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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Note

Helloo how are you? Can you write Jacaerys Velaryon and the female Snow reader? The reader may be Cregan's (older or not) sister. Thank you in advance 🌸

I started this one when the first images of Jacaerys from season 2 came out... I apologize for taking so long, but it's 3.5k words, so it should make up for the wait

Warnings: nudity (skinny dipping), implied cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The visit of a prince in the North was unusual, but necessary. The new-crowned Queen needed to know if the Lord of Winterfell — Cregan Stark — was supporting her claim. So, she sent her eldest son, Jacaerys, as messenger.

Without surprise, the northmen were a little shaken when they saw the prince arriving on Vermax. Most of them had never seen a dragon. Some were afraid, others intrigued by the ‘large beast’, as they called it. The name made Jacaerys laugh. Vermax was nothing to be scared of in size, there were much bigger dragons.

Ones they should be scared of.

The day of his arrival, Cregan kindly showed the prince around Winterfell — the courtyards, the horses. However, the visit ended rather quickly as he noticed Jacaerys was getting cold walking around in his riding clothes. The leather was thick enough to keep him warm through the winds when on dragonback, but not for the dry cold and snow.

‘’Let’s continue the visit in the morrow,’’ Cregan suggested. ‘’We have a chamber prepared for you. I imagine you would like to retire and warm up before we gather for dinner. I hope you like boar. My men and I hunted this one only days ago. It’s not everyday a prince graces us with his presence!’’

Jacaerys nodded appreciatively, trying to suppress his shivers. ‘’Thank you, Lord Stark. I will let the Queen know of your warm welcome when I return.’’

Cregan chuckled. ‘’Speaking of warmth. I’ll have someone bring you warmer clothes — a cloak and gloves — to your chamber so you won’t lose a finger or two during your stay.’’

‘’That’s very kind of you,’’ the prince replied, smiling at Cregan’s humor. His breath formed small clouds in the cold air as he spoke.

The Nortman walked him to his chamber, then left Jacaerys to himself. Looking around the room, he noticed how small and dark it was compared to the ones at the Red Keep or on Dragonstone. There was a large hearth already ablaze with a roaring fire, and the bed was draped in thick furs, promising a warm night’s rest.

Before he could sit by the fire to catch some warmth, there was a knock at the door.

It must be the clothes Cregan offered for him.

‘’Come in!’’

The door creaked open, and you stepped in, the heavy wooden frame groaning in protest. The warmth of the fire hit you as you entered the chamber, holding a dark cloak lined with a fur collar. ‘’Prince Jacaerys,’’ you greeted, dipping your head respectfully. ‘’Here are the clothes my brother promised you.’’

Jacaerys turned, surprise flickering across his face. Brother? He didn’t know Lord Cregan had a sister.

He thanked you and took the clothes from you, your fingers brushing slightly, then set them down on the bed behind him. He’ll look at them later.

‘’How do you like Winterfell so far?’’ you asked, trying to make conversation, and mask the sudden flush on your cheeks. You couldn’t deny, the prince was handsome. He also didn’t look much like a Targaryen with his dark curls and eyes, but you didn’t comment on that.

‘’I have never seen snow before,’’ he admitted, glancing towards the frost-covered window.

You chuckled softly, his answer common from someone from the south. ‘’It must be cold up there for a boy of the south.’’

Jacaerys nodded, rubbing his hands together. ‘’Dragons don’t like the cold.’’

‘’I heard my brother has planned a visit to the Wall. I suggest you double up on the layers and wear knit under your clothes,’’ you advised.

The fire crackled in the hearth, echoing in the small room, slowly warming up Jacaerys. He forced a smile, honestly not looking forward to this trip to the wall. To an even colder climate. ‘’I appreciate the advice. I'll make sure to stay warm.’’

‘’Don’t be afraid to ask for more. We wouldn’t like to be held responsible for a prince’s frostbites.’’

During dinner, politics were not discussed. Instead, Cregan bragged about the boar you were eating, which he himself hunted a couple of days ago.

‘’Have you ever been hunting, Prince Jacaerys?’’

Jacaerys shook his head. He heard of the royal hunt, but never participated himself. He found it barbarous. ‘’I have not, Lord Stark,’’ he replied, his voice steady but polite.

He didn’t want to sound privileged, but all meat was bought and brought to Dragonstone. There was no need to learn how to hunt when you were born in royalty.

Cregan raised an eyebrow. ‘’All men should know how to hunt!’’ he stated firmly, slapping the table for emphasis. ‘’My father took me on my first boar hunt at fourteen. There's something primal about the hunt. The chase, the kill...it's in our blood. It’s part of becoming a man.’’

Jacaerys paused, taking a sip of his wine. ‘’We don’t hunt in the south, but my father taught me how to wield a sword.’’

On his first night, sleep turned out to be difficult to find. Jacaerys tossed and turned under the soft fur blankets, the crackling fire nearby providing warmth but no comfort. Frustrated, he slipped out of his bed, deciding that a walk might help clear his restless mind.

As he wandered through the quiet corridors of the castle, the cool night air coming through the windows brushing against his skin, he noticed someone else up and about, leaning against the banister. Jacaerys assumed it was a woman working for the Starks — a maid, perhaps —, but as he got closer, he recognized you.

‘’Couldn't sleep either?’’ Jacaerys asked, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.

You jumped, pulling your cloak tighter around you. ‘’Prince Jacaerys.’’ Your heart was beating fast in your chest, startled by the prince. No one was ever up at this hour of the night.

‘’I apologize, Miss Stark. I did not mean to scare you.’’

‘’All is well,’’ you assured, offering a small smile. ‘’Is the bed not comfortable enough for a prince?’’

Jacaerys shook his head. ‘’Nothing wrong with the bed, sleep just won't come,’’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘’You have not answered my question?’’

You exhaled a deep breath and sat on the bench overlooking the courtyard. ‘’Too much on my mind.’’

Jacaerys joined you on the bench, the cool night air brushing against your faces as you asked him about Vermax. You had seen him flying over the hills a few minutes ago, but had since gone to sleep somewhere close to the castle. Your curiosity surprised Jacaerys, but he was happy to tell you all about Vermax. How he hatched, how they bonded, and even his first ever ride.

‘’Just because my parents are dragon riders doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified on my first flight. Trust is important when riding a dragon. There are possibilities of falling off and dying. But I trusted Vermax,’’ Jacaerys explained.

You could sense the bond between him and Vermax was more than just rider and dragon. It was a deep, unspoken connection.

‘’How does it feel like?’’

Jacaerys' face brightened. ‘’Nothing compares to the feeling of riding a dragon. The sky is the best place in the world. It's a thrill and freeing at the same time. I could take you on a ride before I return to Dragonstone,’’ he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘’If you desire.’’

‘’I’ll hold you to that.’’

In the morning, Cregan Stark took Jacaerys on a full tour of Winterfell, showing him every corner of his ancestral home. They started with the horse stables, where the horses nickered softly in their stalls, then moved to the godswood, the ancient heart tree standing solemn and silent. They explored the crypt, with its long lines of statues of the Stark ancestors, before finally arriving in the courtyard.

As they walked into the courtyard, Jacaerys saw you sparring with one of the trainers of the castle guard. He paused, taken aback by the fluidity and force of your movements. He had never seen a woman wield a sword with such skill and confidence. Your strikes were precise, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next, and the determination in your eyes was unmistakable.

‘’My sister was born holding a sword,’’ Cregan said with amusement, following Jacaerys’ line of sight. ‘’She is more skilled than some of our knights in training.’’

A smile curled on the prince’s lips, watching you with amazement. His uncle Aemond would eat dirt if he were to duel with you in a tourney.

Cregan snapped Jacaerys from his staring. ‘’Ready for some training?’’ he asked, a playful challenge in his eyes as he took out his sword from his belt. ‘’Let’s see if Leanor Velaryon taught you well.’’

When he said his father taught him to wield a sword, Jacaerys meant Harwin Strong, not Leanor. But correcting Cregan would feed the bastard rumors about him and his brothers, so he kept his mouth shut.

The following day was the dreaded visit to the Wall. Although the place sounded fascinating, Jacaerys was not looking forward to colder weather. He doubled on the layers as you advised him, and got on horseback with Cregan and a small group of men. They should be back in three days.

As always, Winterfell would be in your charge during Cregan’s absence.

‘’Is Vermax going to the Wall?’’ you asked, noticing Jacaerys struggling to secure his bag to the saddle.

‘’Yes. He will follow us. I could never leave Vermax behind. He goes wherever I go,’’ Jacaerys said, watching your smaller fingers deftly tie a knot to secure everything. ‘’Thank you for the help, Miss Stark.’’ His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

‘’Your welcome, Prince Jacaerys.’’

Everyone got on their horses, ready to leave.

As Cregan ordered the gates to be opened, Jacaerys looked down at you, his breath visible in the chilly air. ‘’I hope it is not as cold as you made it sound.’’

‘’Have a safe travel,’’ you wished, your eyes meeting his. "And never take your gloves off outside. You’ll lose a finger."

Jacaerys chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eye. "I'll try to remember," he said, before nudging his horse forward, leaving you with a lingering smile as they rode off.

Although you enjoyed being in charge of Winterfell, you counted the days until the men would return from the Wall. It had been difficult admitting it to yourself, but you had fallen for the prince’s charm and were impatient to see a green and red dragon in the sky.

He had promised to take you on a ride before leaving the North, and you will be holding him up to that when he returns from the wall. You had seen him talk to a few of the women around Winterfell, but Jacaerys hadn’t offered anyone else a dragon ride. Only you. It made you feel a little special.

Every time you passed the banister where you had spoken that night, you could almost hear his laughter and feel the warmth of his presence. The anticipation of seeing him again was a constant flutter in your chest.

You wondered if he thought of you while he was away.

Your question was answered when he seeked for you after lunch. You had been getting ready to train in the courtyard when you heard a knock on your door. Jacaerys had a nervous smile on his face, silently praying you would still be on board with that dragon ride.

‘’How was Castle Black?’’

‘’Nothing like I expected. The Wall is very impressive. I have never seen anything this tall before.’’

‘’It was built by Brandon the Builder of House Stark about 800 years ago, with assistance from Giants,’’ you said, proud of your family history. ‘’But Cregan has probably already told you all about the Wall…’’

He had, but Jacaerys didn’t mind hearing it all again from you.

Dragons were impressive when you were standing next to them. Very impressive.

You stayed behind as Jacaerys approached Vermax, speaking to him in High Valyrian as it was the language used to train and command dragons. A small bubble of fear rose within you, knowing dragons only allowed their riders to get close. Would Vermax try to kill you if you got too near?

‘’Come,’’ Jacaerys encouraged, extending his hand to you. ‘’He won’t hurt you.’’ He was standing by Vermax’s face, introducing him to you. ‘’He’s been eating less since we arrived. It’s his way of saying he is unhappy. I don’t know if you have noticed, but Vermax doesn’t like the North. Dragons can tolerate the cold, but they prefer warm temperatures.’’

Jacaerys’s hand rested over yours as you gently touched Vermax's scaly skin. ‘’I apologize for our cold weather, Vermax,’’ you said, your voice soft as you addressed the dragon.

Vermax’s eyes, large and intense, regarded you with a curious intelligence. You felt a shiver run down your spine, but not from the cold. Jacaerys’s reassuring presence gave you the courage to stand your ground. You trusted that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

‘’He’s magnificent,’’ you whispered, marveling at the dragon's sheer size and power.

With a confident gesture, Jacaerys climbed onto Vermax’s back, then extended his hand to help you up. You settled in behind him, and he placed your hands securely around his middle.

‘’Hold on tight,’’ he said, his own hands gripping the handles of the saddle as Vermax spread his massive wings.

With a powerful leap, the dragon launched into the sky, the ground rapidly falling away beneath you. The cold wind whipped past, making you cling onto the prince.

As Vermax soared higher, the place you always called home transformed into a breathtaking panorama of gray stones, snow-covered vales and distant mountains. The exhilaration of flight was overwhelming, filling you with a sense of freedom unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Jacaerys grinned and leaned forward, making Vermax dive as you approached a forest and hover over the trees. His feet brushed the tip of the trees, shaking off the snow covering them, before going up again with a powerful flap of his wings.

You gasped and held onto Jacaerys tighter, the mix of fear and excitement making your heart race. ‘’Are you trying to make my heart burst?’’ you shouted, laughing despite the rush of adrenaline.

Jacaerys laughed, his voice carried away by the wind. ‘’I’m only giving you a true experience.’’

Vermax continued to glide through the sky, and you savored every moment — the rush of the wind, the closeness of Jacaerys, and the incredible feeling of soaring above the world.

An idea sparked in your mind as the scenery below began to look familiar. ‘’How do we land?’’ you asked.

‘’Ilagon,’’ Jacaerys commanded, and Vermax dived down again.

You climbed down from the dragon, your feet sinking into the marshmallow-like softness of the virgin snow. ‘’Follow me,’’ you said, glancing back at Jacaerys.

He was right on your heels as you led him to a cave. He was confused about what you were doing inside a cave, but let you lead the path. You’ve grown in the North, you must know where you were going. Right?

‘’Where are we going?’’

‘’You said dragons don't like the cold.’’

The further you ventured inside the cave, the more you began to feel a gentle warmth emanating from deeper within.

‘’So I’m keeping my prince warm,’’ you teased with a smile. You took another turn and then came to a halt. ‘’After your visit to the Wall, I figured you’d like to warm up.’’ You stepped aside, revealing a hidden hot spring, steam rising invitingly from the water.

Jacaerys's eyes widened in surprise and delight. ‘’This is incredible,’’ he said, his voice filled with awe. ‘’How did you know about this place?’’

‘’I got lost a few years ago during a hunt. The snow had turned into a blizzard and I could not find my way back to the campment. I was missing for hours. My father found me and took me here until the blizzard calmed down. My little hands and feet were almost frozen.’’

‘’You should not have left campment.’’

‘’I was a rebellious child.’’

Jacaerys shook his head with a smile.

Without hesitation, you began to undress, unbuckling your cloak and peeling off your gloves. You pulled at the laces of your boots, freeing your feet from their confine, and moved to the front of your dress, loosening the laces until it slipped from your shoulders. That hot water was going to feel amazing on your cold skin.

‘’You need to undress before getting in the water, you know?’’ you teased, your eyes flickering to Jacaerys and seeing him still dressed.

His cheeks flushed slightly. ‘’Yeah, I… I’ll…’’

Slowly, he began to undress, his movements a bit tentative. His cloak fell to the ground along with his riding jacket and undershirt. You couldn't help but find his shyness endearing.

You continued with your dress and socks, until you stood bare in the soft glow of the cave. As you waited for Jacaerys to finish undressing, you found yourself peaking at his smooth and slightly defined chest. You wanted to feel it pressed against you.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped into the hot spring, the water swirling around from your movement. The spring was deeper than you expected, and soon the warm water was enveloping your breasts and shoulders. The heat was intense at first, almost too hot, but it felt incredible compared to the biting cold of the North. You were used to the cold, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t cold.

You let out a sigh of relief. The steaming water was blissful after being hit in the face by the cold air during the ride.

You glanced back at Jacaerys, who was finishing undressing, his bouncy curls moving around as he pulled off his socks. His back was to you, giving you a perfect view of his behind. You sank deeper into the water, trying to drown the inappropriate thoughts filling your mind.

‘’Careful, it’s hot,’’ you warned as Jacaerys was about to step in, standing naked at the edge of the spring, the steam rising around him.

He dismissed your warning and stepped in without a sound. ‘’I have Targaryen blood. We tolerate the heat better than others,’’ Jacaerys said, sinking down until the water covered up to his neck. ‘’This feels amazing. I wish I could come and swim here everyday.’’ He basked in the warm water, closing his eyes as he floated.

A soft smile grazed your lips.

The moment of calm was disrupted as Jacaerys swam closer to you, a boyish grin on his face before he splashed water at you. You gasped in shock, and splashed him back, laughing with child-like joy. Ultimately, Jacaerys was the one to give in, raising his arms up to surrender. Your laughter fades away with the wind, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. A silence that didn’t need to be filled, nor did you want it to be.

The two of you meet in the middle, a flutter of excitement filling your stomach. You felt his leg brush your tibia, the proximity making you acutely aware of your nakedness. The thought of sinking deeper into the water crossed your mind, but the clarity of the spring left little to the imagination. Your supple breasts and hard nipples were visible beneath the surface

‘’Prince Jacaerys?’’ you spoke softly, your voice almost a whisper.

‘’Jace,’’ he corrected gently. ‘’You can call me Jace.’’ He reached out and tucked your wet hair behind your ear with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

You leaned into his touch, a small smile playing on your lips as you nodded. ‘’Jace?’’

His gaze dropped to your lips, battling his inner dilemma of kissing you or not. The chemistry between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist. Though he was a prince, the heir to the Iron Throne, he was still a boy first, and in this moment, all titles and duties seemed to melt away.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but Jacaerys leaned in, closing the distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You had fantasized about sharing this kiss on more than one occasion while he was away at the Wall. Now, his lips were moving over yours — for real — and your dreams had not done justice to the reality of him.

The heat of the spring seemed to intensify, wrapping around you as the kiss deepened, a mix of tenderness and passion. His hands caressed every spot of your body he could reach on you, your breasts pressing against his chest as you locked your arms around his neck and shoulders and wrapped your thighs around his waist.

You pulled back to catch your breaths, and looked at him, admiring him. His hair was slowly getting its curl pattern back, a smile looking back at you.

Jacaerys doubted that by ‘finding shared interests’ his mother meant falling for Lord Stark’s sister.

—

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catopoliscat · 6 months

Text

next time / kento nanami/fem!reader.

who would have thought that kento nanami was a virgin? not you. not after this long. perhaps he was saving himself for someone. perhaps he was waiting for you.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab reader. penetrative sex. alcohol. dry humping. virgin!nanami. mutual pining. friends to lovers. creampie (wrap it kids). unprotected sex. touch-starved!nanami. canon!verse. you've known nanami since school. tinges of angst. nanami wanted you bad lmao. it's love babey. reader has experience. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever. wc: 7.7k. a/n: i kind of fear nanami's a little ooc here lmao, but i've spent too long on this so fuck it we ball he deserves this

also how mad would you be if i said this was set a week before shibuya arc be honest

mdni.

You’re a bottle and half of zinfandel deep when Nanami tells you.

Although you’re both a little warm, tipsy perhaps, you didn’t think either of you were quite drunk enough for this conversation just yet. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you to share a drink on a Friday, or a bottle in more pressing times.

There were more bottles than glasses, lately.

It was just two old friends, catching up. Talking. Complaining--usually about Satoru. Often you’d reminisce on easier times. Warm summers in the Jujutsu High courtyard, the cold tin of a soda in your hands, a bottle of water in his. Quiet talks of dreams and eventualities. Ignoring the gaping absence of a third at between you.

Tonight though, you’re not sure when the topic had changed. Somewhere between the last dregs of the first bottle and the beginning of the second, the conversation had grown more sombre than usual. Talk of love and relationships always seemed to make the air heavier around the two of you, for different reasons. A stark air of loneliness that not even the most tart of white wine could overpower.

You had offhandedly mentioned turning down one of the windows you had met on your last mission. He had been younger than you, still full of life where the holes in yourself had long since emptied it out. You had shaken your head, flattered, but tired. There were better options for a man like him, still full of hope and vitality, a whole life ahead of him… when you knew any day yours could be cut deftly short.

You had told yourself it had little to do with the fact that the man’s bright smile had reminded you of another, so many years ago.

In the quiet of Nanami’s living room, swirling the last drops of your wine in your glass, you had mentioned that you had no real desire for relationships anymore. Other than sex, of course, but only sexual. A temporary release, one of the few you had left. Nameless faces and hurried touches. Sometimes clinical, sometimes primal. Always quick, and never the same person twice.

You know?

To which Nanami had replied, “No.”

Misunderstanding the gravity of what he was saying, you had raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing at your lips. “Not one for one-night stands?”

It occurs to you distantly that you don’t know a lot about Nanami’s romantic life. Close as you two were, or so you liked to believe, he had never really mentioned it. And you had never asked.

Nanami had shook his head in response to your question, and you had nodded. It aligned with his character, you thought. As cold and stoic as he liked to act, you couldn’t imagine a world where he would use and discard someone. He felt too much, cared too much. He would love too much too, if given the chance. If he gave himself the chance.

In your musings, you had almost missed what he had murmured next.

“I’ve never had sex at all.”

Kento Nanami. A virgin.

The confession has your lips parting, your eyes blinking. Once, then twice, akin to an owl. You glance down at your wine glass for a moment, as if it had been the slightly smeared glass that had been speaking to you instead, and not the esteemed stoic sorcerer you had known for the better part of ten years.

You look over at Nanami on the couch, but he’s staring at the carpet, his expression contemplative, almost pensive. His brows are drawn taut, a small knit on his forehead. His lips are drawn into a thin line, a slight crease in his chin. There was a specific emotion dancing in his eyes. You almost dared to use the word vulnerable.

It seems… ridiculous. Nanami? Attractive as he was? Kind, considerate, hard-working, to a degree. A woman’s dream. In another life, perhaps your dream too.

Had it not been for Nanami’s serious demeanour, and the fact that ‘joke’ and ‘Nanami’ rarely went together in the same sentence, you might have thought he was pulling your leg. A joke between friends.

But he wasn’t. He very clearly wasn’t.

“That’s… fine,” you finally say after a small moment, fearing you had let the silence linger too long. “There’s no rush for these things.”

Nanami’s hum is short and clipped. Gruff, almost. He still refuses to meet your eye for now, and you make no move to change that. You get the distinct feeling that this newfound vulnerability doesn’t stem from him never having sex, but rather, the reason why he’s denied himself - because you know for a fact it has little to do with opportunity.

You had lost track of how many women you had watched Nanami turn down, clipped and short, yet always polite.

The silence is heavy between you. In the other room, you can hear the hum of his refrigerator, the buzz of the bulbs in the lights. Nanami’s apartment has always been quiet, but this silence feels suffocating. Paired with the wine, your head feels thick, your tongue thicker.

A few moments pass, and as the revelation of his virginity settles into your stomach like seltzer water, you realise… it makes sense. Nanami wasn’t the type to use someone for sex, even if eager. He’d only have sex with someone he was in love with. Someone he trusted at the very least.

And Nanami, as he had told you and a few others before, refused to entertain the thought of love whilst he was a sorcerer. No one with two working brain cells needed to ask why. He wasn’t alone in that choice, either.

You toy with the stem of your wineglass whilst you toy with a reoccurring thought in your mind, one that you entertained often, but had yet to voice aloud.

“You shouldn’t keep depriving yourself, Kento,” you say quietly. The use of his first name, rarely used in your adulthood, garners you a glance from him. It’s a small sign that you’re taking this seriously.

“I’m not deprived of anything.”

You scoff at that, small and quiet. “You deprive yourself of a lot, apart from pain,” you drawl, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table. Like always, the wine and Nanami’s masochistic tendencies have your tongue loosening more than it should. “I understand not wanting to have sex with anyone you’re not in a committed relationship with. It’s kind of… admirable, and definitely you.” You fold your arms across your chest, fixing him with a stare that he still refuses to meet head-on. “But why deny yourself the chance of love?”

In the back of your mind somewhere is a voice chanting ‘hypocrite’, but you ignore it. Nanami, however, does not.

He finally turns his head to face you, the lines underneath his eyes seemingly heavier in the dim light of his apartment. An eyebrow arches. “And meaningless sex is different?”

You scoff again, louder this time. “It’s not meaningless just because I don’t love my partner.”

“Or even know their name?”

You raise a sharp eyebrow, your own lips now pressing into a thin line. A part of you wants to retort, to snap, but you remember the vulnerability in his face from a few moments ago, and you just about hold your tongue.

With an exhale, you grab the half-empty wine bottle off of the coffee table instead and gesture for Nanami to hold out his glass. He does, and the glug of the wine fills the space between you.

“You ever thought about it?” You ask, filling up your own glass. In your peripheral, you see him sit quietly for a moment before he nods his head.

“I’m only human.”

You hum. “You should experience it,” you add. You swirl the wine in your glass once before bringing it up to your lips. “Even once. Even if it means nothing.”

With one glance, you can tell immediately that the idea doesn’t sit right with him. It was easy to forget sometimes how rigid and traditional he could be. Formalities that few seemed to care about these days. Always on the things you least expected.

“I couldn’t,” Nanami replies, shaking his head.

Oddly, you feel the desire to insist. Days of a sorcerer were short, and getting shorter every year. Younger than yourself and Nanami had already died long before they would ever have the opportunity to touch another, kiss another; to feel the warmth of a body against your own. They would never know what that distinct pleasure was like, even if they desperately wanted to. Time was infinite to the young, until it wasn’t.

It occurs to you quickly that you’re thinking of Haibara, and everything you and Nanami had experienced that he never would.

Something must show in your expression because Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. You swallow, before setting your glass back down on the coffee table with a dull clink. You look at him, your face surprisingly collected and casual for what you’re about to ask.

“What about me?”

Nanami’s questioning look only deepens for a moment, before something passes by his eyes. His lips part, his version of a falter. You know he knows what you’re implying, but still, he asks, “…what about you?”

“What if we had sex?” You say without hesitation. “You know me. You trust me.”

Nanami falters further. He straightens in his seat, his glass resting on his thigh, the thick muscle straining against his slacks. His whole body is thick with a tension you usually only see before a fight with a particularly highly graded curse. A vein protrudes from his neck.

His eyes flick between your face and your own glass, clearly wondering if it is time to call this night done, but you rise from your seat before he can, taking a small step toward the couch he’s sitting on.

You sit down next to him, a little closer than you usually might. He doesn’t move away. Your thigh brushes against his, and this close, you can hear his breath hitch in response.

“I’m not going to push this any further, Kento,” you say quietly, “but I’m letting you know it’s an option.”

Although you and Kento were hardly affectionate with one another like most friends, you decided to take a chance tonight. You had already taken several, what was one more?

Reaching out, you take his glass from his hand and set it next to yours on the coffee table. Hesitating only a moment, you place your hand on top of his, your fingers curling around until your fingertips touch his palm.

His hand is stiff and warm underneath your own. The bones and knuckles press against your skin.

Something in the back of your mind is wondering why you’re pushing this at all. Would it matter if Nanami died without experiencing the pleasures of the body, really? Would the world stop turning for either of you? You know if Nanami really wanted to, if he felt the want, the desire - then he could leave this apartment right now and find someone willing, someone other than you. He could have done so years ago, during those few years he had masqueraded as a normal human being with a nine-to-five.

You were risking a friendship over… what? The implied hopes and dreams of a dead fifteen-year-old? Haibara was dead. It didn’t matter to him whether Nanami experienced the things he never could.

Nanami’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a moment, and this close, you can see the faint traces of the wine staining his lips. Your gaze must linger for a touch too long because his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. The pink skin glistens with the faint glimmer of his saliva.

When you look up, you see his eyes trained on your own lips, before they quickly flick back up to meet your eyes.

“We’re friends,” he murmurs, his voice low, slightly thick.

“And we always will be,” you reply.

He glances down at your hands. Somewhere between your own thoughts and Nanami’s reiteration of your friendship, your hands had interlocked, fingers intertwined like vines. He was gripping your hand a little too tightly to be comfortable, but you didn’t flinch.

You’re not sure whether it had been your subconscious doing, or his.

“I… can’t,” Nanami mutters finally, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not like this. Not… now.”

Something clenches in your heart at his rejection, although you had expected it. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s denying you, or himself.

You smile softly nonetheless and nod. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” you say quietly, going to pull your hand from his grip and give him some space.

Only he doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens slightly.

Your eyes flick between his hand and his eyes, still trained on your face. You raise an eyebrow, your lips parting to speak, but he beats you to it.

“But I’d like to kiss you.”

Something resembling a very quiet ‘uh’ pushes past your lips in a long exhale.

You’re not sure why the idea of kissing him felt more… intimate than the fact that you had offered your body to him only seconds prior. You’re not sure why there’s a prickle of heat at the back of your neck or your lips burn with a sudden need.

“Nanam-“

As if remembering himself, he shakes his head slightly, blinking away whatever stupor had just possessed him. He looks away, his grip on your hand loosening, but not quite pulling away.

“I… don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles. “You should go-“

Your free hand is already gripping his chin, turning his face toward yours a little too sharply. A subtle grunt leaves his throat as he looks at you, his gaze foggier than usual. From the wine, you, or the whole situation? Who knows.

Fingers against his neck, feeling the quickened thrum of his pulse, your thumb brushes against his chin, pulling the skin until his lips naturally part. You feel Nanami’s shaky exhale against your lips as you lean forward, warmth breath mingling with yours, the scent of wine heavy on the air.

You close the distance slowly, giving him time to stop this, to pull or push away. To draw an end to this nonsense before it went any further.

Instead of pulling back or pushing you away, he closes the gap so quickly your noses almost bump together.

The first press of his lips against you feels hurried and unsure. It’s off-center slightly, barely hitting the corner of your mouth, but Nanami is quick to correct it. He slots his lips against yours more firmly the second time, his lips parting to capture yours fully. You feel a rush of air against your cheek as he exhales through his nose.

The kiss is unhurried, curious almost, yet there’s a subtle urgency in it that surprises you. Your free hand moves from his chin to his jaw, fingertips softly caressing the sharp curve of it. The sound and feel of his sigh against your lips makes you shiver, and you become enamoured with it.

Enamoured with him.

You part your lips further, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, finally tasting the remnants of the wine that you had spotted earlier. An odd sound builds at the back of his throat before his mouth parts too, his tongue brushing against yours.

Something changes quickly then. His hand, larger than you ever really noticed, cups the back of your neck, his calloused thumb pressing against your jaw, drawing you closer. Your other hands, still intertwined, seem to tighten around one another like a snake's coils. The wet smacks of your lips grow louder in the quiet of his apartment, just about overriding the sound of increasingly ragged breaths, borderline panting.

Your head feels thick. Dizzy. The kiss is indulgent, almost sloppy now. Nanami’s tongue is in your mouth, exploring every crevice, tasting you with an eagerness you hadn’t thought he was capable of. Every time you brush your tongue against his, your taste buds wetly sliding against his own, a small sound rumbles in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and grumble.

After a moment that feels like an eternity too short, you pull back slightly, just enough to see his eyes as you open yours. Nanami denies you this, however, because when you open your eyes, his are still closed, almost scrunched. A faint frown tugs at his brow.

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. The heat of his skin against yours feels searing, your noses softly brushing against one another’s. He sighs deeply, as if pulled from the back of his chest. It almost sounds like defeat.

“Kento-“

“I want you,” he breathes out, and your voice almost hitches as you feel rather than hear his voice. It’s a deep, husky sound, more rumble than syllable. But there’s a crack in his tone belying a raw vulnerability that you weren’t familiar with. Not from him.

His eyes finally open, looking up at you from underneath his brow. His hazel eyes are almost black, you realise, the familiar colour you’ve always admired swallowed up by a sea of coal. You wonder if yours are the same.

He’s trembling too. You can feel his fingertips shake where they press against the nape of your neck.

“I thought you didn’t want… this,” you murmur. ‘Sex’ suddenly feels too…

“I changed my mind,” he replies, a touch too quickly for you to believe that he was thinking clearly.

But God, did you want him too. You want him so fucking bad it almost makes you ache. Your feelings toward Nanami had always been friendly, respectful. He had been your closest friend, your ally, your confidant. You had been through so much together. You liked him, every part.

And somewhere along the way, between the four years apart as he pursued a different life and the first time you had hugged him when he finally returned, Gojo grinning over his shoulder… you think, that like had changed to love.

It quickly occurs to you that you weren’t pushing Nanami to experience sex for fear of him missing out. That was you. You were scared of missing out on him.

It’s that revelation that makes you pull back slightly, and Nanami’s eyes widen a little, some of the hazy fog clearing. His hand slides from the back of your neck, falling limply against the couch next to your thigh.

“I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” you mutter, glancing away, staring at the two wine glasses on the coffee table before looking back at him. “It’s your choice. Your first time should be on your terms, not because I think you’re missing out or depriving yourself.”

You go to remove your hand from his, but once again, his grip tightens, but there’s a tenderness to it this time. A gentle squeeze, almost begging you not to go. Not yet.

He looks serious now, staring at you squarely, as if about to deliver a mission report, and its the first familiar expression you’ve seen on his face thus far. He swallows thickly, the only thing belying his hesitation.

“I said I couldn’t have a one-night stand.”

You frown. “And th-“

“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.”

Some of the breath flees your lungs as you look at him. His lips are still pink and slightly swollen from kissing, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the wine and your touch. You become distinctly aware of the scent of his cologne, faded but warm from his skin. It’s soft, smoky almost. You have the urge to bury his nose in the crook of his neck and breathe.

You know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to ask. You know what he wants because you want it too. You realise you’ve wanted it for a long damn time.

Words fail you. They feel… inadequate to describe what you’re feeling, what you desire, what you’ve always desired buried down underneath the guilt and trauma.

But you still can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Not here. Not yet.

And neither can he.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, all you know is that your lips are pressed against his and he moans into your mouth as if something had finally let go. It’s like a cork had finally been released, a lifetime of pent-up feelings pouring out in one gush.

His hand is back at the nape of your neck, holding you tightly this time, unwilling to let go. His lips part more readily with every press, his tongue seeking yours with a pinpoint determination. You skip his jaw this time altogether, aiming straight for his hair that you’ve been dying to touch since… you don’t know when.

The hand that had been holding yours hostage finally releases, only so his fingers can brush against your waist. His fingers brush against your ribs through your clothes, tugging you closer until you’re rising up onto your knees on the couch just to oblige. He’s tilting back, his broad shoulders bumping against the couch cushions behind him - and it’s only distantly you register it’s because you’re pushing him back against it.

Something shouts at you in the back of your mind to take your time, to savour this, to savour him. You may want each other badly, but this is Nanami’s first time. It should be done carefully, respectfully, the way he would treat you if this position had been reversed.

But then Nanami’s hand has moved from your waist to your thigh, blindly grabbing it as he pulls it over his lap. Before you know it, you’re straddling his hips with a huff against his lips, and something like a sharp, pained groan leaves his lips.

You pull away from his lips with a ragged breath, concern knitting your brow until you realise what the cause of his groan was.

Straddling him, you can feel the pulse of his desire underneath you, the hard ridge of the bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core through your own clothes. One hand is grabbing your hip tightly, almost too tight, as his forehead rests against your shoulder. The other hand is on your thigh, his thumb digging into the plush flesh there.

His breathing is ragged, extremely so. Hot puffs fall against your skin. You weave your fingers through his hair softly, and you watch with reverence as a strong shudder rolls down his spine in response.

“We can stop, if you’d like,” you murmur against his ear, going to rise up on your knees to give him a little breathing room.

“Don’t,” he grunts, the grip on your hip and thigh quickly stopping you. He exhales again, a shaky sound as he keeps his forehead stamped against your shoulder. His voice emerges again, barely audible, slightly pained. “...I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Your grip in his hair tightens in response. In a flood, memories of him rush through your mind. A thousand different glances, subtle touches, small clues. Even in school, the way he would linger, a touch closer every time Suguru or Satoru would appear. The hand at the bottom of your back in a restaurant. The way he would lean in to hear you in a crowded place.

The way his arms had tightened around you when he had returned after four years away. I missed you too, almost inaudible against your ear.

Nanami didn’t want a one-night stand. What was the point of sex at all, if it wasn’t with you?

The thought has you rolling your hips down against his before you can stop yourself, feeling the firm length of his cock grind against your core. A moan leaves your lips, and something guttural leaves his.

The hand on your thigh moves up to your other hip, pulling you down tighter against him as if he could slide inside you right now. “Don’t tease,” he hisses between clenched teeth. He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against your neck. He leaves a searing, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point. “Not now, not after this long.”

“You think you’re the only one who waited?” You pant as you grind again, firmer this time. His hips buck against yours in response, a muffled groan leaving his lips, imprinted against your neck. You can feel his cock throb against you, twitching against the fabric that separates you.

“…you wanted this too?” He breathes out after a moment.

You nod, though you doubt he can see it from the way his face is buried against the crook of your neck. “Since you came back. Since you hugged me back and said you missed me.”

His hands move from your hips to wrap tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t bear for a single slither of space to be left between you two. His hips jut up against you once again, a ragged breath leaving his lips. It seems the idea of you wanting him for so long the same as he had the same effect on him as it had on you. If not more.

He holds you a little tighter, running the sharp point of his nose along your throat as he tilts his head up. Finally, finally, he breaks free of your neck to look up at you, lips parted, eyes almost desperate.

With a thick swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, he goes to say something but falters, and murmurs your name instead. His dark eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. His cock twitches underneath you.

“Please,” is all he can croak out, and the moan that almost leaves your lips would have been primal.

You nod your head, giving his shoulders a small squeeze, pushing him back slightly. He seems reluctant to let go, but finally relents after a little insistence, reclining back against the couch. His arms unwind and his hands drop to your hips. He looks up at you, clearly waiting for your lead.

You sit back slightly on his parted thighs, the muscles firm and supportive underneath you. Letting your hands fall from his shoulders, you drag your fingertips slowly down over the expanse of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his wrinkled shirt. As your fingers skate over his abdomen, you feel the muscles flex and roll. Nanami looks at you readily.

“We should do this properly,” you murmur, your eyes trained on the lower buttons of his shirt, near the waistband of his slacks. “In a bed.”

Nanami, to your surprise, shakes his head quickly, giving your hips a small squeeze. “We’ve waited long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t disagree. Despite the need, the ache, the pulse of your own core, you can’t help but think of if the positions were reversed. The image of candles, roses and soft music fills your mind, Nanami’s guiding hands and murmured praises. It would be slow and romantic. Perfect.

“Nanami,” you breathe out, almost chastising. With the way his cock is pressing against you, you have no doubt he’s not thinking clearly right now; the thought of having what he had wanted for so long within his grasp clouding rational thought.

He shakes his head again, a lock of his mussed hair tickling his brow. “Next time.” He shifts, sliding down the couch a little more and spreading his thighs - and in turn, spreading yours. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you a little closer until you’re seated right on top of him. “Next time,” he repeats in a groan. “We’ll go slow. I’ll explore every inch of you, taste you. Now, I just want…” He exhales an unsteady breath, sounding like your name. “I just want you.”

Your fingers linger near his shirt's lower button, and one of Nanami’s hands unclasps itself from your hip to gently grasp your wrist. He guides your fingertips to the belt buckle, the metal cool against your hot fingers.

You meet his eyes once more, and his gaze is a paradox of firmness and vulnerability. He’s nervous, you think, but ready. Almost desperately so.

Without another word, your other hand reaches down to join your other one, and your fingers are surprisingly deft as you slide the leather through the metal. Nanami watches your hands with rapt attention until the belt is loose. Your fingers slide over the metal button of his slacks, and you don’t check in this time. You pop it open before sliding his zipper down, the crackle of the metal teeth as loud as a gunshot between you.

A small sigh of what you think is relief leaves his lips as the fabric parts, giving you a small glimpse of the dark boxers underneath, straining over his cock. A small wet patch blooms at the top, wear his tip would be, and a shudder runs through you.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his underwear, lingering for a moment. You look up at him at the same time he looks up at you. Without a sound, Nanami lifts his hips and you rise up to your knees.

With a few firm tugs, you manage to inch his slacks and boxers down enough to free him. A small huff leaves his lips as the cooler air of the apartment hits his overheated flesh, and you watch in rapt attention as his cock twitches, the flushed tip glistening already.

It’s longer than you expected. Thicker too. Uncut. A prominent vein runs up the underside of it, and you have the sudden urge to follow it with your finger, or your tongue.

Nanami shifts underneath you, and you realise you’ve been staring a touch too long.

You pull your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes, and his breathing seemed to have quickened. Anticipation is making him stiff, almost antsy, a rare sight on a man you’ve rarely ever seen anything of other than composed.

It’s endearing.

Reaching down, you satisfy your own urge and run your fingertip up his shaft, following the vein, feeling it pulse steadily to the rhythm of his heart. Nanami’s hips twitch, his eyelids fluttering. Dark eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

When you curl your fingers around him, gripping him firmly at the base, his eyes shoot open, snapping to the sight of him in your palm. You give him one pull upwards, and a bead of pre-cum wells in the divot of his slit.

“Fuck,” comes out in a very quiet, gruff choke. Your eyebrows rise in surprise, a small smile on your lips. Nanami didn’t always curse, and especially not like that.

“Language, Nanami,” you tease, and his eyes flick up to you, something indignant and impatient in his eyes. You usually weren’t one to tease, and he wasn’t one to be teased.

You continue to stroke him slowly for a moment, rubbing your thumb against the sensitive tip. You fingers quickly become tacky, the glide of your hand more fluid, until the lewd wet noise starts to rise to the same level as Nanami’s breathing. He grunts with every upward stroke, his hips twitching underneath you. Had it not been for your weight on top of him, you get the distinct feeling he’d be bucking up into your palm a little more eagerly. His head falls back against the couch, lips parted, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he relaxes more into the sensation.

It occurs to you that you’ve seldom seen Nanami this relaxed.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” you ask, “with me on top?”

He nods but doesn’t open his eyes. His hands run up from your hips to your waist, a soft caress. “It’ll be… easier for me- hah-“ Another choked groan leaves his lips as you give the head of his cock a small squeeze, and Nanami’s hand flies to your wrist in a blink, stopping you from making another move.

You feel his cock throbbing in your grasp, and Nanami’s straight-up panting now, his eyes slightly wild as he tilts his head up to look at you. It’s an arousing reality to know that you had just pushed Nanami dangerously close to the edge without even meaning to.

“I won’t last,” he murmurs, looking up at you, his eyes shining.

You realise quickly that he’s actually asking a question. Are you sure?

“This time,” you reply with a small smile. With his hand still around your wrist, you give his cock another squeeze, and he grits his teeth, that vein in his neck protruding once more. You can see the taut muscles in his abdomen flexing from where his shirt has bunched up.

As much as the idea of making Nanami cum, right here, right now, appeals to you, you relent for now. You’d love nothing more than to watch him spill into your palm, to see the euphoria and bliss play out on his face… but that was for another time. The next time, perhaps.

You release his cock, letting it fall back against his lower stomach with a dull smack, making him hiss through his teeth. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his throat, nipping at the skin softly.

You guide his hands to the waistband of your own bottoms, and he wastes little time in following your unspoken order. The press of your lips against his throat clearly distracts him, but he manages to pull down your clothes enough to leave you in your underwear. You kick them off the sofa haphazardly, not leaving his neck for a single moment.

He catches you off guard when his hand immediately dives for your sex, cupping your heat through the dampened fabric. You stutter against his neck, gripping onto his shoulders for support in response.

Your eyelids close, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel just how wet you are. “Nanami,” you gasp.

“Kento,” he whispers quickly. Once, then twice, he rubs his palm along your clothed pussy, something guttural building in the back of his throat as you buck down into his touch. “You’re… so wet.”

The wet spot on the fabric clings tightly to your folds, doing very little to dampen the sensation of his touch. His fingers are exploratory, a tentativeness that belies his lack of experience with this, but his touch, the fact it’s him, here and now, makes up for it all.

You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed a touch such as this. Not like this.

Despite toying with Nanami’s cock until he almost burst, hypocritical impatience gets the better of you, and you remove your hand from his shoulders to tug down your own underwear, kicking it off to join the growing pile on the floor. Bare from the waist down, Nanami’s eyes roam over the exposed skin almost hungrily.

Both calloused hands run up your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh slightly. You see his hand move for your pussy once more, but your fingers are curling back around his cock again before he can distract you.

Next time, keep parroting in your mind. Next time you can both endure hours of foreplay; touching, kissing, tasting, the whole nine yards. You promise to make him cry out before he even sinks inside you, to run your tongue along every inch of his skin until you’re sick of the taste of him. You’d know he’d do the same.

But you two had waited long enough.

Gripping the base of his cock again, you brush it up against your heat, your own slick smearing across him. Nanami’s eyes almost roll back into his head, but he closes his lids before you witness it. You’re faring little better, the mere sensation of having him against you like this, the tip of his cock rubbing up against your clit sending you dizzy. You angle your hips, and just feeling the thick head press against the tight, slick ring of muscle is enough for a moan to already tumble past your lips.

Something flickers in Nanami’s gaze as he opens his eyes again, honing in on the sight of you braced above him like this. He grips your hips, his touch light, merely supporting you for now. You look back once into his eyes, and go to check in just once more, but he leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s little more than teeth and raw need.

His lips pressed against yours, you sink down, the wider head of his cock slipping inside you. Your lips part in a soundless gasp against his mouth, swallowing the ragged groan that leaves his throat. The stretch is slightly more than you’re prepared for. Distantly, you think, skipping foreplay wasn’t the wisest idea, but desperation, need, pushes you forward regardless.

So you sink down further, inch by inch, and as he slides deeper and deeper, his grip on your hips grows tighter and tighter, until the force of his fingers dulls the ache of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you finally bottom out, hips sitting on top of his. You realise you’re breathless, and that cowgirl might not have been the best position for taking someone of his size. Certainly not in one go, like you just had.

Nanami is fairing no better. His mouth is agape, his biceps trembling where he clings to you. He seems dazed, winded, panting into your mouth as his arms wind against you. He pulls you forward, and you both moan as his cock seems to slide just that little bit deeper.

You’re dizzy, strained, stretched out far more than you can ever remember being before. Your eyes are scrunched closed, your forehead knocking against his. Everything feels distant and muffled. It takes you a moment to realise Nanami’s muttering something repeatedly in fragmented gasps.

When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you almost panicked, his eyebrows knitted upward. His teeth are bared, gritted - and it’s now you notice that you’re clenching around him so tight that you’re not sure if you’re causing him more discomfort than pleasure.

You swallow thickly, trying to catch your breath. You’re flushed, prickly heat blooming across your chest and neck. You shift a little, and something pained rumbles from the back of Nanami’s chest in response.

“Do you want me to stop or-“

“Don’t,” he grunts, his fingers shaking against your back. “Don’t move.”

The throb of his cock inside you is insistent, and it takes everything in you not to clench tighter around him in response. You know he’s close, dangerously close, and as much as you want to rise up on your knees and slam yourself down on his cock until he’s begging you to stop, you clench your jaw and relax.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly; small pecks and affectionate touches. He shivers, and his cock still pulses, but slowly, muscle by muscle, he relaxes too, ragged pants dissolving into hot, muted breaths. His arms around you loosen, holding now, not gripping.

“Tell me when you want me to move,” you whisper against his ear, pressing a small kiss to the lobe.

He nods, brushing his cheek against yours with a soft sigh. His hand moves from your back upward, until he cups the back of your head, drawing your lips back to his. It’s a soft kiss, loving; slow and sensual slides of wet skin mingling with gentle exhales. Before you know it, and before he says, you’re rolling your hips greedily, just grinding against him for now.

A guttural sound leaves his lips. His forehead feels hot and sticky pressed against yours like this, a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.

You feel his thighs shift, widening as far as the slacks still around his thighs can allow, feet planted more firmly into the carpet. The first roll of his hips is disjointed, off rhythm with your own, but the slight drag of his cock against your walls has you moaning brokenly. The second roll, a little more confident, has you pressing your hips down to meet it, and your back arches like a cat.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice thick and throaty. You moan his name, wait for the third shallow thrust, and meet it. “You feel so fucking good.”

He looks up at you like you hung the stars, his eyes widening at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips like a fractured halo. He loses his rhythm, but you soon pick it back up for him, starting to use your thighs to slide more eagerly down his cock. It’s still shallow, Nanami’s arms around your waist preventing you from really going for it, but you’re unwilling to part from the closeness for now.

You bounce a few inches at a time, the dull clap of your hips and the lewd squelch of your hot cunt wrapped tight around him filling the air of the apartment. With each bounce, a grunt pushes out from his chest, hot breath fanning across your face.

Nanami, though inexperienced, starts to let his body guide him. His hips buck up to meet you more confidently, and the growing force of his movements has you keening, fingernails biting into his shoulders.

You look square into his hooded eyes, breath mingling, and see the flush across his skin, his lips glistening with saliva. You moan again, higher pitched this time, and Nanami’s next thrust has you jolting up a little, nose bumping against his. You clench around him again, and his brow knits together.

“S-Shit,” he pants, his hips starting to jolt more readily, pushing a little too forcefully into you, quickly losing his rhythm. “I’m not… I’m not going to last…” His movements quicken, grow more erratic, and you’re not even sure he realises. “… you’re so fucking… tight.”

The last part is little more than a throaty whisper, his voice cracking. You stop meeting his thrusts and instead, widen your stance, tighten your core, and let him take what he needs. The movement, though small, isn’t lost on him, and he looks up at you, emotion swimming heavily in his dark gaze.

He thrusts up grow more erratic, sloppier, something like a grunt leaving his mouth with every dull thwap of his hips against your ass. His arms tighten around you, fingertips pressing into your skin. A groan, a hiss, and a swallow. The couch creaks and strains.

“N-Next time - hah - next time… I want t-to feel you cum around me,” he pants, his arms starting to shake. “I’ll give you everything, anything, fuck, I-I’ll keep going until… until… God-“

He’s barely pulling out now, a mere inch is all he’s moving, the head of his cock bullying against the soft spot right next to your cervix. Choked, high-pitch moans are the only sounds you can make, and you distantly note you’ve never sounded like before. Not ever.

You’re getting there, you realise. Not quite close, and definitely not as close as him, but the way his cock fits inside you, the slap of his hips against you, the way he’s looking at you… it’s pushing you there fast.

But it’s not quite enough.

“I’m close,” he gasps. “I… where…”

“Inside,” you reply without hesitation. Something passes by his eyes, a small flicker of concern, perhaps, swimming in the sea of lust and arousal. You try to find your bearings enough to tell him it’s okay, you wouldn’t have taken him inside if you weren’t protected-

-but then his cock is twitching inside you, and Nanami is shaking, shaking underneath you, his thighs jolting, nearly bucking you off his lap altogether.

With one last slam of his hips against you, buried as deep as he could possibly ago, a long, primal groan leaves him. It’s deep, visceral, easily mistaken for something pained - and it might be the most divine fucking sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

He buries his face against your throat as his hips buck involuntarily a few times, and you shiver as you feel that familiar warmth bloom inside you. He’s giving you everything, or what feels like it. Your pussy flutters around him, and his fingertips press into you so tight you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises.

His heart is hammering against your chest, the thump pounding even in your own chest. Ragged pants and a heavy quiet settles over the living room. His cock continues to twitch inside you, growing weaker with every thud of his heart.

Nanami doesn’t pull his head from your throat for a long while, his nose pressing into your skin as he pants against you.

After a moment, he finally swallows. “… I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I… I should have made you-“

“Shut up,” you murmur against his warm hair, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and his shampoo. He seems to get the picture, of what you were trying to say. He always did. “Next time,” you add anyway, just to be sure.

He lifts his head from your skin, looking up at you blearily. You smile fondly as you see his face again, the harsh lines on his brow and his eyes smoother now, no longer creased as they always seemed to be. He looks… so much younger, you think, like this. Relaxed. Sated.

You brush some of his sweaty hair out of his face, and his eyelids flutter at the brief contact. He seems exhausted, you think.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs as he looks up at you. “I don’t want this to…” His palm moves against your back, sliding down your spine. “I want you. Properly. I always have.” He swallows. “Always.”

Your eyes soften. He looks at you expectantly, almost vulnerably.

“You have me,” you murmur in reply, finally. “Properly.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and it’s warmer than you’ve ever seen before. Genuine. Light. It’s as if a decade of weight lifts from his broad shoulders, if only briefly.

He pulls you close once more, his lips pressing against yours softly, lovingly, and the world seems to fade away.

For now, of course.

masterlist.

#nanami x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #kento nanami x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami #kento nanami

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sinsandsweetness · 1 year

Text

“consequences” - part 4 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)

part 1, 2, and 3

pairing- (Rick x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ content, age gap, smut, needy + desperate reader, sneaky sex, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, light choking, mutual pining, cream pie, poorly proofread. wc 3.9k

notes- i know this took forever, so thank you all for the patience. i rewrote this like three or four times because i just wasn’t as happy with it as i am with the first three parts. i’m pretty happy with it now but I feel it isn’t as playful as the first three. regardless, please tell me what you think:) comments and reblogs are always incredibly appreciated and your feedback means a lot to me <3 enjoy!

3 weeks.

That’s how long it took you to break him. Since that day up in your room, during the barbecue. When he was insistent on showing you how much better he could take care of you than anyone else could. 3 weeks from then is when you finally broke him. And who’d have thought it’d be in your own home, with your dad passed out on the main floor. Unaware of the downright filth happening upstairs in your bedroom. Filth that if he ever found out, would send him into cardiac arrest. Though you’re always careful, and to you, the risk is definitely worth the reward.

But it’s not like you haven’t had a couple close calls. Stolen kisses and flirty glances can’t go unnoticed forever. Your father hasn’t ever said anything. Even when he can see Rick’s hands on your waist, lingering a minute too long. Or the way you always sit right next to him. Pressed up as close as humanly possible. Practically in his lap. Well... sometimes actually in his lap. Your father’s not stupid. But, he’s also not exactly the most confrontational man. And he’s never actually caught you. There’s been no real confirmation of his suspicions. Until today that is.

After a long day of work at your dads construction site, Rick arrives at your house before any of the others. Freshly showered with a case of beer. It’s just you and him in the kitchen. Making small talk as he tries to pretend there isn’t a band of tension pulling the two of you closer and closer with every meaningless question.

“Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, chopping up some vegetables on a cutting board. Glancing up at Rick who can’t seem to look you in the eyes. Distracted by the tiny little outfit you have on. A skirt, despite the brisk weather. A tight, fitted long sleeve that’s pushing your breasts together in the most enticing way possible. No bra. Clearly. And then there’s the best part. The part he keeps glancing down at while licking his lips and taking in a deep breath. Your thigh highs. White knit thigh high socks that make him want to pin you up against the counter and fuck you then and there.

“I uh- your dad told us to come for some drinks,” he looks up at you again, this time you’re leaning against the island, brushing your hands together to dry them off.

“So… where’s my dad then?” You ask, stepping even closer to the man. Too close, you realize at the hitch of his breath.

It’s been a really long 3 weeks.

“Uh- I imagine he got sidetracked. I know Maggie was looking for him. Probably caught up in conversation.”

“And Shane? Daryl?”

“On their way.”

“Hmm.” You hum. You’re right in front of him now. You can smell his cologne and the shampoo he uses. Damp curls forming at the base of his neck. Casual black jeans on, and a simple grey tee shirt. He places the case of beer right next to you on the counter, stepping in close so he’s pressed up against you. Trapped between his warm body and the cool marble.

You stay like that for a moment. Both of your minds going back to the night last week that you snuck out. To what happened in that truck. But more importantly what didn’t happen. What you’ve been praying would happen for weeks.

Finally he leans in, pressing a sweet little kiss to the corner of your lips before dipping lower. Breathing in your perfume.

“Missed you,” he admits into your neck. The warmth of his breath sends little pinpricks down your arms.

You breath in a quiet gasp when he kisses your neck. Warm, soft lips making their way down to your collarbone. His hands on either side of your waist, planting you against the counter.

God, you want him so bad it hurts.

Your hand goes to the back of his neck, pulling him up so his lips are forced against yours. Kissing him with the same fervor and necessity that had been building all month. Since that very first kiss in your dads garage. Since that day at the barbecue when Rick took you upstairs and showed you how much better he is at making your legs shake than Shane. Since the pool party, the day you were a complete tease and they all knew it. When Rick decided to take you down to the pool shed and teach you a lesson. You had no idea fingers could even feel that good. But Rick’s do. Everything Rick does, feels good to you.

And then, there was the night last week. The one that both of you have been thinking about every hour since.

You’d snuck out your bedroom window just to see him. To go for a drive and park on the side of the road. You kissed him til your lips were swollen and your panties were soaking through.

You know he’s wanted you from the very start. When he first met your dad and started coming over. Well before you’d ever kissed him. Showed interest in him. But that night, it hit him. How much he wants you to himself. How much he loves being alone with you. Just you. But no matter how tempted he may have seemed, he still refused to break the agreement. He still wouldn’t fuck you.

Yet.

“Rick-“ you gasp against his lips as he pulls you up onto the counter, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Skirt riding up to expose your lacy panties. You can feel him against you. How badly he wants you. How hard he is for you. How hard he’s been every night since the night you snuck out to see him. Touching himself to the thought of you, wishing he’d just fucked you then, on the side of the highway in the dead of night. Just you and him and the stars acting as the only witnesses to your risky little love affair.

“Want you,” you say against his lips, his hand starting to gently wrap around the front of your throat. His other arm pulls you in by the waist so you’re completely flush with his chest.

“Want you so bad,”

But before he can mumble a response into your mouth, both of you hear the garage door open. You both freeze. Eyes going wide, you slide off the counter, immediately pulling your skirt back to an appropriate length. Rick rubs a hand over his face, turning the other direction. Giving you a moment of privacy to get yourself situated and to deal with the tent in the front of his jeans.

Your father walks in first.

You can't even look at him. Blush so very apparent on your pretty face as you look down at the cutting board, pretending to be occupied with the assortment of vegetables. Daryl and Shane head straight for the fridge. Only giving you a smirk of acknowledgment as their gaze is darting in between you and Rick.

Your father notices. The way you won’t look him in the eye. The way Rick is nervously running a hand through his hair and how his eyes keep darting over to you. He sees it. He’s not stupid. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t say anything. He just stalks over and slaps Rick on the back with a, “thanks man, really needed this after the week we’ve had.”

Rick nods in agreement, taking a sip of the bottle your father just handed him. Rick looks over at you. Something unspoken behind his eyes that you can’t quite make out. Yeah, it’s been a long week indeed.

You don’t stay downstairs long. When Shane and your father start getting all loud and rowdy in the living room, the empty bottles of their fifth beers being knocked over onto the hardwood as their play fight begins, that’s when you decide to head upstairs with a quick wave, “g’night.” Rick is the only one who catches it. Nodding back at you as you climbed the stairs. Watching you sway your hips with every step. Skirt so short that the bottom of your ass cheeks are on full display.

You try sleeping. But every time you close your eyes you see Rick. That night in his truck. Straddling his waist and unbuckling his belt. The way he kissed you so deep. Filled with so much lust. So much need. You’d never felt that before. And even though he told you exactly how bad he wanted you, he didn’t have to. You could feel it. With every touch. Every kiss. That’s why it surprised you when you tried to go all the way and he still wanted to stop you.

“Not like this. I can’t- I'm… we’re not doin’ it like this.”

“Why?” You were out of breath, still trying at his belt but his hand came down to stop you, firmly calling your name. Grabbing your full attention to his stormy blues.

“We’re on the side of the road for christs sake. It should be- fuck. We should be at home in a real bed. Not sneaking around in some beater pickup in the middle of nowhere-”

“Rick-”

“No.”

“This is perfect.” You tried to assure him.

He sighed and pulled your forehead against his, catching your lips before mumbling, “You’re perfect.”

“I want this. I want you.”

“I know. And you have no idea how badly I want this too. But I can’t. I just- we can’t.”

He still made you come. Regardless of the fact that he wouldn’t fuck you. He wasn’t going to let you go home without a proper orgasm.

But you needed more. Needed him.

And now, laying in bed, reliving the scene in your head with your hands trailing down to your panties, you’re soaking right through. Your stomach doing backflips at the memory of his hands roaming your body in the dark.

With a frustrated groan, you sit up. Fuck. A cold shower is what you really need.

You get up and open your bedroom door, immediately met with the sight of Rick on the top step of the stairs. He’s got his index pressed to his lips when he sees you. Telling you to be quiet. Hush.

He’s smiling behind his hand. Dropping it as he reaches your bedroom door. He brings his arm up to the doorway, leaning on it. Other hand sporting a half empty bottle of beer. You wonder how many he’s had.

“They’re all passed out on the couch aren’t they?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway. Arms only inches from his chest.

“How’d you guess?”

“Well… it’s quiet, for one,” you turn around and head to your bed, sitting down and waiting for him to follow.

He does.

“And two… you’re here.” You say.

“I am.”

He sits down. A quiet moment passes and he takes another swig of beer before placing the bottle on your nightstand.

“Y’know, if you really don’t wanna sleep with me, you should probably stop inviting yourself into my bedroom. It’s sending some pretty mixed signals.”

He chuckles at your comment. “Mixed signals huh?” His hand goes to your leg, tracing the band of your thigh highs. You’re no longer wearing your skirt. Just panties, socks and an ex-boyfriend's baggy tee shirt.

“Yeah,”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing about you, sweetheart,” his hand makes its way up your thigh. His palm is rough against your smooth skin, the attention sending a jolt straight between your legs.

“How so?”

“Shane? Daryl?” He says it like it’s obvious. You fooling around with the other best friends.

“That’s different.” You look up at him now, the tiniest scowl on your face.

“How so?” His tone is soft but it’s clear he’s mocking you.

You open your mouth to respond but something stops you. Deep breath. You’re looking at his lips now. And he knows it.

“I wanted you, y’know. They’re fun and all but…“ you swallow. You need Rick. From the very start it’s been pretty obvious that you like him best. Always sitting next to him, as close as you can get. There’s just something different about Rick. The way he makes you feel. The way he was so quick to claim you. How he’s possessive and attentive and so insanely infatuated by you. It’s just… different. You can’t explain it.

“But what?” His nose is nearly touching yours at this point. One hand on your thigh and the other one reaching for your face. Thumb running across your jaw as you lean in.

You’re voice is quiet when you finally speak.

“I want you.”

He lips graze yours and you have a feeling that he heard you this time. Like, really fucking heard you. Not just the words leaving your mouth, but everything else that you’re trying to say. The way your heart is beating fast and you’re breathing is all shallowed. How he can see every nervous little tic that goes through you as he leans in to kiss you.

So he gives in. Reluctantly of course. If asking, “you sure about this?,” while peeling your panties down your legs is considered reluctant. Or worriedly whispering that “we could get caught,” while tossing your shirt across the room and leaning down to suckle at your breasts, nipping and sucking a few little love bites where no one else will see but him. Because that’s so very reluctant of him.

His hands are wrapped around your waist as he kisses down your stomach. Soft lips making their way down between your legs, propping one of your legs up and kissing your inner thigh. He takes his time, biting your leg and dragging his teeth down your sensitive skin. The action makes you whine, hands going straight to his curls.

“Rick just- c’mon,”

“Why don’t you just lay back and look pretty, huh?”

“Rick-” you’re on fire. Need pulsing through your bloodstream with every touch. His hands are holding your hips to the mattress, preventing them from squirming around. The featherlight kisses he’s peppering over your clit are bordering on the side of torture. You know he’s just trying to take his time. To savour the feeling and drag it on. Make it last and make it special. But he doesn’t realize how badly you need him to push your knees to your chest and fuck you til you’re a moaning mess.

“Rick.” You tug on his hair, trying to get him to just fuck you already. You’ve been waiting over a month for this. And judging by the arousal dripping onto your pink, cotton sheets, you definitely don’t need the foreplay.

“Maybe you’d get what you want if you used your manners a little more. Ever thought of that?” He looks up at you. And despite his words, he follows the hand urging him to come up and kiss your lips. To replace his shoulders with his hips in between your legs.

“Please,” you breath out. If manners is all he wants, then you’re a lucky girl. You’d tell him whatever he wants to hear if it mean he’ll fuck you. “Please, please, just fuck me, just-”

“God, you’re such a brat,” he cuts you off with a kiss, you’re legs instinctively wrapping around his clothed torso. And the feeling of his denim against your bare clit isn’t helping your incredibly desperate situation.

You reach for his belt mid kiss and you can tell that his instincts are telling him to stop you. To tell you that you’re dad’s downstairs and that it’s wrong. But with his forehead pressed against yours, warm breath fanning over your lips he dips down to kiss your neck. He doesn’t stop you. He lets you unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down, enough to reach his cock, standing tall and eager. You tug on his tee shirt and he helps you take it off, throwing it onto the pile of both your clothes building on your floor. You pull him in close with your legs, knitted socks all soft against his bare back, almost locking him into place. Your hands are on his jaw, pulling him in as you bite his bottom lip, gently dragging it out and earning a groan. At the same time, he lines himself up with your aching cunt. He enters you slowly with a muffled moan. A gasp leaves your lips at the stretch. He’s much bigger than anyone you’ve been with. In length and in girth.

Once every thick inch is completely inside of you, he can tell that you need a minute. Your breath is caught in your throat as you adjust to his size.

Well, no going back now.

“You okay?” He asks in between kisses. Keeping his hips still as you get used to the feeling.

You nod, “Just- go slow, ok?”

You can’t help the moan that’s crawling up your throat when he does as you say. Slow, intentional movements in and out. Fuck he’s big. But fuck, does it ever feel good.

“You feel so good,” you tell him. You need to tell him. To let him know how much you love it. How much you needed it. Needed him. “Please don’t ever stop.”

His breathing is heavy. Pushing down the groans and sounds you so desperately wish he would let you hear. He’s trying so hard not to come. You’re so wet. So warm. So tight around his cock and so fucking pretty laying there underneath him. Moaning all sorts of praise.

“You’re so big,”

“Rick, yes.”

“Right there, please.”

“Feels so good,”

And your words add fuel to the fire burning inside of him. The way you’re holding onto his neck, legs locked behind his back. Lips parted in the long awaited bliss of being filled right up. Taking him so well. And he makes sure to tell you it, too.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good,” he kisses you again, “taking me so well.”

There’s a lot of hands. Grabbing at arms, necks, hair, faces. Whatever either of you can reach as he snaps his hips against yours. He’s done going slow. His pace is making your back arch off the bed and guttural, almost pornographic noises start to pour from your lips. Swollen and rosy and constantly catching his with every opportunity.

“Shhhh-“ Rick brings a hand up to your face. Forehead still pressed agains yours as he covers your mouth. “Gonna wake em’ up if you keep making so much noise.”

That’s not the only reason he needs you to shut up. It’s true, but it’s not the only reason.

He can’t take it. Well, at least he doesn’t think he can.

When he pulls out, your eyes go wide. No. Don’t stop. Why the hell is he stopping?

“What- oh.” your head falls back to the pillow at the feeling of his tongue on your clit. His fingers already knuckle deep and curling upwards to hit your sweet spot. Those fucking sounds you’re making are driving him crazy. But at least he knows he can last a little longer this way. Maybe make you come before he fucks you again. A little less pressure to perform when you’re already dumb from his fingers. From his tongue. From the way he’s sucking on your clit and pushing up on your thigh, fingers driving into you so hard you could scream.

You have to cover your own mouth. You know you’re being too noisy. And you also know the last thing either of you want is for your father to wake up to the sound of his daughter getting finger fucked by his best friend. By his friend who’s at least 15 years older than you. The one he’s been suspicious of for a few weeks now, over analyzing the way he looks at you. The way he listens to you. The way he brings you up and asks what you’re up to. All of it. And then earlier. The flushed faces of guilt and embarrassment when he got home in the middle of your moment.

You don’t need any kind of interruption. Anything that might put off the thing you’ve been pining for so badly for so long. But you definitely don’t need the interruption to come hurling up the stairs, drunk and careless and ready to fight.

So you bite your lip til it bleeds. A hot wave of pleasure erupts from your core, and spreads through you like a wildfire. Fuck. Those damn fingers.

Before you can even catch your breath, while your muscles are still twitching from your orgasm, his forearms find their way to either side of your face and he pushes inside of you once again.

“Ohmygod,”

You’re soaking. Both of you can hear it. The sounds of your slick, wet cunt perfectly taking every single thrust. So wet. And all for him.

“Ohmygod,” you repeat, nails raking down his back as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle to something otherworldly. Heaven or paradise or whatever utopia you can think up, couldn’t even compare. Not to this. Not to him. The way his cock kisses your cervix with every snap of his hips. The way his hands are roaming over your body. Trying to touch every square inch he can. The way he’s whispering all that dirty praise, telling you how good you feel. How wet you are for him. How fucking perfect you are. For him. The way he kisses the leg propped up on his shoulder, leaning back to admire what a mess he’s made out of his best friends daughter. So pretty and perfect. All flushed and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat coating your chest. Eyes glossed over in complete and utter ecstasy.

Nothing can compare.

“Rick, I- I-” your voice keeps catching in your throat.

“What? What is it?”

“Rick I- uh,” Ricks thumb runs over your bottom lip, dragging it out.

“I’m gonna come.” Your voice is hushed but your words don’t go unnoticed. Your grip tightens on his shoulders as his long fingers make their way down your body, pushing down on your lower stomach. It’s an intense pressure, sweet and comforting and so fucking enraptured that it brings tears to your eyes.

“God, you’re so pretty. Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock. ” He coaxes it out of you. Sultry moans leave your lips as you both reach your climax. Locking your leg around his waist as he fills you with his seed. Dipping down to press a passionate kiss to your mouth. Tongue tracing your own as his hips stutter to a stop. Heavy breathing with your chests pressed together. Thigh muscles straining from the angle but you can’t find it in you to care. Too overwhelmed by such an incredible high.

He whispers your name against your lips.

“Yeah?” You’re out of breath, doe eyes glancing up at him like he’s some kind of god.

“You are so fucking perfect.”

You know that while he means it, it’s not what he really wants to say. As if it might scare you off if he speaks the truth. If he tells you what he’s really thinking. It won’t. But he doesn’t know that.

Slowly, he pulls out of you. You can’t help but wince at the loss of contact. Leaned back on his knees, Rick tucks himself back into his jeans, forgetting all about his belt at the hypnotic sight of his cum dripping out of you. Both of you too caught up in the moment to think about a condom. And too blissed out now to find it in yourselves to care. His fingers trace through the warm liquid. You find yourself flinching at the sensitivity when he brushes over your clit.

“I’ll uh- I’ll grab a washcloth. Just- stay here, ok?”

You smile up at him. So predictably sweet and caring and clearly starting to overthink as he comes down from his high. Mind racing with “what if’s” and the overwhelming fear that you might regret it. Regret him.

But you don’t.

“Wait,” you grab his arm as he starts to stand up, heading for the bathroom to clean you up. To take care of you.

“Can we go again?”

A flash of surprise and then a wave of relief washes over his face as he sits back down.

“Jesus, kid.” He smiles and settles back in between your legs.

Right where he belongs.

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @miinbun @murder-jacket @ankhmutes @grimesthinker @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @imyourbratzdoll @fanngirl19 @spidermonkey2423 @belaballs @virtualreader @darylsdix0nn @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @cavillsgirl105 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37

(crossed out means I couldn’t tag)

#rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #twd fanfiction #smut #rick grimes #rick twd #Rick grimes x reader #Rick grimes x you #dbf!rick #dads best friend trope #pick your poison

1K notes · View notes

soulofapatrick · 9 months

Text

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to.

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin.

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming.

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him?

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates.

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him.

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me.

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us?

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen.

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present.

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued.

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring.

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory.

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement.

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me.

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine.

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him.

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard.

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us.

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer.

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable.

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together.

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden.

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away.

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged.

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending.

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory.

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream.

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing.

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires.

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection.

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions.

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words.

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads.

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me.

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge.

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him.

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs.

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head.

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes.

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 5 months

Text

Secret Secret Chapter 5

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Next Part

Sooyoung realized it immediately when she walked in.

“Oh wow, someone’s in preheat.”

You sighed. “Is it that noticeable?”

She dropped her bag on the counter. “Honey, it smells like you took a shower in unicorn pee.”

“Unicorn pee?”

“I can’t imagine anything else smelling so good and yet so overwhelmingly bad,” she said with a shrug, turning to rummage around the cabinets. “You going to take the day off when your heat hits?”

“Oh, um.” You shrunk down in your seat on the couch. “Not exactly.”

The alpha paused, turning around slowly with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“Look, hear me out,” You started. “It’s only Monday. My heat will probably hit on Thursday, and then I’ll have to call in sick for two days.”

“Wow, two days off work. How tragic,” Sooyoung said sarcastically, still standing with her arms crossed.

You gave her a look. “However, if I can hold off my heat until after work on Friday, I can ride my heat out during the weekend. No need to call in sick at all!”

“Right. And go back to work immediately after your heat?”

You could tell that her alpha wasn’t pleased with the idea of you working after such a harsh experience. Most omegas took at least a few days off after their heat to recover, but it wasn’t impossible for you to function the day after.

Betas wouldn’t need a day off to recover.

“It’s only my second week at this job, Youngie. I can’t afford to be using up my sick days so soon!”

“And yet I know for a fact that you’ll use some other excuse the next time your heat comes up.” She paused, narrowing her eyes as she realized something. “Wait. The only way you’ll manage to delay your heat is with suppressants.”

You looked down.

“You know how badly those affect you!”

“It’s only two days!”

Sooyoung threw her hands up into the air. “Fine, you know what? Do what you like. You’re a grown adult capable of making her own stupid decisions. But don’t come crying to me at the end of the day when those symptoms wreak havoc on you.”

You watched through silent fury as your roommate practically stomped to her room. The door slammed loudly behind her, and you were tempted to comment on it just to get the last word in, but you held your tongue.

In reality, you knew she had every right to be worried. Heat suppressants were normally only used for emergencies, not because they had any negative consequences on the body itself, but because the symptoms were so horrible that no normal person would willingly subject themselves to them unless they absolutely had to.

Headaches, fatigue, heightened senses, heat flashes, brain fog, stomach cramps. Heat suppressants forced the production of pre-heat hormones and suppressed the actual heat from happening for a short period of time, but, as an unfortunate side effect, it enhanced all the pre-heat symptoms and dialed them up to a 100.

Compared to the milder heat symptoms (slick production and high libido) it seemed odd to want to endure two days of all that. But your heat would make your scent so strong, to the point that your scent blockers wouldn’t work anymore, so it was a necessity.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

-0-0-

You weren’t sure what to expect from the Alpha you were bringing home. The entire ride in his car, besides giving out directions, nothing was said between the both of you. Even now, awkwardly standing in your kitchen, he looked like he was losing the motivation he originally had, and you wondered if you would end up being left high and dry.

“Do you want some water? Or something else to drink?” You leaned against your counter, hoping that a simple conversation would help him relax.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like your seconds away from bolting.”

“Ah, am I that obvious?” He let out a chuckle, reaching up to scratch at his forehead. “I’ve never really done something like this before.”

You tilted your head in interest. “Oh? What makes me so special?”

He didn’t say anything at first, instead choosing to move forward until he was leaning against the other side of the counter. The two of you were close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, but part of you was curious to see if he would make the first move.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“You sure it’s not my charmingly good looks?” You said it jokingly, but he rested his chin against his hand.

“No, it’s something else. Something … special.”

You felt your omega perk up at the compliment, and you could smell your scent begin to grow. You pulled back from the counter to stand up straight. If things were going to progress any further, you needed to take this back to your room. You didn’t want Sooyoung to have to deal with the scent of arousal lingering in the communal areas.

“Well then, mr. charmer. How about we take this to my room?” You held out your hand, and he took it.

His hand was warm and heavy in yours.

You opened up your bedroom door, and you found yourself staring at his ass as he passed. “What’s your real name anyways?”

“My real name?” The alpha looked around your room with a thoughtful look. “It’s not that important.”

You raised your eyebrows” What do I call you, then?”

“Hmmm.” You couldn’t see his face through his mask, but the way he gazed at you made you feel like you were being stripped apart to your bare bones, and you could imagine the curl of his lips. “You can call me Alpha.”

His scent began to come out stronger, like a breeze on a hot day, and you found yourself hoping it would linger long after he was gone.

You shut the door.

“Well, alpha,” You said, deliberately drawing the word out. “You going to wear that mask all night?”

He seemed to grow almost … shy. “I- actually, I think I’d prefer to keep it on.”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, not wanting him to feel insecure.

“I mean, I do want to kiss you,” He started, taking a step towards you. You could see the moment he hesitated to reach out to you, his hand dropping down to his side in a clenched fist. “If you want, that is.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Oh sweetie, I’m pretty sure inviting you over was an invitation for much more than just a little kiss.”

This time he didn’t stop himself from reaching out to you, his hands lingering on your waist as his eyes flittered across your space. You reached up for his mask, the idea of kissing him the only thing you can think of. You wanted to know what he looked like. How soft his lips would be.

He grabbed your wrist. “I can’t let you see my face.” He sounded almost regretful.

“It’s okay,” You reassured him once more. “I can close my eyes.”

And you did. You stood there, eyes closed, and let your smile grow as he dropped your wrist, the sound of fabric shifting in front of you. For a second, he left you waiting. You didn’t open your eyes, but you did reach out to place your hand against his bare jaw.

His lips were as soft as you hoped they would be.

Your hands roamed down from his face to his neck, using your grip on his to pull him closer. It felt like he was inhaling your very essence, His scent covered you, and you moaned against his lips as his body pressed against yours. He smiled, lips still pressed against yours.

You pulled away from the kiss, but immediately pushed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from the temptation of opening your eyes.

“You good?”

“I think it’s going to be a little hard to remember to keep my eyes close if you keep kissing me dumb like that.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed, grip on your waist tightening. “Sorry?”

“Hmmm, it’s not a complaint. Just an observation.” You pulled out of his hold completely, waving your hand in his direction. “Turn around for a second.”

You didn’t wait to see if he did as you asked, moving towards your closet with a goal in mind. It took a little bit of rummaging in the farthest corner of one of your drawers, but eventually you managed to find what you were looking for. You pulled it out with a shout of triumph.

“Is that a blindfold?”

“Yup!” You slapped a hand over your eyes and turned around, wiggling the cloth out in front of you. “Genius, right?”

“You just happened to have that lying around?”

The cloth was pulled out of your hands, and you turned around. “What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

Warm arms wrapped around your waist. The heat of his body was hot against your back, and as his hands began to trace up and down your sides, you felt something in you shifting. You shuddered, body responding by releasing a wave of your scent, and he responded with his own scent of arousal that made your body feel almost pliant.

“So you are.” The blindfold was pulled over your eyes, and you shut them instinctively. The cloth brushed over your eyelids as he began to form a knot at the base of your head. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Your mind began to grow heavy as your omega pushed forward, the smell of alpha heavy on your tongue. When he finished tying off the blindfold, he leaned against your back, his mouth pressing a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, an ache to feel his teeth pressing against the skin running through you and causing slick to drip down your thighs.

You let out a whine.

“Easy baby girl. I got you.”

His warmth disappeared, and you opened your eyes. The blindfold made it so that you could make out the shadows of the dark room, a vague shape of a person as they removed their clothes. You reached down to grab the hem of your own shirt.

“No, don’t,” He said, voice thick. “Let me.”

You grabbed his hands, using your newfound sight to reach out wrap your hands around his neck. This time, you were the one to initiate the kiss, eyes falling closed not out of necessity but on instinct.

“You okay?” He asked you again when your knees suddenly buckled.

“Like I said. Those kisses of yours are dangerous,” you breathed out.

He decided to take it as an invitation to pull you back in for another kiss, although this one was quicker and sweeter.

It almost felt like love.

His lips pressed against yours once, twice, and then a third time before he trailed them down to your jaw, sliding them slowly down to your neck. When he began to suck against the skin there, you pulled away with a whine.

"No marks, please. I have work."

He moved his hands under your shirt and began to pull it up. You could only barely see his figure as he leaned down, his lips reappearing against the tops of your now exposed breasts.

"I assume you mean no marks where they can be seen?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He pressed a kiss to your skin, tongue darting out to glide from the tops of your breast towards your nipples. He teasingly pulled against them as he passed, moving to press another kiss just to the side. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," You said, voice breathless.

He pulled your shirt off completely, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He began to lead you towards the bed. Even without your sight, the mattress was familiar under your body, and you instinctively relaxed into the sheets.

You made grabby hands at him. He laughed, kneeling on the bed next to you and allowing your hands to roam across his skin. He still had on his boxers, and when you moved to pull them down, he grabbed your hands and pressed them gently down against the bed.

“Patience,” He told you, his voice rumbling.

You pouted, and he kissed your lips with another laugh. He continued where he had left off, his mouth on your breasts as his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart so he could slot himself in between them. The motion pressed his clothed cock against your center, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Please,” you found yourself breathing out.

His mouth trailed kisses down your body, hands swiftly pulling both your pants and underwear down in one go. “Got to get you ready first, sweetheart.”

“Awfully confident in yourself, huh?” You joked.

“Hmm, something like that,” He drawled.

You expected him to get straight to it, but he took his sweet time. Laying kisses along your inner thigh, caressing your legs up to your hips. You wiggled your hips impatiently, but he just smiled against your skin.

“You’re doing a really good job at getting under my skin,” You told him, running your fingers through his hair. “If you don’t hurry up, I might just have to get myself off.”

He nosed your center, and your body flared up with want. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Alpha, please.”

“That’s it.” He rewarded you by finally mouthing at your core, licking a stripe up to your clit where he sucked gently.

You were already wet with slick from all the teasing and foreplay, but his mouth on you made you gush, your core clenching around nothing, When he pressed a finger into you, you bucked your hips, and he laid a hand across your stomach to keep you from moving.

You let out a moan, fingers gripping his hair tightly as he ate you out. He added another finger, and the sound was filled with wet squelching sounds as he fingered you gently, softly crooking his fingers to press against your spongey insides as he sucked against your clit.

Your orgasm built up slowly, but it hit you quicker than you expected, your body writhing under him as you whined. He pulled away, his other hand reaching up towards his face, and you could only imagine the sight he made.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he said, finger rubbing small circles against your clit. “Could stay here forever.”

“Please, alpha,” You whined.

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

He moved up your body. “Need me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me,” You said impatiently.

He grabbed your body and flipped you over so quickly that it made your head spin, and you pressed you forehead to your pillow with a gasp, “Ask and you shall receive,” He told you, and you could feel him moving around behind you.

You lifted your hips and presented for the alpha, your omega instincts taking over. His scent intoxicated you, filling your senses and making you feel dizzy, wanting nothing more than to submit to him in every way possible.

He took his sweet time once again, rubbing his member through your folds before he slowly pressed into you. He was right to have prepared you because he was thick, stretching you and filling you up completely. You couldn’t even moan, like your breath had been stolen. Your fingers dug into your blankets, eyes shutting behind the blindfold.

“Fuck.”

The alpha gave you a second to adjust once he had bottomed out, rubbing against your sides gently. “You good, omega?”

“So good,” You mumbled.

When he started to move, it made you whine. He thrust into you slowly at first, but his hips began to speed up slowly, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You let out a moan as his fingers gripped your thighs, sure to leave marks. You pressed your knees against the mattress and moved to sit up, hands reaching behind you in an attempt to feel his skin against yours. He pressed himself to your back without having to be asked.

His warm breath against your shoulder, mouth teasingly close to your scent gland, had you reaching your release quickly.

You let out a whine.

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered into your ear. His hands roamed from your thighs up your chest and towards your neck, fingers gently pressing against your throat. “God, you’re so tight.”

You whined. “Alpha, please!”

“Just a little longer. You can hold on just a little longer, cant you? Hmm? Don’t you want to be good for your Alpha?”

You were so close. Your body felt like it was on fire and your head spun, the darkness that seemed to engulf you left your nerve endings so sensitive, and you couldn’t see him, could think, couldn’t do anything more than accept the pleasure he was giving you. He seemed to know that you were at your breaking point, because as a whine began to build in your throat, he pulled away.

His fingers pressed right where you needed them most, and you found yourself spiraling.

“Cum for me, Omega.”

You woke up with a start, your mind still heavy with lust and sleep. It took you a moment to realize that you had been dreaming, and then you were falling back to your bed with a groan, swiping a hand down your face.

It was your memories from that night with Chan.

It seemed like your pre-heat sex dreams were making their appearance. Usually they were some random fantasies, but you supposed it made sense that you would be hit with a memory this time around.

Your thoughts wandered to the shirt still in your drawer. It almost seemed to be calling for you.

You let out another groan.

This was going to be a long week.

-0-0-

You were convinced that heat suppressants had to have been created as a form of torture.

The headache made every noise feel like a punch to the brain, not helped by the fact that your hearing was so sensitive that everything above a cough sounded like an airhorn to your brain. Even the painkillers you took that morning were doing little to dull the hammering in your head.

And yet, you tried your best to keep a smile on your face, made ever difficult from having to deal with the managers.

You had been thrown for a loop when you found out on Tuesday morning that Felix had gone into heat. It was all the staff members were talking about. You hoped that the idol’s heat and rut cycles weren’t normally a topic of interest for the company, but you understood why this time they all were freaking out about it.

Stray Kids’ comeback was scheduled for next week.

It would be hard for you to have to go back to work the day after your heat ended, but finding out that Felix was expected to be on stage and promoting less than a week after his almost made you feral.

“What do you mean the comeback will continue as planned?”

Jeonhui gave you a hard look. You knew that as a new employee, and only a translator who was in the meeting to be kept up to date with the upcoming schedule, the idea of speaking out was unheard of. But when the news that the comeback would still be happening on the expected date, your mouth opened before your brain could catch up.

The head manager, Soojin, gave you a puzzled look. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

The entire room was looking at you, but you forced yourself to focus only on the manager. “Felix finished his heat less than a day ago.”

“Yes?”

“Even for a normal person, a comeback is stressful. Long nights, early mornings, practices and schedules and stage performances and interviews … do you really think that’s the best thing for an omega who just had their heat to deal with?”

There was a moment where Soojin looked almost understanding, his eyes soft and a small smile on his face. You thought that you might have actually gotten through to him. You thought for a second that maybe you could make an impact on this company, give them some knowledge of the artists they were supposed to be managing and caring for, and that you could actually change the way the industry worked.

But it shattered with his next words.

“I appreciate the concern, but I assure you our omega’s can handle the load just fine. We’ve had both omegas and alphas going back to work right after heats and ruts, and there’s never been a complaint in the past.” The other staff managers nodded along as if what he was saying was common knowledge. “If they needed more time to recover, they would have said something.”

You thought about the pressure building in your head, the way your skin felt like it was crawling, the constant cramped pain your stomach was enduring, all so that you wouldn’t go into heat. All so you could keep pretending to a room full of betas.

All so that those same betas could make decisions about omega’s and alphas they knew nothing about.

It made you want to scream.

“Maybe,” You managed through clenched teeth. “They never say anything because they know that if they do, the company would use it as proof that omegas are more trouble than their worth.”

Soojin and the other managers gave you a surprised look. From the corner of the room, Maya was given you a proud smile, but the other stylists around her looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why do you care so much about this anyways? What are you, an omega expert?” One of them said.

And his words felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over your slightly overheated body. You immediately bowed your head, realizing that you had brought more attention on your head than was necessary, and it was obvious you were fighting a losing battle.

“I’m just … worried. Just seems like those boys could use some rest,” You mumbled in excuse.

Stupid. How could you be so stupid.

Now everyone would know you as that one translator who argued about an omegas needs. At best they would think you were out of line, but at worst …

“It’s quite alright,” Soojin assured you, although the look Jeonhui gave you told you that the two of you would be talking later. “But like you said, comeback is stressful for all of us, including the staff. This is why we put in all the hard work! I want to take a moment to thank all of the staff for helping make this a possibility-“

And just like that, your little outburst seemed to be forgotten.

It didn’t make you feel any better to know that your words were so easily dismissed. As Thursday turned into Friday, you made the conscious decision to not take your heat suppressants that morning, knowing you would need your heat to start either than night or early Saturday morning if you wanted your heat to end by Sunday night.

You ignored the looks Sooyoung gave you as you left for work.

Just as promised, you had been avoiding her all week. When the cramps hit you late at night and you cried out, you muffled the sound with your pillow to avoid waking her. She didn’t mention the quickly dwindling supply of pain medication (you reminded yourself to pick some up after work).

It made a part of you ache to know you had disappointed your friend. But it also made you feel proud to know that you were still doing what you had dreamed of doing for so long.

You just had to keep moving forward.

Friday went by normally, and almost easier than the past three days. The suppressants started to flush out of your system around noon, and the symptoms you had been dealing with started to fade, making it easier for you to work. The heat symptoms would come around soon, but you weren’t too worried about it hitting you fully until you were back home.

You were just finishing up your last assignment of the day when you caught the scent of a familiar smell.

“Oh no.”

Minho appeared at your doorway within seconds, and you secretly cursed the enhanced sense of smell that had yet to wear off, because the strong scent of alpha had your omega perking her metaphorical ears up instantly.

He had probably just finished dance practice judging by the sweat covered shirt he had yet to change out of.

You forced your eyes away from him and back to your screen. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused your typing, risking a glance to look at his face. He looked straight faced, almost bored at first, but you could smell the shame that was hidden beneath the rest of his scent, and you turned to face him completely.

“What are you sorry for?” You asked him.

He looked away. “I yelled at you when we first met. It was … inappropriate.”

“You were protecting your pack,” You corrected him, turning back to your work. “You did what you thought was right.”

Minho continued to stare at you from the doorway, not saying anything. You finished what you were working on and began to wrap everything up so you could leave. In the few minutes it took you to do that, he didn’t say anything.

You grabbed the files you had to drop off to your manager before you left. “I’m serious, Minho. It’s fine.”

When you stood up, a few papers that had been caught under your files fluttered to the ground. Before you could move to grab them, Minho was there, picking up the papers and tapping them on the ground so that they would be stacked up together, lifting his head up to look at you.

And you immediately felt something in your stomach twist, and your head spun.

He stood back up, unaware of your internal freak out, and handed you the papers. You took them with shaking hands.

“Thanks,” You breathed out.

Minho frowned. “Are you okay?”

No, you wanted to scream at him. I’m going into heat and a stupidly handsome alpha was on his knees looking up at me and now I’m losing my goddamn mind.

But instead, you forced a smile on your face. “Fine.” It came out squeaky, and you winced. “I, uh. Gotta go!”

You rushed out of there as quickly as you could.

As if your day couldn’t get any worse, you completely missed an equally sweaty and tired looking Chan as he was walking out of the elevator, and he had to grab your shoulders to keep you from running him over. His scent, equally as strong, only made your chest ache more.

Chan smiled. “Ah, just who I was looking for!”

You eyed him curiously. “Wow, I’m really popular these days, huh?”

“What?”

“What did you need?” You asked him as you walked into the elevator. He followed you in.

“I wanted to let you know that I talked with Felix.”

“Oh, how is he, by the way? I heard about what happened.”

Chan gave you a soft smile. “Ah, he’s fine. He …. He wants to meet with you.”

The elevator opened, and someone stepped in. It was a random staff member you didn’t recognize, probably not even a stray kid’s staff member, but both you and Chan remained silent until she left. You turned to Chan as the elevator made its way up to your manager’s floor.

“I think we should wait until after your comeback,” You told him.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Chan sighed. “We’ll have enough on our shoulders this week.”

You scowled. “Ugh, don’t even remind me.”

He let out a laugh. “Ah, I heard about what you did yesterday.”

You covered your face in embarrassment as the elevator door opened. “Uh, I’m just going to go before I say anything even worse.”

Chan was still laughing as you left, but he called out for you before the doors closed. His smile was one of the last things you saw as his words reached you.

“Thank you.”

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ptolemaeacles · 1 year

Text

♡ being hazel callahan’s cheerleader gf hcs

pairing: hazel callahan x cheerleader!reader

synopsis: what it’s like dating hazel (post huntington fight)

notes: unofficial part two to this !! if you guys have anything to add, feel free to hop into my inbox or comment, i love interacting with you guys !!

word count: 1k

after the huntington fight, she finally took you out on a date. she completely wracked her brain for days trying to find the best place to take you.

most likely, asked josie where she would take isabel since the four of you seemed to be parallels of each other (nerdy, loser lesbian and her super hot, preppy gf)

going back to the first date though, i would imagine she took you to an arcade or maybe a diner (like josie and isabel were at). and of course she shyly asked you if that’s what you wanted.

hazel and you were sat in your english, making usual conversation since the both of you had finished your work. hazel realized it was probably a good time to ask you about that date.

“so i wanted to ask you, um, about the date. i know it’s been a few days and i’ve been planning it but what do you think about the diner? you know, after school, you can pick the day if you’d like, or if you changed your mind, we can just not go at all, it depends on you-”

“haze,” you stopped her with a soft smile and putting your hand on top of hers, “i’d love to go to a diner. that’s perfect. and tomorrow is good with me if it’s good with you!”

hazel sheepishly smiled back at you.

“yeah, it’s good with me.” she murmured.

after the third or fourth date, she wanted to pop the “will you be my girlfriend” speech badly. she wanted it to be romantic but not cheesy, heartfelt but not corny, cute but not cliche. god she was over thinking this like a motherfucker.

and to her surprise, you popped the question before her.

hazel was lounging on the loveseat in the corner of your room while you were sitting cross legged on your bed. the both of you had decided to study at your house after school. (not much studying was done so far. often getting distracted by making out with each other. so much so, the two of you had realized that nearly an hour had passed which resulted in hazel moving to the loveseat so the two of you could get some actual studying done.)

“so did you divide both sides by 6 or by 4? i don’t get that part.” hazel lifted her gaze from her notebook to you, who was already looking at her.

you decided to just blurt it out.

“haze,” she hummed in response, “do you want to be my girlfriend?”

hazel felt her mouth go dry. she really did want to be the one to ask you but it was so much hotter that you asked her.

“yeah, uh, yes, fuck, i’d love to.” she exclaimed.

now onto the actual BEING hazel’s gf (i love to over explain things, sorry)

hazel’s love language is definitely physical touch or gifting-giving. not super into pda but will put her arm around your shoulders or a hand on your lower back when you’re walking. if she’s feeling risqué, then an arm around your waist.

no matter how long you guys have been dating, she still gets nervous around you. doesn’t matter if you woke up with horrid morning breath, messy bed head, and/or a puffy face, she’d still look at you starstruck, as if you held the entire world in your palms. she’s a hopeless woman in love.

she does have a lot of money (probably one of those kids who refuses to say she’s rich, she calls herself “comfortable” …..) but she loves to make gifts for you. i can see her being into welding or wood workshop. (not sure if all schools have these types of classes, i’m american soooo)

100% makes wooden sculptures or welding a ring with the both of your initials on the inside. she made a wooden sculpture of the two of you holding hands (you nearly cried when she gave it to you)

very big music lover. listens to divorced dad rock. pearl jam, metallica, nirvana, etc. probably a minor swiftie (really obsessed with folklore and evermore but not a big fan of her other albums) definitely listens to boygenius (she listens to ‘leonard cohen’ and thinks of you). likes r&b/rap from time to time. (frank ocean, mac miller, a bit of tyler the creator.) oh and some 80s r&b like sade. her playlist is very diverse to say the least.

not really a gf headcanon but she’s definitely got some irregular allergies. strawberries, i would say. walnuts too.

PLAYS GUITAR. both acoustic and electric, she's interested in drums too and she tried learning how to play but it was too loud for her so she quit. writes songs for you but you would never get her to perform them or even show you in a million years.

LOVESSSSSS to nap and cuddle with you. a lot of the time, she invites you to her house under the guise of “studying”. you’ll be grabbing your backpack ready to pull out your english homework and she’s grabbing her blanket and asking you to just lay in her bed with her for “5 minutes”. you guys end up falling asleep (exactly like she planned) and wasted 2 hours. it was worth it.

“okay so i think we should start with our english homework because we need to brainstorm for the ess-“ you opened your bag, ready to study with your girlfriend.

“we can do that later, babe,” hazel grabbed your bag and set it on the ground, “aren’t you tired? i mean you walked all around campus, which is huge, might i add-“

“not really-“

“doesn’t matter. we should lay down and rest a bit so we can have clear minds, and we’ll be ready to study.” hazel had already kicked off her shoes and crawled into her bed, lifting her blanket and silently asking you to lay down with her.

“only a few minutes, okay, and then we have to get to work.” you breathily chuckeld, not impressed with your girlfriend’s antics.

hazel giggled and ushered you under her blanket, wrapping her arm tightly around your waist and tucking your head in the crook of her neck.

you knew what her plan was but she was too cute to say no to.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan imagine #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan fanfiction

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chervbs · 2 years

Text

you and i — s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

synopsis: you’re in love with your best friend, steve. steve is in love with you. you would think it’s simple, right? well, according to steve, you would be wrong.

warnings: im shit at summaries, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, idiots in love, mentions of underage drinking and smoking, mentions of st*ncy, season 3 tings, nancy and robin are good friends, bit of angst, bit of fluff, canon violence, blood, injuries, mentions of vomit, cursing?, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: this fic is completely inspired by the events that lead up to my first relationship. yes, I’m completely projecting to deal with my own experiences and heartbreak, but don’t you worry, this has a much happier ending than my relationship did. also the title is from the one direction song as it was the “our song” of said relationship. pls don’t let this one flop that would be embarrassing. gif isn’t mine.

You weren’t quite sure when you feelings for Steve Harrington transitioned from platonic to romantic.

It seemed like one minute he was as your best friend–an unlikely one, but after all you’d seen together in the last year, your best friend nonetheless–and the next he was consuming your every waking thought.

At first you assumed the timing couldn’t have been better, his relationship with Nancy having just ended. Until you realized just how heartbroken he was, and the fact that Nancy was also one of your best friends. How would it look for you to swoop in right after her and Steve broke up?

Eventually you realized that it clearly wouldn’t have been so bad, as Nancy had quickly moved on to a relationship with Jonathan not long after.

Not that you judged her for it, but you didn’t understand how she could dismiss her relationship with Steve so easily, not when you were the one pining for his love and he was the one sulking and staring longingly at her and Jonathan’s intertwined hands.

It didn’t seem fair that she held his attention even after breaking his heart when she didn’t even love him like you did.

But then his attention seemed to fall on you, most of your time being spent in each other’s presence and your bond growing even stronger during the summer of ‘84.

So strong that you’d even began to silently suspect that maybe, just maybe, he’d began to like you back. You’d thought it was all in your head, your imagination running wild in order to cope with what you thought were unrequited feelings. But then Nancy made a comment during one of your sleepovers that you couldn’t seem to get out of your head.

“I see the way he looks at you.” Nancy had spoken out of the blue, completely off topic from your previous conversation about this years summer reading.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you blinked in confusion. “What?”

The brunette smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Steve. He likes you.”

Your mouth fell open, breath hitching in your throat as you searched for something to say. “You’re crazy.” Was all you managed to scoff out, face burning and hoping that she didn’t notice how flustered you’d become by her words.

She noticed. The grin she wore softened, realizing how deeply the idea affected you. “Am I? You’re all he ever talks about. Every conversation we have have he seems to always find a way to bring you up. The two of you are always together, always touching, and like I said–I see the way he looks at you. He can’t take his eyes off you.”

You mouth became so dry you had to reach for the water bottle on Nancy’s nightstand, taking down swigs of water in an attempt to calm down your racing heart and increasing body temperature. When did Nancy’s room get so hot?

Nancy just watched you with poorly concealed amusement. “You okay?”

You screwed the plastic cap of the water bottle back on with shaky hands, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She gave you a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe because you also have feelings for Steve?” You’re internally grateful you weren’t still gulping down water, because you’re sure you would have choked if you were.

“Okay, it was a joke before but now I’m definitely questioning your sanity, Nance.” You avoided her eyes as you spoke, occupying yourself with a bottle of red nail polish, suddenly feeling like your fingers needed a pop of color. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas from but I can promise you they’re not true. I’m fairly certain Steve still has a thing for you. Not that it would matter because I definitely don’t have feelings for him and even if I did that would be completely breaking girl code and I would never do that to you–“

Nancy said your name, pulling your eyes away from your now red thumbnail to her face instead, taking in her comforting smile.

“It’s okay,” You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Nancy sighed. “Look, I didn’t want to meddle because it honestly not my business, but it’s borderline painful how oblivious the two of you are.” She paused to take your hands into hers. “No matter what me and Steve had before, it’s nothing like what you two have now. As great as he was, I know now that I never really loved him, not like I know you do. And definitely not like he loves you.”

You didn’t know what to say, and Nancy seemed to realize this. She squeezed your hands gently. “Just think about it, okay? And talk to Steve.”

After your talk, you couldn’t help but take notice of the things Nancy mentioned. You two did spend a lot of time together, and you realized that he did indeed always seem to have an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your lower back or his leg pressed up against yours. A few quick questions to your group of friends, who were all aware of your feelings and apparently of Steve’s as well, confirmed Nancy’s observation of him constantly talking about you. And when you stole quick glances at him from your peripherals, he was always focused on you.

The more you sat on the thought, the more it seemed to good to be true. But between Nancy and the rest of your friends contributing to the idea, it was hard not to get your hopes up.

You really should’ve known better.

It took a while for you to work up the courage to talk to Steve about your feelings, but as it turns out, it would happen in a much more casual way than you’d anticipated.

“I had a really interesting conversation with Nancy the other day.” He had blurted. It was late in the night on a Friday, the two of you lounging by his pool, bodies relaxed by the combination of the soft blue light from the water and the alcohol running through your system from the couple of beers you’d consumed.

Your head was a bit too hazy for you to realize what he could’ve been talking about, so you twisted your neck to lazily look over at him. “‘Bout what?”

“About how we our feelings for each other.”

For a moment you’d thought you were imagining the words. Either that or you were heaving a dream-no, a nightmare. You silently pinched your arm. Definitely still awake.

Realizing you hadn’t replied, you cleared your throat awkwardly. “Oh.”

You resisted the urge to facepalm at your answer.

Steve’s lips lifted at the corners, gazing at you with a fondness in his eyes that you missed, your own gaze focused on the swaying pool water.

“Yup. Told me all about how oblivious we’ve both been. Really opened my eyes.” He spoke softly.

You’re lips rolled into your mouth, hoping Steve couldn’t hear the way your heart pounded against your rib cage. “Did it?”

He nodded, expression becoming slightly pained as he spoke his next words. “It did. Because I realized two things after. One, that I do have feelings for you.”

Your head slowly lifted to meet his eyes, the depth of his gaze knocking the breath out of your chest. “You do?” The slight eagerness in your tone told him well enough that you felt the same way, which both filled him with joy and with guilt.

He seemed hesitant to answer, but when he did he sounded sure. “I do.”

You tried not to show the fear you felt on your face. “It sounds like there’s a but in there.” You forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded genuine and not as pained as it felt.

“Yeah, um…that was the second thing.” Your eyes raked over his form, his hand that wasn’t holding his bottle was trembling and you could tell that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously. “I did realize that I have feelings for you, that’s for sure. And I wish this was simple enough for that to be it, but…” His hands fell into his face, seemingly unable to spit out the words.

“Steve?” You called quietly. You waited for his eyes to meet yours. “It’s okay. Whatever you need to say, you can tell me. You know that.”

By some miracle, your words seemed to bring him enough comfort and confidence to say what he needed to. Though, once he did, you really wished they wouldn’t have.

“But I still have feelings for Nancy too.”

You really thought that pining after Steve and thinking he didn’t feel the same was the worst pain you’d felt. Turns out, you were very wrong.

“Oh.”

Steve sighed, his left hand raking through his hair, unable to meet your eyes. “I know how I feel about you, and I know how you feel about me. But I don’t want to start anything with you knowing that I won’t be able to give all of myself to you. Not yet. It’s not fair to you and I would never forgive myself if I put you through the same thing I went through.”

You could only bring yourself to nod slowly,

attempting to process the information while ignoring the ache in your chest.

Steve spoke your name softly, “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

When you met his eyes, it was easy to see the guilt and the pain behind them. It brought you a little bit of comfort, knowing that he wasn’t just saying this to avoid being with you and he genuinely wanted to do what was best for both of you.

Still, the hurt greatly outweighed the comfort.

“Yeah.” You breathed after a few seconds. “Yeah, I get it. It’s for the best.”

You should have known better

If your friends noticed anything different between you and Steve, they didn’t say anything about it.

You’d made the conscious decision to distance yourself from Steve, for the sake of your sanity and your hearts. It wasn’t enough for a divide to have been created, but it was enough to be able to pretend like you were never in love with your best friend in the first place.

Steve had definitely taken notice to your distance, but other than a small frown that appeared on his face, he didn’t utter a word. He knew why, you knew he knew, and he couldn’t blame you.

Life after that got kind of crazy. Not any crazier than the Demogorgan or the alternate dimension that sat under Hawkins, but it allowed you to somewhat forget about your situation.

You and Steve both graduated during the Spring of 1985, taking jobs at the newly built Starcourt Mall that summer. He’d began working at the Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream shop, while you worked at the Merry-Go-Round just outside of the food court. They weren’t the cushiest of jobs, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy your employee discount.

Steve seemed to be enjoying his job for the most part. Sure he had to wear a cheesy sailor costume and deal with Erica Sinclair coming in nearly every day and pestering them for enough free samples to make a regular cup of ice cream, but he did get to encounter a lot of cute girls that came in during the boiling Indiana summer heat.

He never verbalized this perk, but by the score board made by his lovely coworker, Robin, who had come to be a great friend to you, he was very enthusiastic about his flirting.

At first you’d felt almost betrayed by his advances towards other girls. Had the two of you not confessed you feelings to each other a year before? But then you rationalized that you had been the one to put a stop to anything that even remotely crossed the line between platonic and romantic. Maybe he’d figured you’d lost feelings for him?

Either way it was painful to watch, but also slightly satisfying whenever a pretty girl would reject him. Not that you’d ever admit it.

Robin was quick to pick up on the tension between the two of you, and you surprised yourself when you found it startlingly easy to open up to her. You suppose that the only other person you could ever really talk about your Steve problem with was Nancy, and that wasn’t necessarily an option anymore.

Nancy was none the wiser of the reason you and Steve never pursued a relationship. You didn’t want her to feel guilty for essentially being the reason why, although it was completely out of her control.

All she was told was that you had both agreed that your lives were too hectic for relationships at the moment and you’d decided that it was for the best to stay friends.

Something told you she didn’t quite believe you, but she never pried, which you were thankful for.

Robin became a great outlet for your feelings for Steve, along with becoming one of your best friends. You were also sure to reciprocate her support which led to her heartfelt confession about her sexuality.

For the first time in a while, you’re life seemed to be falling back into equilibrium. Steve was still your best friend, you were making a decent amount of money that would soon start going to your tuition to the community college in the fall, and there was nothing supernatural occurring in Hawkins.

Apparently, you hadn’t learned your lesson about not getting your hopes up.

If you had only agreed to take the bus home instead of accepting Steve’s offer for a ride, which you had to wait around for him and Robin to close at Scoops, an hour after your shift had ended, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up stranded in a Russian elevator beneath the mall. But life just never seemed to work in your favor, did it?

Honestly, you were surprised it had taken as long as it did for the five of you to get caught. After the Russian guard that Steve had–shockingly–been able to knock out recovered and alerted reinforcements, you’d all been chased throughout the base as an alarm sounded. If your circumstances weren’t already shitty enough, you’d also come face to face with yet another interdimensional gate that the Russians had opened, welcoming a new set of concerns for your group of friends you hadn’t seen in almost twenty four hours.

The guards chased you all into a room that conveniently contained an air duct in the floor that served as an escape. Steve was the last to enter, slamming the door and calling for both you and Robin to help him defend it against the group of guards that were, admittedly, much stronger than the three of you.

Dustin and Erica were lucky enough to escape before they were able to knock down the door, and as you stared at the barrels of multiple guns, you could only hope they’d be able to find some help before it was too late.

They’d separated you, Steve and Robin at first. You’d taken to wailing on the door as much as you could, hoping that if you annoyed them enough maybe you could get to answers as to where your friends were.

You were sure that you’d heard shouts in the distance, some sounding like Robin, some like Steve. The only difference we’re that Robins were like yours, begging for help and to be let out of your temporary prisons, but Steve’s weren’t intelligible words, only pained yells.

It only made you more persistent, and eventually your wish was granted.

The door flew open so fast that you stumbled back, chest rising and falling in time with your quick breaths, heart pounding with fear at the sight of the Russian general that entered the room.

He was flanked by two other guards, smirking at you with malice.

“We’ve received some noise complaints.” He joked, his words being followed by an accent.

You scowled, “Where are my friends?”

The man chuckled, ignoring your question and turning his head to look at the men behind him. He muttered something in Russian you couldn’t understand and suddenly the men were bounding towards you. They’d each taken a hold of your upper arms, forcing you down onto a chair that previously sat in the corner of the room and bounding your upper body to the back of it.

“I am going to ask you the same as i’ve asked your friends.” He leaned down towards you. “Who do you work for?”

Your face remained unchanged as you debated your next move. You could be honest and hope they’d believe you, though you weren’t sure that would work, so you went with your second option.

You leaned towards the man in the same manor he had, a small grin growing on your face. “Suck. My. Dick.”

Part of you regretted your actions, but part of you was too satisfied with the anger you caused. The satisfaction was quickly overshadowed by the pain that began to spread across your face as his palm made contact with your cheek.

The following few minutes would always be a blur, as the pain the men inflicted upon you began to mess with your senses. You didn’t know how much time had had passed, but a blow to your head was the last straw your body could take, the last thing you remember being the straps around your body loosen, and you were pulled from the chair.

When you’d finally came to you weren’t sure how much time had passed. You felt your body being shook before anything. Then came the sound of a screeching siren, and then you were able to pry your eyes open.

There were two blurry figures hovering above you, and when your vision cleared, you realized it was Dustin and Erica, looking extremely concerned as they repeated your name.

“…you okay? Y/N, can you hear me?” Dustin asked, waving his hand in front of your face.

You squinted at the sudden intrusion of light from the room, looking around confused. “Dustin? Erica? What’s going on? What happened?” Your voice came out in a mess of mumbles as you struggled to sit up, realizing you’d been laying on the floor.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Erica said, her large eyes trailing over the multiple bruises and cuts that were visible at first glance.

There was a pause as you winced from the pounding in your head. “Um..I remember you guys leaving to get help, but not much after.” You admitted, gratefully accepting Dustin’s hand to help you stand.

“Well, the good news is that you’re fairly caught up, meaning you’re possible concussion isn’t life threatening.” He offered, speaking hurriedly. “Think you’re good enough to run?” He asked, already halfway out the door.

With a silent nod, you followed him and Erica out the room you’d been kept it. The lead you just down the hall and it wasn’t until then that you noticed Dustin had one of the guards tasers in his hand.

“Where did you get that?” You yelled frantically. Lord save you from Claudia Henderson should something happen to her baby.

Dustin ignored your question and burst through another door, letting out a war cry and shoving the taser directly into the chest of the man stood in the room.

You watched in both horror and amazement as the man shouted in pain before collapsing. The was a pause as Dustin looked back at you with an open mouth, like he was also surprised. “Never mind,” You panted, “I don’t wanna know.”

“Hey! Henderson!” Steve grinned as Dustin freed him from his restraints. “That’s crazy I was just talking about you.

“Oh, my god!” Robin laughed, kissing your cheek affectionately after you untied her. “I’m so happy to see you.”

You chuckled breathlessly, head still throbbing in pain. “Happy to see you too, Robbie, but we gotta run.”

“Y/N…” Steve said breathily, looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above. “You’re here.”

You could tell immediately that something was wrong, but the still sounding siren reminded you of your hasty circumstances. “Hey Stevie,” You grinned. Grasping your hand with his, you began to pull him out just behind Dustin and Erica who were doing the same to a stumbling Robin.

“Did the Russians hurt you?” Steve’s voice was slurred in a way you hadn’t heard since the last time you’d stayed at his house, smoking the weed he’d gotten from a dealer that went to Hawkins High. Some metal head who was a repeat senior.

You glanced back, catching a glimpse of worried expression in his hazy eyes. “No, I’m fine, Steve.” You weren’t fine, not even close, but he didn’t need to know that. You doubted he’d remember anything you said once he sobered up from whatever drugs they had put into him and Robin.

Steve and Robin found themselves in the movie theater restrooms, finally back above ground. You and Dustin had left Erica to keep watch of them after sticking them in a showing of Back to the Future.

They’d been able to sneak out without alerting their caretaker, but had to quickly run to the restroom after the drugs had reached their stomachs.

Steve wanted to test if the drugs had left their system along with their lunch from the day before. He asked Robin when the last time she peed her pants was. She said it was earlier with the Russians, when the doctor pulled out the bone saw. The she asked him a question.

“Have you...ever been in love?”

He feels like his first thought should have been Nancy, what with her being his first love. And yet, he couldn’t help but picture you.

Steve realized a second later that he was silent for a bit too long. “Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.”

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolled her eyes. “She's such a priss.” Part of her resisted the urge to mention you, because that’s who she assumed he was going to say. Unlike you, Steve had been quiet about his feelings to Robin, figuring that with how close the two of you had gotten, she’d be the first to blab about his feelings for you. And he couldn’t have that happening, especially when it had been so long since that night he broke your heart. You’d always been so closed off about your emotions, worse after that night, and he wasn’t sure you even liked him anymore.

Who was he too assume you’d wait around for him to lose feelings for Nancy?

But Robin wasn’t dumb. Sure she had a poor grasp of socials cues, but she also had two eyes and a very clever brain. It wasn’t difficult to see the pining stares the two of you gave each other when the other wasn’t looking and put to and two together.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Turns out, not really.

Robin scoffed a little. If she was gonna get Steve to confess his feelings for you willingly, she was gonna have to play this smart. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

“No.” Steve answered, honestly and without hesitation.

“Why not?”

He could see his reflection in the black seat of the toilet, his swollen eye and busted lip serving as a reminder of what they had just been through. What you had been through. Though the events before him and Robin had fled to the bathroom to puke up the contents of their stomachs were hazy, he remembers your face when Dustin broke you all free–the dark print on your face that looked almost like a hand and the blood that dried under your nose.

“I think it's because I found someone who's a little bit better for me.” He finally managed to say. “It's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, you know, you gotta find your Suzie, you gotta find your Suzie–"

“Wait, who's Suzie?” Robin asked.

Steve shrugged, “It's some girl from camp. I guess his girlfriend? To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real.” He let out a little chuckle. “But that's not...that's not really the point. That doesn't matter. The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like…it's somebody that I didn't even talk to in school. Not until I met Nancy.”

“And I don't even know why. Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me or...I wouldn't be...prom king.” Steve shook his head at this own words. Everyday he regretted how he let himself act in high school. He knows that it was all for validation, compensating for what he didn’t receive as he grew up with an asshole for a father and a pushover for a mother. Still, it didn’t excuse any of his actions and not a day went by that he wished he had been better.

“It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because, when I think about it, I should've been hanging out

with this girl the whole time. First of all, she's hilarious. She's so funny. I feel like, these couple years i’ve known her, I have laughed harder than I have laughed...in a really long time.”

You and Steve hadn’t grown close until after his breakup with Nancy. He can remember the night you two hung out for the first time. He’d been driving around town to clear his mind not long after Eleven had closed the gate to the Upside Down and Hawkins Lab had been exposed. During this drive is when he passed by the local play ground and spotted you, swinging all by yourself on the swing set. As he parked his car and approached you, he could see your head go back for a second and when he got closer, he could see a silver flask hidden under your jacket. To say he was worried was an understatement so he silently sat next you to, asking if you were okay.

With the alcohol fogging your better judgement, you were quick to spill your thoughts to Steve. The nightmares you’d been having, the worry you felt for those poor kids you’d been babysitting for years and how they’d be able to handle this kind of trauma, the loneliness you felt now that Nancy had found a comfort in Jonathan and you had no one. In turn, Steve shared his own worries, his own heartbreak after Nancy and the pressures he received from his parents. After that night, you were inseparable.

“And she's smart. Way smarter than me. And she’s such a badass. She always puts people in their place, including me, and she handles all the bullshit we’ve been through like it just another Tuesday for her…you know? She's honestly unlike anyone

I've ever even met before.”

Robin couldn’t keep the grin off her face. God, she couldn’t wait to tell you that Steve was still head over heels for you.

She never knew for sure, though she had her suspicions, that he still had feelings for you. But now she did know. And if Steve didn’t say something soon, she was gonna.

“Robin?” He called after a long pause. “Robin, did you just OD in there?”

The blonde girl sighed, attempting to rein in the giddiness. The boy her best friend was in love with just admitted his feelings for said best friend, okay? Give her a break. “No. I...am still alive.”

Steve let his curiosity win and slid his body under the stall to sit across from Robin. “The floor's disgusting.” She told him.

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood

and puke on my shirt,” He reminded her. “So…What do you think?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too anxious. He knew better than to think that Robin didn’t how you felt about him. She probably knew even better than Nancy, who had been your best friend for years.

“About?” She replied coyly.

Steve huffed. “This girl.”

Robin smirked back at him. “She sounds awesome.” By now Steve could tell she had gotten the hint. What was she messing with him for?

“She is awesome.” He agreed. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he's finally come to senses. And he needs to tell the girl how he feels because I know, for a fact, that she feels the same way.”

Steve’s face felt like it was on fire. More-so than it already did with the the fresh wounds. “Really? 'Cause I think he should too. This time without screwing up their friendship because he was too scared to get his heart broken again.” He sighed, head falling back to rest again the open door of the bathroom stall.

Robin cocked her head, asking him in a softer voice. “Is that why? Why you rejected her?”

“I didn’t–“ Steve groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I knew I wasn’t completely over Nancy yet and I know what it’s like to be with someone whose heart isn’t fully yours. I couldn’t put her through that…but yeah. I guess I was also just worried the same thing would happen and I think that if it did…it would’ve been so much worse than the first time.”

Steve knew in the back of his mind that, although he had loved Nancy, it didn’t even come close to how he felt for you. His love for you was all consuming. Not a day went by that you weren’t on his mind. It’s a wonder how he never noticed you before he got with Nancy, and even then you were just his girlfriends best friend. In hindsight, he should’ve known by the way you never took shit from Tommy and Carol, and him, that you were nothing like anyone he’d met before. If he had to have gone through the same situation of you falling out of love with him like with Nancy, he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to survive that.

It was then that Robin knew. In the most vulnerable state she’d ever seen Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in. She knew there was now a bond between them that wasn’t there before the summer–hell, before even that day. She knew it was safe to make her own confession.

“Do you remember what I said

about Click's class?”

The Battle of Starcourt would go on to be known as The Fire, to the general public. To you and to Steve and to your group of friends that had been there to defeat the Mindflayer, it would be a day to add to your list of traumatic, other-dimensional, bullshit that’s gonna plague you’re nightmares for the rest of your lives.

But it was finally over. The Fire and Police departments had shown up to “rescue” all of you. They didn’t know why you’d all been the in the mall so late anyways, or what had started the fire. But there were plenty of government officials there that were aware of the dangers that occurred in Hawkins and were able to answer their questions with something believable.

After being check by paramedics, you were all driven home in police cars. You tried not to linger on the fact that none of the drivers were Hopper. You didn’t think you could take thinking about that for too long. Not yet.

Steve had insisted you and Robin stay at his. The deputy that drove you was hesitant, but after admitting that none of you wanted to be alone, he relented, dropping the three of you off at the Harrington household.

“You can take the first shower, Robbie.” There was more than one shower in the house, but Robin didn’t argue. She didn’t need you to convince to leave the two of you alone for a bit, knowing that there were plenty of unspoken words between you that needed to be said. “I’m gonna help clean up his face a little.”

Robin nodded silently, giving you a lingering hug that poured out the mutual appreciation you had for each other before heading upstairs.

You wordlessly pulled Steve into the guest bathroom on the first floor, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet and sitting yourself on the counter to be at eye level with him.

There was a silence that was only broken by the soft breathing from you can the occasional hisses of pain from Steve as you dabbed his eye with hydrogen peroxide.

“Sorry.” You whispered after a slightly too harsh wipe. The pad of your thumb ran lightly over the swollen skin, your other fingers resting over his cheek.

Steve relaxed under your touch. He couldn’t remember the last time you two were this close. Most likely it was before that night. Before he hurt you and caused you to distance yourself. What an idiot, he thought.

“It’s okay.” He replied. Taking a chance, Steve let his hands come up, softly, almost cautiously, letting them find your hips. He could feel you stiffen, and he almost ripped his hands away, until you settled, scooting a little closer to his body.

“Can I ask you something?” He said after a minute. The warmth of his palms had momentarily distracted you and it took a second to realize he’d said something.

You blinked dumbly, “Yeah, go ahead.” You let out breathily, resuming your cleaning and hoping he didn’t notice how flustered his touch had made you.

Steve could feel his heart pounding and he prayed you couldn’t feel it against his skin.

“Do you…still have feelings for me?”

You were immediately brought back to that fateful night. Really, you tried to best to forget it, but you’d never been able to succeed in that. It never left your mind, actually. How could you, when he flirted with other girls in front of you, or you felt the awkwardness when he was near Nancy and Jonathan. Nothing could make you forget the day Steve broke your heart.

“Y/N?” He whispered.

The lump in your throat went down with a struggle. You pulled away from him slightly, occupying yourself with throwing away the bloody cotton ball you’d been using to clean his eye and soaking another one in more hydrogen peroxide. “Does it matter?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Yes, of course, it matters.” He insisted, voice raising a bit. “More than anything?”

You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that left your body. “Why, Steve? Why does it matter. Why do you need to know? I thought we’d been through this already and I’m sorry but I really don’t wanna go through it again-“

“It matters because I love you!”

Your breath hitched, wide eyes gazing back at his. Finally Steve had uttered the words you’d been longing to hear for months now, and yet you didn’t know what to say.

“Are you sure?”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to hear your own heart shatter, but in that moment he was convinced he did. To think that he finally gathered the courage to pour his heart out, and here you were, not sure if to believe him. He did that to you. This was his own doing.

His hands left your sides to reach your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I’m promise you, with every fiber of my being, that i’ve never been more sure if anything in my life.” He admitted, thumb soothing the fading hand mark on your face, just as you had to go moments before.

“But Nancy–“

Steve shook his head. “There is no Nancy.” He smiled at you fondly. “Yes I was worried at first about still feeling something for her because I didn’t want to let myself be with you if I didn’t know for sure. But I know now that nothing i’ve ever felt for her compares to how much I’m in love with you.”

Unshed tears gathered in your eyes. It was overwhelming, hearing what you’d always wanted to hear and not knowing what it is that suddenly opened his eyes.

You placed your hands atop of his, sniffling. “Where’s this coming from.”

Steve let his head hang, trying to find the right words to express how he felt. “Today. When the Russians got us and they took you from Robin and I. I’ve never been more terrified in my life.” His hands slid from your face but never strayed from your own, allowing you to intertwine your fingers with his and rest them on your lap. “Not knowing where you were or what they were doing to you. You should’ve heard me before they shot us up with whatever drugs those were. I wouldn’t stop asking about you ‘till they started beating me up.”

The soft skin of your hands was a comfort to him and he leant his forehead up against your own. “I couldn’t stop thinking about if I was gonna see you again. If one or both of us didn’t make it out and I never would’ve gotten the chance to tell you how much I love you. All because I was too scared to confront my own feelings.”

You let go of one of his hands and ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly to lift his face. After a moment of analyzing the busted and bruised skin on his face, you pressed a feather light kiss against his eye. Steve let a breath out of his body, as if that kiss lifted all the weight from his shoulders.

“I could kill every single one of those Russians for hurting you.“ You whispered, a couple treacherous tears escaping your eyes. “I was worried about you too. I always worry about you.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling painfully. “Yeah. Even when you’re just at home. Cause I know your parents aren’t home and I hate the thought of you in this big house all alone when I know how you feel about it. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately, I just couldn’t after….”

Steve gave you and understanding smile, guilt shining in those beautiful brown doe eyes that you adored. “I know. And I’m sorry too. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, and in doing what I thought was best, I did just that.“

You slid your hands to the back of his neck, messing with the hairs at the nape. “How about…we forget that night ever happened? I don’t know that you love me,” Your gaze met his, sipping your chin to look at him through your lashes. “And you don’t know that I love you.”

Steve’s face lit up as if you’d just told him he won the lottery. He knew not even that feeling would compare to what he was feeling in this moment after hearing you say those three words.

“Okay,” He grinned. “Y/N, I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m in love with you.”

You couldn’t contain your giggles, feeling his own breaths of laughter hit your face as you moved closer to him.

“Oh really? Well, Steve, I didn’t know that, actually. But I think you should know, that I’m in love with you too.”

Steve gasped like you’d said something profound and you both collapsed into laughter. “You know what I also think?” You hummed in response. “I think you should kiss me.”

You head leaned to the side and you tapped your chin twice in consideration. “Hmm. I think that’s a great idea.”

And you also think that you could die happy, finally knowing what Steve Harrington’s lips felt like against yours.

general taglist:

@teenwolfbitches28 @thethreeheadeddog @cerbythepuppy

stranger things taglist:

@m-rae23

add yourself to my taglist!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #steve harrington fluff

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nouearth · 1 year

Text

servicing justice: superman [1]

pairing ; kal-el / clark kent / superman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 2144. series ; servicing justice. genre ; smut. rating ; m. warnings ; bigdick!superman. blowjob. gloryhole. handjob. mouth-fucking. oral (reader giving). sexworker!reader. note ; yeah, okay. maybe i've been watching too much of a certain video genre, ahem. but i hope you guys enjoy my first smut! it's been a WHILE since i've written one, so i know it's rusty, HAHA. looks-wise, i mostly had maws's superman in mind (because the art style is so good and so himbo), but feel free to imagine it with any superman!

it isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. you’ve been kneeling on the floor for quite some time now, waiting for your assigned client. your palms begin to sweat to a minimal but uncomfortable degree. did i fuck up already? you ask yourself as your mind clouds with questions, doubts, and even judgement regarding this new job.

“jesus, what did i get myself into…” you recall the long process it took for you to end up here. the intensive (and ridiculously long) process of reading and signing multiple forms and documents almost had you backing out of this opportunity. though looking back at it, it was understandable since it’s quite unheard of to be… a sex worker for superheroes.

for an incredible pay, your privacy will essentially be stripped away starting from today. all phone messages, calls, and social media activities will be monitored during your venture as a sex worker, and that post-graduate life was not going to pay itself. for the most part, so far everything seemed… great? being driven to work by a chauffeur, having your own personal room and health coverage provided, and most importantly… eating free lunch was not bad at all.

or maybe you’re just naïve.

all you had to do was kneel and suck a few superhumans off. as the newbie, you were told that you’ll be starting on gloryhole duty due to privacy reasons; at least until you built enough camaraderie. though, you didn’t even mind since there would certainly be less strain on your body.

you couldn’t help but snicker at the mere thought of an entire league of superheroes holding a meeting regarding this subject matter. especially since almost everyone in the world, including you, holds these superheroes in such high regard.

“meeting is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow! until then, please help yourself to some delicious food trucks from outer spac-“ your humorous imitation of a noble superhero is silenced when you hear the door opening. within your private booth, all that blocks you from meeting your approaching client is another door with a hole cut through.

your curiosity is piqued when you catch a sight of the man’s physique through the hole. plaid shirt and jeans aside, and assuming he had to underdress, he’s huge. maybe because you’re kneeling right now, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been near a superhero before, but you couldn’t help but be in awe at the size of the man. your eyes complete a full body scan by the time he approaches the door and before you could say something, he does.

“sorry i was late-“ a gentle voice echoes behind the door. contrary to his soft voice, the man’s large hands work aggressively at his belt, unlooping the leather with impatience yet eagerness as he anticipates the mouth that’s been waiting for his arrival. “there was this whole thing with this cat in this tree and then this school bus got hijacked- not my best day, unfortunately.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. sounds like a stressful day, yeah?” your voice is compassionate. you felt bad for the unnamed superhero and a part of you wanted to continue the conversation further, but your job isn’t to listen to their feelings. it’s to pleasure.

“yeah…” a huge sigh of relief expels from the man’s dry throat when he pulls his pants down. frustration stains another one of your client’s sigh, clearly troubled by the restrictive fabric guarding his erection. you watch with parted lips as he couldn’t help but give himself a needy stroke through his tight briefs, fondling his balls then beelining his palm to the very plump tip of his cock. your own cock hardens at this scene, and you find yourself doing the very same. mimicking his impatient hand to tend to the sensitive pressure below, you tiptoe the fine line between frustration and pleasure as your tightening pants and briefs define what it means to be an absolute nuisance. “very stressful.”

it doesn’t take much time before you’re faceful of cock and somehow, you manage to salivate more than you did a minute ago. the man’s throbbing erection is brimmed with thick pre-cum, stress practically leaving his body with every drip. it’s a heavenly sight that’s enough to make you stick your tongue out just in time to catch the substance into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. the salty taste always catches you off-guard yet at the same time, it puts you under a spell. a tantalizing spell that commands you to drag your warm tongue over and back the underside of his thick shaft, completely avoiding the plump glans to have his cock leak even more… stress.

the taste of his musk drives your palm further into your erection, palming at whatever you could as you preoccupy yourself with teasing the man. you almost felt bad for him. contrary to his build, his whimpers are… so small, so weak. you notice his hands grip over the top of the barrier, and it turns you on upon realizing how this supposed hero could become so fragile at the simple taunt of your tongue.

“please…” the superhero whimpers out, needlessly fucking the air in hopes of granting his cock some type of friction. you’re amazed, and a little proud, by how much pre-cum he’s been leaking by now, and it all goes right onto your tongue. the wet muscle follows the natural curve of his cock to meet up with the wet and plump head. his hips buckle into the barrier and feeling it shake, you keep him steady by wrapping your hand around his shaft. you’re addicted at this point. addicted to the salty taste of his pre-cum as your tongue licks and explores into the slit of his cock, while at the same time, your hand works at his large cock in slow, but steady strokes.

“oh christ-“ he breathes out, repeating the same two words under his shaky breath as you continue to pleasure him with your tongue and hand. after a few licks, you pull away to give your tongue a break. in doing so, your grip tightens around his shaft to pace your strokes quicker. when you find a moment where your wrist needs a break, you let your client catch his breath. his cock throbbing more and more with every passing second when your tongue and hand aren’t exploring him, and you bask in the sight of it. you believe you deserve a medal at this point. not for doing a great job (though, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched), but for having control. you haven’t even sucked him off yet, but you’re content on remaining just like this for a while longer. though, that wouldn’t be fair for the superhero.

before he could whimper out another plea, your warm mouth finally wraps around the head of his cock and your ears perk at the sound of his low moan almost instantly. your hand returns to its rightful position around the lower base of his penis as you cycle your tongue over the glans, satisfying your need to taste his musk once more. seconds later, your hand lets go when you push your head farther, taking in an inch more of the hero’s cock. your knees dig into the floor as you push your head more and more, stretching your mouth with his cock until you feel yourself gagging.

“fuck.” you sniffle out when you pull back. perhaps you were challenging yourself too hard. you think to yourself as you catch your breath, using the remaining moment to sloppily jerk him off with your saliva. part of you wanted to challenge yourself to deepthroat him, impress your client on the first day. but you already know you wouldn’t be able to take it… at least, for now.

“you could hurt someone with this, y’know?” for some reason, you thought you needed to crack a joke as if there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. maybe you just wanted to hear him talk again. his voice is warm and inviting, somewhat fitting for a superhero or even a television host as the moment you hear his voice again, you felt safe.

“i have before- oh god.” you lube up his cock with your spit as you continue to jerk him off, refraining yourself from fucking his slit with your tongue again to concentrate on his words. “which is why i don’t do this much- sex and stuff… it’s all troublesome, really.”

“yeah?” and just when you talked yourself out of challenging yourself, you feel the competitive spark ignite inside of you again. “well, i guess you just have to find the right one. could be anyone, even people you just met.” you try to play it nonchalantly, hoping that double-handing his wet cock would distract him.

he was beyond speechless at this point, moans drawn out by means of your sloppy strokes. you swear you can hear his heartbeat behind the barrier when you lean your head closer to suck him off again. you moan along with him, drawing out every breath of yours as you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock every time you come down. your hand twists and strokes the remaining few inches that isn’t violated by your tongue and mouth, following your mouth like a reel as your intent to make him cum is fervent more than ever.

it hurts. your mouth hurts by how large your client is and tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself back from gagging. but you don’t stop yourself because you’ll know it’ll be worth it. your endeavor to please him to the fullest has you drowning out his groans into white noise and you can barely register the fact that you’ve been on paused for a while now. you find yourself in a closer position than before, where your mouth is open, lips fully pressed around the carved hole as the superhero fucks into your mouth, fucks into your gags like you’re his personal flesh light. you didn’t care how dirty you looked, how you had saliva and spittle dripping out from the corners of your mouth and onto the floor. who would see? and you didn’t care that you were too preoccupied to touch your dick right now, because you know you’ll be thinking about this very moment for the rest of your life. and right now, you didn’t know if you wanted to be covered in his cum or to have your mouth be filled with it.

remaining in this position, you glance your teary eyes up at his grip over the barrier again. the strength in his grasp forms small cracks in the material of the barrier and that was the sign you knew you fulfilled your sense of purpose.

“christ, i’m going to come-“ your eyes shut again and you breathe through your noise, bracing for impact. he pushes his cock down your throat and hits that sore spot one last time before unloading his cum into your mouth with a stifled groan. warm, hot seed quickly fills you up and you pull your head back an inch to fully enclose your lips around his cock, ensuring none escape your lips.

in a heartbeat, you swallowed it all. his warm cum coats the back of your throat like medicine and you moan around his cock at the taste, intoxicated. you made sure to lick every inch of his cock clean, calmly slurping any saliva and cum that threatens to leave your mouth as you pull back up with a soft pop, swallowing the remaining remnants of his stress away.

“t-thank you. i needed that…” he pulls his softening cock out, careful in avoiding the hole as he was still sensitive. “did you need a tissue or anything? i think i have one somewhere…” you can hear him rummage through what you can only assume would be his bag and you find it charming, a quiet laugh leaving your swollen lips as you lean back onto your elbows to take a breather and stretch your legs out.

“no, no. i’m okay. i, uh, don’t think i wasted a drop.” you proudly brag, only for him to respond with a shy chuckle. you watch him tidy himself through the hole from a leaned back view, occasionally tilting your head in various angles to see if you could catch a glimpse on who the mysterious superhero is, but the barrier remains an obstruction to your view.

“well then, i… uh… thank you for your service.” he covers up the silence with another laugh and you join in, re-adjusting his pants and belt before turning his back towards you and heading out the booth. “i’ll try not to be late next time.”

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x you #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent smut #nou.fics

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aayakashii · 2 months

Note

Can I get a ❤️24 and ❤️25 fluffy fic for Jin please?

❤️24 a sleepy kiss

❤️25 a kiss that's an accident

The room was quiet. Harsh sunlight peeked through some of the tall curtains, bathing the room in a dim light. There was a gentle hum in the room, a humidifier working overtime to defeat the dry cold air of the dorm.

It was midday, and Jin was still fast asleep.

You had received Tohma's message just a few minutes before. He claimed he was awfully busy and had to do something at Vagastrom, so he asked you to do him a huge favor and wake up the lazy captain of Frostheim.

Tohma didn't leave much room for arguing, so you had no choice but make your way to Jin's bedroom, already quite used to being the unofficial errand kid of those ghouls – even though you were still a bit bitter about it.

The sounds of your footsteps were crisp and loud in that spacious and mostly empty place. It was probably three times the size of your own room in Clementia's old building, you thought for the hundredth time since you set foot in it.

Jin was laying down on his loyal and old sofa, one arm shielding his eyes while the other rested on his stomach. His lips were slightly parted and he snored quietly, breathing deeply, fully relaxed.

He looked like a porcelain doll, you thought as you kneeled beside his sleeping figure.

Students in Darkwick would always discuss who was the most handsome – Jin or Romeo – and you refused to partake in any conversation about that topic due to your “professional” relationship with both men.

Yet secretly, deep inside, you always thought Jin was the prettiest. He was ethereal, some sort of ice fairy prince, straight out of a fairytale.

And when his face was relaxed and not in the permanent scowl he seemed to have engraved on his features when he was awake, he looked even fairer.

You blinked and shook your head, trying to dissipate those thoughts. You looked like a creep, watching him so closely as he slept, you thought and, for a quick moment, Zenji's boisterous laugh echoed in your mind – a reminder of the day he explained why he watched you as you slept.

You sighed.

Tohma didn't tell you how he usually woke Jin up. He didn't give any instructions on whether you had to be gentle or straight up shake him by the shoulders.

On a second thought, shaking someone who always kept a sword nearby by the shoulders didn't seem like a good idea.

Being gentle was the only option, then.

You stood up on your knees and leaned towards Jin's sleeping figure. Your hands softly touched his shoulders and you gave them an (extremely gentle and careful) squeeze.

“Jin?” you muttered “Jin, it's time to wake up. It's noon.”

The blue haired man furrowed his eyebrows and groaned. He turned to the side, unintentionally facing you, still sound asleep.

“Jin.” you touched his arm “You have to wake up.”

He murmured what you could only imagine was some sort of ‘no’ and curled into himself. You rolled your eyes.

“Jin. Come on, you gotta wake up. Wake up.” getting a little impatient, you raised your voice a little, giving his arm another squeeze, and that finally seemed to work.

Jin's icy blue eyes opened up slowly, still foggy with sleep. He blinked a few times, staring at you but seemingly not processing the fact that you were actually in front of him.

You suddenly noticed how close your faces were to each other.

His eyes scanned your face for a second, before his arm reached out to you, pulling you towards him by your neck.

You barely had a moment to think of what was happening before Jin locked his lips onto yours, in a chaste kiss.

His eyes closed once again, sleep still taking control of his body, while yours widened to the size of saucers.

You didn't know what to do with your hands as he drowned you in his kiss, while Jin's slid from your neck to your cheek, tenderly cupping your face.

The sound of his lips gently sucking on yours as he kissed you repeatedly made your face burn with a heat that could quite probably melt all the ice in Frostheim.

It wasn't until he nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out a small moan that sleep seemed to finally leave his body.

Jin let go of your face with a startle, quickly scooting closer to the back of his sofa, trying to create distance between you two. You blinked repeatedly, trying to ground yourself after that sudden attack, as Jin pinched his own arm.

“You're- you're really here?” Jin gasped, his eyes widening like never before.

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly, not really trusting your own voice at that moment.

“Did I just- did I just-” he pointed to his lips and then to you. “You?”

You nodded dumbly again.

Jin groaned, rubbing a hand on his face as he propped himself on his elbow. You could faintly hear him grumble something about ‘how he could swear that it was just a dream’.

“Where's Tohma?” he sat up on the sofa, glaring down at your dumbfounded figure.

You got up slowly, finally coming back to your senses as you felt your feet tingle after kneeling for that long.

“He asked me to wake you up.” you said, softly tapping your feet on the marble floor to bring back the blood flow.

Jin groaned at your response.

"Of course. I'm going to kill him." he growled, scowling like usual.

You stood awkwardly, still tapping your feet, as you tried your hardest not to stare at his lips. It didn't take long before his irritation was directed at you.

“Well, obviously you were quite successful with your little task. You're dismissed now.” he said, getting up and pushing you unceremoniously towards the door.

“W-wait but we have to talk about what just-” you protested.

“You're dismissed” he repeated, with a final push, closing the door on your face with a loud slam.

And despite how hard he tried to avoid your gaze, you didn't miss how his cheeks, his neck and the tip of his ears were a furious shade of red.

Drabble event rules and prompt lists

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker jin kamurai #jin kamurai #ask #drabble event

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finnott · 6 months

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SLYTHERIN BOYS as your listening buddy. . . !

CHARACTERS : Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Notts, Lorenzo Berkshire — READER : gn.reader — GENRE : just fluff tbh — WARNINGS : slight breakdown in theodores — REQUESTED : no.

note : still figuring out how I want to make the boys so bare with me for these first couple posts.

MATTHEO RIDDLE :

It began when you were sitting next to Mattheo in Potions. You started by making small talk primarily with yourself, because he would either not reply or deliver dry, snarky responses. He would just lean on his elbow with his fist to his face, watching you as you kept chatting, and a part of him wondered how you could still talk to him as if you were best friends even when he was rude or dismissive of you. After time, he became used to having you next to him, talking about whatever was on your mind, so when potions began and he noticed you weren't there, he left the potions classroom as Snape shouted at him to return. He entered your house's common room and knocked on each door until he reached yours. You opened the door, surprised to see Mattheo, and offered him a teasing smile. "Did you miss hearing my talks that much?" you ask as he walks past you into your room and turns around to face you with a confident expression. "If you're going to be ditching, then I will be too." "Sick, not ditching," you said. "Whatever." He takes a seat in the chair next to your bed. You smile at him, trying not to laugh as you walk to your bed and sit down. "Well, it's a good thing you're here because you won't believe what happened yesterday." Though he’ll never admit it, he really does like listening to you talk.

THEODORE NOTT :

You were on your way to the courtyard to find a comfortable place to relax and read your book. When you arrived, the courtyard was not empty. There was a boy lying on one of the stone benches. You approached the boy, who gazed up at you as you smiled at him. "Hi, did you come here to relax too?" You gestured towards your book. "I am trying to finish the book I've been reading. It's a great fable about a human girl who meets this mean-spirited elf boy." You continue to describe your book to his boy, who hasn't said anything to you, but he doesn't appear annoyed, so you continue. After that day, every time you saw him, you'd start a conversation about your day or the most current book you'd been reading, and he never seemed bored. He would watch you closely while you talked, taking in every word you spoke. Just like any other day, you had found him and started a conversation about your new book. "And so the boy finds out he's the son of Poseidon, and he's rightfully pissed, like, can you imagine? Finding out-” You paused in mid-sentence as you looked at the boy in front of you, staring out the window, and for the first time, you felt almost embarrassed by how much you were saying and how little he was. Maybe you were bothering him, and he didn't know how to tell you to stop talking. I mean, how could he? You talk so much, and, oh my goodness, do you even know his name? How dumb can you get? "And then what?" Your thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice, and when you looked up, you discovered it was him "Huh?" you asked quietly. "What happened next?" he said, looking you in the eyes and waiting for the rest of the story. "Oh…” you started slowly. You kept telling the story while he watched you closely. After that, he begins to talk more to you, but he remains silent and listens to what you say. To be honest, it helps him relax, and he appreciates that you chose him as the person to speak with.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE :

You two were the first to arrive for breakfast. He saw you sitting alone and chose to sit next to you. He spoke to you with an attractive grin, expecting you to be nervous or taken aback by him suddenly sitting next to you, but he was startled when you matched him perfectly and began talking more than him, leaving him to simply listen. Every time he saw you in the halls, he would greet you and listen to what you had to say that day. You were seated in the library when he approached you with his distinctive smile. "Hi, darling," he said as he sat down next to you. "Oh, Lorenzo!" You immediately begin conversing with him about what happened in divination class today. Lorenzo was impressed by how openly you spoke to him, despite the fact that you had only known each other for a short time. He found you interesting, which is why he continued to seek you out. He's usually the one who leads talks, so this shift was quite soothing for him, and he also enjoyed hearing about all the fresh drama that he hadn't heard about. Unlike the other boys, he would respond to what you were saying and be sincerely invested; nevertheless, on days when he is simply exhausted, he will listen to you speak and relax.

Word count : 853 | ට finnott, 2024.

#slytherin boys reactions #mattheo riddle #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle reactions #theodore nott reactions #lorenzo Berkshire reactions #Slytherin boys imagine #mattheo x you #mattheo x reader #theodore x reader #lorenzo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore not x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader

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pixie-bby-airia · 1 year

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Who Would’ve Thought?

Summary - Soap and Gaz spot their usually silent teammate giggling her ass of in front of their usually stoic lieutenant and they can’t help but watch in confusion.

Warnings - None

“Gaz - come ‘ere” Soap gestured at the soldier, his eyes fixated on the strange sight he’d been witnessing for about 2-3 minutes now. Gaz tilted his head in slight confusion but complied - now mirroring soaps gaze as they both took a moment to see their stoic lieutenant and the quietest member of their team having a nice chat.

To be clear - neither Men had ever heard the shorter of the pair interact with anyone else on the team before, and while she was sweet she was inexplicably silent. But here she was, stood in front of the most hard to talk to man on the squad and she appeared to even be giggling.

“Who would’ve thought aye?” Soap chuckled - “the mouse and the big cat are apparently pretty good friends” Gaz couldn’t even begin to respond - a little too confused to think.

————————————

Ghost smiled beneath his mask - pretty proud of himself for getting his team member to let out a cute laugh - apparently she was not one to shy away from his darker, dry humour.

He understood why they’d given her the call sign Bambi now, you could only see her big doe eyes, lashes long as they blinked up at him - she had the rest of her face covered by a black mask. While this was the usual, it was only now he was fully paying attention to her features.

The two hadn’t interacted many times before - however he could safely say this is the closest anyone else on the squad had got to talking to her. She would usually give a smile, well what could be seen as one from the squint of her eyes and light crinkle of her skin. Aside from that she mostly communicated through hand signals - to the rest of the team anyway, however her and Simon had a few conversations by now, mostly about work but sometimes she’d reveal a little bit about herself, and for once Simon was actually interested in what she had to say.

In particular he can recall one time when she revealed some of her favourite music to listen to - now whenever she’s wearing her headphones around base he imagines she’s most likely listening along to her favourite artists - holding back a dance and singing along in her head.

“You’re very funny LT” Her voice was sweet and soft - a gentle vibration compared to his gruff gravely tone. His smile returned again - enjoying the praise. “I think we have an audience” she whispered. Eyes gesturing subtly over to the Sergeants and their obvious stares from across the room.

Simon made eye contact with soap who raised his eyebrows and grinned before scattering away - muttering something about giving the couple some privacy. He heard the small giggle come from her again.

The feelings she was stirring up within him were certainly not appropriate - especially considering his role as her lieutenant. Could anyone really blame him though?

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon riley #cod fanfic #ghost mw2 #fanfic #ghost headcanons

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girlboypersonthingy · 7 months

Note

omg i love your blog sm!! it’s been a while since ive been in the fandom and i didn’t think anyone wrote for vld anymore, ahhhh but i love the way you write!! you’re so so talented!! how do you think a love triangle sitch with keith and lance would play out? i love the both but UGHHHH THE DRAMA I LOVE IT😩😩

Oh my god thank you so much! I’m so flattered asfdafh 🥰🥹 I know the fandom is dead to most but not to all. I’m still here and voltron will always live on in my heart ❤️‍🔥 BRO THIS PROMPT??? PLZ ITS SO GOOD AAHHH ENJOY!

❤️Love Triangle💙

Okay first of all, these two would try to win you over IN COMPLETELY OPPOSITE WAYS.

Lance is, of course, over the top and very romantic and kind of cliche but so considerate and thoughtful and sweet.

Keith will be more nonchalant and mysterious, trying to use his skills and talents to impress you. He’s the type to slowly win you over by being very genuine and honest.

It started when Lance threw a pick up line your way and not only was the line terrible…but you actually laughed at it. It brought some pink to your cheeks as well. They both noticed that.

Lance was very smug about the fact that he made you giggle and blush.

Keith was a little annoyed at first, thinking Lance was just being his usual obnoxious self. So Keith just kept trying to make moves on you in his own way.

One day, Lance walked into the training room to see you and Keith sitting beside each other on the floor, breathing heavily as if you’d just decided to take a break. He couldn’t really hear what Keith was saying but you looked very focused, very into the conversation and you two were sitting just a little bit too close for his liking.

Lance didn’t like the eyes you were making at the red paladin

But Keith sure did. He was so excited to be sitting so close to you.

Then it’s like the spider man meme of them pointing at each other like 😧👉🏻 👈🏻😮

“Wait! You like (Y/N)? No no no, you can’t! I like (Y/N)!”

“Well I liked them first!”

“No! No! Dibs!”

“Really? Dibs?” *eye roll*

For the next week, they’re both acting like goofballs around you.

It’s kind of hilarious and very entertaining for you because…you notice that they start adopting each other’s ways of flirting and dropping hints. They do a little swap.

It’s like they think the other person has a better chance with you so they try to switch it up and copy each other. Lance thinks Keith’s ‘mysterious bad boy’ persona is something you’re into. Keith thinks you find happiness in all the silly, goofy things Lance does. So they both try to switch it up in hopes of making you fall for them. Does that make sense?

Imagine Keith trying to use a pick up line on you and failing miserably. He’s probably sweating through his shirt and his mouth is dry bc he’s so close to you, he can smell your shampoo. He’d end up stuttering and then getting really pissed at himself for looking dumb in front of you. May go back to his room and pout if he felt things didn’t go well.

Now imagine Lance trying to be all soft spoken and mysterious, trying to act cool. Lance trying not to talk too much is the equivalent of him holding his breath. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks character and says some dumb, cheesy shit that has you rolling your eyes. He awkwardly shuffles away to his room and also pouts bc he feels like he’s just loud and annoying.

The boys got into a yelling match about it once. The pot just boiled over and all you could do was watch.

That was their very shitty, joint confession of their feelings for you- them screaming about who likes you more, who liked you first, who you’re more compatible with, ect ect blah blah blah

All right in front of you

And all the while, the whole team is so confused

Cue Allura and Hunk stepping in between them because both their faces are turning red from anger and jealousy.

Everyone just looks at Shiro like 👀

Shiro, the dad of the group: 🙄😤 “fine…”

Shiro sits them both down for a long chat and by the end of it, the boys have come to terms with the fact that they both like you and not only is it your choice who you’d want to be with, but there’s a lot of other things to be worried about rn. They shouldn’t, and they won’t, pressure you.

Buuttttt…they do keep up some of the same things they like to do with you.

Keith still trains with you often (and he really enjoys helping you with your stance/posture bc he gets to be touchy✨)

Lance still invites you into his room to play video games (and he always seems out of breath when you sit so close to him, your arm touching his)

They try their best to control their temper around you and they try not to be around when you’re with the other person. They don’t need to see you being all close and personal with someone who isn’t them. :,(

The boys just continue to be their normal selves with you. They figure you should get to know them, the real them, before you make any decisions.

Yes, they both like you.

Yes. They’re both very competitive and very jealous.

But they respect each other and they respect you.

And we are in the middle of an intergalactic war right now, this is not a real priority.

They’ll give you some time and a pace to think about it.

Now comment on this post and tell me who you’d choose 😈 I love them both so so much but Lance is my soulmate for sure

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron x reader #voltron x you #vld #keith x reader #vld keith #keith vld #lance x reader #lance mcclain x reader #lance vld #voltron lance #vld lance #lance voltron #keith voltron #voltron keith #lance mcclain #keith kogane #keith kogane x reader

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your-regular-toast-enjoyer · 2 years

Note

Platonic!Yandere Batman!Damian with new young robin!reader headcannons (extra points if you include uncle Jon and the league somehow)

Platonic! Yandere! Batman! Damian Wayne x Robin! Reader

Damian Wayne x reader. Yandere!Damian Wayne x reader/ Yandere Damian Wayne x Reader

Word count: 5604 words

TW: GN reader, Yandere, manipulation, adult Damian Wayne (based on Batman in Bethlehem), toxic family relations, obsession & Platonic yandere.

Okay, so I imagine that this all occurs at a time when Bruce has resigned and most of the others have moved on in some way, not only leaving Damian as the only one available and willing to take over the Batman cowl, but also making him impossibly alone. Desperate, abandoned and lonely.

Dick is busy with his life in Blüdhaven, (either married to Barbara or Koriand’r, maybe even with a kid), working primarily as a detective for the Blüdhaven police force. He’s juggling a career, family and, obviously, his vigilante patrols at night, so the time left to visit Damian is minimal.

Jason still occasionally patrols the streets at night, but he’s mostly out with Starfire and Roy, either playing uncle with Lian/Kori’s possible kid or doing Outlaws missions whenever Chesire/Jade Nguyen pulls herself together enough to take care of her daughter for a while. Jason is too busy getting his own life on track to even start worrying about Damian’s loneliness.

Tim is probably still in Gotham, although he’s also busy. He’s building his own life as well, either with Bernard or some other girlfriend/boyfriend of his. He’s probably busy renovating an apartment close to the manor, on top of Wayne Enterprise work and vigilante obligations, giving him no free time to come visit for leisure time. Sure, Damian communicates with him over the comms on a daily basis, but it’s not really the same as speaking to someone face to face. Not to mention that shouting orders, descriptions and coordinates probably doesn’t count as a proper conversation.

Alfred is probably dead. I know everyone always jokes that he’s immortal, but even if he was, no one can deal with the Wayne family for more than a single lifetime. So, whether he clocked out naturally or simply, using his all-mighty Alfred powers, just decided to let his life seep out of him like air in a balloon. Alfred is gone.

In Alfed’s place, Bruce has stepped up as a type of off-brand Alfred. He’s retired his superhero alias, and now only has his CEO duties to focus on, which would’ve been a lot for most people, but this is Bruce and to him, it’s too little. So he has learned to cook, hires people to clean the house, make the beds etc. and has, (through observing the best dry cleaners he could possibly hire), learned to wash clothes, attempting to emulate Alfred as some type of coping mechanism for his absence. That doesn’t mean he has the same emotional intelligence as Alfred, it’s still Bruce we’re talking about, but he has the practicalities down. So yeah, Bruce has become an elderly man. But since he still is good old Bruce, that also means that his emotional availability is practically non-existent, made in no way better by the fact that he shut himself in even more after Alfred’s passing and most of his children flying away from the nest. Bruce longs for the old times, longs for the comforting presence of Alfred and the jolly sounds of younger people chit-chatting. Yet, no matter how much Damian might attempt to engage in longer conversations with Bruce, it’s not happening.

If you have a hard time imagining how Damian would look like Batman, think of Batman in Bethlehem. He has exchanged the unhandy cape for the much more practical coat, which not only gives him a more serious appearance but also proves to be a great weapon against the Gotham cold, as well as leaving much more room for gadgets, weapons and, just like his father, a secret compartment for treats. He is a much more menacing and unforgiving Batman compared to his father, never letting a goon get away. He is thorough to the point of near-perfection, which is damn impressive, but it’s also draining on Damian, both physically and emotionally. His father had a horde of Robins, Batgirls and the sporadic extra orphan to aid him in his pursuit for justice, all Damian has is Tim, and occasionally Jason, the latter of which is slowly coming to the realisation that sustaining the same muscle mass as a cow for decades takes a toll on your joints.

So, even before Damian encounters you, he’s been in the search of someone to make the nightly patrolling of Gotham easier. Damian’s original intention hadn’t been to get a Robin. Actually, he considered “rescuing” an assassin from his mother’s army at the League of Assassins and reprogramming their mind through the various means that had been proven useful in war situations of the past… He did briefly consider asking Dick to contact M’gann for some “healthy” use of mind control. Yeah… Damian is not nearly as morally self-righteous as Bruce, another factor which has driven a wedge between the two.

However, then Damian met you.

I can imagine that you had recently moved to Gotham, either with your family or alone. You’re probably no older than sixteen at the time of your and Damian's meeting, so if you’re moving to Gotham alone, you’re probably going to be at Gotham academy’s boarding school. But no matter what, you happen to be a huge Batman and, ostensibly, Robin fan. You have posters hung on your wall and photos of you dressing up as Robin when you were younger. It’s not quite Tim Drake-levels of fanboy/girl/person, but you are a bonafide fan.

So, as a fan, you enjoy looking out into the Gotham night, spotting either Red Robin or Batman pass in the air with the wires of their gliders shining in the moonlight. It gives you a sense of safety, knowing that the city has its protectors. Like any other fan, you can’t help but fantasise about how it’d feel to be one of them. How nice it must feel to have the wind hit your cheeks as you zoom through the night sky, and how cool you’d look in one of those fancy superhero suits.

You have made multiple drawings throughout your youth of yourself as Robin or sometimes even your own made-up hero. You’ll prance around your room alone, listening to music, jumping from your desk chair to your bed to anywhere else with a flat surface, pretending that you’re a vigilante. Heck! I wouldn’t be surprised if you had begged your parents to send you to some type of martial arts as a kid. Begging, praying and practically kissing their feet until they oblige. That is, of course, if you didn’t have parents who had already sent you to karate/Jujitsu/you name it, before you yourself ever came up with that idea.

I can imagine that the day you and Damian’s ways cross, it’s while he’s out as Batman. For some reason you’ve been left alone to go home/to the academy in the late evening hours, (a recipe for disaster in Gotham). Maybe you had to attend some school-arranged art show/science fair/literature competition and the teachers hadn’t coordinated a way for students to come home/your parents had forgotten that you were out for the night. Whatever it was, you were scared and alone, walking through the streets of Gotham at night.

As will always happen in Gotham under such circumstances, a large shadowy man emerges from within one of Gotham’s many alleys. He’s neither quiet nor light on his feet, but he is big and the stench of piss, alcohol and decay attacks you before he even has the chance to. You might try to run, but his legs are longer than yours and he reaches you before you get anywhere. Huge grubby hands encase around your collar, heaving you up against a nearby brick wall, the rough texture cutting into the back of your head and back. You might try to use your martial arts knowledge to attempt to fend him off, and you may be successful. However, once you manage to make the man drop you, a swarm of similar-looking men emerge from the nearby alleys, alerted by the noise. They practically lick their lips at the sight of a young and defenceless school student, dumb enough to emerge after dark, it’s practically a Christmas gift for these degenerates. They surround you and you realise that you can’t fight them all, not at once. Your screams for help alert everyone in the neighbourhood, but none will come to your rescue, that’s just how Gotham functions. None…Except for Batman.

Damian hears your scream and within minutes the goons who attempted to attack you are on the floor, heads busted and limbs broken, some scramble away in fear, but end up with Damian’s grappling hook ripping a hole through their legs. The green-eyed Batman is surprisingly efficient, and it takes him no time to get you to safety, scoping you into his arms, as if you weighed less than a feather, and with his grappling hook, he flies through the air to the nearest rooftop. If you hadn’t been so traumatised and shocked by the near-death experience you just had, you might’ve been able to appreciate the experience of literally being saved by your idol. But alas you were, and the shaking of your limbs and rattling of your brain made you wholly unable to connect with reality.

Damian is patient with you, his glowed hands trace your back as you slowly gather your breath, and once the worst shock is out of your body, he reaches into his breast pocket, where he pulls out a lolly, offering it to you. Now, one should never accept candy from a stranger, but when that stranger is Batman, you can be fairly certain it won’t be tampered with. As such, you accepted the candy with wide burning eyes. Your attempts at slowly peeling away the plastic were a hard-fought battle and Damian had to help you, slowly guiding your hand towards your mouth as you popped the candy into your mouth. The sweetness helped ground you a little, not to mention that it also helped you regain some of your lost powers.

When Damian reckons that you are mentally present again, he prompts you to tell him what happened. With trembling lips, you started to mutter out an answer, about how you had to walk alone because no one was there to get you home safely, how you’d fended one of the men off but then more just came, you almost let a sob slip, but manage to keep it in. Your emotional control and fighting spirit impress Damian, but more importantly, the utter imbecility of the adults in your life makes Damian feel a rage unlike any other.

Damian would take you home in his arms, barging through the front door of either your parents’ apartment or the front door of the academy. He ignores the protest of any adults attempting to stop him, even daring to roughly push them out of the way, as he carries you to your room, following your directions. Once he’s there, he’ll carefully put you on your bed and tug you in like a little kid, no matter your age at the time. He brushes your hair out of your face, (if you have any), and gently swipes your forehead with his thumb. This may seem like inappropriate behaviour for a stranger, but he’s Batman and you’re traumatised and still in shock. It’s his best attempt at calming you down.

Once you’re tugged in, he goes to your guardian, eyes burning with the fury of a thousand suns. He’ll scream his throat dry, reprimanding them for their carelessness, and if you’re living with your parents, he’ll threaten to call CPS on them. He’ll leave the building with a huff and a last warning of revenge should anything similar ever happen again.

It’s after this that Damian has a hard time letting go. He can’t help but constantly fear that you’re being mishandled in some way by your carers. He has nightmares of you in an alley, getting shot like his grandparents or worse… No! It’s so awful that he can’t even bear the thought. These tumultuous emotions will move him to the absolute edge, and to satiate his anxiety, even just a little, he’ll take to stalk look after you. He’ll follow your movements every free minute he has between working at Wayne Enterprises and patrolling the city as Batman, and if you have a bike or pair of shoes you often use, he’ll somehow manage to slip a tracker in there to follow your every move, even when he’s at work or out patrolling. “It’s just to keep them safe”, he’ll tell himself, justifying his actions. But really, whatever his intentions might’ve been in the beginning, they slowly morph into something darker, more possessive. Damian starts to wonder if he might not be a better parent and mentor to you than your real parents. They’re neglectful, he surmises. Either they were the ones who let you walk through Gotham at night, or they simply shipped you off to Gotham Academy, which clearly had no idea how to take care of its students.

Damian might force Bruce to attend his retelling of the night he met you, how he had to follow you around...to ensure your safety, of course! He twists the story and paints your parents as the most horrendous of people, totally disinterested in the well-being of their child, it makes Bruce pity you. Damian suggests that they take you, and make sure that you get a safer environment, with Damian adopting you, in a sense. Bruce isn’t entirely convinced of this, citing that they cannot just kidnap you from your home. However, when Damian mentions how you’re pretty much like Tim, except a better person in every regard, Bruce’s longing for nostalgia slowly creeps back through the cracks. His mind swirls with memories of little Dick, Jason, Tim and even Damian. When was the last time they had a kid, or at least a young person, in the house? It’s been so long that he barely remembers. The house is too big just for two adult men, they could really use someone to spice up the atmosphere. And as such, Bruce is on board… Not that Damian would’ve listened to him if he said otherwise.

With the decision made that you will become the newest in a long line of adopted Waynes, Damian sets out to get you. He will attempt to make it look natural… like the way Bruce adopted Dick after his parents died… Yeah, wouldn’t it be a shame if all your aunts and uncles suddenly started having issues in their life leaving them incapable of ever taking care of themselves, let alone you if something happened to your parents?

And wouldn’t it be even more of a shame if… let’s say, after pretty much all adults in your family either died, was run bankrupt or somehow ended up in jail… your parents finally die in a freak accident. Perhaps it’s a car crash due to someone having messed with its tailpipe? Or maybe they went to the cinema, only for the projector to hit them… and only them? It could even just be that while you’re out of the house/at the academy that they suddenly have a carbon monoxide slip in their home, making them silently sleep in the arms of the grim reaper.

Whatever it is, your parents will mysteriously die, and with no one else in your family able to take you in, the Gotham police department is left at a standstill. If you came from another country than the US, they might talk about sending you back to an orphanage there… anything is better than Gotham… but if you’re American they’ll have no other choice than to start preparations to move you into one of the rat-infested shiteholes calling themselves Gotham orphanages.

Wherever you’re from, you don’t have to wait more than a day before someone unexpectedly shows up at the police station, just as the pitying policemen are trying to help you pack your last stuff into boxes, ready to be sent wherever you need to go. Multi-billionaire, Damian Wayne. Everyone at the station is suspicious about how the green-eyed Wayne heard about the sudden availability of an orphan without any family to go to, but he’s a Wayne, so they’re not surprised… They have a thing for adopting orphans after all. And that’s exactly what Damian proposes!

The broad-shouldered man will bow down to your level, reach out a hand, a gentle smile on his otherwise hardened features, and offer you to join him as his ward. With the horror stories you’ve heard of orphanages combined with the possibility of being adopted by a literal billionaire, you don’t hesitate to accept, albeit reluctantly. Whatever reservations the police may have is waved off by the thought that the Waynes have experience with orphans and they’ll be able to give you a life so much more engaging than anyone else ever possibly could. To most of them, this seems like the perfect ending to your otherwise sad story… If only they knew.

Any legal troubles with adopting you, or if any relative attempts to better themselves to be able to take over your care, will be solved with a wat of cash in someone corruptible’s hands and a slight threat of homicide. To anyone except Damian, the adoption went entirely smoothly and without a hitch.

Once you’re settled in with Damian and Bruce, you’ll come to realise that this life really isn’t all that you expected it to be. The trauma of your parents’ deaths is still fresh, but Damian expects you to get over it within the first few weeks, he is after all, (in his mind at least), your new “dad/mentor”, you’re not alone…Not like he’s been for the past many years… So why can’t you just settle into your new life with vigour? Or at least not mope around most of the time!

Bruce is more patient than Damian, he’ll let you open up to him, even if he’s bad with emotions. I can imagine that after the death of your parents, you might develop heavy night terrors, to which Bruce will attempt to calm you by sitting at your bedside until you fall asleep. If you feel especially anxious one night, Bruce will swear that he and Damian will protect you, no matter what. After a while, Damian will take over nightguard duty, realising that he needs to let you open up slowly… or at least not instantly…

Damian might start reading you bedtime stories, even if you’re technically too old for them. His voice is just so calming, its eclectic accent combined with clear brass undertones, both of which remind you of a certain hero… It makes you momentarily forget the fear and despair that came with the death of your parents, so, even if it’s a little infantilising, you appreciate Damian’s presence as you fall asleep, it makes you feel safe.

If you’ll let him, Damian will trace calming circles on your back while reading, and if you ask him to, he’ll tell you stories from his childhood… the censored versions, he doesn’t want your delicate ears to get hurt by him explaining how he knew a million ways to kill a man before he even turned ten…

You will live a relatively comfortable life with Bruce and Damian for a while, getting introduced to the others whenever they find the time to drop by to meet the new member of the Wayne legacy, as well as getting acquainted with Jon Kent, who, (as Damian’s best friend), demands to be called uncle, despite you not even calling Damian dad… At least not yet. If all this attention on you makes you uncomfortable and feel like a zoo exhibition, Damian will immediately ban everyone except Jon and Tim from visiting for the next long while, even Dick. Tim kinda needs access to the manor for when he and Damian are doing patrol debriefings and Jon refused to not come around, besides he’s so disarming that you’ll probably get used to him quickly… whether or not you end up calling him uncle.

After a while, Damian might come to the conclusion that to truly bond with you he must give you an outlet for your frustrations… And he only knows one way that ever really worked for him… Becoming Robin.

One day, when you come home from school, Damian will command you to follow him in a tone which you had never heard him speak to you with before. It is hard, serious and foreboding, chills will spread up your back and through your fingers, a bad taste will invade the back of your throat and your breaths cut short… What did you do? Was Damian going to throw you back on the path of an orphanage kid? What had you done?

What you did not expect was for Damian to strut up to an old grandfather clock, turning the arrows on the white disk to exactly 10:47. Whether or not you’re the type of person to be easily surprised, there’s no way you wouldn’t be at least a little taken aback when the large clock swung back, revealing the entrance to what looked to be a cave.

You had no context to put it up against and as such your fear took over, making you slowly back away from the hole in the wall that had just been revealed. Damian’s weird behaviour doesn’t make the situation any better either. Really, for you, there’s no telling what’s going on.

Damian notices your hesitation and briefly takes offence until he senses your genuine fear. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. It’s just a family secret that I trust you enough to know.” He’ll try to reassure you, whether it works or not doesn’t matter, as he picks you up like you weighed nothing and carries you down the metal steps… He doesn’t trust you to not fall and hurt yourself.

Once down in the cave, he’ll reveal to you that he’s Batman, the second one to bear the monicker. He’ll reveal the hero identities of all your “new uncles”, even Jon. All the information that he believes you could possibly need will be loaded onto you in a “brief” thirty minutes monologue. By the end of it, you’re floored… who wouldn’t be? This is probably the last thing anyone would ever consider when moving in with a new family. A bit of your fan behaviour might poke through, as you go from shocked to concerned to almost a little ecstatic… your favourite hero is your adopted father… Wow! The powers above really shone down on you after you had lost everything, huh?

But the pleasant surprises don’t stop there as Damian starts to describe how most Robins lost their birth parents somehow, (with him being the exception), and how most of them worked through this, (not really), by becoming vigilantes. You start to wonder and maybe even hope that he’ll offer the position to you, but multiple times have to remind yourself to stop dreaming, it would be unlikely, right? I mean, you might be able to fight, but not vigilante-level, right? Well… Damian disagrees, and he offers you to become his Robin. In all your star-struck wonder, you fail to see the possessive and obsessive glint in his eyes. You accept on the spot, feeling as if it’s a dream come true.

From then on, your days will be filled with nothing except school, family and Robin training, there’ll simply be no time for friends and going out doing your own thing, and Damian loves it! He believes you’re the safest when you’re within the manor or in his direct line of sight. Anywhere else is dangerous.

Damian will eventually start to suspect the safety of your school…The teachers probably don’t know how to defend you from rogues. Heck! Hey probably don’t even care for your safety! His mind ruminates on the topic for a while, until he decides to let you be homeschooled. He asks around to see if there’re any good private teachers whom he can trust, but there aren’t. None of the people he interviews ever fit his standards: One is too lax, the other too strict, one isn’t clever enough and a fourth doesn’t seem loyal enough. It’s next to impossible to fill out all the demands that the green-eyed Wayne sets up, but there’s one man whom Damian would trust with your education and safety. Bruce… If we’re all being honest, he’s probably a better teacher in all subjects than those who actually studied for the position. It’s actually Bruce’s own idea that he’ll be the one tutoring you, he can work for Wayne enterprises at home, and teach you at the same time, it’s great bonding, and Bruce enjoys your youthful presence so much. It’s a win-win situation for both men… Of course, this will also mean that you’ll become entirely isolated from anyone that isn’t Damian approved. Your social circles are suddenly limited to a bunch of adults, most of whom are vigilantes, hell-bent on keeping others safe… This has the added side-effect of depriving you of anyone who might support your suspicions, should you sound the alarm as Damian puts up more and more safety protocols to keep you out of harm's way.

With no one else but the family, you become entirely submerged in the vigilante culture and social circles, as you train to become the new Robin. The only people you’ll see on a regular basis will be Damian, grandpa Bruce, uncle Jon and uncle Tim. Perhaps great uncle Clark will semi-regularly swing by with great aunt Lois, but that’s rare, Bruce usually goes to them. You may notice yourself becoming quite dependent on Damian and Bruce’s company and attempt to rebel, this doesn’t fly with Damian. He loves you, but he’s not the most patient of people. He will have no qualms about locking you in your room for hours or even days, only letting you out to do your Robin training.

It’ll take a long time for Damian to let you become a true Robin, he wants to be sure that you’ll be safe and have the skills to defend yourself fully. It wouldn’t even surprise me if you had already reached the age of 18 before you got to actually patrol the city, not that this would change anything, Damian would either pay someone to fake your birth certificate so that you were still his legal ward on paper or maybe just refuse to let you have any more freedom, even if you protest… at that point, he would have had years to manipulate you into being entirely loyal to the family and more specifically him, so I doubt that it’d be a real problem.

Regardless, when he does bestow upon you the right to become Robin, it’ll be the end of a long road. He’ll invite everyone in your immediate social circle to come and celebrate, even some of Bruce’s old colleagues like Hal Gordan and Barry Allen might show up, it’s a big party and it’s all about you. Any fancy dresses or suits you want? it’s yours! The entire house will be decorated in your favourite colours and all your favourite food will be served! At the end of the evening, everyone will be gathered in one of the manor’s large living rooms, and Damian will present you with your very own Robin suit. You’ll be surprised to find that it’s a real-life replica of the ones you had drawn as a child. If you wonder how he got them, Damian will simply say he had found them in the rubbish the day you moved in and he had thought it a shame to throw them out… really he had stolen the drawing from you back when he was still stalking you, having collected the perfect materials throughout your years of training, it had sometimes been a struggle to find fabric that both matched your idea of the costume as well as being practical in a field setting, but he had managed it, and now you had the perfect costume, just the way you’d always wanted it.

Damian is overprotective of you the first many times that you’re out as Robin, to the point where he barely lets you fight, out of fear that you might get hurt. But slowly and with the reassurances of both Tim, Jon and Bruce, he’ll let you fight on your own. His eyes will still always find your form the second he hears a grunt coming from your direction, but he’ll let you handle it unless he deems the situation too dangerous… which he does quite often…

Life will be fine as long as you’re by his side, he’s your Batman and you’re his Robin, and Gotham is delighted by the return of the traffic-cone-themed sidekick. Bruce will look upon you and Damian fondly, and be reminded of good-old times when that was him and Dick, or the beginning of him and Jason… Back before it all got so complicated… which is ironic because the emotions involved in you and Damian’s Batman/Robin partnership are way more complicated, dark and obsessive than any of Bruce’s ever were.

You might wonder why Bruce never opposes Damian’s obvious yandere tendencies, but, in truth, Bruce refuses to see them. After all his sons, (except Damian), moved out, he got too old to be Batman, Alfred died and his entire life practically had to be narrowed down to Wayne Enterprises and occasional visits from his boys, (most of whom he was estranged from), Bruce had lost his spark, his reason to wake up in the morning. However, when you arrived, an entirely new chapter of his life opened up. He no longer felt like he was riding through the last fourth of his life without any meaning. No, with you there, he now had the responsibilities of a grandfather! He had someone to live for and to tell his near-endless anecdotes to! Your sudden appearance in his life saved him, and as such, he couldn’t even begin to let himself see the cracks in the happy facade he depended on to keep his life going. To him, you were all a happy and healthy family, three generations: Father, son and grandchild. And no one could take that away from him, he refused.

As you grow up, still living with Damian and Bruce, switching between the two identities of Robin and y/n, the wealthy socialite, adopted by Damian Wayne, you might start to consider whether you should create something of your own, instead of just living a life that Damian created for you. You might look at photos of the old Teen Titans and Young Justice, all hung throughout the halls of Wayne manor, and think to yourself, “maybe I could do something like that too”.

If you verbalise this idea to Damian, he’ll stop whatever he’s doing, his eyes widening with fear and rage. “You want to leave us?! After everything we’ve done for you?!” You can try your best to explain that you just want to become your own person, but Damian will hear non of it. He becomes frantic and angry, making you sit and listen to him rant about how dangerous it can be for a bunch of sidekicks, not even fully-fledged heroes, to just team up and battle it out. He’ll list to you all the most horrific incidents that happened in both Teen Titans and Young Justice, the people that got permanently, the people that got seriously maimed and those who died horrifically. At the end of his hours-long rant, he’d have instilled sufficient anxiety within you to turn you off to that idea.

After your suggestion, though, Damian might realise that you could be in need of a friend around your age. He doesn’t like the idea, a mix of both jealousy and the fear that they won’t protect you makes him reluctant to seek out some of the other sidekicks, but for you and your mental well-being, he’ll do anything. So he finds a sidekick, it could be Jon’s… actually, it’s most likely Jon’s sidekick, I can’t really see him trusting anyone else. But he’ll go up to them and practically demand that they befriend you. If they’re anything like Jon, and I can imagine that they are, they’ll accept with a big smile.

You may have a hard time befriending Jon’s sidekick, especially if your personalities aren’t compatible, however, they’re the only other person around your age you have, so you’ll have to make do. Eventually becoming best friends, even if you can’t stand them.

Any other need you could possibly have, Damian will always find a way to satiate it without ever giving you your freedom. It’ll be the most infuriating game of pulling rope, he’ll always give in to your demands, but in a way that just further cements your inability to escape him.

Damian will never let you go, not as long as he lives. If you try to get married… hah! No. Not happening. If you wanna go to university, he’ll hire tutors to come to your home. You’re never escaping and Damian isn’t coy about showing his possessiveness and platonic obsession with you. You’re his kid, even if you refuse. Really, you should have just stayed home that fateful night when you met, because now you’re stuck as Damian’s Robin, forever.

A/N: Yes, you can just ignore this, it's mostly for the user who sent in the request.

Thank you for this idea! I hope you like what I did with it!

I'm really sorry that these take so long to come out lately, but I have my final exams in a little over a month, (they start on the 1st of May), so I'm in a pretty tight spot for time recently, I'll obviously become more productive when they're all done, and I do also have another full one shot of Damian in the works. For the anon who requested this, I would just like to say, you had a wonderful idea, and I hope I did it justice, it didn't really go where I had originally intended it to, but I hope that this is what you might've preferred either way.

#damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere x reader #batman #yandere batboys #yandere dc #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you

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lost-in-tokyo · 2 years

Text

Jealousy

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader (feat Geto Suguru)

Word count: 2k

Synopsis: Bored at a party, you and Geto create the perfect plan to make Gojo pay attention to you. You just didn't expect to be punished because of it. (smut / nsfw)

Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (don't forget your condoms), public sex, jealous sex, sex against the wall, cream pie, Gojo being a harsh dom. MDNI.

It was a saturday night, and you were stuck in a boring party along with your boyfriend and the other sorcerers. Everyone around you was dressed in the most expensive clothes you could ever imagine, which made you feel uneasy since the beginning

You thought Gojo would hate the music and the company as much as you were doing, but you figured you were wrong, when he spent over 30 minutes talking to some old men from Kyoto about god knows what.

When you lost the last fuck you could give, you simply walked away, sitting on an empty couch nearby, sighing.

“Bored?”

Geto’s voice made you look up

“You have no clue….”

“Actually, I do.”

He was wearing a black tuxedo, his hair up in a bun, his fingers with silver rings on. He got two glasses of champagne from a waiter passing by, before sitting beside you on the white couch and handing you one of them.

“Gojo on the other hand seems to be having a lot of fun” You mumbled.

“Wow, looks like he can actually have a serious conversation for more than 5 minutes” he let go of a dry chuckle before taking a sip of his drink.

You nodded, drawing all your champagne at once “He didn’t even pay attention to me today, and I bought this dress just because it’s his favorite color”

Geto eyed you, foxy eyes looking you up and down, taking a little longer on the visible flesh of your thighs, before stopping on the baby blue dress.

“And now-” You took his cup from his hand, drawing it as well “even those old men seem to be more interesting than me”

He opened his mouth slightly, his eyes glowing as an idea hit him. “I know a way you can catch his attention” A malicious smirk forming on his lips.

“How?”

He came closer to you, putting his arm on your shoulders, his face inches away from yours.

“Just play along, he’ll come over soon” His hot breath fanning on your ear sending shivers on your body as he placed one of his cold hands on your thigh.

You stared at him for a few seconds, before you finally understood what he meant. He wanted to make Gojo jealous. Of course Geto wouldn’t lose a chance to tease his best friend. And you knew just by the dark look in his eyes that his plan would work out really well.

“Pretend you're laughing at something I said”

You decided to play along, laughing loudly, getting a glimpse of Gojo’s head turning towards the sound with the corner of your eye.

“He’s gonna be mad at you” You said in almost a whisper near his ear, only for him to hear.

He chuckled softly. “His face will be worth it”

You couldn’t help but giggle too, just from imagining Gojo complaining with Geto about why he shouldn’t touch you like that. His cheeks getting red from anger, while he still wouldn’t be angered enough to yell, because deep down he knows that Geto wouldn’t try anything with you. Not because Geto didn’t want you, but because of their friendship, he wouldn’t ever initiate any other sort of contact with you, unless Gojo allowed, of course.

“You look handsome with your hair up, Geto…” you paused for a second. “But I prefer when you let your hair loose.” Delicately you took your hand towards his hair, carefully undoing his bun and letting his dark strands fall over his face.

It got him off guard when you helped him put his locks in place, your delicate fingers running through his hair in such a sweet manner he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling.

“There, all done.” You smiled sweetly as he opened his eyes.

Now this is gonna drive Gojo crazy, Geto thought to himself.

And he wasn’t wrong, on the other side of the room, Gojo eyed the two of you from behind his glasses. His fists clenched as he breathed shortly.

Why were you laughing so loudly? What had Geto said that was so funny? You should only laugh like that with him!

Then he saw you undoing his bun, he saw your fingers putting his hair in place, making it delicately adorn his best friend's face, and he hated it. Couldn't you really behave for a second!?

And Geto was oh so dead, he'd hear Gojo complain for hours and have to deal with his bitter comments for the next few days.

And you? Oh, you would be punished in a whole different way. If you thought you could make him jealous, in public even, you were way out of your mind. Talking so closely to Geto, touching him like that, anyone that passed by would presume you were Geto's girlfriend. But you weren't. You were his.

Gojo felt his blood boiling as he noticed the way your slim fingers put his hair in place, how you took your time adjusting his strands. And looking at Geto he knew just how much his friend was enjoying that.

That was enough.

Quickly excusing himself, he made his way towards the couch you were both sitting on. His fists clenched, his knuckles almost going white.

“Oh hey, Sato-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Gojo roughly grabbed your arm, lifting you off of the couch and dragging you outside the party, leading you towards the garden, a poorly lit area near the pool, no people were around, and you knew you had nowhere to run now.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in the most innocent voice you could master.

“What’s wrong, y/n? What the fuck was that!?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice coming soft as you twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers.

His hands roughly grabbed your hips, pushing you against the wall. Your body hitting the cold material as a gasp left your lips. Now you knew you had fucked up.

You had never seen Satoru so angry, especially with you. He had his head tilted down towards you, and over his glasses you could see his eyes dark with anger. He put both his hands on the wall behind you, locking you between his arms.

He was scary, towering over you like a wolf, ready to kill. You knew you should start apologizing to him now, but something about his change in personality made you shut your thighs together, feeling your core start to heat up with his dominance.

“Don’t play around with me.” He hissed through his clenched teeth.

“You were busy, so Geto decided to keep me company.” You could’ve stopped there, but you didn’t, you pushed him even further. “You’d be surprised to know that he actually cares about what I’m doing. Different from you.”

One of his hands gripped your neck, a firm grasp, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make breathing difficult.

“So if I hadn’t taken you out of there, you’d have fucked him!?”

“Maybe…”

His lips clashed against yours, angry and fervent. He bit your lower lip, making you part your mouth as his tongue sneaked inside, taking dominance of your movements and making you gasp for air.

There was no doubt, sweet and caring Gojo wasn’t around today

You pulled his hair, delighted by the grunt that left his throat as he pulled away from you.

“Let’s see if you can still think of Suguru when I’m making you cum.”

He roughly turned you around, your hands making a clapping sound as they touched the cold wall you were currently facing. He lifted your dress and pulled you by your hips, making you arch your back and your face almost touch the wall.

A harsh slap was delivered to your right ass cheek, making you hiss.

“Such a bad girl… It’s almost as if you wanted me to punish you.”

He pulled your panties down, but not before slapping your ass again. “Gonna teach you a lesson today.”

You felt his hot breath against your core, but his lips never touched your pussy. Instead you suddenly felt two of his fingers making their way inside of you. The sudden contact making you moan.

“So fucking wet already. I didn’t even start yet.”

You didn’t need to see his face to know that he had a shit eating grin on his face.

He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with such maestry that you closed your eyes, a soft breath leaving your lips, followed by a loud moan. “Yes, Satoru.”

His fingers quicked up their pace, fast movements while scissoring you, made a knot start to form on your lower belly. Your moans started to get louder with each minute and just as you were about to hit your orgasm, he removed his fingers from inside of you.

Looking back you saw him sucking his own fingers, cleaning your sweet juices from them.

“What? You thought I’d let you cum so easily?” He chuckled to himself. “Now I don’t care about how loud you moan, because I couldn’t give less fucks about people seeing me fucking this slutty pussy of yours. But remember, this is a party, people might hear you if you keep moaning like that.”

Inhaling deeply you felt his cock spread your folds, collecting your juices on its tip as his head entered you. You bit your bottom lip to try to hold back a loud moan, as he pushed his entire length inside of you all at once.

He started thrusting in rough movements, not giving you enough time to adjust to his length. You could feel every inch of him inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust.

His fingers held you firmly by your hips, pulling you towards him to meet with his movements. Just by the way he was holding you, you knew you would have bruises with the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

Your moans started to get louder and louder as you couldn’t hold them back, both your hands trying to keep you balanced against the brick wall you faced.

You heard gojo hissing when you started to clench around him. His thrusts being too much for you to handle, your edged cunt wanting to orgams so bad that you cried out his name without even noticing.

“Do you think Suguru would be able to fuck your like this?” His hand gripped a fistfull of your hair, pulling your head towards him as he said near your ear.

“No,” You said before a particularly hard thrust. “Only you, Satoru…. Only you.”

Your fucked up brain wanting nothing else then to finally climax.

“Tell me who you belong to!”

He demanded, but you were too lost in your pleasure to respond, your vision going white as your cunt clenched on him so much that he wouldn't have been able to move if you weren’t so wet.

A hard slap against your buttcheak made you wake up to life again, as his voice repeated the same sentence, this time louder, his teeth greeted.

“You!” You screamed. “I belong to you, Satoru!” Heavy moans left your mouth as you weren’t able to hold back anymore.

“Good girl”

You felt his fingers part your folds and touch your clit, applying quick and harsh movements on it, making a cry leave your lips as your legs started to tremble.

“Cum to me, princess. Show me how much you want my cum inside of you”

That was all you needed to hear, you closed your eyes, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your entire body shook against Gojo. A hard orgasm hit you, making your hearing disappear for a couple of seconds as all you could focus was on your pleasure.

Soon you felt spurts of Gojo’s seed inside of you, painting your walls white with a loud moan of his.

He hugged you, his arms helping you stay up and pushing you against his warm and sweaty torso. His hot breath fanned on your ear as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“You have to stop being a bad girl to me, baby…. Or else I’ll have to keep teaching you lessons”

Your breathing was irregular as you spoke up. “Sory, Toru.”

“I know you are, baby girl.”

He kissed the top of your head before pulling out, helping you adjust your dress before he did his pants again.

I need to make Gojo jealous more often, you thought to yourself.

Reblogs, comments and likes are very much apreciated <3

Masterlist

#jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x fem!reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut

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