, he’s not leaving, he’s not leaving. You think it over and over, whisper it to yourself so you don’t forget. He’s here, and he’s not leaving, and he’s going to be there for you just like he said he would. He loves you and he loves your baby and he’s not leaving. 

Realizing you have to get these books out of your field of vision before you start sobbing, you carefully stack them where they were and move onto the next drawer, finding the scissors immediately. As you walk down the stairs and see Joel in the kitchen, you fight the urge to throw yourself at him and tell him that you accidentally snooped and found the books, that you’re so relieved and happy you want to cry, that you love him so much and you forgive him and you don’t want to be away from him for as much as a day ever again. 

So you snip the scissors a few times as you enter the room and point them towards a chair, motion for him to sit down and position yourself between his legs. You feel his hands sweeping up the back of your leggings as you comb through his hair, sliding up and along your curves and coming to rest on the sides of your bump, his thumbs tracing over his own flannel shirt that you’re wearing. You straighten out one section at a time and carefully cut it, letting it go to make sure it falls into a perfect arrangement. 

You can see his eyes on you the entire time you're combing through his brown and silver curls, trimming them one by one and wrapping them around your fingers to lay them down. Neither of you say anything, the scratch of the scissors the only sound in the room as you furrow your brow in concentration and his eyes soften as he looks at you, the mother of his baby, the love of his life. 

There’s no way of telling how much time is going by as you meticulously make your way through all of those thick, beautiful curls, but you hear Ellie’s door open and close, then open and close again through the window before you’re done. Thank you, mama he murmurs, and you don’t get the chance to say anything before he gets a little kick to this hand in response. You can’t help but giggle and close your eyes, flustered by your baby always giving you away when you try to play it cool with their father. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you, right, angel?”, he asks with a serious expression as you put the scissors down. I do, you smile, your voice barely a whisper as you twist your fingers through his hair. “I’ll give you anything you need, anything you want, you just have to tell me,” he says as his hands find your hips, pulling you down into his lap and resting on your lower back.

You look at each other for a while, nuzzling your noses together, touching each other's hair, shoulders, and hands in silence before he asks, “Will you move in with me?”

“You want me to?”, you ask in a lousy attempt at being sneaky, feeling your heart flutter at his proposal.

“I know things aren’t a hundred percent between us and I don't want you to feel like I’m pressurin’ you to forgive me, I just- I want to at least try to be a family, us three, and Ellie," he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes your palms, pulling you closer, “We can share my bedroom, or you can even get your own, I- I just need you to live with me so I know you're safe, so I can feed you, so I’m there when the baby comes.” 

You look at the little wrinkles forming around his eyes as he smiles, and you avert your eyes in an attempt not to giggle. “And I know you're lazy with your meals on weekends,” he says with a chuckle, playing with your hair, “Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” He carefully wraps his hand around your jaw, looks into your eyes and gives you a kiss, not letting go as you part.

“Will you?”, he asks, sounding on the verge of concern, “Please?”.

You nod as you snake your arms around him, whispering your answer into his ear, of course I will, I’d love to, and feeling him squeeze you gently in response. 

-

You find yourself awake in the middle of the night, the moon shining outside the window and the house completely quiet. You shift around a little and try to get back to sleep, sticking your foot under Joel’s wide back as you lay on your side, hoping that the warmth of his skin will soothe you to sleep, but minutes go by and you feel awake as ever, prompting you to carefully whisper,

 Joel? Are you awake? 

Yeah, you hear from his side of the bed, before he shifts around, finding you under the duvet and pulling you into him, wrapping your leg around his hip and resting your head on his bicep. “Couldn’t sleep?”, he asks softly, brushing the hair away from your face and neck, and you shake your head in response. “Me neither,” he says, putting his arm around your back.

You lay there for a few minutes, looking at each other, scratching his beard with your nails and giving a few soft kisses to the underside of his jaw. His eyes are heavy with sleep but his attention is on you, and you can tell he won’t allow himself to sleep again until you’re peacefully knocked out in his embrace. 

“What animal would you be in another life?”, you whisper, twirling one of his freshly cut, bouncy curls around your finger while he brushes your spine with his fingertips, tracing all the way up, then all the way down, over the curve of your ass and along the back of your thigh.

“Maybe a pistol shrimp,” he responds after a moment of reflection. A ridiculous answer from a ridiculous man.

“What the fuck?”, you mutter, trying to keep it down even though you’re the only two people in the house, “Why would you want that? Seems like a terribly meaningless existence." The room is relatively dark, but the moonlight shining through the window illuminates him enough for you to see the unamused expression on his face.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with being a shrimp,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “What’s the matter with you? Don't judge.” He tickles your side and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking your belly into the softness of his stomach, your baby seemingly still asleep despite the sound and touch of their father usually eliciting a barrage of kicks. 

“How do you think they feel, huh?”, he whispers into your ear, chuckling a little under his breath as the words leave his mouth, “Knowing some lady out there is wonderin’ why anyone would wanna be a shrimp?”

Weirdo, you roll your eyes and he rolls his back, mockingly.

“What would you be?”, he asks.

You take a moment to think, “I don't know… Maybe a raccoon, they're pretty cute.”

He nods a little, “You act like a raccoon.”

“Ah,” you gasp, trying to sound insulted but knowing he’s probably right.

“What?”, he gently takes your hand and squeezes it, rubbing his thumb into your palm, “Grabby little hands all over my fridge and cupboards, can barely keep snacks in there, they always get stolen somehow.” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for you to defend your not-so-subtle thievery. 

“It could be Ellie,” you finally say, blinking and biting the tip of your tongue, trying to give him the most innocent eyes you can.

“She's an honest thief, unlike you,” he scolds with false severity, looking at you with piercing eyes.

“Respect my hustle, god damn it,” you whisper through your teeth, “I'm pregnant and constantly hungry, do you have any idea what that’s like?” Your baby starts kicking at that, and Joel laughs, calmly and deeply in his chest, kissing and chuckling against your hairline as he feels the little kicks to the the skin of his stomach. “Someone agrees with me” he says and starts rubbing your belly.

“Mama’s a real thief, isn't she?”, he murmurs, looking down between you and caressing the side of your bump. “Steals my snacks, steals my heart, steals all my time. But I’ll give her anything”, he looks up at you as he slides his hand over your asscheek and squeezes, “Anything she needs, I’ll give to her. Cause she’s my world, I’m not sure if she knows that.”

You maintain a shared gaze for a while, his hand still following the tiny kicks and his smile never leaving his face. You’re so in love with him, so lost in the feel of his warmth surrounding you, keeping you safe. 

You run your hand over his thick shoulder, down his arm, feeling his muscles bulging out and the soft veins running on top of them. He’s so warm, like your own personal furnace, and his face is so soft, the wrinkle between his eyebrows merely a crease now, but the little lines by his eyes are more apparent than ever from how much he’s smiling. You card your fingers through his hair, seeing how his eyes flutter shut at your touch, before he opens them again and you can see the fire in them all of a sudden. “What do you need, mama?”, he asks with his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses up and down your skin.

“Just you, always you,” you purr as your hand traces up his arm to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m here, angel,” he whispers and rubs his nose against yours, “You gonna have my baby?”

Mhmm, you nod, keeping your face close to his. That’s right, he says under his breath, “You're so beautiful, I love seeing you like this.”

The hand on your belly finds the back of your head, his thumb reaching under your jaw to tilt your face up and back, letting him kiss you, letting him lick into your mouth deeper and deeper as you roll your hips along his thigh. He pulls you closer by your hips, and his hand moves down to the front of your panties, gently tracing along your seam, a little whimper coming from your throat, desperately pleading for him to touch you properly. 

The sound clearly amuses him and he pulls down the front of the fabric just enough to slip his hand in and find your clit, starting to gently rub. “Feels good?”, he whispers as you dig your face into his neck, murmuring, very, as he finds the right spot and moves in slow little circles. He noses your hairline and your cheek as he dips into your opening, slides a single finger in, all the way to the knuckle, just to hear you whimper again when he retracts it, and uses your wetness to slide the pad of his finger around your clit, refusing to speed up despite your hips bucking and your moans getting more desperate. 

“Calm down, baby, just relax,” he whispers, “Focus on your breathing. You’ll come, don’t gotta worry, just enjoy it.”

You take a deep breath and stop squirming, hear his voice in your ear, good girl, and just feel him gently rub you as your clit swells with arousal, getting more sensitive every time he gathers more slick and continues to stimulate you slowly.

“You’re gettin’ close, though, huh, baby?”, he murmurs, and you nod carefully, your eyes closed and your leg laying over his hip completely limp. It feels like every nerve in your entire torso is being stimulated, little waves of pleasure emanating from where he’s touching you, until you slowly reach your peak and your orgasm washes over your entire body, muscles tensing tightly then going slack and loose. Atta girl. 

You pull back from the dark, warm space of his neck as he gently works his fingers inside you, and you kiss him softly, biting his bottom lip a little. “Will you fuck me now? Please?”, you plead, batting your lashes at him, “I did as you told me to, didn’t I?”

He chuckles a little as he slides your panties off and carefully opens your legs, removes his own boxers and places your leg back over his hip, teasing the head of his cock along your slit, lifting his head enough to watch your hips wind up against him. 

“Eyes on me, angel, eyes on me,” he whispers as he wraps his hand around your jaw and angles it up, forcing you to look at him while he slides deep into you, hitting the very end of your pussy, watching your brows knitting and your mouth hanging open. He has you in a complete trance, his eyes dark as ever, somehow still visible in the low light of his bedroom, and you can’t look away as your gaze is lost in his.

You’ve never felt closer to him than you do now, completely wrapped up in him and filled by him, his overwhelmingly big and muscular body setting the pace, his thick cock rocking into you. You love being at his mercy, being soft for him and letting him touch and lick and rub and fuck any part of you he wants. He knows your body like the back of his hand, knows just when he's hitting the right spot, when you're getting close, and when you need him to murmur filthy little words of encouragement to make you come. 

Just like that, he praises as he grinds into you, angling his body so his pelvis rubs your clit. Your little nub has been aching and throbbing for attention again already, fucking hormones and the mere presence of this painfully gorgeous man, finally getting relief as you feel the pressure from his groin pulling at your skin and exposing the most sensitive part of you to him. His thick hair tickles your outer lips and the constant friction on your clit gets you closer with little whimpers of his name. He keeps grinding, holding your jaw and looking into your eyes until your pussy flutters around him and you start squirming, hearing the rumble in his chest while you come on him. Such a good girl for me, huh? he whispers, and you moan, long and drawn out and guttural, his name somewhere in the mix but barely coherent. 

You muster up the energy to say what’s been on your mind since you woke up, what you’ve been meaning to tell him for a while now, since it dawned on you that he isn’t leaving, that he isn’t scared anymore, that all he wants is to be with you and be exactly what you and your baby need. There they are, right on the tip of your tongue, the words he’s been waiting to hear, falling from your lips while you take him deep inside you, suck him in and squeeze around him, I forgive you. I forgive you, Joel. He watches you as you ride the waves, his face softening as he cranes his neck down to whisper I love you so much, my angel, I’ll always love you, for the rest of my life and forever, I love you while you shake and tremble and dig your nails into his back. You murmur a weak I love you too before you turn into putty under him. 

“Can- can you fuck me deeper?”, you ask in the form of an exasperated whisper.

“You always want me deeper, don’t you?”, he’s so amused. He pulls you close, splaying his large hand over the small of your back, caressing your skin with his thumb. You giggle, mhmmm, and he pulls out of you, then uses both hands to gently flip you over onto your hands and knees, running his palms along the length of your back, stuffing a pillow under you to make sure you’re comfortable, and pressing kisses all the way down your spine.  

He slides back into you, smooths his hands across the globes of your ass while you adjust to the angle, and waits to hear you moan into the pillow before he speeds up, starting to pull your hips back onto him while he slams into you. He pauses for a second, spits a glob of saliva down onto your asshole and rubs it in with his thumb before slowly pressing his finger into you, hearing you groan in pleasure as he pushes it further in. The stretch and pressure makes your clit ache and your walls clench around him, whining for him to go faster, faster, please, while you bring your hand to yourself and start rubbing. 

“Fuck, baby, so tight,” he groans, “Rub that little clit for me, lemme feel you come around my cock." You try to moan in agreement, an incoherent mess at this point as you touch yourself with a shaky hand, feeling his cock hit just the right spot over and over and over, making you arch your back to take him deeper, as deep as he wants. My beautiful, good girl, so pretty he coos, pushing his thumb a little deeper, and you’re close, speeding up your movements until you come with a violent, full-body jerk, your asshole fluttering around his finger, and collapse onto your chest, legs only held up by Joel’s arm around your hips, folding you in half. 

“Can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, “The moment I saw you I thought you were the prettiest little thing I’d ever seen.” He squeezes the flesh of your ass with both hands, bending down to kiss between your shoulder blades while he sits back on his heels and pulls you into his lap, snaking an arm across your front to lift you up a little and wrap his hand around your throat while he fucks up into you slowly. You grab his thighs and lean your head back onto his shoulder, closing your eyes and enjoying how deep he is inside you, right where you crave him. 

“You feel so good, baby, so good,” he whispers, grunting and groaning as he slides his hand down your belly, coming down to right above your mound and pushing into your bump. You move together, feeling the energy circulating between you as you tilt your head sideways and catch his lips in yours, panting into each other while he pistons into you. “You’re gonna make me come, my love,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you squeeze as much as you can around him while he gives you a final thrust, and his warm, smooth load fills you while his cock throbs and pulsates deep in you, his accompanying growl creating goosebumps all over your body. 

-

“Are- are we together for real now?”, you ask with a hint of a laugh, “Can I call you my boyfriend?”

Joel scowls at you, smiling as she rolls his eyes. “I'm insulted if you haven't already,” he says, and you snort in response.

“What?” he asks, looking at your lips and back up at your eyes.

“I kinda already did… To my nosy students,” you admit, no louder than a whisper.

“Of course you did,” he mutters as he starts wrapping the duvet around you, “I’ll go make breakfast, just stay here till I come get you, okay, angel?”

I have ditched my taglists, due to the majority of tags not working, and have created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home: Chapter 2 Part 4

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

In this segment, Sam and Tucker join the chaos!

First, Previous

1.3k words

---------

As they walked to the burger joint, Danny would point out areas of damage and talk about the fight that caused it. Tim kept track of every comment and was already trying to think of methods to minimize it in the future.

His friends were eating the stories up. Bart especially had way too much fun asking about Danny’s crazy rogues. Skulker was his current favorite. “He wants your pelt?”

“I know, right? He’s so extra.” Then Danny pointed up ahead. “We’re almost there. You can see the building from here. And those two people are my friends.” Danny waved a hand in the air and two teens, one dressed all in black and the other in yellow, waved back.

Danny sped up and soon it was Tim’s turn to give introductions. “Hi! You must be Sam and Tucker. I’ve heard so much about you guys from Danny. These are my friends, Conner, Bart, and Cassie.”

Sam shook his hand. “From Gotham, right? I love the vibes there. What I wouldn’t do for a single good gargoyle in Amity.”

Tim laughed. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me. Most people try and say they’re sorry for me growing up there. As if Gotham isn’t my home.”

Tucker elbowed her. “That’s our resident goth for you. I’m the tech guy. I’d go just for a chance to check out Wayne Enterprises. The stuff they produce”—he held his hands to his chest—“I’d be in heaven.”

Conner grinned. “Well I’m sure Tim could pull a few strings to get you a tour, what with being Bruce Wayne’s foster kid and all.”

“Kon!” hissed Tim even as Tucker’s eyes lit up.

“Bruce Wayne is your foster dad? You must always get the newest tech. Can I see your phone? At least check out the specs? What I’ve heard of it is to die for! Wait, Danny, is that the phone you were working on? Is she as beautiful as they say?”

Danny groaned and rushed to slap a hand over Tucker’s mouth. “Licking my hand isn’t gonna work, Tuck! Quit gushing at my friend. Tim is interested in an ectobattery, so we’ll stop by your place before returning to my home to grab some for everyone. Then you can at least see the hardware. But you won’t be looking at the software. Capiche?”

Tim glared at Conner as Danny let go of Tucker’s mouth.

“Fine.” Tucker pouted even as he aquiesed.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Quit your fanboying, Tucker. It’s embarrassing.” Then she greeted everyone else. To Conner, she said, “Cool look. Are you actually punk or just taking the aesthetic?”

Conner’s eyes were wide and he looked over to Tim who just shrugged at him. “I— um, I don’t know. What does it mean to be actually punk?”

Sam grinned and opened her mouth, but before she could start talking, Tucker interrupted. “Let’s go in and order. I want my meat and you can continue this conversation inside.”

“Boys!" Sam threw her hands up in the air. "If you ate something besides meat, you’d have more stamina to keep up!”

Tim bit his lip to hold back a laugh. They really were just like Danny said.

Danny groaned. “Sam! Tuck! It’s fine. Lets go in and place our orders. Then you can lecture Conner all about counterculturalism and punk values.”

Conner looked between them all. “Wait, why am I getting a lecture?”

Tucker shook his head. “Dude, you’re the one who asked Sam about what makes someone punk. You’re not getting out of this one.”

Danny made a noise of agreement. “But don’t worry, Sam makes her lectures interesting at least. Enjoy being radicalized!”

Tim put his arm around Conner. “Let me know if you need to get out of it.”

As they made their way inside, Tucker moved so he was walking next to Cassie. “So, Cassie, right? Where are you from?” His voice was pitched low.

Wow, so Tucker really was as bad at flirting as Danny always said.

Cassie realized something was up, and her tone was wary as she answered, “Um, Gateway City. You ever been?”

Tim looked over his shoulder and raised and eyebrow at her, silently asking if she wanted him to intervene. She shook her head slightly and twitched a finger towards Bart who was on her other side.

“Hey!” called an unfamiliar voice. “Watch it, Fentina!”

Tim turned forward just in time to catch Danny who’d been shoved backwards by a boy as big as Conner.

“Really?” asked Danny. He squeezed Tim’s hand as he got his balance back. “What was that for?”

Tim took a step forward and made a show of sizing the boy up. “You must be Dash. Danny’s told me a lot about you.”

Dash sneered at him. “And who are you? Some other nerd?”

Conner stood taller at his side and he felt Cassie and Bart take up positions just behind him. Cassie was the one to snort and quip, “Nerd? What decade are you from? The eighties wants its insult back. Or was that a seventies thing?”

Tucker snickered. “Yeah, Dash. Nerds rule the world right now.”

“Well you don’t rule high school,” said Dash, crossing his arms.

An equally large Asian boy took position next to him. “Yeah, we’re in charge for now. So move it.”

Danny bristled next to him. “I wasn’t even in your way!”

Tim cleared his throat. “Dash Baxter, right? Oldest child of Zachary and Alice Baxter. Dog named Poo—” Danny slammed a hand over Tim’s mouth and he glared at his friend.

“Oh my god, Secrets! What have you done? I swear to god, if you keep going…”

Behind them, he heard Bart laugh and say, “And that’s Bingo for me!”

“Well, damn,” replied Conner. “And I was so close.” If he wasn’t so pissed off at Dash, he would’ve rolled his eyes at their antics. He was so not at risk of going evil.

Dash was staring at all of them, mouth open. “Who are you?”

So Tim spoke into the hand over his mouth as he glared back at Danny. “He deserves it.”

“Nope, don’t care.” To Dash, Danny said, “This is a friend of mine. He and his friends are visiting from out of town.”

But of course things couldn’t just be left at that. Tucker spoke up to add, “He’s Tim Drake. His foster dad is Bruce Wayne.”

Danny turned his glare on his friend. “Tucker,” he hissed.

“What?” the boy shot back. “It’s true!”

Dash snorted. “Right. I’m just supposed to believe you’re friends with a kid of the Bruce Wayne.”

“You don’t have to believe anything,” retorted Danny. “Just let us go order our food in peace. I’m just trying to have a fun evening with my friends.”

Dash glared at him again, but his eyes flicked to the rest of them, lingering especially long on Conner. “You’ll regret lying to us, losers. Come on, Kwan. I need a shower after touching the twink.”

Tim twisted out of Danny’s hand. “What the fuck did you just call him?”

But the two boys didn’t turn around as they stopped out of the restaurant and Danny gripped his bicep and Conner put a restraining arm around his shoulders.

“It’s fine, Tim,” said Danny. “You know they’re always like that.”

“Say the word, Polaris, and I’ll do it.”

But Danny just shook his head and started pulling him towards the counter. “Let’s just order our food and sit down so Sam can give Conner her lecture on what punk is.”

Tim clenched his teeth, but allowed himself to be pulled to the counter where they ordered an obscene amount of food thanks to the appetite of four metas. He insisted on using B’s card to pay for everyone.

----------

Next

This scene was a ton of fun to write. And Tim gets to meet Danny's bullies in person for the first time. He has several years of pent up frustration from the stories Danny shared.

Tag List Part 1

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[moonshynecybin]

do you have any motogp fic recs?

yeah sure man. im gonna keep it simple (ao3 only) because i am a capricious bookmarker and refuse to wade through the weeds of tumblr fic as im not a natural tagger. no order just vibes. all of these i love and reread !

cant change that, cant change you by kingsquarding

Marc at the ranch for the (second) first time.

this fic is the platonic ideal of marc and vale post reconciliation being TOGETHER and at the RANCH and trying to make it WORK but they are also. still being a little messed up. themes include: guilt. injury. marc trying to get vale to stop treating him like glass and FUCK HIM already because he doesnt want to admit that their relationship/his body has changed since he was twenty. delicious.

Che Spettacolo! by serve_cunt

“What do you think,” Vale says, and leans against the doorframe. “Will he come?” Uccio stays silent. Of course he will come, he wants to say. In what world does he stay away? In what world can he resist?

sending uccio to the cuck chair. outside POV rosquez always hits for me becuase they match each other's freak in so many ways its fun to see what antics they engage in as obsevered by someone more normal. in this case. uccio. also helps get around vale's shit ass communication because its him through the eyes of someone who KNOWS that vale is being WEIRD. even if marc doesnt. fun and SEXY. academic au by the same author ALSO slays

of crashing and burning (and falling for you) by Anonymous

It has always been Marc and Valentino, Valentino and Marc. Two rivals inseparable on- and off-track throughout their careers, their story so closely intertwined they might as well have been the same person, dominating their beloved sport between the two of them. Then Marc breaks his arm, Vale loses their championship, and they are left trying to pick up the pieces. AKA a rosquez same age AU.

someone wrote out. elle and i's same age au. and it was so perfect i legit struggle to answer asks about this au now because im just like. its in the AU !!! its all here !!! really nails vale in this specific scenario imo... all the love and resentment and self-imposed walls and. my favorite of all. the exact way these guys talk in press conferences. like their exact diction. hits the spot beautifulperfect

arms out like an angel by yekoc

“Does Marc still work here?” he asks. He can’t think of the word for performing. “I dunno, man,” the guy says. “Sorry, I’m new.” Vale blinks at him. “Find out,” he says, and then, annoyed at himself for the impatience, “if you can. I came a long way.”

the efficiency of word choice in terms of characterization in this one really moves me... every line has implications !!! sexy ones even !!! and theres so much baseline CHEMISTRY and inability to really STAY AWAY from each other but also. a tense little undercurrent of slight misunderstanding and hurt that makes it stand out... i also just love fics where marc pushes back just a lil and vale has to like. figure out what to do with that. in a horny way. yekoc's bezzcele also goes crazy if you wanna think about nipple piercings as much as i do

All I Wanted by agnst-crrnt

The first time it happens is just after Marc’s 10th birthday. He’s about to complain to his parents about how Álex always finishes the milk and then puts it back into the fridge, when the faces of his parents’ blur in front of him. Marc closes his eyes, trying to make it better and grabs onto the edge of the table. He can hear his mama ask him if he’s okay, before everything stops. or Rosquez Time Travel Au, where Marc randomly gets teleported through time, always ending up somewhere around Vale

hey thats my friend. rosquez time travel au as ive said my favorite thing to think about maybe EVER !!! really love the strict marc POV on this one and how you REALLY see the. youre in love so you go. and his just. his ceaseless romanticism and optimism wrt to vale and their relationship that fits this fic concept SO well. guest appearances from pedrenzo as well yayyyyy

i give into the fall series by lestelledreams

Her and Pol were good; they did win a gold at Junior Worlds after all, and that’s not something anyone can just go out there and do. But her and Valentino – they could become great. Mar’s never been more sure of anything in her life. or, The first year of Mar's and Vale's partnership.

genderbend figure skating au where marc gets to have all his weird injury complexes explored AND it gets slutty AND we get to see his freak ass ambition. imagine if motogp was a pairs sport (like actually not just in a fake way) and marc had the option of pairing up with vale. imagine how crazy he would go trying to make that happen adfhdflk

a hundred ninety-nine degrees by hardlythewiser (sequinedfairy)

“You should fuck me again,” Bez says. It trips out, all his defenses worn down by the long, annoying day of meetings, by the feeling of Cele above him, pressing him down into the couch, by Cele’s bright clear gaze. Above him, Cele doesn’t smile with his whole face, scrunching up his eyes, like he did the first time Bez asked. He doesn’t smile at all, just keeps looking at Bez. “Really?” he asks. “I didn’t know – did you like it, last time?”

cele tops lets GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. some fics just. have an ability to pierce directly towards what actually and precisely makes a pairing or a situation or a dynamic SEXY, while also revealing a new facet of said dynamic that i've never thought about in depth before. this is one of those. fuck him!!! make him cry !!!! perfect !!!

i was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy (whose reality i knew was hopeless to be had) by babynflames

In Motegi 2005, Hiroshi Aoyama wins his first race during his home GP, Dani Pedrosa gets second while hiding a fractured humerus and Jorge Lorenzo is handed a one race ban for riding in a irresponsible manner after nearly colliding with Dani and causing de Angelis to abandon the race, leaving the third position to Casey Stoner. The haircutting is incidental.

dyke PEDRENZO. fic that is fun and funny and filled to the BRIM with the kind of homoerotic tension you can only have between two teenage dykes in direct competition who dont even know theyre horny about each other except they REALLY kind of do. also. the best sports rpf to me always engages with a sport on a sociological level... also just love the writing style on this. direct and avoidant at the same time. very dani in sexuality crisis to me aljfdhl

[prodsh00ky]

from the cradle to the grave

pairing: vampire!seonghwa x reader

warnings: use of words probably, crying, mentions of blood, death, war and violence, seonghwa creeps the reader out by breaking into their house, deja vu era seonghwa look combined with 2023 long haired hwa bc this should be a warning, some angsty stuff, fluff if u squint really really hard, past lives (sort of), reader is referred to using they/them pronouns but i might have left something that suggest they’re female/afab in the way; please let me know if there’s more

wc: ~4.6k words

notes: i tried to finish this in time for halloween (it was sitting in my drafts since 2021...) so this was supposed to be a spooky season fic. it didn’t work but here it is anyways! hope you guys like it. im a big vampire enthusiast and a bIG seonghwa enthusiast which makes me the biggest vamp!hwa agenda supporter so lets gooo

well, at least your gut feeling was probably right.

these last days have been… weird, to say the least. every time you’d go back to your apartment after college you felt like you were being observed, maybe even followed. it was like there was someone always behind you or around the place you were in a way that made you feel like you were never alone indeed, and you didn't like the shivers you got from it. to top it off, the whole thing was giving you even more bad nightmares than the usual; the most recent ones involved big mansions from the eighteenth century or something, a lot of fighting, blood and a pair of piercing eyes staring into your soul. the worst part was that you always forgot in the course of your day that you were having them, only remembering when waking up in a cold sweat from a new one. your friends told you it probably was due to the time of the year since spooky season just began, and you thought it might be it; a scary vibe was nothing less than expected from fall.

but the tall figure standing behind your favorite armchair that welcomed you home seconds ago after you locked your apartment’s door told you otherwise. you automatically move to grab your floor lamp to defend yourself.

“who are you and what are you doing here?” 

“so you’re feisty. i should keep track of that.”

his voice is deep but also smooth. he’s probably a head and a half taller than you and wears a white shirt with a v cut, black trousers paired with a black blazer and his neck is adorned with a sole silk ribbon. when he turns to you, you get to see that his long black hair would probably reach his silver pendant earrings if it wasn't tucked into a fancy hairstyle with a silver pin holding the front and that his eyes are sharp and piercing (and strangely similar with the ones in your recent nightmares, but this time they feel familiar and not frightening as usual), just as the rest of his facial features. he is probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. but you still have no idea of who he is or how he got inside your house, so you quietly get your phone and dial 911.

“i'm going to repeat it just once more. who are you, what are you and how the fuck have you gotten inside?” he seems too entertained eyeing you from head to toe for some seconds, but he quickly wakes from his apparent trance and answers you.

“right. i'm sorry for the rudeness... and for the invasion, for that matter, although this apartment was virtually 100% accessible for me. oh, and for the last few days too, but i'm afraid the observing was necessary. i’m park seonghwa, one of the royal eight, and deeply pleasured to know you.” he bows lightly and opens his mouth to continue and it shows you a glimpse of long sharp canine teeth. it makes you interrupt him.

“so you’re the one who’s following me? know what, it doesn’t matter actually, i’m calling the cops.” you turn to open the door and get outside, however the keys aren't in the door handle anymore. with the lamp still in your hold you try to open the knob forcefully, adrenaline beginning to fill you due to despair, but the jittery sound of the keys dangling makes you turn to the stranger once more. he holds the keys with his left hand, the right one leaning in the armchair.

“forgive me for my ways, but calling the police won’t be needed and after you listen to me you’ll see why. i’m not here to hurt you in any way, it’s actually… quite the opposite. i was following you because me and my brothers needed to reach you, and after i finally found you i wanted to know who we were looking for. if you’re willing to give me some of your time, i’ll be happy to explain everything i can for now. please?”

considering your options, either you jump out of the window into a 65 feet fall or listen to him. but you still want to be sure someone is keeping track of you, so you move to open the window hoping today the old couple and the friendly lady who lives in the building next to yours and are always inviting you to spend the holidays and have dinner with them are gaping inside your place as usual and turn on the localization device in your phone.

“you have ten minutes.”

“thank you for considering my offer.” he answers, seemingly more relieved, and starts talking. “i’m not sure how to address it correctly… there probably isn't a correct way to do it, so i’ll be plainspoken. i’m a vampire, such as my brothers, and we need your help because you hold powers that can save our empire from the mass attack it is suffering right now.”

you huff, because it’s the only thing you feel like doing.

“you really invaded my house to fool me into a halloween prank? who made you do it? oh, it must have been yeonjun and kai, right? i'm calling the bastards right now, this is way off limits.” you manage to grab your phone in your pocket again but, just like your keys, you see it appearing in the guy’s hands.

“it’s not a prank and your human friends have nothing to deal with it, swear with my long gone soul. i am indeed a vampire, as you can verify by my teeth. vampires exist, such as some other ‘magical creatures’, as your people like to call us. i’m park seonghwa, the second vampire emperor, or prince, whatever you’d prefer, and am here to plead for your help because my empire is perishing and the eight of us can’t do much without you.”

the serious way he’s speaking almost convinces you, but it still sounds so crazy and nonsensical you keep yourself skeptical. you can't avoid some classical questions, though.

“why aren’t you burning or shining in the sun, then? and i don't see you sweating due to the giant amount of garlic in my kitchen. there’s no proof to your allegations, fang boy.”

seonghwa finds it really hard to suppress a smile. you were much more fun (and cute) than he thought, and seeing you being so doubtful only added to the feeling he had.

“because not all the tales you humans like to tell about us are true. garlic does not affect vampires at all, i have no idea where this... thing came from. we only get paler in the sunlight, as you may perceive.” he moves closer to your window, and you can see his slightly tanned skin turning paler and paler until his veins start to become proeminent and dark blue in his skin. it’s almost as if he's like a living canvas full of paint.

“i don’t believe you.”

“do you expect me to prove my identity then? because the only way to do it is by feeding, and im afraid you’re the only human in the nearer 260 feet at least.'' he steps closer and while he’s talking you see his fangs getting longer. and sharper. he touches his pointer finger with his teeth and his skin rips easily as if a needle had been dragged along it. when you look into his eyes they’re rouge as… blood. fear creeps into you and you step back, moving your head no.

“y-you can go on! i will hear you, i p-promise. i'm not exactly doubting it anymore.” you say, voice weak with fear. you move to your couch slowly, eyes still fixated in his every move. “i-im going to sit because this doesn’t sound like a conversation i’ll be able to take in while standing. feel free to sit too.” he moves to sit in the same armchair he’s leaning, but you start to talk again before you forget and his eyes move up to you again. “oh, but i want my keys and phone. you’ll not be getting my help making it look like you want to keep me in captivity.”

he nods, putting your phone and keys in your center table. you grab them almost immediately murmuring “thanks” because well, look where you are. he nods again and waits until you stop moving to talk.

“i’m shall start from the beginning since you have no familiarity with the vampires situation, right?” you nod, asking yourself what a vampire situation would mean. “the… ‘magic’ realm, i’ll call it this way for now because it’s easier, is hidden from human eyes. we have our own rules that exist to ensure mainly two things: that we won’t reveal ourselves to you with ease and that we will have peace, or anything closest to it, within us. some centuries ago people lived in balance and each kind had their own inside rules and organization besides these two major ones, but a riot some of the folks started created chaos and eventually a war. it was a slaughter; many villages were destroyed and many creatures, killed. it’s one of the darkest chapters of our story.

“wait, what do you mean by ‘creatures’ and ‘folks’? you’re not saying…”

“witches, elves, mermaids and sirens, gnomes, fairies, fauns, they’re all real. at some level, at least. i say this due to the fact you humans love to fantasize about their characteristics way too much, as you could testify with me and the sun belief you had. the majority of things you assume you know about them or about ur are probably inaccurate.”

your frown, “and what is the truth about all of you, then? what is wrong in the things i’ve been taught?”

there’s hints of a smirk in his lips, but he tries his best to keep neutral. “curious, aren't’ we? i’d love to share it with you, but it’s best that you learn it by yourself.” your eyebrows raise and he gets the sign to keep talking. “we’ll get there, do not worry.”

he takes a deep breath, a shadow of something gray crossing his sharp features. “after the war finished, pretty much all that was left was chaos. in an effort to save the survivors, an assembly was arranged so we could fix new rules and try to establish things. it happens that the vampires were the race that had the fewest deaths and casualties during the war and managed to better organize ourselves for that to happen, so it was decided by majority that we would rule all races from then on.”

“holy crap-” you tap your mouth, using the best of your self control skills to not laugh in his face, “this sounds like a bad fantasy book or a fanfic i’d have read when i was twelve. how did you guys manage all the power? and you said majority, not unanimity. there was someone against it, i suppose.”

seonghwa allows himself to smile, happy to observe you notice things rather quickly. you try to suppress your own reaction; if he was already handsome poker faced, it felt like his smile alone could convince you about anything he was saying and more. “we accepted it, since it was what most wanted. some begged, even, at some point of the discussion. it was never easy, though. we have faults and committed many mistakes, some worse than others and some… unforgivable, if i’m being honest. but i assure we hardly did then out of personal selfishness, the weight of keeping things in place is always something that humbles us down. and yes, you assumed correctly, there were people against it.”

he pauses abruptly, looks at you and laughs quietly, which confuses you. the fact that his laughing warms you inside has nothing to do with it, you reassure yourself.

“what?”

“if you thought the previous facts i’ve told you sounded like a… fantasy book or so, you can’t wait for the next bit.” he tries to dwell his laughter down to answer you, but you can see he’s struggling. “guess who disagreed with us being in power?”

it takes you less than a millisecond to reply. “no shit it were the werewolves.”

he starts laughing again but freely, not trying to refrain himself, and this time you can’t control the shocked smile that creeps onto your face along with your eyes widening.

“jesus fuck, seonghwa-” you have to pause for a second to recompose yourself, because you started laughing too hard along with him without even realizing, “it was already hard to believe the whole vampire convo and all, now you’re saying that not only other species of magical creatures do exist but the rivalry between vampires and werewolves is real? how do you expect me not to think this is some sort of twilight remake?"

“oh, no, not that movie,” he says while trying to stop laughing, “i’ve never watched it but it has caused enough misunderstandings already about us.”

you eye him up and down, “have some respect, it’s a masterpiece! i’m sure you just have never watched it because you know you’ll get inferiority complex since you’ll never be edward cullen.”

“i’ll pretend i know what you’re talking about and agree.” you laugh but on your own this time, and he can’t avoid admiring the wrinkles in your face when you do it. “resuming, the werewolves were never exactly comfortable with the idea of us in power in the first place, but as i said it was what the majority wanted. it has been like this for over eight centuries, and everything was going peacefully until around the nineteenth century. the werewolves started a rebellion against our empire, and to do it joined forces with each and every wrongdoer in our realm. they managed to have each and every single creature that had committed horrendous crimes as their allies, which caught us by surprise. we’ve tried to talk to them in the beginning, but it didn't work; they started to kill vampires and pretty much everyone that agreed with our power. it has been like this since then, and we were succeeding in controlling the war until one century ago.”

“oh.” nice way to react, you think. but what would be a great reaction for a narnia x game of thrones crossover of sorts? “i’m… i’m sorry, i guess. i’m not sure how to properly react to all of this, and it’s harder to conceive it as true. and what does it all have to do with me? swear i’m trying not to be a jerk or so, but why are you telling me all of this? why did you come after me?”

seonghwa, once again, has to control a smile creeping in. “because you, y/n, might be the key to saving everything.”

your brain short circuits. “what?” you freeze, wanting to laugh in his face, but the serious and hopeful look he gives you indicates he’s telling the truth. then a detail, a tiny but important detail comes to your mind. “wait- how the fuck do you even know know my name? i haven’t said it to you until now, there’s pretty much no mail you could get that from and most of my friends call me by nicknames, how do you know it?”

despair flashes through his eyes, but it’s only for a second. “well, here's where things start getting… interesting. or complex. i know it might sound crazy but… there’s… you… you’re…”

its the first time he seems uncertain or insecure and maybe even afraid in his speech if you squint, but the next bit that comes out of his mouth makes everything really sound like a big joke.

“i’m afraid there’s no easy way to let you know this, so i’ll have to be straightforward. you’re a living amplifier to any type of supernatural being. this amplifying power is given to a human in earth as a blessing from whatever force that keeps the universe balanced from time to time, but there are always at least a few centuries that part the amplifiers’ births. the last amplifier was a friend, an ally of ours that helped - or rather lead us vampires to our victory and was the sole reason why i and pretty much all of the survivors are still alive. i know your name because it was one of the last words he said before passing after sacrificing so much to guarantee peace amongst supernatural folks. i’m here to ask or rather plead for your help, because although we have more resources and ways of fighting now we’re afraid that it might not be enough for the challenges we might face.”

you blink once. twice. then you sneer.

“you know, i was almost believing you. i’m ashamed to admit it, but it was almost getting to me. but after this i'm afraid i’ll have to call kai and yeonjun and tell them to stop fucking with me every halloween season because this is way off limits. you’re a great actor, though,”, you say, reaching for you phone, “i’m sure you’ll go the distance or so. your costume is very well made too, i have no idea who thought about the eye mechanism but is sure surpr-

he takes your hand with his extremely cold one before you reach your phone.

“please. me and my brothers don’t have much time to deal with your doubts properly, and i’m sorry about that, so i beg of you. it probably sounds way far from your human rationality, but have you never felt anything different? any other type or force or liveliness different from what others feel? have you never seen the way some people thrive when they’re by your side? how they go higher than they probably would if they weren’t close to you? how it’s so easy for your to really connect to the people you love and how pleased they seem to be to love you back? have you ever felt observed? have you never seen that there are beings trying to put their eyes on you all the time, specially in nightmares?”

you head starts to spin. yes. he actually had a point. your presence around people you liked seemed to bring them more joy and great opportunities for some unknown reason, and it has been this way since ever. your childhood nickname was “lucky” due to this; the games and toys were funnier and happier when you were around, even if one of your friends got hurt - it would be fine, after all, right? the foster home you grew up in started to receive more donations after you arrived, and your foster dads were able to house even more children. your presence became a must in problem solvings while you grew up, because, for some reason, the fact that you were there made it all calmer and somehow easier. your friends would get higher grades, nicer positions in the school teams, greater opportunities and happier memories if you were involved or cheering for them; you were a walking lucky charm all over your life. your parents, your foster siblings and the few real friends you have always said the love they feel towards you is different than any type of love they’ve ever experienced. kai and yeonjun even like to joke that you have some type of magic on your blood or something, because they feel that your friendship will undoubtedly last for the rest of your life, no room for doubt.

and the nightmares. they were way more intense and frequent when you were a child. creepy and lone places, destroyed cities, dark alleyways stained with blood, desolated ghost-like faces, cries of help you never knew whom they belonged to. but the worse ones were the ones that had eyes around aware of your every move no matter what you did. they were the ones that offered your nights of sleep no mercy and made you wake up crying hard and shaking up from despair for years. funnily enough, they always seem to happen again frequently each spooky season. 

“i-i suppose you’re right in some way, b-but-”

“have you had a time where you painted a lot? maybe when you were a kid?”

that’s what breaks you.

“h-how the fuck do you know this?”

his lips curve up, a sad smile reaching his eyes. “eden, the last amplifier, was a painter. probably one of the best ever seen in the whole world, if i have a say on that. an amplifier born will always have and nurture the last amplifier’s talents for at least some time, specially during their childhood. if you took on his talent, i bet your paintings were astonishing, even more for a child.”

your memories flash in front of your eyes: how many paintings have you made for your parents’ office? how many times did you spend your early sunday mornings painting in order to gift your siblings? how many of these were still with them, in their houses, becoming part of the scenery of their lives until nowadays? and why the fact you abruptly stopped doing them when you were nine or ten had never made sense until now?

“i’m- i’m sorry, but- this must be some type of misunderstanding or bad taste joke, that’s ithe only explanation, that's it-”

“as said before im deeply sorry that we don’t have more time to do this with ease but…”, he huffs, looking down and then to you again, “this is what will have you believing me. i’m really sorry.”

he stares into your eyes for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight seconds straight.

and then it all hits you.

flashes of some of the places you saw in your nightmares, but this time live, in person, because you were there; a giant castle with an art studio, your beloved art studio, where all your creativity flew through the canvases, where life seemed to make more sense. flashes of people you never met; unfamiliar smiles in their faces, but the lingering feeling there’s no physical building that could carry your conception of home more than they could; nights together singing by the moonlight, but also serious conversations and arguing and fighting but always making up because, in the end, they’re your family; war and horrible battles and you standing in all of them offering everything this force inside of you could because things had to end in peace; crying, seeing red and hearing their last words for you. darkness, solitude, happiness, yearning, melancholy, bliss, doubt, joy, frustration, hope, all types of feelings that weren’t and were yours at the same time.

you snap out of it with the feeling of seonghwa’s cold thumbs drying the tears you didn’t realize were streaming down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry this is so unfair to you,” he whispers, “i really wish this could happen naturally, without demanding so much of you and shattering the world you know with such violence, as it has always been with the others who got to know. im really sorry...”

for a while, you just allow him to hold your face and caress it, too overwhelmed by everything that’s flooding your brain. after what could be some seconds, minutes or even hours, you’re not sure at this point, you move away from his touch and he lets you go, something heavy in his eyes you are not able to decipher due to your state.

“you need time to digest it all, and you’ll have it. i’ll make sure that no nightmares or even visions plague your mind in the next days so you can rest. but i’ll have to come back in a week or two to ask you to come with me and help us if you’re willing to do it. i promise that i’ll answer any of your questions then and that more understanding of what you’re capable of will make it a bit easier. you can share all of this, but be sure to do it only with trusted ones and with as fewer people as possible.”

he gets up and turns to the door, but before heading in that direction seonghwa leaves a black business card in the table in front of you, just a single phone number written in red ink in it.

“if you need anything, do not hesitate to call this number and talk to me. i’ll do anything in my power to help you.”

he opens the door, turning to look at you for one last time. ”we’ll see each other again, y/n.”

seonghwa closes your apartment’s door and in a couple of minutes he’s walking in the street again. he takes his phone, dials a number he knows by heart and waits. the voice that answers him is curious, yet patient.

he huffs before replying, “as well as you would expect, hongjoong. they didn’t hit me with a broom or tried to shoo away with garlic, but also didn’t believe me until i forced them to see.”

“hey, are you fine? how did it go?”

“unfortunately. humans got way too used to believe we’re bedtime stories, specially in this century, so it wasn't something i didn't expect, but i-”

“so you did have to hypnotize them?”

“you’re not entirely comfortable with doing it too, i know. by the way, how did you feel? since it all probably got stronger, was it okay for you?”

seonghwa hesitates for a few seconds. “it was ecstatic, joong. i’m not sure i’m able to fully translate it into words. the more time I spent there and the more I understood about who they are now the more it became hard to let go. this is nothing like anything else that i ever felt, and it’s only the first time i saw them. i feel so goddamn lost but also as if i had finally found something very important inside me at the same time. i… have no idea of what to do.”

“no way. it was hard enough for them to believe the whole thing, it would be twice as hard if they knew- if i told them things probably would have been even harder. they’ll know when the right time comes.”

“maybe telling them, if you already didn’t?”

“sure, then. it’s your choice. are you already coming back?”

“yeah, i’ll call for the car in some minutes.”

“great. thanks, hwa. i know this was probably tough on you. come home safely.”

seonghwa replies with a hushed see you soon and hangs up. he knows his friend just wanted to be sure, but they knew each other well enough for hongjoong to presume nothing of the matter would have been said to you by seonghwa.

because how could he? right after stealing the truth you had been living until and shattering it into pieces? it sounded too cruel for him, he felt it in the moment he laid eyes on you today.

time would say when he’d tell you that besides your name, eden also said that the next amplifier would be his soulmate, and that this would allow to change things forever.

©prodsh00ky 2023. no crossposting or translations allowed.

[dollwrites]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 — 𝐚𝐤𝐚��𝐚

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!Muzan’s favorite!reader, grudgefucking, degradation, akaza’s damaged ego, choking, very brief broken bones, reader’s simpy, toxic vibes, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ run from me by guccihighwaters

“‘Worthless.’ What does he know about worthless?” Akaza’s teeth were clenched tight, grinding. brows drawn close together, eyes ablaze with hatred. “I do everything for him. Dedicate my existence to Lord Muzan and his fucking goals.” he was talking to himself, working himself up into a hotter rage than when he’d first grabbed you. your knees dig into the dirt, and you claw helplessly at the bark of the tree he’s pinned you against, the rough edges scraping at your face. you couldn’t moan loud enough to drown out his growling, or the sound of his hips snapping against yours, but you didn’t want to. you relished in the sound of just how wet he made you, and how you squelched when he plowed into you. if you could manage to hold yourself steady, you would release the tree and reach behind to spread your ass cheeks to open your body up for him completely— to take you however he wanted. but Akaza was fucking you too hard, pounding you relentless against the massive trunk. so, you’d had to simply hold on for dear life.

“Ah…” you mewled, trying to push back to meet his vigorous thrusting. it was futile, you couldn’t even begin to match his rhythm. “Akaza, forget about what Muzan said, just fuck me—“

“Shut up,” he hisses, one hand snaking around your throat to hold on to it with a tight vice, the other planted firm against your spine, forcing an unnatural arch for your position. there was a defensiveness in his growl, as if his loyalty was tested vicariously through your words. “You’re part of the problem, you know that? The way he fawns over you in front of us. You’re not even Kizuki,” his numbered eyes coast over the shape he’s put your body in, and slide upwards to see your gems— he was right. you weren’t one of the twelve demon moons; your body couldn’t take enough of Muzan’s blood to give you a ranking. “Makes me sick.” the smallest croak escapes your parted lips as he squeezes, and you bend to his will, dropping your head back to watch him. though you’re perched on your knees, he’s not. balancing on the balls of his feet, his knees are spread wide to avoid getting in the way of his furious hips.

his grip on your throat was tight enough that, had you still been human, breathing would’ve been impossible. you would’ve suffocated, but right now, you weren’t scared of Akaza.

you adored him.

you always had.

even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he never would, you would love him forever, you’d decided. there was much to love about him. his loyalty, his strength, the heart stopping curve of his lips over sharp, white fangs. the way his baritone whistled through the night like velvet.

you wanted to protest for him, tell him that you never asked or even wanted the king of demons to treat you like a fragile doll, a daughter to dote on, but you knew it would only make him angrier. he hated that you loathed Muzan and yet the demon lord would never so much as raise his voice to you, but would turn right around and cut an upper moon down for a sloppy job. besides, judging by just how mercilessly he was fucking you, you could assume that it wasn’t coincidental that he’d tracked you down right after reporting to Muzan; he’d wanted to destroy something, and you were the perfect candidate— Muzan’s adopted daughter. it’s a shame Muzan would kill him if he ever found out, but you knew you’d take it to the grave if you had to.

“Weak, little bitch.” he snarls, clamping down harder on your neck, and you swoon, your nails digging into the tree trunk harder. bark splinters and erupts from the trunk, crackling as your fingers sink into the wood. you didn’t have the strength to claw the whole tree apart, but you were chipping away at it. “What’s he see in you, anyways?” his angle changes; he slides one foot forward to scoot closer, press his torso to your back, and pump into your cunt deeper. you squeal, but only for a moment, before his other hand comes up from the other side of your head to clamp his hand over your mouth and muffle the sound. “That— that’s what I’m talking about. You can’t even take a cock without screaming my fucking ear off. Are you so fucking pathetic that you can’t even take it quiet like a decent cocksleeve? You have to squeal and whine?” your breasts ground into the harsh bark as he presses you closer to the foliage, golden eyes gleaming in the pale moonlight that illuminates the sordid display. you nod, looking back at him with nothing but twinkling adoration and affection in your heavily lidded gaze, squeaking slurred as you’re forced to kiss his palm.

you couldn’t help it, the upper moon was decimating your body in a way so delicious, you had to cry out. it was the type of brutal fucking that made you grateful you’d become a demon— lest you never be able to experience a love this cruel.

your walls were clenching around him just as merciless, spasming, stretching around his girth and hugging tight, refusing to let him pull out. “Fuck,” he grunted, a moment’s weakness allowing the moan to slip out of his lips, and he immediately hisses. brows cinching tighter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so needy. You want it so bad? Take it, then.” his hips flurry at a nearly incomprehensible speed and velocity, pounding you over and over into the wood. you scream in vulgar delight and surprise, your body yielding to whatever he wanted to do to it, but that only makes him more enraged. his fist clenches around your throat, and you hear a snap. a rush of shock and pain floods your senses and you realize he’s crushed your trachea. a whistle, a choke escapes you, eyes welling up with tears, but he didn’t stop.

and you didn’t want him to.

it only took a matter of seconds for the bones to heal, cracking as they shift back into their proper place. Akaza’s hand had abandoned your throat, and instead pressed on top of his other one on your mouth, using it now as leverage to keep you pinned in place to fill you with reckless abandon with impossible force.

“P—please—“ you whimper against his hand, batting tears away with your thick lashes, “don’t st— don’t stop—!”

“Tch,” it’s not a word, is a puff of air forced through his teeth, an exclamation of disgust, but you can’t help but moan, eyelids fluttering. you can feel how hard he is, even as he degrades you, he’s swollen and throbbing in your guts. “You look so pitiful, struggling to take me, but you love the abuse so much you can’t even keep your eyes open.” you were nodding to every word, hugging the tree to keep from slouching back against him. his fucking was maddening, and you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. “What would He think if he saw you like this? He… He chews me up and spits me out, but you’re there,” it’s getting harder and harder for him to speak, his moans cutting in every so often, as he relishes in how you submit for him, “you’re here to spread your fucking legs, eh? You— you want me to fuck all my humiliation out? Fuck away the anger? Right into your weak, little body? As if you could handle it?”

you nod again, eyes glazed but hopeful, unwavering admiration in your blown out pupils. your mouth hang open, dribbling drool over his hand and allowing your incessant whimpering to flow free.

he takes one look at you and knows you’re honest. and he groans, feeling himself fighting a losing battle with the pending orgasm creeping up on him. he didn’t understand it, why you wanted him so badly when he loathed you. and maybe, he didn’t have to. maybe he shouldn’t question it at all. there was a rush of confidence that came along with ruining you— a power surge as he heard your whiny, little yelps. he could get off on them alone, though he’d never tell you that, but the idea that you were untouchable— that Muzan had forbade any of his demon moons from so much as laying a single finger on you, and he was able to fuck you out like this— he felt less like a demon and more like a god. it was an addicting, exhilarating sensation, power beyond what even he was used to.

“Well,” he grunted harshly, finally, with acidic sarcasm leaking from his lips, “anything for Lord Muzan’s favorite.”

[dollwritesarchive]

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝒸𝑒 ⎹ 𝓐.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ demon slayer / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ akaza x demon!reader [ muzan’s favorite ] ( f )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ all smut, grudgefucking, degradation, akaza’s damaged ego, choking, very brief broken bones, reader’s simpy, toxic vibes

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 1.6k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

“‘Worthless.’ What does he know about worthless?” Akaza’s teeth were clenched tight, grinding. brows drawn close together, eyes ablaze with hatred. “I do everything for him. Dedicate my existence to Lord Muzan and his fucking goals.” he was talking to himself, working himself up into a hotter rage than when he’d first grabbed you. your knees dig into the dirt, and you claw helplessly at the bark of the tree he’s pinned you against, the rough edges scraping at your face. you couldn’t moan loud enough to drown out his growling, or the sound of his hips snapping against yours, but you didn’t want to. you relished in the sound of just how wet he made you, and how you squelched when he plowed into you. if you could manage to hold yourself steady, you would release the tree and reach behind to spread your ass cheeks to open your body up for him completely— to take you however he wanted. but Akaza was fucking you too hard, pounding you relentless against the massive trunk. so, you’d had to simply hold on for dear life.

“Ah…” you mewled, trying to push back to meet his vigorous thrusting. it was futile, you couldn’t even begin to match his rhythm. “Akaza, forget about what Muzan said, just fuck me—“

“Shut up,” he hisses, one hand snaking around your throat to hold on to it with a tight vice, the other planted firm against your spine, forcing an unnatural arch for your position. there was a defensiveness in his growl, as if his loyalty was tested vicariously through your words. “You’re part of the problem, you know that? The way he fawns over you in front of us. You’re not even Kizuki,” his numbered eyes coast over the shape he’s put your body in, and slide upwards to see your gems— he was right. you weren’t one of the twelve demon moons; your body couldn’t take enough of Muzan’s blood to give you a ranking. “Makes me sick.” the smallest croak escapes your parted lips as he squeezes, and you bend to his will, dropping your head back to watch him. though you’re perched on your knees, he’s not. balancing on the balls of his feet, his knees are spread wide to avoid getting in the way of his furious hips.

his grip on your throat was tight enough that, had you still been human, breathing would’ve been impossible. you would’ve suffocated, but right now, you weren’t scared of Akaza.

you adored him.

you always had.

even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he never would, you would love him forever, you’d decided. there was much to love about him. his loyalty, his strength, the heart stopping curve of his lips over sharp, white fangs. the way his baritone whistled through the night like velvet.

you wanted to protest for him, tell him that you never asked or even wanted the king of demons to treat you like a fragile doll, a daughter to dote on, but you knew it would only make him angrier. he hated that you loathed Muzan and yet the demon lord would never so much as raise his voice to you, but would turn right around and cut an upper moon down for a sloppy job. besides, judging by just how mercilessly he was fucking you, you could assume that it wasn’t coincidental that he’d tracked you down right after reporting to Muzan; he’d wanted to destroy something, and you were the perfect candidate— Muzan’s adopted daughter. it’s a shame Muzan would kill him if he ever found out, but you knew you’d take it to the grave if you had to.

“Weak, little bitch.” he snarls, clamping down harder on your neck, and you swoon, your nails digging into the tree trunk harder. bark splinters and erupts from the trunk, crackling as your fingers sink into the wood. you didn’t have the strength to claw the whole tree apart, but you were chipping away at it. “What’s he see in you, anyways?” his angle changes; he slides one foot forward to scoot closer, press his torso to your back, and pump into your cunt deeper. you squeal, but only for a moment, before his other hand comes up from the other side of your head to clamp his hand over your mouth and muffle the sound. “That— that’s what I’m talking about. You can’t even take a cock without screaming my fucking ear off. Are you so fucking pathetic that you can’t even take it quiet like a decent cocksleeve? You have to squeal and whine?” your breasts ground into the harsh bark as he presses you closer to the foliage, golden eyes gleaming in the pale moonlight that illuminates the sordid display. you nod, looking back at him with nothing but twinkling adoration and affection in your heavily lidded gaze, squeaking slurred as you’re forced to kiss his palm.

you couldn’t help it, the upper moon was decimating your body in a way so delicious, you had to cry out. it was the type of brutal fucking that made you grateful you’d become a demon— lest you never be able to experience a love this cruel.

your walls were clenching around him just as merciless, spasming, stretching around his girth and hugging tight, refusing to let him pull out. “Fuck,” he grunted, a moment’s weakness allowing the moan to slip out of his lips, and he immediately hisses. brows cinching tighter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so needy. You want it so bad? Take it, then.” his hips flurry at a nearly incomprehensible speed and velocity, pounding you over and over into the wood. you scream in vulgar delight and surprise, your body yielding to whatever he wanted to do to it, but that only makes him more enraged. his fist clenches around your throat, and you hear a snap. a rush of shock and pain floods your senses and you realize he’s crushed your trachea. a whistle, a choke escapes you, eyes welling up with tears, but he didn’t stop.

and you didn’t want him to.

it only took a matter of seconds for the bones to heal, cracking as they shift back into their proper place. Akaza’s hand had abandoned your throat, and instead pressed on top of his other one on your mouth, using it now as leverage to keep you pinned in place to fill you with reckless abandon with impossible force.

“P—please—“ you whimper against his hand, batting tears away with your thick lashes, “don’t st— don’t stop—!”

“Tch,” it’s not a word, is a puff of air forced through his teeth, an exclamation of disgust, but you can’t help but moan, eyelids fluttering. you can feel how hard he is, even as he degrades you, he’s swollen and throbbing in your guts. “You look so pitiful, struggling to take me, but you love the abuse so much you can’t even keep your eyes open.” you were nodding to every word, hugging the tree to keep from slouching back against him. his fucking was maddening, and you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. “What would He think if he saw you like this? He… He chews me up and spits me out, but you’re there,” it’s getting harder and harder for him to speak, his moans cutting in every so often, as he relishes in how you submit for him, “you’re here to spread your fucking legs, eh? You— you want me to fuck all my humiliation out? Fuck away the anger? Right into your weak, little body? As if you could handle it?”

you nod again, eyes glazed but hopeful, unwavering admiration in your blown out pupils. your mouth hang open, dribbling drool over his hand and allowing your incessant whimpering to flow free.

he takes one look at you and knows you’re honest. and he groans, feeling himself fighting a losing battle with the pending orgasm creeping up on him. he didn’t understand it, why you wanted him so badly when he loathed you. and maybe, he didn’t have to. maybe he shouldn’t question it at all. there was a rush of confidence that came along with ruining you— a power surge as he heard your whiny, little yelps. he could get off on them alone, though he’d never tell you that, but the idea that you were untouchable— that Muzan had forbade any of his demon moons from so much as laying a single finger on you, and he was able to fuck you out like this— he felt less like a demon and more like a god. it was an addicting, exhilarating sensation, power beyond what even he was used to.

“Well,” he grunted harshly, finally, with acidic sarcasm leaking from his lips, “anything for Lord Muzan’s favorite.”

[k-marzolf]

I’m gonna live forever;

title inspired by Irene Cara’s song Fame.

cw; hit man!Billy Russo, ADHD coded reader, kissing, a hint at Billy’s darker side, fem!reader.

summary; Billy is your neighbor that you’re enamored with, but what secrets is he hiding?

tagging; @terry2227 @kayhi808 @e-dubbc11 @bookloverfilmoholic @aoi-targaryen @firequeensposts @oops89 @thejanecampaign @littleblackcatinwonderland @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman @cant-help-simping @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity @russosafehaven @vaguekayla

&&&&&&

You see him with her in the drink aisle; she’s flirting as he grabs your favorite wine, and puts it in the cart. You feel the sting of jealousy; she’s beautiful.

She was like Snow White, or maybe some Twilight vampire, minus the sparkling. A Volturi member, ready to kill you for your blood. Or maybe—a fairy but ones with claws, and fangs. A human—you stop yourself as you go on yet another tangent.

You look down at yourself in your sweatpants and one of his PT shirts you’d swiped. You made a habit of stealing his clothes like a little gnome, they were comfortable. And they smelled like him. You casually make your way over, missing the way his eyes light up when he sees you.

You know your neighbor isn’t yours, but god you want him to be. Karen had seen him twirling you around in the hallway, with a glass of wine in your hands, somehow not spilling.

“I got the better wine.” He had husked in your ear, opening his apartment door.

“Are you sayin’ I have cheap wine, sir?” You had huffed.

He hummed, “‘I’m trying to catch a fairy.” He said, breath tickling your ear.

You had stumbled forward, nearly spilling the wine.

He laughed, “First day on your new legs, Ariel?” He said, helping you into the apartment.

“He’s an asshole, but a beautiful one, isn’t he?”

When you approach, the woman looks at you with disdain. But Billy wraps his arm around you, kissing your mouth, making your cheeks blaze, and eyebrows raise in surprise. “Hey, fairy.” He says, smiling at your wide eyed expression.

The woman curls her lip glaring at you, before she leaves the two of you. Not a vampire, then. He sighs once she’s gone. “What a pain in the ass. They only ever want my beauty. I’m a goddamn prize to them.” He admits in irritation.

“You could walk around with a bag over your head. Like Scarecrow. I’d dress up like Batman, too. You know, so you won’t be alone. Or a pumpkin like the headless horseman. We could put LED lights inside to give it the murder kitten vibe, and I could be Ichabod Crane, or—” You ramble, the train wreck gaining speed.

He cuts you off, kissing you mouth, tasting your iced coffee, and you make a surprised noise in the back of your throat.

He looks at you as he pulls back, and gives you a boyish grin, making butterflies erupt in your belly. “Wanna get some wine and snacks?” He asks you, pointing to the wine in the cart, enjoying your sweet smile.

“We could have a movie night, we could watch the Terminator, or Alien. Bloodthirsty aliens against a woman and her cat, I’m also not opposed to homicidal dinosaurs, or The Mummy, gets the ancient Egypt nerd in me happy—” You ramble.

Billy grins, cheeks dimpling. “Sounds good, fairy.”

You both agree no to rom-coms (you loathe those, something Karen never understood, “Romance and comedy, what could be better?” She asked you one time. “Criminal Minds. Serial killers and Spencer Reid,” you had deadpanned. Karen had blanched), so you and Billy decided to throw some movies in a bowl, and select one.

Forging relationships has always been difficult, due to you being so ditsy and a chatterbox.

Maybe with Billy, it doesn’t have to be.

x

“Young man?” An older lady stops Billy in his tracks as he moves to climb the stairs. Her hair is graying, and pulled up in a tight bun; she has laugh lines, and her eyes are warm.

“Yeah?” Billy asks, one foot on the step in front of him, body turned.

“Thank you for befriending her. I’ve always worried about how isolated she is. But she seems at ease with you. No one should be alone all the time.” She says, and Billy’s heart aches at the image of you alone with no one.

You peek from the top of the stairs, “Bill?” You say impatiently, giving him golden retriever energy.

“Comin’,” he says, turning back to the lady who shoos him up the stairs.

“What’d she want?” You ask, bouncing on the balls of your feet, noticing an outline of a knife in his combat boot.

Billy ruffles your hair distracting you, “Just worried about you.” He hums, kissing your cheek. “How about that movie night?”

You give him a sweet smile, giggling as he raced you down to the end of the hall where your shared apartment was, carrying chips and salsa.

He was going to steal your heart, you were sure of it.

[festivalsofmargot]

You Are a Memory {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: END GAME SPOILERS!!! AGE 18+ SCENARIOS

Starts after Sebastian’s questline and goes until the two of you are in your 7th year, aged up to 18+. Sebastian has just killed his uncle, and it finally dawns on the two of you how far down the dark path you’ve gone. You aren’t good for one another, and it’s time you let each other go. 

Could be a standalone, but if you’d like some extra background on yours and Sebastian’s relationship, feel free to read these first: Pining in Potions Class, Pretty Thoughts, and Selfless. (I like to write a non house specific reader, but Gall of a Gryffindor can work too if any of you Gryffindors out there want that little extra).

Word Count: ~ 5,400 😬 whoopsies

Warnings: Kissing, Angst, Sex (first time making love, gender neutral so not crazy explicit smut level, characters are aged 18+)

Author’s Note:  Listen listen listen listen… it’s not that I don’t like you guys. I just wanna make you pretty cry a bit, okay? You and Seb have been too happy together in my short stories and I’m ready to be the drama and add a little spice. This is my first attempt at a sex scene and a gender neutral one at that. I’m happy with how it turned out, but I’ll keep pushing myself to write better. Enjoy everybody, hope you’re having a good day 😊

Songs (if interested, bonus songs because it’s a long one today, pop them on and join my sad vibes):

You Are a Memory - Message to Bears

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

Exit Music (For A Film) - Radiohead

September 15, 2017: Cassini - The Grand Finale - Sleeping At Last

Light - Sleeping At Last

Falling Colour - Vanbur

You finally left the room of requirement after having spent a good amount of your Saturday there. The magical beasts you saved were always excellent company, even in a time as dark as this. When Deek had excused himself for the night, it was then you realized you should probably get to bed yourself.

You silently cursed when you saw how dark and empty the halls were. It was difficult to keep track of time with the vivariums and Deek’s room ambience enchantments. No question you were well passed curfew. Though, a detention was the least of your worries at the moment.

You heard your name called from somewhere in the darkness. You gasped and turned quickly to see Sebastian pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here?” The two of you hadn’t spoken since he ran from the cave. You hadn’t sought him out when you returned to the castle. You let him have his space, and heaven knows you needed it too.

“I needed to see you.” He said, not meeting your eyes.

“How long have you been waiting? I’m so sorry, if I had known -”

“It’s alright. I... needed the time to think about what I was going to say to you.”

Noticing the room of requirement’s door was still there, you pulled him back in with you. “Let’s talk in here.”

Sebastian’s eyes roamed the room. He would have been in awe at the beauty of it all. But the image of his dead uncle and the heartbroken look on Anne’s face took away any levity the room could have given him.

With Sebastian’s hand still in yours, you guided him to a nearby couch which had been your favorite spot aside from the beast vivariums, though you had a feeling it wouldn’t be any longer after your conversation that night. You sat and gently tugged at his hand for him to sit down with you.

Releasing your hand, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looked down at the floor, and you waited for him to speak first. You didn’t want to rush him.

“How did things go so wrong?” He buried his face in his hands, his voice faltering. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to -” 

Hearing his distress, you placed your hand on his back, rubbing up and down.

He took a shaky breath to right himself. He then grabbed your hand that was rubbing his back and held it in his lap. He rubbed a thumb across your skin and stared at the lines that graced your palm. “We need to end this.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and tears stung at your eyes. You also knew the two of you were heading this direction, but to hear one of you actually say it out loud still broke something in you. “I know.” You whispered.

Sebastian shot a hand up to cover his eyes, desperately trying to stop tears of his own from falling. His shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. “I know.” You said again, still with no conviction. “I’m just as tempted by the dark arts as you are, Sebastian. If we stay together, I'm afraid we’ll cause even more damage.”

“I don’t want this.” He choked through his tears.

You held him tighter, the tears finally falling down your cheeks. You breathed in his scent once more, taking in everything you could of him before he would leave that night. “Neither do I.”

He gently tugged at your arms to get you to release him. He stood to his feet and made his way to leave. You knew you should let him go, but you jumped up from the couch and called for him just as he was going to open the door. “Sebastian!”

His fingers hovered over the handle, he turned slightly to look at you. He waited for you to continue, but you could only stare at him, eyes sparkling with tears. 

Digging his heels into the ground, he closed the distance between the two of you in only a few steps. He took your face in his hands and crashed his lips onto yours. You met him with just as much need and grabbed at the fabric covering his chest to keep him close. The both of you whimpered at the despair in your kiss, cheeks wet with tears. This was the end of it and there was no running from the pain.

Before you knew it, Sebastian left your embrace, speeding out of the room. Once the door shut behind him, you collapsed to the floor and allowed your sobs to consume you.

-

The remaining days of your fifth year went by the slowest. Each day you weren’t working with Professor Fig on your ancient magic and going through the keepers’ trials, you struggled to fill your time. Poppy was finally taking it easy after you had helped her with the centaurs. And Natty was still recovering from your fight with Harlow. Her mother had a closer eye on her than ever before, so spending time with her away from the castle wasn’t happening.

Every time you saw Sebastian, you did everything you could to keep your distance and avoid looking his way. At first you tried to sneak glances, but you found it hurt too much, and it only tempted you to run back into his arms. 

“Maybe we were too rash. Maybe we can be better together.” You envisioned yourself saying to him, but you knew it wouldn’t be true. It was made clear every time you left the castle and ran into poachers. They made it difficult to stray from your dark path. Seeing what they had done to so many animals, you were nowhere near done with the cruciatus curse. You weren’t good for Sebastian, you needed to accept that and let him heal. He could be better, and he would be.

-

You don’t know how you made it out alive against Rookwood and Ranrok, yet there you were. You shifted uncomfortably in your bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Aside from some deep gashes that needed stitching, a ton of bruising, and a sprained ankle, you had managed to make it out all right. But Professor Fig hadn’t, and it weighed on you heavily.

Word spread fast about how you fought alongside the professors to defend the school.  All your friends had come to see you - well - almost all of them. Even some people you didn’t know very well came to check in. 

When Ominis came in to the hospital wing, you felt yourself go stiff. Along with leaving Sebastian behind, you left Ominis as well. You panicked at the thought of facing him. If you had never entered their lives, Sebastian might not have been able to dive so deep into the dark arts. He might have listened to his closest friend and the whole mess wouldn’t have happened.

“How are you?” Ominis asked as he pulled up a chair by your bedside.

“A little roughed up, I suppose. And you?” You were afraid to ask, because the conversation could so easily move towards Sebastian.

“I’m well thank you. And a little roughed up? From what I hear you sound like you belong in this hospital bed for the remainder of the year.”

You began to laugh but then hissed in pain, grabbing at your side. “Well, I can’t really disagree with you there, can I?”

He gave a soft chuckle, and then he fell quiet. The look on his face made it seem like he was debating his next words. “Look, I heard what happened between you and Sebastian.”

“Ominis, please -”

“Let me finish. I heard what happened between the two of you but I’m still here for you. That day you took on the cruciatus curse for him, I knew you’d proven yourself to be a true friend. I understand why the two of you are no longer speaking, and as much as I’m sure it hurts, I agree it’s what’s best for the both of you. Please know, you don’t have to be a stranger when it comes to me.”

It hit you how much you had missed Ominis as well. “Thank you.”

“I'm afraid I have to get going now, I snuck away from Sebastian to check in on you. I feel I’ve constantly had to talk him out of coming to visit the second he heard what happened.”

You nodded your head, “It’s best he doesn’t come. I think I’d fall out of this bed and crawl right into his arms if he had.”

“I thought the same.” He stood up from his chair. “Now get some rest. I can grab something for you from Honeydukes later.”

“Chocolate Frogs, I’m begging you.” Just as you were starting to cheer up, the thought of Hogsmeade reminded you of Rookwood, and what he had told you before he tried to kill you. “Ominis, wait. There’s something you and Sebastian need to know about Anne.”

-

Sebastian couldn’t stand it. Though he knew full well Ominis was right about how he shouldn’t go to visit you, it had gotten to a point where he wasn’t able to sleep without having seen how you were doing with his own eyes. 

Sneaking out of his dorm, he made his way to the hospital wing. He crept in, cloaked with the disillusionment spell and stood at the entrance. Eyes searching, it didn’t take long to spot you. You seemed to be the only student admitted.

He tiptoed over as not to wake you. When he reached you, his heart crumpled at the sight. A majority of your body was covered by the blanket, but from the skin he could see on your neck and face, you were riddled with bruising and stitches. Without thinking, he brushed his fingers along your cheek. 

You let out a soft moan and Sebastian yanked back his hand, panicked he had woken you. But you went quiet again, the only sound escaping you was your breathing. He should have listened to Ominis, seeing you again like that had pulled him right back in. He needed to get out of there.

Just as he as he turned to leave, you mumbled, “Sebastian?”

He looked back fearfully, thinking he was caught. But you were still sound asleep as you murmured his name. He ached to kneel before your bedside and grab your hand. He wanted to kiss it over and over, reassuring you saying, “I’m here. I’m here. Everything’s alright now.” But he couldn’t, and before he could fight himself on it any longer, he forced his feet to move one in front of the other until he was back in his dorm.

-

It was the beginning of your seventh year at Hogwarts when the Triwizard Tournament was announced to take place. It sounded like just the thing you needed to get through your last year.

You don’t know how you made it through your sixth year, it wasn’t nearly as eventful as your fifth had been. Though you were thankful everything seemed to be going a lot smoother in the world and your friends were safe, you were still uneasy with all the free time you had. You busied yourself up in the room of requirement if you weren’t with Poppy or Natty, and would stay just late enough to make it back right before curfew.

Though it was impossible to not see Sebastian, you did everything you could to minimize the chances. By the end of the year, you had found a good routine to get you through the rest of your time at Hogwarts. And adding this tournament on top of it could really help you thrive.

You fiddled with the folded up parchment that had your name written on it as you stood in the crowd around the Goblet of Fire. You were standing side by side with Natty who was also going to put her name in, the two of you waited for your turn to walk up. It was interesting watching all the Beauxbaton Academy and Durmstrang Institute students put their name in. They all looked so confident, and with such athletic builds, you couldn’t believe some of them were only 18 years old like you were.

After Natty placed her name in, you clapped along with everyone else and threw in a special holler just for her. Then it was your turn. As you were about to let the parchment fall in and be swallowed up by the flames, you looked out to the cheering crowd and locked eyes with Sebastian. Out of everyone around you, how did you manage to spot him? Dropping your name in, the crowd erupted in applause. You bowed your head and smiled as you left the circle.

When you returned to your position amongst the crowd, you tried to shake the image of his face from your mind. The way he was looking at you when you entered your name into the fire, it was almost as if he was crushed to see you do so. But you immediately dismissed the thought. It was dark in there and the only light source came from the Goblet, you couldn’t have possibly gotten a good read on his reaction. You two were no longer in each other’s lives and it’s been that way for a while. Get over yourself. He wouldn’t care what you did any more.

-

“You? But... why?” Was all Sebastian could ask his best friend. Ominis had just informed him he was the one taking you to The Yule Ball. Sebastian had known you were going with someone after overhearing you turn down a Durmstrang student, apologizing and explaining you already had a date. He had been in a dreadful mood ever since. But his sour mood turned perplexed at Ominis’ announcement.

“Honestly? Because I’m afraid of what you’d do to anyone else who did. Also, it looks good for a Gaunt to be going to the ball with the Hogwarts champion, if I’m not going to be the champion myself. Got my family off my back somewhat.”

Sebastian sighed. “Ominis, you didn’t need to trouble yourself. I’m fine now. We’re fine. We haven’t spoken in who knows how long. The two of you should go with people you -” have an interest in. He finished in his head, unable to say the words aloud without feeling sick.

Though he’d hate to admit it, Sebastian was filled with immense relief Ominis was the one taking you to the ball. He had seen the rather large amount of people who had approached you, and he wanted to shoo off each one of them. But he had no right, he needed to let you live your life. After all, it would have been highly hypocritical of him considering he had said yes to going with Amelie Dupont, the champion for Beauxbatons Academy.

-

Sebastian and Ominis waited side by side at the bottom of the stairs for their dates. He was hoping with every fiber in his body that you would walk down those stairs before Amelie did, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist watching you come down with undivided attention. And that would be horribly rude of him with his date at his arm already.

But of course, Amelie arrived first. He shouldn’t have expected any different knowing how you were. Always off doing something until the last minute.

With Amelie’s arm linked in his, all champions and their dates stood, lined in formation to enter the ballroom, except one.

“Ah Mr. Gaunt, here is your date now.”

Sebastian shot his gaze to the stairs at Professor Weasley’s words and went stiff. In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped. You were breathtaking. He had never seen you in such formal attire. For some reason, feeling foolish about it then, he had expected you to be dressed in some variation of the Hogwarts uniform. It had been all he’d seen you in for the passed year and a half.

“So sorry I’m late.” You called down as you descended the steps, watching your step as you did so as not to trip in your new fancy shoes. You were still breaking them in and weren’t the most confident. When you looked up your eyes met Sebastian’s, and the way he was looking at you had your insides twisting.

Sebastian swallowed thickly when you looked his way, and for a brief moment he let himself live in the fantasy that you were walking down the stairs to meet him. Time slowed down and memories began popping up all at once in his brain: the first time you met, the both of you trying to hide your laughter at Garreth’s nonsense in potions class, your first kiss in the library, all your sneaky pecks to his cheek, and even the times he’d rest his head on your lap as the two of you laid in the grass under the sun.

“Alright you two, join the line here.” His thoughts were interrupted at Professor’s Weasley’s voice. You took Ominis’ arm and got in the back of the line. Sebastian made himself face forward, awaiting further instruction.

“You look very handsome, Ominis.” He heard you whisper to his best friend.

“Thank you, I’m sure you look wonderful yourself.” You and Ominis cackled.

Walking out in front of everyone and doing the traditional first dance was all a blur. Sebastian hadn’t been able to compose himself after he saw you coming down the stairs.

Once the dance was over, he excused himself from Amelie and went to the washroom. He leaned against the sink, trying to steady his breathing. How could he have ever thought he was over you? You still meant as much to him then as you had when you parted ways in the room of requirement. He was extra thankful Ominis had been your date, if anyone else had been and he had to watch you link arms with them he didn’t think his heart could take it.

Once he returned to the ball, his eyes landed on you and Ominis on the dance floor. You were talking and laughing with him easily, seeming to not have a care in the world.

Do I have even the slightest effect on you anymore? Sebastian wondered as he watched from afar. He thought back to when you put your name in the Goblet of Fire. Your eyes had met his and he silently pleaded with you not to go through with it, people died in this tournament. Though he knew you were capable, having to watch you be put in harm’s way and he wouldn’t be able to help had him petrified. But you dropped it in and turned away, proud to have your name in the running. When your name was chosen from the Goblet, because of course it was, the terror and misery that went through him was paralyzing. Ominis had to help keep him steady the rest of that day.

He had a sick hope he made you hurt at least a little having come with Amelie. But you were the one on the dance floor, happy as can be, not the one trying to keep it together in the washroom like he had just been.

Sebastian went and found Amelie. He apologized and asked her for another dance.

The night went by decently enough for Sebastian. Amelie was beautiful and talkative, so when the two of them weren’t dancing, they were surrounded by a group of people asking her an abundance of questions. He was thankful she took the reins in conversation because he wasn’t in a socializing mood. Every now and then he took glances your way, not once did he catch your eye.

It was nearing the end of the night and Amelie had asked if he wanted to go back to the dance floor. He looked out and saw you and Ominis were back out there already.

“I - I apologize, I promised a friend a dance and it’s slipped my mind ‘til now.”

Amelie nodded with a smile and went back to speaking with a few Durmstrang students who were eager for her attention.

Before he knew it, he was making his way over to you and Ominis. When he reached the two of you on the dance floor, he held out a hand towards you.

Your laughing and dancing ceased.

“May I cut in?” Sebastian asked, gaze on you unflinching.

Your insides began buzzing with nerves. The thought of your first time interacting with Sebastian again through a dance was nearly too much to handle.

“Go ahead.” Ominis said with a smile as he released you, his approval taking you by surprise. “I need a rest anyhow.” Before you could protest, he was gone, leaving you and Sebastian alone.

You tentatively grabbed his hand and he pulled you into a dance. This being your first time speaking and touching after nearly two years, you didn’t think you would be able to look him in the eyes. But that was the only place you could look.

The two of you didn’t speak, it seemed you didn’t need to. Over the course of your dance, the two of you moved in closer, dismissing the official waltz stance you were supposed to be in. Your arms found their way around his shoulders and his around your waist. He leaned his head against yours as you slowly swayed from side to side.

You had fought so hard to distance yourself from him, and all it took was one dance to pull you back in. You never wanted to let go. Because as soon as you let go, he would be gone from your life again. The way he was holding onto you made you believe he had the same worry. You breathed in his scent like you used to do when you were this close. You hummed and pulled him closer, he still used the same cologne you loved.

Sebastian closed his eyes, imagining it was just the two of you in your own little world. He relished every second of this dance with you. Having you back in his arms felt right, like this was where you were always supposed to be.

“Excusez-moi? Sebastian, I’m getting tired. Would you like to walk me back to the dorms?” Amelie hiccupped, seeming to have had some drinks other students snuck in.

His eyes shot open and you tried to pull away quickly, but he grabbed your hand with a strong hold so you wouldn’t get too far. As the two of you looked at Amelie, you shook your hand from his grasp and cleared your throat. “Of course he would! Appreciate you letting me steal him away for a quick dance. Always great to catch up with an old friend. Goodnight, you two.”

Sebastian watched as you escaped to Ominis’ side, your vanishing warmth making him feel empty. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave things there and not speak to you for another year and a half. Dancing with you and holding you close would never have been enough to hold him over.

“You’ll have to guide me.” Amelie giggled, linking her arm in his. “This castle is a maze.”

“It can be. Would you excuse me one moment?” He slipped from Amelie’s grasp and ran to your side. He touched your elbow and your attention was back on him.

Your eyes widened at the gall Sebastian had to leave Amelie’s side. You already felt terrible she had to witness the two of you dancing the way you were, but truth be told she was probably too sozzled to notice. “Sebastian, you can’t just -”

“Meet me in the undercroft, I’ll be there shortly.”

“I can’t, I -” You gestured weakly to Ominis who was aware of everything that was happening.

“Please.” The rigor in his voice made it clear he wasn’t asking, then he returned to Amelie’s side.

You looked to Ominis, dumbstruck at Sebastian’s actions. “Ominis, you need to speak with him. Get him back to his senses.”

But Ominis only shook his head, “Meet with him.”

-

After all this time, you found yourself in the undercroft again. While you waited for Sebastian, you looked around, nostalgia washing over you. You found your way next to a wooden table covered in markings you hadn’t remembered seeing. Sebastian’s, Ominis’, and Anne’s names were all over, along with some carvings of stick figures. One of the carvings was a heart with yours and Sebastian’s initials. You rubbed your hand over your chest in hopes to slow down your rapid pulse. Then you ran your fingers over it.

His heart ached as he watched you. “I did that when you were recovering in the hospital wing. I was a mess.”

You startled slightly at his voice.

“A few weeks after we... well...” He looked down, kicking the dirt at his feet, wanting to change the subject. “We haven’t bumped into each other down here since fifth year, have we? How often do you come these days?” He asked, looking back up to you.

“Oh, I... I haven’t been in here since fifth year.”

“You haven’t?” A large part of him hurt at the thought of you leaving the undercroft behind.

You shook your head, eyes continuing to roam around the room. “No. This place was always yours, Ominis’, and Anne’s. Never mine.”

“I tried to make it yours too.”

You met his dispirited gaze, and you didn’t know how to respond. You turned away and began meandering around. “What is this about, Sebastian?” You hoped he would get on with it, this whole night had been torture. Watching him dance with Amelie and barely leave her side, you were thankful you had Ominis to lean on.

He took a step towards you. “I want to be in your life again.” He blurted.

Your heart picked up its pace again and you froze. It was exactly what you wanted to hear, but as much as you wanted to run and jump into his arms, you kept yourself in place. It wasn’t what was best for him.

“I want us again.” He said, taking another step towards you.

“Sebastian.” You sighed.

“Believe me when I say I’ve changed.” He began desperately. “I have no more temptations with the dark arts. Just ask Ominis! He’ll tell you how far I’ve come. I’m better now.”

You swallowed thickly in your throat. “But I’m not.” You confessed, barely above a whisper. You released a shaky breath and met his stare. “I am so proud to hear you’ve come far. Truly, I am. But I am still no good for you.” You glanced away from him then, unable to say it to his face. “I still use the unforgiveable curses... all the time.” You went tense at the admission, “These poachers Poppy and I come across, they conjure up something so monstrous in me, I -” You stopped yourself, not eager to explain further.

“I can help you.” He was by your side then. “I brought you into the dark arts. I can help get you out. My hatred for Ranrok’s loyalists? I was able to overcome that too.” He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. “You don’t know how far I’d go for this. I’m so in love with you it hurts. I can’t stand to see you and act like I don’t know you anymore.”

You shook your head at the overwhelming nature of it all, an unsteady exhale left your lips. The look on your face told him you were considering his words, and he couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Sebastian, if I pull you back to the dark arts, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You won’t.” He brought the back of your hand to his lips. “I mean it when I say I’ve changed. Have a little confidence in me, will you?”

You bit your lip, and thought through everything that could go wrong if you went back to him. But him telling you he was in love with you had taken away all your resolve. All the warnings you usually chided yourself with were falling flat, not being at all effective like they used to be even just a moment ago. You nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyes went wide, unable to believe it.

“Okay. And I love you too. So much, Sebastian.”

Sebastian picked you up and swung you in his arms, causing a boisterous laugh to spring out from inside you. He set you down and brought one hand up to cup your cheek, smashing his lips against yours. Being able to be with you like this again had him bursting at the seams with joy.

You kissed him back with just as much fervor. Your hands shot up to his hair and you gripped his locks between your fingers. He backed you up until you hit the wooden table you were looking at earlier. Without taking his lips off of yours he hoisted you up and positioned himself between your legs. He licked at your bottom lip and you opened your mouth partly for him to taste more of you. You let out a whimper, then you felt him press his front against yours. You gasped at the sudden feel of it and he made himself stop kissing you.

“I’m sorry.” He said breathlessly, forehead pressed to yours. “We don’t have to. I just couldn’t help myself. You just -” He buried his face into your neck and sighed, “Every time I see you, I go mad. I’ve missed you all this time and to finally have you here in my arms -”

You began to unbutton his shirt with delicate fingers. He pulled back and looked you into your eyes. 

“A - Are you sure?”

You smiled at him and nodded your head, continuing to undo his buttons. He helped you shakily yet eagerly. Then he began to help you undress, covering you in comforting kisses as he did so. It was nerve-racking, undressing in front of each other for the first time. But you weren’t with just anyone in that moment, you were with Sebastian, and he was with you. The two of you were hopeful for the future, but in that moment neither of you cared what happened from then on. The two of you were ready, and you wanted be each other’s first. 

You moved to the floor together, laying on your clothes, he covered your body with his. He leaned down to kiss you, his chest pressing against yours, and the feel of his skin was electrifying. You could feel his hardness pressed against you as you continued to hold each other, taking your time exploring one another in a way no one else had.

He shivered as you touched him, sighing your name against your lips. He dragged his fingers from your neck, lightly touching down your body, passed your waist, until he placed his hand between your thighs.

And right then, with the urgent need about to burst from both your cores, you knew there was no other place in the world you'd rather be. This ache you felt for each other left no room for doubt, this couldn’t have happened with anyone else, you were made for one another. You both were on the brink with each other’s touches, clueless how it could possibly feel better than it already had. 

“I’m ready.” You whimpered.

Sebastian, eyes clouded with desire, nodded his head. You both adjusted until you fit each other perfectly, starting slow to get the hang of it, and eventually losing yourselves in one another in a tangle of limbs. You covered each other with kisses, licks, and even some bites as the need to melt into each other grew more and more. In those moments together, as your breaths and moans echoed throughout the undercroft, the only temptation presenting itself was each other, and it was pure bliss.