#they had no right making these two so goddamned attractive

[wxndswept]

Is 2023 my bi awakening what the FUCK

[minimomoe]

Not just Neighbors

Pairing: Logan Howlett (the worst Logan) x fem reader

Summary: Wade had a way of attracting the most unlikely people and keeping them around, but his newest roommate Mr. Tall, Dark, and Scowling is living with him until he figures out his way in this new universe. While Logan's come to peace with not dwelling on the past, the past always has a way of coming back to him.

Tags: MDNI!, Mutual Pining, Wade Wilson is a Little Shit, Next door Neighbors and roommate situation, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Smut, porn with some plot, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, breeding (like a tad), oral (fem receiving)

word ct: 7.7k (get comfy)

song inspo: Iris- Goo Goo Dolls

AN: this could potentially become a throuple if you guys want. you just gotta let me know

You were there when Wade brought in his new flatmate for the first time. Wade had gone on and on about how he was akin to Jesus and how he managed to save you and everybody else in the goddamn world with the help of this newcomer and the rat of a dog he brought back home with him. You weren’t surprised at all. Wade had a way of attracting the most unlikely people and keeping them around. If you thought about it a little harder, it was one of the reasons why you were friends with Wade in the first place. His constant bouts of word vomit and funny quips annoyed you to no end but his kindness is what made you stick around. 

But as for Logan, Wade’s new friend, they were truly the most unlikely pair. You couldn’t wrap your head around how they had to work together for anything. You suppose the “how” didn’t really matter here with everybody smiling with the occasional conversation bursting with unadulterated laughter. Wherever Wade picked Logan up from, he fit in perfectly in the group. 

Somehow you got stuck with one of the newest guests at the get together, Mary Puppins, and you looked down at the mutt with a less than ecstatic grimacing smile. You didn’t like how naked she was, her skin only having matted tufts of fur in none of the places that mattered. 

“No no no, you can’t hold her and have that face. If you’re holding Dogpool you have to smile. She invokes happiness, like a vibrator,” Wade said. He took the dog from your arms and rubbed noses with her. “Who’s the prettiest princess in the world? Is it you or me?”

The floppy tongue of Puppins licked all around his face and you could barely hold back gagging. “Dude, that’s disgusting. Who knows what fucking diseases you just got.” 

“Not surprised that you find true love disgusting. You remind me of a snapping turtle with chlamydia. You got an itch you can never reach so now you have to make it everybody else’s problem.” 

“I just told you to stop tonguing down your dog, prick. I’d rather drink rubbing alcohol than do what you’re doing.” 

Your friend gasped loudly and clapped his hands excitedly. He pointed excitedly at Logan who felt the new pairs of eyes on him from across the room even though he was in the middle of a conversation with others. His eyes hardened on Wade, glaring at him before travelling over to you. You thought you had imagined it when he had first walked in, but Logan did not want to deal with you. His eyes softened marginally before sweeping back to the laughter that bursted in front of him, tilting into concerned territories instead of pure annoyance, but still paid you no mind. You had no idea what you had done to the man, but his adverse behaviour made you eye twitch. 

“He drinks rubbing alcohol! You two would get right along with your premature wrinkles from being sour pussies and the lust for emotionally reserved people. Actually, have you said hey to Logan, my newest roommate? Don’t worry, he bites. Once he sinks his teeth in you have to shake him off. I think we should get him a muzzle. I would show you the marks he left on me but they’re in places only my eyes can see.” 

He tucked the dog under his arm and dragged you closer to the other man hurriedly without asking if you wanted to say hey to Logan. He was just your type, dark eyes, dark hair, imposing stature, but totally and completely uninterested in you.

“If they’re for your eyes only, why show them to me?” 

“Because that’s what friends do! What are you, new here? You’ve helped me take some amazing nudes so don’t get all chaste on me,” Wade exasperated. 

Unfortunately he said that loud enough for Logan to hear, who lifted an arched brow at you and Wade’s locked arms. You were getting an eyeful of his chest that was unbuttoned in his blue flannel top that made it hard to drag your eyes back up at a respectable angle. 

“Logan, this is my bestie who is also the best damn cook this place has ever seen. She could cook cocaine from scratch if she put her mind to it like that one tiktok lady and it would be heavenly. I know you crazy kids will hit it off, but if you ever need a third,” he gave you a suggestive look. 

You jabbed your elbow in Wade’s side. “Stop that. And I have never made cocaine before and I will never do that,” you corrected. 

Wade had already left to talk to Vanessa and your irritation already ebbed away at the sight of the two of them together. You shook your head and gazed back down at Logan whose jaw was ticking and you guessed that you were the cause. You nervously shifted on your feet as you talked, not wanting to make the newcomer any more uncomfortable. 

“Look, I’m not gonna pry. I do want to thank you for whatever you did with Wade. I was getting worried about him but he seems genuinely happy as of late after knowing you,” you said sincerely. 

Finally Logan looked up to meet your eyes. He scanned your entire visage and something like pain flicked across his face. 

“Nice to meet you. You’re also one of Wade’s friends?”

“And next door neighbor,” you waved your hands. You received another thinly veiled grimace. “I think Al is calling me,” you muttered so you could leave this painful conversation. 

You couldn’t have known that Logan’s gaze stayed on you even after you turned your back on him to talk to Al. There was no way for you to know that Logan had met you before, in a different universe once upon a time, and you two were a lot more than neighbors. Seeing that you didn’t have an ounce of recognition for him was jarring but he couldn’t decide which one was worse. You having no memory of him, or you knowing just how low he got before finally getting his shit together. Whenever he caught your eyes across the room you quickly focused your attention elsewhere. As much as it bothered him, he thought it would be for the best to keep his distance. 

The night passed and you didn’t make another attempt to talk to Logan. In fact, he didn’t see you again until a week later when he opened his front door and you had your fist raised in the air ready to knock on the heavy wood. 

“Oh. Logan,” you drawled, dropping your hand. You were dressed for the heat in dark wash shorts that stopped high on your thigh with a cut up t-shirt of some new age tv show. Your hair was different from the last time he saw you. A million, tiny braids wrapped up in a knot on top of your head decorated with gold jewelry. Under your arm was a basket of clothes resting against your hip. You peeked over his shoulders, looking for anybody else in the apartment. 

“I wanted to grab Al’s laundry while I’m heading down there. You mind if I get it?”

This was his chance to try to set the record straight. Logan looked at you for so long you started to frown, wondering if you had said something wrong. 

“Your hands are already full,” he said without further explanation and you fell back when he went inside with the door closing in your face. The shock of his audacity is what kept you frozen in place, but not even ten seconds later it reopened with Logan holding Althea’s laundry basket. 

“You want to do it together?” You asked incredulously. 

Logan shrugged. “I got nothing else better to do.” 

You said nothing as he walked past you down the hall to the stairwell. All you could do is stare at his nice ass saunter away after you rolled your eyes. When down in the laundry room on the first floor you took the basket out of Logan’s hands, quickly sorted the clothes then placed them in the machine. You sat down on the bench, staring down at your hands, clenching your fingers into your palms before slowly stretching them back out. 

“What’s wrong with your hands?” Logan was still standing, leaning against a machine that wasn’t on as he looked at you with concern. You moved from stretching your fingers all at once to bending them one by one until they released a crisp pop!

“I feel like they're getting stiff. Gotta stretch so I can keep braiding hair for a few more years before the arthritis kicks in,” you sighed. “Sit down already. You’re making me nervous hovering over there like that.” 

He dropped himself on the other side of the bench you were sitting on, making it creak in protest. 

It wasn’t like you to fill the quiet with small talk but you didn’t know much about Logan and he seemed to be in an agreeable mood. After a few minutes of watching a video on your phone, you paused it to ask him a question. 

“So what do you do? You know, for a living?”

Logan slowly tilted his head to regard your inquisitive stare. “I work in construction.” 

You nodded, his occupation making total sense to you. He had the look of somebody who was blue collar. “I don’t know how it fully works but can you tell the city to fix the road on the bridge? It has holes bigger than a pornstar’s.” 

Logan chuckled at your choice of words and it made you grin. It dawned on you that it was the first time you have really seen a happy expression on his face and you wanted to see more of it. 

“I’ll move it up the docket,” he snorted. 

“I’m counting on you.” 

This was going much smoother than the first time you met him and you wondered if you had imagined the unsettling encounter in the first place. You wanted to test the waters without pushing your luck, so you went back to the paused hair tutorial on your phone and the quiet hum of the washing machines tumbling filled the empty space. You kept sneaking glances up at Logan who sat comfortably on the bench, taking up twice as much space than needed with his manspreading with arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell softly like he was sleeping. 

“You wanna say something, bub?”

Your cheeks flamed like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “Do you call everybody that?” 

Logan opened his eyes and looked at you from the corner of his eye.“I don’t bother myself too much with people’s names. It’s easier for me.” 

“So you can’t be bothered to remember my name, nice,” you snorted. Before he could respond you put your hand up. “It’s okay, I’ll forget yours so we’ll be even. I was just wondering if you styled your hair like cat ears or if you just woke up like that, but then again, it looks like that every time I see you.” 

He immediately ran his hands through his hair but failed to do anything about the style. You snorted then stretched your arm out to brush through his hair with your own fingers. The locks of hair were persistent in their upright position. You gave an amused hum before dropping your hand. “It’s pretty cute.” 

Logan bit his tongue from mentioning how the you from his universe always made fun of his hair. He couldn’t compare the two, it wouldn’t be right, but you were so obviously the same person he cared for without even trying. He abruptly got up, leaving you bewildered on the bench by yourself. 

“Call Wade to help you take this shit back to our place. I have something to take care of,” he said gruffly. Without another glance he left the laundry room. You watched his frame from the large windows walk down the street until he was no longer visible and scoffed. 

“Fuck you too, Logan,” you cursed under your breath. 

Your touch had ignited something in Logan, something that he needed to walk off lest he exploded. You had no fucking idea what you were doing to him and it wasn’t until Logan looked up and realized that he was about to walk into a new city limit that his feelings dawned on him too. You had left him in the previous universe, ending things with him before he was a full blown alcoholic because you didn’t want to be there when he self-destructed. It’s not that you had left without begging him to change, trying to help him get better, but he was too busy drowning in self pity to grab the hand that was reaching out for him. Seeing your expression full of hope and wonder in this world made Logan’s chest cave in from disappointment. It reminded him of a time where you loved him before he became The Worst Logan. He couldn’t find it in him to fully explain the turmoil that was going on with his mind and heart without it sounding utterly insane to you. The ghost of your fingers in his hair replayed in his mind for days as he kept himself busy with work and the gym, trying to minimize his chances of bumping into you to zero. The only problem was that it was an impossible task. You lived next door, and you were Wade’s friend. He could hear your voice through the drywall when he holed himself up in his room while you talked to Wade and Al. 

“Trust me, he doesn’t hate you. Unless you have a smart mouth. Then he might hate you a little bit.” 

“Is that really all the advice you can give me?” 

“He really likes Madonna?”

“Thank you. Thank you for absolutely nothing,” you groaned. 

—•—

Even though days have passed since his time spent in the laundry room with you, he was bound to cross paths with you again. He came home late at night at the same time as you who was having trouble with opening your door. 

“Shit,” he heard you mutter. “Fuck. Shit-fuck, where is my key?”

More rustling ensued as he came up the stairs to see you paw through your bag. You dropped your hand in futile defeat and pressed your forehead on the door with a soft thump. You then whipped around, making your way to his apartment, Wade’s apartment, and freezing like a deer caught in headlights when you see him down the hall. You started to backtrack but Logan called out your name.

“I was just gonna ask Wade to pick my lock again. I can’t get in,” you explained.

“Wade’s not in there. He went out with Vanessa,” Logan said. He took slow steps closer to you and you stiffened up. “I could open it for you.”

Your eyes widened at the offer, then you eyed him suspiciously. “Are you saying that but gonna fuck off to who knows where halfway through?”

Logan sucked his teeth in. “I’m sorry about that. I just— I needed to leave.”

You gave him a disbelieving stare. Even now with the tiredness of the day weighing you down you looked beautiful to him. You had your hair held back with a silk scarf that freed your face so your knitted eyebrows were showing clear confusion. Your full lips were hard pressed in a line with the corners tugging down.

“Fine. Whatever. Just open the door,” you scoffed. “Please,” you added after some thought. 

He would’ve opened it even if you yelled at him. You stood behind Logan, unable to see him extend a single claw to pick your lock. In no time you heard the click of your door being opened and you clapped in relief. Logan opened the door wide for you to step in, fully prepared to close it after but you took his hand to drag him inside.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “You’re coming home late too so you must be hungry. I doubt Wade got anything good to eat over there.” 

He watched you move around your space, kicking your shoes off at the corner and hanging your bag on some hooks next to the door. He did the same with his shoes, padding behind you in his socks as you walked over to your kitchen.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoffed. He looked at what you were staring at and it was your lanyard of keys sitting pretty on your countertop. “Well, is there anything you’re in the mood for?”

“Do you still have any of that lasagna you brought over last time? It was fucking amazing.”

“So you do eat my food,” you said bashfully. “Unfortunately I do not but I’ll make it again soon, buuut I do have spaghetti sauce with big ole meatballs leftover, so we can have that.” 

You gave Logan a hopeful look, silently asking him to stay for dinner. He didn’t know what else to do with himself in your tiny kitchen but he stuck around, scanning the walls and other surfaces for bits of you plastered all over the place. You had a little bit of everything tucked in all corners, books in haphazard stacks, miniature plants in colorful pots, and random trinkets tucked in corners. It wasn’t messy, but your space was lived in. It was a visual representation of your personality. 

In the same bowl you threw your keys in after you found them there was a large flat disc that he recognized. It was a token given to those who attended the same AA meetings he went to, the exact same design, that said “1 year”. You saw him eyeballing the coin and picked it up. 

“Oh yeah I don’t drink. Gotta keep my streak up,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s actually been three years but I don’t go as often as I should. I think I got a good handle on it now.” 

Logan’s brow raised up. He only recently started to go to AA meetings secretly on his own. While he didn’t have to hide it, having everyone close to him know how much he needed help made his stomach turn. The way you spoke about your past freely to him made him more willing to be open and honest with himself. 

“I’m trying to get better at that too,” he said in a steady voice, looking at you head on. You regarded him without any apprehension. “I go to the latest meetings of the night.”

“At the rec center on 5th?”

Logan nodded and you gave a soft smile. Your thumb brushed over the engraving on the token. “They’re good people over there. They really helped me get back on my feet.” 

You shuffled over to your pantry to pull out a pack of spaghetti, then to your cabinets to get olive oil and salt. 

You moved with ease in your kitchen like you could find all the stuff with your eyes closed and it reminded Logan of simpler times. Him coming back from a mission to you making a meal if it wasn’t the middle of the night. He’d stick to your side like a starfish, not wanting to let go until you started complaining about your dwindling range of motion. Then he’d pull you in his lap when food was served, having you sit and feed him until you slowly stopped bringing out two plates to just one so you could eat off of one together. This domestic scene that played in front of him was something that Logan thought that he had lost forever. 

“I grew up in Butt Fuck Nowhere, USA. All there was to do for fun was go to the liquor store and get drunk in parking lots until it wasn’t just for fun but a necessity to avoid everything. Over the years I just… wandered. When I ended up in the hospital and nobody came to check on me is when it really hit. I could’ve died and I wouldn’t have anything to show for my life.” 

Once you filled a pot full of water on the stove, you toyed with the token while leaning over the counter. You spun the coin around on the table until it reached the speed to where it looked like a transparent sphere. 

“I must’ve relapsed at least 50 times when I first started going to meetings. Hell, it took me almost two years before I even went to meetings regularly. I don’t mean to lecture you or anything. Lord knows I have no business giving advice to anybody,” you chuckled. The coin slowed and collapsed on itself. You flicked it over to Logan and he caught it under his fingers. “But I do know what you’re going through. So if you feel yourself slipping let me know. It would’ve been nice to have somebody to lean on back then.” 

The only noise that could be heard in your apartment was the soft bubbling of the pasta boiling. Logan picked up the coin that you slid over to him and turned it over in his hand. The timer you set for the spaghetti beeped so you went to tend to the pot, grabbing oven mitts for the drawer and prepped your strainer. You poured out the boiling hot water in the sink, hissing when the steam billowed in your face. 

“Careful,” Logan muttered behind you, his hand on the small of your waist. He took the burning pot out of your hand with no protection and placed it back on the stove. 

“It’s just a little steam,” you waved off. “You must’ve burned yourself. Here, run your hand under cold water first.” 

You took his hand to inspect it and saw the red welts and fingertips quickly disappear back into his normal skin color. You gaped at his hand, running your fingers over his palm like a psychic reader. 

“You’re like Wade,” you gasped in awe. “No wonder he brought you home.”

He carefully slipped his hand out of your hold and held it over the sink, exposing the claws that sprung from between his knuckles. When he retracted the claws you took his fist and inspected his knuckles, trying to find the exit point with knitted eyebrows full with concern. 

“Does that hurt you?”

“I barely feel it anymore,” he shrugged. 

“How much do you know about mutants?” Logan breathed out. This was the closest you've ever been to him. He could smell your shampoo wafting off of your hair and the slightest bit of your perfume. Just like his old timeline, you always favored vanilla and coconut scents. 

“Not much. Something, something, genetic mutation, the next step for human evolution, can be a variety of different powers or appearances. I know that a few of Wade’s other friends are mutants and I unfortunately have the base model human form,” you joked. “But it’s a good thing you’re not hurt.” 

You never stopped rubbing Logan’s hand and he never took it away. Instead he pressed his palms to yours then slotted his fingers in the available spaces until he was gently holding your hand. You nervously cleared your throat but didn’t say anything for him to stop. 

“I don’t know how much of the story you got from Wade, but I had my own timeline, my own universe, that I fucked up before he pulled me out of there to save this one. You were there.” 

That made your eyebrows fly up. “Holy shit— there’s another me? Or another variant of me. I think that’s how Wade explained it.”

“Yeah, another variant of you. And I let you down. I mean I fucking blew it at the time. So I see you now, knowing that I’m being given a second chance, and fuck I’m scared I’m gonna mess it up again.” 

All the agonizing looks and sudden disappearances finally made sense. You always felt like Logan had known something about you that you weren’t aware of, albeit you weren’t thinking it was this major. Still, the corners of your mouth curled up.

“Don’t go looking too far ahead in the future, Logan. You could start small by not running out of the room when you see me and you could always stop by for dinner.” 

Logan’s heart was drumming in his chest so hard he swore you could hear it. There you went again, bridging the gap between him and you like you always did. You stated things so simply because it was that simple to you. You went back to preparing dinner, dishing out plates of spaghetti for the both of you and diving into a story about the marital issues one of your clients were having. You were so animated when you talked, your eyes bright and hands waving, he held onto every single word. Before he knew it there was no food left on his plate and you two had been talking for nearly an hour. Once he saw you yawn he excused himself, taking your plates and washing them off, promising to see you the next day and you looked happy with his new attitude. 

So Logan started small just like you said to. There wasn’t a time when he saw you that he didn’t say hi, and your face lighting up made him want to say it again and again. He surprised you with compression gloves to help your hands and offered to do your grocery shopping whenever he could. You made good on your word by bringing twice as much food over to the apartment, going as far as packing him a separate plate with his name written on a neon post it note with your curly handwriting. You had no idea how long he kept one of the notes in his pocket, neatly folded until the corners were devoid of pigment. He would swipe over it while he went to his meetings and be reminded of your encouraging voice. 

When he felt himself itching for a drink, his throat feeling dry and the tremors in his hand returning, his first call was to you. It must’ve been almost 12 am when he called the first time, but you answered and talked him down out of the bar full of his temptations and into your apartment where you had two cups of tea and a listening ear. When he didn’t want to talk you offered a distraction, putting on the shittiest comedies you found and forcing him to sit on your couch and watch them with you until the tension in his shoulders melted away and he could finally hear the voices that were coming from the tv. By that time you were already in a deep sleep, your face peaceful and the most interesting thing to watch was you, not the screen. Movie nights became a normal, weekly occurrence for the two of you after that, something that Logan looked forward to. 

Even Wade and Blind Al noticed the change in the relationship. 

“It’s always ‘where’s Logan, Logan, Logan?’ with her. Soon she won’t even bother to cook for us anymore. I used to be the only person she’d make chimichangas for so why the fuck do you get a plate now? All she cares about is that slutty waist decorated with a big fat shiny belt buckle,” Wade complained. 

“Motherfucker, if that little angel stops bringing me her sweet potato pound cakes, I will drop kick you out of the window.” Al pointed her can in the middle of Logan’s chest. 

Logan’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and all three of them turned to face it. 

“Speaking of that gorgeous devil. Must be a slow day at work if she can be sexting you. Do you even know what that is or do you only send horny notes via quill pen and carrier pigeon?” 

“Mind your own goddamn business,” Logan said, snatching up his phone before Wade could reach it. It was a message from you, and it wasn’t a sexy message at all (to someone who isn’t attracted to you like Logan was). Instead you had sent him a picture of one of your client’s hair with an intricate braid design with only your fingers in the frame. You were wearing the gloves he gave you and he was too busy looking at that than the hair. Another message popped up. 

-took me only ten hours and she tipped the same amount as the price!!!

-finally gonna buy a new stand mixer

“Oooo she sends you hand pictures. I didn’t know you had a fetish for that, you freaky frogs. Cover your eyes Althea, they’re getting nasty.”

That earned Wade three stabs in his leg and Logan stepped out of the living room to call you back in peace.

—•—

Another night eating dinner together and you excitedly pulled Logan to the kitchen and made him cover his eyes with the palms of his hands so he wouldn’t peek. He heard the fridge open and close, matches being struck, and the soft ring of utensils being set down. Then you stood behind him, replacing his hands with yours. 

“Okayyy open!” 

Logan opened his eyes to a small, round cake displayed in front of him with a single candle lit in the middle. In elaborate cursive, “Happy One Month” was written in blue and yellow frosting. He had given you his token earlier this week from his meetings with a shy smile and you were ecstatic for him. He wasn’t expecting you to do anything more than that from you because he still had a long way to go. But you stood behind Logan, your hands resting on his shoulders while you peeked over his body to try to see his expression. 

“We need to celebrate things like this,” you said fondly. “You’re doing fucking amazing.” 

Your hands left his body and you went to get plates to serve the cake with. “I hope you like chocolate cake. You seem like a chocolate type of guy.”

Your knife was poised over the cake ready to slice down when you felt Logan’s heavy hands rest on your waist. You have been trying to be normal about him for weeks, not wanting to assume that he would be interested in you now because you looked similar to someone he knew before while your own attraction was off the charts. His body heat covering your entire back and circling around your abdomen made it impossible to make a steady cut in the cake and you pulled out a crooked slice. 

“Logan?”

You pivoted on your heels to face him. His arms never loosened around your body. His expression was dark and heady, ever so ready to eat you rather than the cake. Your gaze went from his eyes to his lips before dragging back up. Heat swirled in your stomach, one that has been growing since you met him but it was finally bubbling over. 

“Nobody else would think to do this but you,” he said in a low voice. It only sent tingles right down your spine. You ran your hands on his shoulders before hooking them together behind his head. Logan slotted one leg in between yours, his thigh pressing lightly on your sex, and your lower back pressed into the table. The cool tile barely soothed your sizzling skin.

“It doesn’t take much to do,” you shrugged. “I want to cheer you on.” 

One of his hands snaked up the front of your body until he cupped your chin, tilting your head back and you both shared open mouthed breaths. You combed his nape, watching his eyes roll back into his head and he cursed. Logan’s lips came crashing down on you with reckless abandon, his tongue making quick acquaintance with the inside of your mouth and you hiked your leg up his waist to lock him in closer. He lifted you up to sit you on the counter and the heights changed. You sat a little taller than him, controlling the kiss with just as much gusto and both legs around his waist. You pushed off the jacket he was wearing, not liking how many layers of clothing were separating you from him and his hands rubbed up your bare thighs till he was under your shorts. A moan that left you biting his lip escaped your mouth and Logan showed just enough restraint to say something. 

“Tell me you want this,” Logan groaned. His gaze was so deep, full of the regret of some other timeline where he had once failed you once before and he needed to know that this wasn’t some hyper realistic dream that he was letting himself get swept into. You cupped his face, kissing the stray tear that fell from his right eye before capturing his lips again. He was hungry for you, getting drunk off the salty kiss but had enough control left to pull away and repeated himself. “Say you want this.”

“I want this,” you nodded vigorously. “I want you. The Logan that’s here in front of me. I want all of you.” 

You were afraid that your answer wasn’t enough as Logan stared at you like he couldn’t believe that you were real. His head dropped to your shoulder and your hands made home in his hair. You gently scraped his scalp with your nails when you felt open mouth kisses on the side of your neck that shot electricity through your veins. You hummed quietly, sagging into his embrace and he continued his burning map of passion down your body. He heaved you off of the countertop, walking over to your sectional rather than your room because he couldn’t afford to waste any more time before settling into the soft cushions with you on top of him. Your mouths were back on each other, feverishly seeking what the other was offering in a desperate manner. Teeth clashing on each other did nothing to slow you down outside of giving you a moment to breathe before you could get lightheaded.

Logan’s large hands roamed over your body, nearly tearing off your shorts to feel the wetness of your pussy. You meweled when his fingers slipped past your folds and smeared the arousal he gathered from your entrance. Not wanting to be the only one feeling good, you worried his belt buckled, jerking the leather out of the way to free his length from the confinements of his pants. Your fingers wrapped around his cock strung out a long groan from Logan from deep inside his chest. You were equally as loud, whimpering whenever he circled your clit and clenching your thighs around his hips. 

“Holy fuck, Logan,” you shuddered. He inserted another one of his thick fingers, moving two in a scissoring fashion that made your vision hazy around the corners. You were tight and he wanted to take his time preparing you, but you were riding his hand and his palms were drenched in your arousal. You spat in your hand and pumped his cock faster, taking his mouth again for a dizzying kiss. 

“That’s enough,” he growled out. With a bruising grip he guided your hips to line up with his stiff cock. His tip nudged your oversensitive bundle of nerves and you hissed, your fingers digging in his shoulders. You sank down slowly on him, his cock splitting you open with a delicious stretch you had been imagining for weeks now. None of your toys could compare to the real thing. Logan coaxed you to keep your eyes on him while he fucked you from below. Your lashes were lined with tears as you slid down inch by tantalizing inch of his length. You still had your top on and that was a problem for Logan. He hastily pushed your shirt off of your body and was rewarded to your breasts falling in his face. If he could smother himself with them he could. Your nipples stood out, clearly begging for his attention, and he flattened his tongue to lap them up. 

You clutched him to your chest, gasping and writhing on top of him, still trying to get down to the base. He closed the gap, bucking his hips up with a satisfying slap to the back of your thigh.

“Yesss,” you hissed. “God yes.” Logan was fully seated inside of you, your velvet walls pulsing around him in an intoxicating rhythm. A sob of relief fell from your lips when he controlled the tempo from below. He could leave handprints on your ass with how tightly he was holding you, rolling your hips, hurtling you towards an orgasm. It was your turn to take off his shirts. You didn’t need anything to slow the large wave of pleasure ready to crash over you. Once you had a clear view of his top half, viewing his muscles that flexed from holding you up, you splayed your hands on his broad chest to steady you. His hands wrapped around your wrists, bringing one up to kiss the pulse point that was beating a hundred miles a minute, then drag his tongue over the vein. He left open-mouth marks up your arm, pulling you closer until it was your lips he was devouring once again. 

Logan’s thumb stimulated your clit and you whimpered in his mouth. You were forehead to forehead, eyelashes tangling with each other with each blink. You always broke contact first, too overwhelmed with the building pressure deep in your core and Logan would lure you back to him. 

“Don’t leave me all alone, pretty,” he moaned, and it was all it took to have you staring deep in his eyes again. 

You came crying out Logan’s name. You buried your face in his neck, rolling your hips feverishly against him to ride out the rest of your high. His arms laced around your back, holding you together as you fell apart. When you released the final heaving breath he flipped you on your back on the couch, slipping out of your sex to settle his head between your plush thighs. 

“Whaa–?” You were still dazed, floating in the cloud with slight tremors running through your body, only being brought back down to earth when you felt the brush of Logan’s beard on the inside of your leg. 

“You have no idea how good you smell,” he gritted out. 

He was practically salivating at the sight of your pussy, his hand cupping your ass and he spread your legs further apart so that no part of you was hidden. You rested on your elbows to watch him from down below, his hazel eyes blown wide at the feast presented to him. He dived in nose deep, messily eating you out, drenching the bottom half of his face from his spit and your arousal that dripped all over the couch. Your hands made a home in his head of hair, tugging him to and fro whenever you thought you were close. Arching your back off the couch offered you no break, Logan’s hands curled around you to keep you in place and firmly stuck on his mouth. He enjoyed the harsh pulls on his scalp, the way that you murmured sorry like you could actually hurt him. “Lo–logan,” you whined out. It was almost too much to bear. He was relentless, his oral fixation on your clit becoming numbing as your nerves were in overdrive. Your nails clawed his back, the tops of his shoulders, trying to find purchase in anything to keep from the mounting spiraling sensation that kept you crying for him. 

“Keep saying my name like that,” he commanded. It came out muffled, you didn’t actually hear a word that came out of his mouth, but you felt the vibrations of them and it made more tears fall from your eyes. 

He moved from fucking you with his tongue to slipping his fingers inside, crooking them up to your spot and keeping a tight seal on your clit. Your release hit you like a freight train. You clamped your shaking thighs together around his head, and Logan fucked you through it until you were sobbing, begging him to let you breathe. Every muscle in your body was trembling from the gratifying exertion. 

However, Logan was far from finished with you. 

His beard was slick with your second orgasm. He finally came up for air, kissing up your softness of your stomach, a slow trail through the middle of your chest.“You taste fucking amazing too.” 

“Let me see,” you crooned, cuffing the back of his neck to mash your lips on his. Both your arms and legs wrapped around Logan, containing his body in your embrace with the rest of the strength you could muster up. He slipped inside of your cunt in one fluid motion, fucking you to the edge once again. You fluttered and clenched around him, his strokes languid yet hitting your spot with precision. You were beyond fucked out, a blubbering mess that wanted him to finish inside of you. 

“Please, please, please give it to me. Come on– fuck, baby,” you begged. “Don’t you wanna come inside?” 

“Asking so nicely,” he gave a low chuckle. “How bad do you want it?”

Your hands squeezing his ass was all the answer he needed. Logan was notched deep inside of you, hips rolling and teeth bared over your skin. Desperation fueled him. The need to make you completely his, filling you up with his come. Your eyes wandered to between you, the point where you both were conjoined to watch the raunchy scene of his cock fucking your slippery pussy with amazement. You glided your finger over your clit for one more high with Logan’s filthy words in your ears. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. One more time and I’ll give you exactly what you're begging for. You already made a fucking mess everywhere–” 

You crested with a high keen that made everything flash white. The sheer force of your orgasm had you coming for what seemed to be a few long minutes. Words were useless to describe the lewdness of your moans accompanied with the final, sharp snaps of his hips on the back of your thighs. Logan couldn’t hold out any longer, finally spilling inside of you with a growling shout. His hands were sunken inside of a decorative pillow above your head on your couch that was ruined from his claws extending at the height of his peak. Ragged pants were shared between you, heart rates finally slowly. You locked your legs around his waist, wanting Logan to lay his full weight on top of your body like a stone press. You basked in the afterglow, grazing your nails on his skin, enjoying his body heat. He nestled further into your neck, breathing in your scent, content with your affectionate embrace. Logan could finally put all worries of ruining his relationship with you in this world to bed.  

—•—

You weren’t sure if you had slept for only a few minutes or hours, but you woke up feeling hungry, sore, and overheated.  It was all due to Logan, who was starfishing on top of your body. Only one hand was curved around your waist to ensure that you wouldn’t escape even while he was in the dreamlands and you chuckled. You took the liberty of touching him freely while he slumbered, craning your neck to skate your finger down the slope of his nose and cheek. His nose twitched, shaking off your finger to remain sleeping. You really had to pee but you didn’t want to disturb him. That’s when you realized that you were no longer on the couch like you were the night before. You don’t know how many times you did it, how many positions you went through with the insatiable man who craved you for hours. He must’ve carried you to the bed when you were too tired to walk on your own and when you ran you hand down on parts of your body that wasn’t buried under him you were clean. You thought about waking him up so you could convince him to take a shower with him when your phone rang on your nightstand. You felt your way to grabbing it, stretching your arm as far out as you could to snatch it off the table and read the caller ID. 

“Wade, this better be important.” 

“Good morning to you too, sunshine. I just wanted to say the headphones you got Al work great. After the third, or was it the fourth round, I put those bad boys on and couldn’t hear a thing. Send me the link so I can buy them for myself.”

You threw your arm over your eyes in embarrassment. “Fuck me, you heard us?”

“Oh yeah,” he snickered. “You two sounded like banshees fucking on a rollercoaster. Tell me, is he huge down under? I would take a hike down his happy trail any day.” 

“I’m hanging up now,” you said, and did just that. You tossed your phone back on your nightstand when Logan rustled. 

“Who was that?” His voice was even deeper than usual, hitting your ears with a delicious gravelly tone. You pressed your legs together at the sound of him. 

“Wade. Just know that he heard us and will be an annoying little shit about it.”

“Fucking great,” he groaned. You combed your fingers through his hair to soothe him. 

You were going to say something else when the state of your pillow caught your attention. 

“Holy shit,” you murmured, running your hand over the torn fabric. Three streaks sliced through it, exposing the soft down within. Logan tilted his head to see what you were looking at and winced. 

“I’ll replace that too.” 

You could only laugh in disbelief. His chin rested on your sternum and you held an amused expression, a small smile dancing on your lips. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

“My question is finally answered. You wake up with the little cat ears.”

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

M.list || Twitter || Ao3 || Ko-fi

[hussyknee]

Wonder how far I can prod libs into finishing their full thought bubble behind all this "harm reduction" "genocide is a single issue" "you don't care about marginalized people in the US" "dyou want fascism WITH genocide???" screeching.

Okay, class, say it with me: "I don't want to live in a third world country like the ones we keep destroying."

Because you know. The countries your war criminal leaders keep bombing and starving and destabilising and leeching dry? We don't have trans or gay rights or women's rights or disability benefits or environmental or labour protections. No one would want to live in our countries obviously. You'd kill yourselves before you had to live like we do. Sure, we're only like this because you keep us trapped in poverty and violence and we still have full, happy lives worth living despite it but that's because we're used to it! We don't know any better! Not like you! You know what you deserve and you shouldn't have to lose anything as a consequence of your own political choices! Your government is supposed to happen to other people! Not you! So like, yeah, it's bad that the poors are being massacred wholesale or whatever, but like. That doesn't mean you gotta die with them, y'know? And by "death" you don't mean actual genocide like what's happening over here but "death" as in "having to live like we do".

The trolley problem metaphor is so goddamn attractive to you because you see yourself outside the tracks, objectively assessing the situation and making the "tough" "moral" choice for the collective good. It's imperialist horseshit. You don't have a democracy and it's not a trolley. What you have is an imperial death machine running on an apartheid system that decides who gets fed to it and who gets fed by it. That's your "two tracks"— the colonized and the colonizer, the core and the periphery, the white and the coloured. "Harm reduction"? Have you counted how many fucking millions in and around the world your death machine eats to keep how many of you "safe"? But our losses are a foregone conclusion, a matter of course, a regrettable necessity. The only variable is yours.

Every political choice in 200 years of your settler colony has been "genocide AND". "Genocide AND women's rights". "Genocide AND workers rights". "Genocide AND fascism". "Genocide AND democracy". The difference is that for the first time in your history you're now watching it livestreamed to the entire world in real time 24/7, exactly as your colony is about to capsize under the weight of its own bloodlust. A sea change from when your parents threw parties watching bombs dropping on Baghdad and then spent twenty years watching movies about sad it made the soldiers.

How do you count the victims when we are numbers and you are people? You scream about trans rights in the US while Palestinian trans children don't have the right to reach puberty. OSHA for you but Congolese children have to die in mines. Reproductive rights for the US while Sudanese women are raped in millions. Yes, but it's always been "genocide AND" no matter what, right? Do we want to sabotage the party that has never fucking cared about us and don't now even with half their own country screaming at them on the off-chance they might possibly maybe one day do?? Why are we acting so mad like it's YOUR fault that you're fighting for your quality of life over our corpses?? Do we want YOU to lose your rights over it??

Yes, actually. We do. We want you to have a taste of the reality that generations on generations of your illegal illegitimate white supremacist occupation has inflicted on us just so your worthless hide can sit there and call our genocides a single fucking issue. And let's be real: that's what you're so fucking afraid of.

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: stuck at the chateau with jj— who hates you— during a hurricane turns into a night you definitely didn’t expect.

— pairing: jj maybank x kook princess!reader

— warnings: smut! 18+ hate sex!! dub con, fingering, protected sex, degrading, hair pulling, choking, spanking, some language, jj is a so mean in this. i think that’s all.

↠ note— i literally found this in my notes from back in June lmao. thought i’d finish it and post it.

❥ the storm— j.m

“i’m not afraid, sare! i just don’t necessarily like storms. i don’t understand why you and john b. couldn’t stay here tonight”

a sigh leaves your lips, fingertips pushing the thin curtains of the room you’re in to the side as you watched the rain pour down, the trees roughly swayed from the strong winds as booms of thunder and cracks of lightning fill your ears.

sarah chuckles. “y/n/n you’re going to be fine! besides jj is there too, why don’t you go hang out with him? the storm should be passed by morning”

you groan, letting the curtains fall from your fingers. quickly turning your body, you make your way toward the bed, tossing yourself back onto the mattress as you roll your eyes.

you’d gladly hang out with jj, but he hated you. you never understood why, but he always acted like he would rather be anywhere else when you were around.

“jj hates me, sare. you know that”

the sound of john b’s voice and sarah’s giggles fill your ears, making you roll your eyes again.

“he doesn’t hate you! he just doesn’t like kooks, so he’s taking his time on warming up to us”

boom!

a loud rumble of thunder causes you to slightly jump. you completely throw the fact that jj hates you out the window and jump up from the bed, slowly making your way toward the door. “okay sare, i’m going to find jj, y’all have a good night”

sarah says her goodbyes and you hang up the phone. you slowly pull open the bedroom door, slipping out of the room in search of jj.

you make your way down the small hallway and into the living room, finding a shirtless jj standing at the screen door of the house as he watched the storm roll in.

you find yourself staring at him longer than you probably should, but you couldn’t help yourself. you had thought jj was attractive from the moment you first laid eyes on him, and how couldn’t you? he was beautifully tanned and toned, his back muscles contracting with every move he made, his messy blond hair framed his face perfectly, his perfect plump, pink lips, and his eyes. his bright, ocean blue eyes could make any girl melt.

but you would never openly admit any of that.

“hey j, can’t sleep either?”

your voice startles him, making him jump and turn to face you. his face quickly turns into a look of annoyance when he sees it’s you, not like he could see anyone else, you’re the only two here.

he turns back toward the door, his focus back on the storm outside. “what do you want?”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair and sitting on the old couch.

“i just couldn’t sleep, it’s really coming down out there huh?”

jj groans, resting his head against the screen door before he pulls back and turns to face you. “are you really trying to make small talk with me right now? you and i don’t get along, so let’s not pretend we do”

you scoff, turning yourself on the couch and sitting on your knees to face jj fully. “you don’t like me, i try to be nice, but you make it so goddamn hard when you act like you can’t stand me!”

jj opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it when a loud rumble of thunder shakes the small house. you jump slightly at the sound, your eyes going wide as you frantically look around the small house, cursing yourself for coming here in the first place and getting stuck overnight with jj fucking maybank.

jj notices your tense demeanor, snorting out a laugh as he smirks in amusement. “you’re seriously scared of a hurricane? haven’t you like lived here your entire life?” he pauses, snapping his fingers in mock realization as he laughs darkly. “oh wait, that’s right. kook princess is used to her generators and big fancy house on figure eight, never been stuck in a small house on the cut during one of these i assume?”

you sigh exasperatedly. “why are you such a dick, jj? what the fuck have i ever done to you?”

“i just don’t fucking like you”

you groan, pulling yourself from the couch and making your way into the kitchen. you pull the fridge open harshly, grabbing a beer and popping it open. you bring the rim to your lips, taking a long sip from it before harshly sitting it on the counter. “well good to know. i don’t fucking like you either, you’re a complete asshole who thinks he’s some hot shot because he’s attractive, but newsflash, you’re not special jj”

jj’s head whips in your direction, his eyes narrowed toward you. he takes a few long strides toward you, making your breathing accelerate the closer he got. your bodies were so close together you could feel his breath fanning over your face, and you were sure he could hear your heart rapidly beating in your chest. you swallow thickly, straightening yourself and locking your eyes with his.

you gasp loudly, your hand hitting the counter and knocking your beer bottle onto the floor when he wraps his large hand around your throat, squeezing so tightly your vision began to instantly blur from the tears forming in your eyes.

“and you’re a fucking kook princess who thinks the world revolves around her. you think everyone has to fucking like you, but newsflash. you ain’t special either, princess”

you begin clawing at his hand, trying to pry him off of you, but he was much stronger than you. you whimper as he squeezes tighter, his fingers surely bruising the skin of your neck, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched you struggle under his hold. you tried to get words out, wanting to beg him to let you go, but you couldn’t breathe, much less talk, due to the grip he had on you.

“what was that princess? i didn’t quite catch that”

you dig your fingernails into the back of his hand, leaving half crescent shapes in the skin. you use your free hand to continue pushing at his chest, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you felt your head becoming fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

jj finally releases your throat, pushing you back into the fridge when he does. you begin gasping for air, trying to suck as much oxygen as you could back into your lungs. “what the fuck jj? are you fucking psychotic?”

you begin rubbing at your throat, trying to ease the sting from where his hands were. another gasp leaves your mouth when jj is in front of you again, bodies so close you could feel his bulge against your thigh through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. he takes his hands and tightly grabs your arms, turning your bodies and pushing your back into the countertop, more pain shoots through you from the impact.

“you really need a fucking attitude adjustment, princess. and i think i know just how to fix it”

your breath hitches in your throat as jj inches his face closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours. you’d be lying if you said the aggression that spewed from him wasn’t a turn on to you, the ache between your legs and arousal pooling into your panties an obvious indicator that you were in fact turned on.

“what- what’re you gonna do? hmm? i bet you don’t even know how to properly fuck a girl” you spit out, your noses brushing over one another as you keep your eyes locked on his.

this just made jj even angrier, he places his hands back around your throat, smashing his lips against yours roughly. you let out a strangled moan when he slips his tongue into your mouth, using the grip on your throat to pull you further into him.

you melt into him for a moment, your lips moving fervently with his. it’s a mess of teeth and tongues, the feel of jj’s hard cock pressed firmly into your thigh making you wetter, needier. he releases your throat, running his hands up the sides of your face and digging his finger into your hair, tugging at it lightly.

your mind begins racing, your senses finally hitting you. you push jj off, slapping him across the face, his head whips to the side from the impact.

“i’m not sleeping with you, jj”

jj slowly turns his head toward you, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot you’d just slapped. “oh yeah? i’d bet you’ve soaked those pretty little panties of yours, why don’t we find out, hmm?”

you begin rapidly shaking your head, biting down on your bottom lip so hard you taste blood. you try to push past jj’s body, but he has you caged in, your back firmly pressed against the counter top. jj’s hands fly to the waistband of your sleep shorts, pushing a hand down and into your panties, his thick fingers running through your slick folds making your head throw back in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as you try and stave off your moans.

“what’d i say? you’re fucking soaked, your pussy is begging to be fucked by me”

a small whimper escapes your lips when jj shoves his index finger into your soaked core, thrusting it in and out of you slowly as his dark eyes stay locked on yours. you could see the enjoyment on his face, he enjoyed watching you fall apart for him, he loved the control he had over you in the moment.

and as much as you wanted to push him off of you, tell him to go fuck himself, you were enjoying this too much.

“jj” you breathe out, chest heaving up and down.

he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, shoving another finger into your cunt. he begins harshly thrusting them in and out of you, his palm firmly pressed against your clit.

you feel your orgasm building inside you, the band threatening to snap when he curves his fingers slightly, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that no man has ever found.

“i-i’m gonna cum, jj. fuck, s’close!” you whine, grinding yourself against his hand, chasing your high as he pushes his fingers roughly into you. you begin clenching around his fingers, your release threatening to burst out of you.

jj stops, pulling his fingers from inside you and sucking them clean. “mmm, the princess tastes so good, who knew?”

you throw your head up, eyes narrowed toward him in annoyance. “jj what the fuck, why’d you stop?!”

jj chuckles darkly, his hands flying to the back of your hair as he smashes his lips to yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you moan against his lips when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he pulls your lips from his, holding your head back as his dark eyes burn into yours. “bratty little sluts like you don’t get to cum that easily”

you pout. “but-“ you begin but your words die on your tongue, jj’s tight grip on your hair pulling a whine from your lips. he begins pulling you to the couch by your hair, your legs failing to keep up with his long strides causing you to stumble and trip over your own two feet.

jj tosses you onto the couch, a dark laugh falling from his mouth as he watches you stare back at him in frustration.

“take your clothes off, now”

you hesitantly pull your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor in front of you before you move to pull your shorts and panties down your legs. you feel your face heating up, feeling a little too exposed in front of jj for your liking.

jj sucks in a sharp breath, his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes scanned the length of your naked body.

he takes a step toward you, making you flinch and scoot yourself further into the couch. you weren’t afraid of him, but after the way he’s been all night, it was out of instinct to flinch away from him.

“don’t be scared, gonna fuck the attitude right out of you, and then we can go back to acting like the other doesn’t exist, got it?”

“o-okay”

jj pulls at the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them down his legs and kicking them to the side. your eyes go wide when you see his impressive length pressed against his thigh through the fabric of his briefs. you’d always heard rumors about jj’s size, but seeing it for yourself, he looked much bigger than you’d expected.

jj leans forward, gripping at your arms and yanking you upright. he pulls you to your feet, sitting on the couch and patting at his legs, making you cock your head to the side in confusion.

“c’mon, lay across my lap”

you do as he says, laying your body across his lap. you weren’t sure what his plan was, but you were too turned on to care, whatever he had in store for you would be worth it.

slap!

you wince, the feel of jj’s hand landing harshly on your ass making you whimper. “what’re you-“ slap! jj’s hand lands another harsh slap against your ass, tears forming in your eyes from the pain left behind.

“just a little discipline, you need to learn not to talk back all the fucking time, not to have such a fucking attitude”

he lands another harsh slap to the other side of your ass, the burn you felt from his hands making tears flow quickly down your face.

jj begins rubbing at your ass, his large hands kneading at the flesh. you sigh in relief when you think he’s finally done with the spanking, but your mind goes blank when you feel him land yet another rough smack.

he pulls you up, sitting you on the couch and wiping his thumb across your cheek. “stop fucking crying”

you sniffle, nodding your head and wiping your tears away from your face.

you watch as jj makes his way toward john b’s room, returning quickly with a condom in hand. you watch in awe as he slides his briefs down his legs, his large cock springing free and slapping at his stomach.

“stop staring, princess. s’not nice” your eyes meet his, an amused smirk on his face when he sees the look of fear in your eyes. he strokes himself a few times before he rips the foil packet open with his teeth, sliding the condom down his length and stepping toward you. “it’ll fit, don’t worry. and if it doesn’t, i’ll make it fit”

you swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head as you watch him fall onto the couch. “come sit on my cock, want you to ride me”

you stand from your spot on the couch so quickly you trip over your own feet, stumbling forward, hands pressed firmly into jj’s chest. you throw one leg over his waist, straddling him and gripping his cock in one hand. you begin grinding your hips over his length, a low groan pulled from him.

“stop fucking teasing me, i don’t want to have to hurt you again, but i will”

you nod your head, reaching behind you and grasping his cock in your hands, stroking him softly and lining him up with your entrance. you push the head in slowly, gasping when the thick head pushes into you.

jj groans. “fuuuck”

you fully sink yourself onto him, a loud moan falling past your lips. you dig your fingernails into his shoulders, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you sit still, trying to adjust to his size.

jj grips your hips, sliding you up slowly before pushing you back down harshly. your breath hitches in your throat when the head of his cock hits your g-spot. “fuck, jj, fuck!”

he lands a slap to your ass, a whimper falling from your lips at the action. “move, now” jj demands, both his hands landing harsh slaps to your ass cheeks again.

you quickly do as he says, bouncing yourself up and down his length. the sounds of both your skin slapping together, soft whimpers and loud moans fill the room.

jj runs his hands from your hips to your ass, gripping at the flesh hard, landing smacks as you continue to bounce yourself up and down. “such a good fucking slut, bouncing yourself on my cock, the cock of the man that fucking hates you”

you whimper, jj’s cock pushing into you so deep you could feel it in your stomach. the head of his cock continuously hits at your sweet spot, the band in your belly begins to tighten, your vision blurred with tears. “jj, i’m gonna cum- fuck! i’m gonna cum!”

you hear jj tsk, his hands making purchase on your hips again as he stops your movements. “you don’t fucking cum until i say you can, got it? brats don’t get to cum whenever they fucking want”

you whine, your hand slithering between the two of you, fingers finding your clit instantly. you begin rubbing slow circles around your sensitive bud, trying to chase your orgasm despite jj’s telling you no.

jj’s hand grabs yours, pulling it from your clit and twisting your arm behind your back. “are you disobeying me, princess? i would recommend you not do that”

jj begins pounding his hips up into yours, his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot, a string of curses and moans falling from your lips at his continued abuse to your cunt.

“such a tight fucking pussy. who knew the girl i fucking hate would feel so fucking good” jj groans, his voice low and raspy.

he begins placing sloppy kisses around your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. you feel his thrusts getting sloppy, letting you know he was close to his orgasm. “j, can i please cum? please” you whine, tears flowing down your face from the pressure you felt between your thighs.

jj sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his dick stiffening as he bursts into the condom.

“fuckfuck, go on, cum. be a good slut and cum all over me”

his words were all it took to send you flying over the edge, your release bursting from you in body shaking euphoria.

“jj, shit, feels so fucking good jj” you cry out, his hips pounding into you a few more times before he goes limp beneath you.

you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to slow your breathing. jj slaps at your ass, making you lift your head as he lifts you from his lap, tossing you to the side.

jj chuckles, standing from the couch and pulling the condom off of himself, tossing it into the trash. “thanks for that, i’m gonna sleep good now”

he opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and opening it. he takes a long sip as he makes his way back into the living room, grabbing his underwear and sweatpants from the floor and slipping them back on.

“we don’t talk about this, ever. got it? it was just.. hate sex? someone had to fuck the attitude out of you. this changes nothing, you mean nothing to me, and i still hate you”

you sit on the couch, tears beginning to fill your eyes again as you stare at him in shock. you felt dirty, used, hurt. he just fucked you for fun? he still hated you? you were regretting your decision to sleep with him now, even though you never fully said you wanted to, you never said no, never stopped him.

jj laughs darkly at the expression on your face, taking another sip from his beer, his head shaking in amusement as he disappears down the hallway and into john b’s room.

you bring your knees up to your chest, letting silent, choked sobs escape your throat. jj fucking maybank. this changed everything, and now, you fucking hated him as much as he hated you.

jj masterlist | taglist form

[mistywaves98]

plsplspls nerdy looking & virgin reader and cunty scara 🙏

This req is short but I love it ❤❤

✧･ﾟ:* ->Popular! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Slight Public sex(?), Praise, Petnames (good girl, doll)!

Decent grades, large friend groups, money, favouritism among teachers, looks to die for... Scaramouche had it all and he basked in the attention he received. But then there was you, his polar opposite. Aside from being a top student, there were a lot of things that you two didn't have in common. With you being a social outcast, preferring to bury your nose in a book than mingle with others. Not to mention those oversized clothes and weirdly large glasses that somehow framed your face so perfectly.

Scaramouche had only really noticed you when you both were paired up for a project and in that time he couldn't deny that he'd grown a sort of attraction towards you. You were just so goddamn cute in his eyes, so quiet and timid and pure...so corruptible... He'd be lying if he said that he didn't jerk off to the image of those wide eyes staring up at him so cluelessly whenever he talked to you. Or the way your skirt would sometimes ride up a little too high as you sat on his bed, giving him a peek of your panties.

Even after the assignment was handed up, Scaramouche found himself still seeking you out just to be in your company. It was then he realized that you seemed to develop a little thing for him too, getting nervous and overly jumpy whenever he'd enter the room, trying to hide your blush with one of your books, stuttering over your words. and goodness did it make him only crave you more. He finally decided to corner you in the library one day, getting a bit too close as his hands slowly roamed your body. Going lower and lower till they were tugging your skirt down.

And that's how you found yourself getting tongue fucked in a secluded part of the library. Your face was flushed as you sat on the chair which was now a mess of your arousal. One hand covered your mouth to muffle the noises he coaxed out of you, the other tangled in his indigo locks as you tugged him closer, desperate for release. Scaramouche absolutely lived for the sight above him, your sweaty body illuminated under the bright lights of the library adorned with your untidy clothes and disheveled hair.

The way your glasses slipped down your flushed face as you hesitantly met his eyes was absolutely adorable. It only made him want to make you squirt all over his face even more as he increased the pace of his tongue, the wet muscle delving into the tight depths of your gummy walls. His pleased groans vibrated against your sensitive folds, making you throw your head back in bliss as your nails dug into his scalp.

"Mmh... You're close, aren't you, doll? Look at you, falling apart on my tongue like this. You're so fucking cute when you try to keep quiet... But you can't because I'm just making you feel sooo good, aren't I?" Scaramouche drawled in a teasing tone, smirking against your cunt as he saw how it flustered you. He moved his mouth to latch on to your clit instead, plush lips engulfing the swollen bud as he sucks and licks at it feverishly while simultaneously stuffing your drooling pussy with two slender fingers.

The change in pace had your back arching, a loud whine slipping out as your eyes went glassy with tears. He was right, you were going to cum soon. Scaramouche gripped your thighs and threw them over his shoulders, relishing the way they squeezed his head when you did. His digits pumped in and out of you at a reasonable speed, occasionally curling to hit that spot that made you see stars.

It was getting harder to keep your noise on the low, with you practically biting your arm to try and distract yourself. Scaramouche noticed and lightly scraped his teeth against your clit, that little bit of added stimulation sending you over the edge as your eyes rolled to the back of your head while moaning a little louder than you would have liked. You came all over his face, drenching it with your juices. Scaramouche smirked as he pulled his mouth away from your pussy but not before pressing a wet kiss to your clit.

He pushed himself up on his knees, getting closer to your face as he took in your fucked out expression,"You're such a good girl, squirting all over my face like that. You taste absolutely divine..." He used a finger to smear off some of your cum from his face, making a show out of sucking it off just to see you get red in the face again. Then he stood up and switched your places.

Now you were on your knees in front of him while he sat on the chair that was now soaked with your essence. You got a great view of the very noticeable bulge in his pants, a damp spot already forming as he grinned down at you. Scaramouche carded a hand through your hair delicately, desire swirling around in those dark eyes of his as he said in a deceptively sweet tone,"Hmm, I wonder what people would say if they heard the nerd was sucking off the popular kid in the library?"

[reiderwriter]

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You have a big fat crush on Spencer Reid. And now you have to share his clothes, his hotel room and his bed for one special night.

Warnings: Day 31 of Kinktober - The End, vanilla sex, love confessions, p in v, pretty softcore compared to the other stuff. Fluff.

A/N: We did it! It's literally halfway to December, but I finally finished all of the kinktober fics! Thank you, everyone, for coning with me on this amazing journey. Thank you for all your support for thesr 31 fics, I literally wouldn't have done it without you 💖

It was hard being hopelessly in love with your coworker. This was a fact that you'd learnt upon entering the BAU and meeting Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You'd never believed in love at first sight  and to be truthful, you were still a sceptic, but there was something about him that had you leaning in, eyes sparkling as you hung on his every word. 

If you were asked what exactly it was about him that you liked so much, you'd probably tie your tongue up trying to answer. 

Maybe it was his intelligence. Maybe it was the complete obliviousness that went along with it. 

It could have been the way he made sure to check in on you regularly, made sure you were managing the transition to the BAU well, and let you know that he'd be there to support you. 

It was probably also because of how goddamn attractive he was. You swore that he was walking around like the female lead in a 00s rom com - he just didn't know how hot he was. In fact, he was so oblivious that he still didn't reconcile the fact that ‘Pretty Boy’ was less an insulting nickname and more the cold, hard truth. 

You'd accidentally reminded him of that fact about a month into being deliriously into him. 

“Pretty Boy…? Hey, Spencer? Doctor Reid? Nothing…” Morgan sat on the edge of your desk as he called over to the man just opposite him, sitting completely still bar his hand that was racing across a page as he read furiously. 

“He's busy, Morgan. I'm sure if you just call his name Louder, he'll answer.” You sighed. Watching the two men quibble had become an interesting pastime, to say the least. 

“Spencer, the office is on fire. Spencer, Hotchner, is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Rossi is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Y/N is-” 

“Okay, that's enough,” you said, standing up from your desk and clearing your throat. You thought you'd just stand up and get Spencer’s attention the same way Derek had, projecting your voice just a little bit more.

“Pretty Boy.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, the man in question bolted upright, hitting his knee on the desk as he rose, locking eyes with you. 

“Yes, Y/N?” Almost as soon as he was upright, Morgan was in fits on the floor, partly from the reaction, partly from Spencer's self injury. When he turned back to you and noticed your red face, the laughing fit only doubled. 

Spencer joined you in perpetual embarrassment as Morgan slipped off, still laughing  but seemingly no longer interested in whatever it was he wanted Spencer for in the first place. 

“Y/N, did you need something?” He asked, clearing his throat as he sat down once again. 

“No! No, actually, Morgan… it doesn't matter.” You smiled politely and sat back down, quickly pulling some paperwork together to make yourself look busy. 

“Usually only Morgan calls me pretty boy.” He murmured from the other side of the desk  

“That's because it's the truth.” 

“What?” His eyes locked with yours as you suddenly realised he'd been talking to himself, not engaging you in further conversation. 

“I… well, I mean, he wouldn't say it if you weren't actually pretty, Spencer.” He looked at you for a second, then relaxed, smiling softly as he continued his reading. 

You could've sworn you heard a tiny thank you under his breath  but you just continued your work and tried to calm your heart rate down. 

After that, you made it your mission to out an arm's length between yourself and Spencer Reid. You were polite about it, of course, but you felt an awful lot like a teenager with a crush. Or maybe a pre-teen with a crush. Sometimes, to be honest, you were probably acting like a complete child. 

Fate, or Aaron Hotchner, had other plans for you, though. 

“If you can't make it, that's okay, but it's regulation to send two agents because of some prior interviews that have turned particularly violent.” He explained after he called you into his office. 

“JJ has Henry to take care of, same for Kate and her niece. Morgan has a trial tomorrow, so he's unavailable as well, so I really only have you and Reid to ask. Can you do it?” 

You weren't sure if it was some need to please the man in front of you as if you were his child who had scored badly on a pop quiz, or his perpetual state of exhaustion that had you giving in and nodding to the man, agreeing to five hours in a car with Spencer. But you did. 

The ride wasn't all that bad, to be honest. In typical Spencer fashion, he'd bought along a few audiobooks to listen to, so most of the time was filled with The Faerie Queene and the sleep that you'd fallen into after listening to The Faerie Queene. 

You couldn't fully escape conversation, though, and in between changing tapes, he started asking questions. 

“How are you liking the unit?" He asked casually, his eyes on the road as you turned to stare at him. 

“It's been good. The only downside is all of those field work fitness tests, though.” 

“Be glad that you had to do those before you joined us. Morgan decided to be helpful and train me and Penelope.” 

“That doesn't sound too bad,” you laughed at him as an honest frown coated his face.

“Have you seen the guy? He's like a walking weightlifting advertisement, I think he could bench press me. And it turned out that we didn't even need the training anyway.” 

“Wow, and you fell for it? I thought you were a super genius, Doctor Reid.” 

“Hey, that's discrimination. I can be very stupid, too. I contain multitudes.” You laughed and relaxed into the seat some more, memorising each detail of his face as you looked at him. There was a small awkward pause as he waited for you to say something else. Just as he made to turn and look at you, you straightened again and looked away before he could catch you. 

“I'd love to see those multitudes some day.” 

“I'd love to show you them.” 

After that, you'd sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out of the window so he couldn't see the effect his words had on you. 

You were thankful that the actual interview finished shortly, the death row inmate becoming rather chatty in his final days and gracious in the details he was willing to give out. The prison still put you on edge, though, so you were glad to have your gun back on your hip and fresh air in your lungs as you moved towards the car. 

You were just waiting for Spencer to get off the phone so you could get back on the road and into your comfy bed. 

“That was Hotch,” Spencer said, walking over. “We've got a case. We're closer than they are, so they want us to drive there and stay in the hotel for the night, and they'll see us tomorrow.” He smiled in sympathy as he watched your face fall. 

The stuttering of your heart was so loud that you almost couldn't hear his words. Surely, that didn't mean you had to spend the night with Spencer Reid? You didn't know if you'd actually survive that. 

“I-I don't have my overnight bag.” You said. 

“Hotch said JJ is picking it up. She'll pass it to you tomorrow.” 

“But it's winter, what am I going to wear tonight?” You practically whispered the words as your brain finished functioning once again. 

“I have something you can change into. Of that's okay with you, of course!” You didn't trust yourself to talk, so you just nodded at the man and climbed into the car, ready for him to take you to your home for the night. 

Fate didn't stop there, though. 

“There's been some kind of mistake,” you heard Spencer mumble as you walked up to the front desk behind him. You'd been sat on a sofa in the foyer waiting for him to return with your key and his when you realised he'd been taking too long. 

“What's the problem?” You asked as he turned around to look at you, running his hands through his hair in frustration. 

“They only booked one room.” 

“Sir, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take up the issue with your company. But there's only one room here in your name, and we're otherwise fully booked for the night. We had two weddings and an academic gathering this weekend. Guests are still trickling in and out.” 

“Okay, what about my name? Can you see if there's anything under Y/L/N?” 

“I already tried that. They have Hotchner down, but only from tomorrow.” His jaw tensed again as he turned to you. If you knew him better, you'd probably be able to recognise his nervousness. God, how you wished you knew him better. 

“It's one night?” You nodded and took the keys from the receptionist as you and Spencer walked towards the room you'd be sharing for the evening.

“Derek says I talk in my sleep, but that claim has never been substantiated with any real evidence. Also I prefer to sleep on the bed nearest to the window, is that okay?” Spencer rambled slightly awkwardly as you approached your new hotel room. 

You smiled at him and flexed your hand slightly, trying to reach out to comfort him but holding yourself back from the casual physical contact. 

“It's okay,” you said, grabbing the key card. “Let's go in.” 

If that day had taught you anything, it was to expect something else to go wrong. 

The room was wonderful, with a large window, a competent bathroom, surprisingly spacious for the usual FBI budget. There was, of course, only one bed.

“I'll take the sofa. It's right next to the window anyway.” 

“Spencer it's not a pull-out. You're never going to get any sleep on that thing.” You stood your ground, dumping Spencer’s bag and your own small purse on the sofa so he couldn't take up permanent residence there. 

You weren't sure why you were fighting so hard to get him in the same bed as you, knowing what effect it would have on you, but you didn't care to think about that right this second. 

“Okay, let's just get ready to sleep, and we can talk about it again.” He said, digging you out an old pair of sweatpants and a caltech jumper and gesturing for you to use the bathroom first. 

You quickly showered up and changed into the warm clothes. It was strange to be able to feel how much bigger than you he was since you'd never really considered it. 

Spencer was tall, but you weren't exactly petites, and yet here you were, getting swamped by his college sweatshirt. And you knew for a fact that he'd been practically a child still when he'd last graduated. 

“All yours, Spencer,” you said, walking from the bathroom and over to the bed where you'd left your phone on charge. 

He didn't say anything, but you noticed he'd stayed stuck to the spot and sat at the opposite end of the sofa reading a book. 

“Spencer? Did you hear me?” That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he finally diverted his eyes away from you. 

“No pretty boy this time?” He pouted under his breath, but you laughed all the same, watching him grab similar garments from his bag again and travel to the bathroom.

You must've drifted off slightly between him going in and coming out, because when you woke, there he was again on the sofa. 

“Spencer? What are you doing? Get into bed.” You blinked your eyes a few times, rubbing away the sleep in them as you sat up. Spencer had sat up on the sofa, reading his book again, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. 

“I said I'm fine here, Y/N. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Sighing, you pushed yourself out of bed and walked around it to where Spencer was. 

“Spencer, you're like 6’4. This sofa couldn't even sleep a five year old comfortably, let alone all of you.” You slipped the book from his hand, shutting it and placing it on the side table. 

“I'm assuming you don't need a bookmark?” When he shook his head with a resigned sigh, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” 

“Spencer, you already gave up your clothes for me, I'm not letting you give up the bed, too.” 

“It's okay, I enjoyed giving up the clothes.” You couldn't really help the nervous goggle that slipped from your mouth at that statement. 

“Sorry, I just meant I'd-” 

“I know what you meant, Spencer. Let's just go to sleep now.” Grabbing his hand once again, you turned the main lights off, lamps lighting your way to the bed. 

Turning Spencer around, you gently shoved him onto the bed. Though, expecting him to let go of your hand, you'd planned that only he would land there. 

Instead, he doubled down on his grasp of your hand, and you fell with him, landing directly on top of him on the bed, mouths inches from each other. 

You paused there for a few moments, not sure what move was the right one to make. His hips shifted upward slightly, but that was all the movement you needed for you to settle over his crotch rather than his legs. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered breathlessly as you felt every inch of him harden underneath you. 

“I'm not,” he said, eyes searching your face for god knows what. 

When he found it, though, he didn't hold back. His free hand slid up to the back of your head, slamming it down so your lips could lock together, a passionate joining that rid you of all the oxygen in your body. 

“Spencer,” you gasped between kisses as he worked his hand lower, both hands free to wrap tightly around your waist as he continued kissing you with a passion. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he finally pulled away again, holding you as close as he could before capturing your lips one more time.

Your head swam through the sensations blindly, both confused and considerably fused to him at the same time.

Spencer's lips, Spencer's hands, Spencer's everything pressed up against you as you sighed contentedly at his ministrations.

“Spencer… what are we doing?” 

“I don't know. I don't want to stop, though.” His lips matched yours furiously as he pushed his sweater off your body, whining slightly when he had to break contact to get it over your head.

His hands were instantly exploring your chest, grasping your body like it was his lifeline, as your hips rocked against his own. 

You knew you needed to stop this, and soon. Your body didn't agree. If you had sex with Spencer Reid right now, you knew there was no way in hell any other man would ever match up. 

“Spencer, stop.” 

To his credit, he did, hands dropping instantly as he created space between the two of you. Or as much as you'd allow, still sitting on top of him. 

“I'm sorry, I took advantage, I shouldn't have kissed you like th-” 

“I love you.” You blurted out, so desperate for him to shut up and listen to you. Which  again, to his credit, he did. 

“What?” He whispered, stars shining in his eyes.

“I told you to stop because I love you. If you don't feel the same way, that's okay, but I don't think I can do this if you don't.”

“You love me?” 

“Yes, I just said that. Aren't you supposed to have an eidetic memory?” 

“Individuals with eidetic memories often struggle with short-term memories, hanging onto older memories more vividly and recalling them faster.”

“So you want me to say it again?” 

“Over and over, preferably.” He said with a grin, flipping you over so your back was on the bed as he hovered over you. 

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your cheek. 

“Again.”

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your neck. 

“One more time,” he whispered, stroking your hair as he finally looked into your eyes. 

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your lips once again, holding nothing back as he poured all his joy into you. 

“I love you, too.” 

Your legs tangled together in a blur after that, both hopelessly breathing each other's oxygen. You were giggles and moans, whimpers, and confessions as you found yourself pushing down the covers and your pants so you could slide into bed. 

Neither of you stopped your confessions, still professing your love in each scrape of a nail, each lick, each bite. 

When he finally entered you, your eyes rolled back in pleasure, drunk on him and every reaction he was giving you. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he moaned. “I love how you feel wrapped around me.” His hips snapped softly into you, but he went deep, pushing in the entire way before even letting himself think of drawing himself out of that beautiful heat. 

“I love how reactive you are for me. I love seeing each of your emotions cross your face. I love how you called me pretty. I love how intelligent you are. I love you.” You were overcome with emotions as you finally felt pleasure wash over you, tingling through your body in ripples as he grunted into your ear, close as well. 

Wrapping your legs around him, you nuzzled into his neck and held him tight as he finally finished inside of you. 

You fell asleep like that in each others arms, clinging to each other for dear life. 

When you woke the next morning, it was with a start as you realised the sun was already awake. 

Spencer, however, wasn't, and you jolted up in a panic as you rolled him off of you. 

“Spencer, wake up, the others are going to be here any minute, it's 8:45.” 

“No, they're not,” he said, pulling you right back into his chest. 

“You said yesterday that they're coming today ready for the new case.”

“They started driving at 7am. Driving is going to take them 5 hours 34 minutes, give or take half an hour if there's an accident on the roads. We have plenty of time.”

You relaxed slightly into his hold, then feeling his warmth against you as he stirred slightly again. 

“Of course, we could always do something else to pass the time.” You opened one eye and turned back to face him as his hand traced down to the parting of your legs.

“Nice try, lover boy. If you're awake enough for that, you're awake enough to get started on the case.” 

“I preferred pretty boy,” he groaned but rolled away from you, as you both started getting ready for the day. 

Within half an hour, the two of you were up and ready to answer an incoming video call from Penelope Garcia. 

“Hello beautiful, how is upstate treating you?” She said as you picked up and beamed at her, somehow unable to control the happiness rolling off of you.

“It's been good,” you practically giggled, wiping a hand across your face as you attempted to clear away the grin there.

Spencer approached the laptop screen, too, greeting Penelope with a small squint as he looked down. 

“Hey, Penelope. Do you have the case details for us?” 

“I sent through the files to your emails, Hotch has a paper copy for you too, Reid, when he gets there. We've got a copycat or a resurfaced killer from the 80s. Rossi says the details are familiar to him, but he was going to ask you when he found you.” You both nodded and thanked her, but still, she didn't hang up. 

“So, one hotel room, how was that?” Penelope asked from the other side of the screen, eyes dancing between the both of you. 

“How did you…?” You squinted as Spencer hurriedly closed the laptop to the sounds of her laughing victoriously. Spencer's face flushed again as he brushed his hair out of his face, trying to discuss the files with you as he changed the topic almost expertly. 

“Stop. Spencer, how did she know about the hotel room?”

“Penelope books most of our hotel rooms.”

“Spencer, what aren't you telling me?” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at you in the eyes. 

“I may have asked her to book only one room.” 

“What? But the receptionist said-” 

“I slipped her a twenty before you came up.” 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to be closer to you. When Hotch said he had this interview, and he said he was sending you too, I was so excited to spend time with you, because you've been avoiding me, and I wanted to know what I did wrong so I could make it better, but I guess I didn't do anything wrong because you love me somehow, so I must have done something very very right to deserve that.” He was rambling, but you didn't stop him, smile spreading as you listened to his accidental declarations of love. 

“And then I had to beg Hotch to take this case next, because then we'd have an excuse to be alone longer if we were so close.” 

You tried to catch his attention then by calling his name, but he didn't listen, too intent on his confession. 

“I was going to tell you later today, once we were off work, I didn't want to say something in the middle of the case because that would've been unprofessional  and honestly I didn't want the others to hear because I want you all to myself.”

“I'm rambling, aren't I?” 

“Yes, God  just shut up and kiss me.” 

“You're not mad?” 

“I might have been if I weren't so damn in love with you. But lucky for you, I'm crazy for you.” He smiled at you again, pulling you in close for one more kiss. 

[sturniolo-simp4life]

Movie Night.

@sturnthepot tysm for this idea

Paring- Chris x y/n. NOT PROOF READ!

summary- it was supposed to be a normal movie night…

warnings- semi public sex (?), p in v, fingering, mirror sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

y/n impatiently sat on the couch waiting for Chris to hurry downstairs. Matt and nick were already sitting on the opposite couch.

“Chris! Get your ass down here or else we’ll start the movie without you!” Nick yelled.

two seconds later, Chris was running down the stairs. “God, can’t you just be patient?” He grumbled before plopping down on the couch next to you.

he grabbed your legs and put them on his lap, before covering them with a blanket.

you smiled and scooted closer to him, so now your shoulders were almost touching.

Chris grabbed the closet bowl of popcorn and started munching on it. “So what are we watching anyway?”

“Deadpool,” Matt answered.

“the new one?” You asked. “Nah, I think you’re the only one who’s watched the first one.” You frowned. “you guys suck.”

“Whatever,” he said, before playing the movie.

as the movie began playing, you couldn’t help but smile. “There’s something about his mask that makes him so fine,” you whispered to Chris.

“so, if I wore a Deadpool mask, would you find me more attractive?” He asked with a smirk.

you playfully hit him and returned your attention to the movie.

The movie went smoothly until he met the girl. oh shit. I forgot about this part. And the next thing you know— they were having sex.

Matt and nick groaned.

but chris— who’s hand was still under the blanket… moved his hand up your leg, until it was resting on the top of your thigh.

he sensually rubbed his hand against your skin, making your shiver.

you shot him a warning glare, but he ignored you— and continued to move his hand higher, and higher.

now his hand was in your shorts, resting right next to the hem of your panties. You shot him another warning glare- and he ignored you again.

his fingers slowly crept into your panties, and he smirked, feeling that you were already wet.

his fingers slid through your folds— and you let out a quiet gasp. He circled his thumb around your clit— and you were officially going crazy.

you bit your lip and squeezed your eyes, trying to keep your moans in. And if that wasn’t already bad enough…

he glanced at you with a smirk, before circling your entrance with his fingers. He then slid a finger into your aching hole— and you let out a small whimper.

”you okay y/n?” Matt asked. Luckily he didn’t turn away from the movie.

“u-um yeah. I just bit my tongue,” you said shakily. Matt let out a hum, and Chris smiled in satisfaction.

he began plunging his finger in and out of you, before adding a second one. You had to grab and pillow to muffle your heavy breathing.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You suddenly said. Chris immediately removed his fingers, and you ran up the stairs.

you locked yourself in the bathroom, breathing heavily. Was Chris out of his goddamn mind? Doing that when his brothers are in the same room?

after a few minutes, Chris stood up. “I’m gonna check on her. She probably started her period or something.”

his brothers nodded and continued watching the movie.

Chris softly knocked on the bathroom door. “It’s Chris,” he said. You reluctantly opened the door.

“what the fuck Chris!” You said while locking the door. “Your brothers were in the same fucking room!”

he shrugged. “And?” You sighed and shook your head. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer— into a passionate kiss.

“let’s just finish what we started, yeah?” He whispered. “What you started.” He rolled his eyes and turned you around— bending you over on the bathroom counter. “Wha-”

he shimmed your shorts and panties off, leaving your backside bare for him. “Chris.. this position is.. embarrassing.” You mumbled out.

Chris simply just smiled. “I want you to look in the mirror while I fuck you.”

“Uh, I don’t really think that’s—” you cut yourself off with a moan as he slid two fingers into you.

“just be good, okay?” You nodded your head, and he removed his fingers. You were about to complain, but you felt his cock rubbing between your folds, before pushing in.

he let out a groan. “shit, you’re always so fucking tight.”

he let you adjust before slowly thrusting in and out of you. “Oh fuck—” you moaned.

he placed his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. “Look at the mirror baby.”

and you did. You looked like a mess— there were tears forming in your eyes, and somehow your hair was messy.

Chris grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it back, making you moan into his hand— from the pain and pleasure.

The lewd noises were bouncing off of the bathroom walls, filling the room. “look at you, such a slut.” Chris groaned.

he suddenly hit that spot— that made things feel unreal. You moaned again into his hand, and he repeatedly hit it over and over again.

“mmm sohp closh,” (I’m so close) you moaned into his hand. With a few more thrusts you came, moaning into his hand.

Chris didn’t stop though, so now you were whining. You started at yourself in the mirror— tears were rolling down your eyes due to the overstimulation.

“Mm, close,” Chris grunted, still thrusting. He hit that spot again, making your clench around him with another orgasm.

Chris groaned and pulled out of you, making him cum on your back. You slumped down to your knees, panting heavily.

“let’s just take a shower, since we’re here. I’ll go get you some fresh pj’s, okay?” he said.

you nodded, and Chris kissed your forehead before leaving.

-

Chris walked down the stairs, wearing his pj’s. “You missed the whole movie.” Matt said, glaring at him.

“y’know, the two of you have a shared fucking room for a reason. Because the bathroom walls a paper thin!” Nick whisper yelled throwing his hands up.

“yeah yeah, whatever. I’m going to bed, and y/n is already alseep. Just came to say goodnight.”

Nick groaned. “Why can’t we just kick you out of the house?”

tags- l34n theyluvme-2315 tillies33ssss maya555sblog alorsxsturn blahbel668 @nyktoxs-lover strnilolo hearteyesformatt ecliphttlunar joemamaaa42069 jamiesturniolo chrisstopherfilmed

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: Non-consensual, Intox (aphrodisiac), Mind breaking.

Two years. Two fucking years of work down the drain. The worst two years of her life, working towards a goal she knows she’ll never see, and all because someone up the chain of command got bribed or threatened or who knows what else. What matters is someone fucking sold her out and now she’s bound up, staring at the gang of absolute sadistic freaks she has pushed herself so hard to infiltrate. 

Shit, the things she has done to be accepted as one of them! Well, “one of them” is stretching it. More like a trusted groupie, she figures. The amount of “slutty, fiery latina” acting she has been forced to do almost makes her throw up. It’s a stereotype and a racist one at that but damn it if these dumb motherfuckers raised by porn didn’t appreciate it, in a sick way. And all of it for a goddamn rumor.

They have this new shit, this kinda spray thing, makes any girl wanna fuck you like crazy… True Love, they call it.

Yeah, right. But still, the chance that such a drug could exist and flow through the streets, paired with some rather bizarre incidents of victims fighting to remain by their captor’s side… it was enough to try and get someone on the inside. And she’s ambitious, young, and most importantly, with the proper… attributes to play the gang-doll. Even now she almost wants to chuckle at the memory of the chief trying to explain that part, fighting so hard not to mention her ass. She’s not dumb. Wasn’t then, isn’t now. Without what she, modesty aside, considers the most spectacular ass in the city, the gang would have never even taken a second look at her. And she wouldn’t be here, now, tied up. 

Fuck. She realizes her mind is rambling, going on tangents, trying to escape the simple reality of the situation. She can’t move, and seven men are looking at her like she’s dessert, discussing exactly what to do to her. 

“Maybe we should use it, you know” one says.

She thinks she’s “it”, for a moment. She realizes she’s wrong as Karl, who has more muscles than brain cells and yet for some reason always calls the shots, removes one of the floorboards. Fuck! She has been in this warehouse dozens of times, looked everyone for evidence of the supposed magic drug, and has always come up snake-eyes. And it’s right fucking there, under the goddamn floor. What the fuck is it, the 1950’s? She’s tried every phone, installed keyloggers on laptops, learned every password- in her head, there had to be some clever operation at work, some devious method to keep such a huge deal secret. Nope. It’s under the fucking floor. She wants to tell them to untie her, just so she can kick her own ass. 

They laugh as they get naked, and a wave of shame crashes over her. She realizes she has seen all of these bodies before, and it makes her sick to her stomach. Sure, men get talkative when bragging and trying to get someone into bed. And men lower their guards after they bust a load- that is, if they don’t just roll over and fall asleep instantly. She has used that, over and over, to get information, to get chances to snoop.

Did she have to, though? That question has haunted her, and now it seems to grow solid, like a rock in her chest. Did she truly have to play up all those stereotypes to become some fucked up fantasy of whatever a hot latina is supposed to be? Did she have to buy all those booty shorts, those cheap jewels, those slutty heels? 

And didn’t a part of her enjoy the attention?

Fuck. Chances are she’ll die here, and she doesn’t want to die a delusional bitch. Yes, fine, being the center of attention felt nice. But the sex? No. That was awful. Pretending to be attracted to these meatheads, doing anything they wanted just so her reputation as a grade-A piece of ass would spread, faking orgasms…

Bull and shit. You’re dying here, Mariana. Stop lying to yourself. You didn’t fake all of them.

She’s yanked away from her little spiral of shame by the loud hiss of spray being applied. They’re passing a little can around, coating their cocks with… 

No. It can’t be real. It just can’t. There is no magic spray. It can’t possibly work. Sure, these idiots might think it does, but in reality, no, True Love isn’t a thing.

The images flow into one another like photographs. She knows, rationally, what is happening. A knife is cutting her bindings as two sets of hands are holding her arms. Her shorts are being sliced, ripped off her. Her legs are being held wide open for Meathead Karl. She files these things in her mind, and feels nothing. She’s there, but she’s not really there. Ah, yes. Dissociation as a defense mechanism for trauma. Mariana has read about it, and now feels mildly fascinated by the experience. 

The pain drags her back to reality. Her instincts kick in, and she braces for the suffering that is to come after that initial opening salvo. She grits her teeth, and…

The pain doesn’t come. She hears laughter as her eyes grow wide, a horrible realization dawning on her. The feeling between her legs is a warm thing, a pleasant thing, slithering up her body, unlike anything she has ever felt before. 

“Starting to hit you, Officer? Oh, this is just beginning”, someone says, his voice coming to her as if from a million miles away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It’s real. Fucking True Love is real. Her mind reels, the interviews with previous victims rushing in her memories. The way they spoke about their abusers as if they were Gods. The way they defended them. The way they longed for them, like junkies going into withdrawal. She can’t become like them. She can’t lose herself like that. She can’t…

She can’t focus. Her mind is getting fuzzy as the delicious sensation reaches her nipples. Every inch of her skin feels sensitive, overwhelming. A pussy. My whole body is one giant pussy. She has no idea where the thought comes from, but it grows inside her as she squirms and little moans escape her lips. No. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don’t moan. Don’t move.

“Oh, now you’re getting it. Don’t worry. It will get much, much worse”

Whose voice speaks? She can’t tell. She finds it harder and harder to care. Suddenly, her body betrays her as her hips start moving on their own, seeking pleasure, trying to coax the cock inside her deeper…

She feels on fire. She hates herself, hates how good every thrust feels, how much she needs more and more and more. Thoughts flood her, like a strange invasion taking over her mind. Cock. Cock feels good. Cock feels so fucking good. This is good. This is perfect. This is exactly what I should do. This is all I want. This is all I have ever wanted. Her mission starts to fade away. She can barely recall why she ended up being fucked like a good girl by this marvelous cock, and it feels so unimportant, so insignificant. Only the pleasure matters. She needs more. Her eyes cast around her. Cocks. Big, hard cocks, stiff for her. She starts drooling. The men laugh. She doesn’t care. There are hard cocks near her. Why aren’t they using her?

No. Snap back, Mariana. This isn’t you.

Why not?

Isn’t this better than whatever she was before?

One of the men lowered his body, his cock inches away from her face. She needs to taste it. She needs to wrap her tongue around it. She needs to worship it, body and soul.

“Oh, poor slut wants it?”

She’s not sure she understands the words. But she does understand, with a frenzied animal cunning, the desire behind them. They want her to beg. Some distant remain of sanity is pleading with her not to give in, not to surrender her voice, to keep some small part of her true self. It screams in vain.

“Please… give… cock…” she manages to mumble between moans.

“No. Not yet. You see, officer, your mind might be going, but your body is learning very fast. It’s so open now… And we intend to keep you around for a long time. No quick sell for you. So we need to… train you a bit”

Mariana knows the man is talking. The words don’t reach her until he starts playing with her nipples, and a single word takes over her entire existence.

“Cum”

She shakes. She screams. Her entire body is reduced to a single, shining sensation of absolute pleasure. She can feel something inside her breaking, giving in. She pants and a part of her expects the sensations to subside, but they don’t. If anything, the constant pleasure grows, leaving her right at the gates of another orgasm. She tries to grind, to move, to use the cock inside her to cum again…

“Not without permission, toy”, someone says. She almost manages to squeak out a complaint, but the stimulus is too strong. All she can do is squeal and moan.

The world swirls around her, colors heightened, bleeding into each other. She never wants to go back to the gray, solid, difficult past. She wants to stay here, be this- be pleasure.

“Cum”

Yes. She cums, and nothing else matters. This is all she needs. All she exists for. Her eyes are unfocused, her mouth hanging open. She feels the cock touch her lips before she even consciously sees it. The imperative is immediate. Suck. Lick. Take it deep in your throat. Use your tongue, pressure with your lips, the vibrations of your moaning. Use everything you are to please cock. 

“Cum”

Every time it gets stronger, going beyond whatever she ever thought possible. No mind can hope to withstand such a tidal wave of pleasure. As soon as she realizes they’re starting to move her, she hops up. The men don’t have to tell her what they want from her. She wants the same thing. She’s just holes. Holes need to be filled with cock. She impales herself on Karl’s dick and leans forward, letting him suck on her sensitive nipples, leaving her asshole ready, eager. She’s presenting herself like an animal in heat, and she’s loving every second of it. She’ll do anything to keep feeling like this, forever.

“Ass…” she manages to say.

“Not good enough, cunt. Come on, you can use your words better than that”

Words. Words for cock. Words to make cock happy. They own her words. They own her mind. They own her body.

“Please… use my ass… fuck my tight little hole… ram it hard! Wreck it! I need it so bad, need it so bad, need you to take me, take my ass, make me cum, never let me go, please please please…”

Even the pain feels good. Everything feels good. Humiliation feels good. Their mockery feels good. Their spit on her skin feels good. Obeying feels good.

One cock in her ass, using it with no care for her or any pain it might cause. One in her wet cunt, driving her mad. One in her mouth, using her like a breathing fleshlight. One in each hand, the promise of cum to come. This is it. This is bliss. This is heaven. This is all any woman could ever desire. This is home. 

“Such a good fucktoy…”, one mutters, trying to hold back his own orgasm.

The word infects her. Fucktoy. It starts overwriting everything inside her. Fucktoy. Her police training crumbles in her memory. Fucktoy. Her memories of her family fade away, forever. Fucktoy. Her hatred for cruel men vanishes. Fucktoy. Fucktoy. Fucktoy. It is all she is. All she has ever been. All she ever wanted to be. She’s mumbling it in between taking cock in her mouth. It rises like a gigantic obelisk in her mind, ruling over her, conquering all.

Fucktoy.

“Cum. Cum. Cum.”

Wave after wave of pleasure overtake her, crashing into each other, blasting away all that was and all that could ever be.

By the time she gets back something resembling consciousness, warm cum is coating her skin. She can feel the wonderful jizz inside her holes, taste it on her tongue still. She must have swallowed it. Like a good fucktoy. She feels so proud, so valuable, so beautiful. She made cocks cum. She was good. She was useful.

“Officer, remind me… what were you looking for?”

She looks at the man like a confused puppy.

“Cock?”

“I see. And what’s your name?”

She straightens up, full of pride. This one she knows.

“Fucktoy!”, she smiles.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work and get access to the full library at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[crxss01]

— Finally

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ percy jackson x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ you and percy confess to each other after an argument while you both fought a monster.

warnings ✧˖ ° violence (they are fighting a monster), making out in the middle of a fight, curse words.

m. list, main m.list.

"you do know that this is all your fault, right?" percy yelled at you as you both fought the scythian dracanae side by side.

"my fault? what the fuck are you—" you looked at him in disbelief but then regretted doing so when the she-monster took the opportunity to take a swing at you with one of her serpent trunks.

percy deflected the attack that was made towards you, pushing you out of the way. "stay focus!" he yelled.

"i will when you stop blaming every misfortune on me!" you yelled and attacked the female reptile.

"sssssstop, your argument givessss me a headache!" the monster demanded.

"you can get headaches?" percy asked with a chuckled.

you couldn't deny that it sounded so goddamn attractive, and it made you more mad than you were already.

"shut up, percy." you told him. "stay focus, remember?"

"here you go again." he complained, now fighting the dracanae on his own as you were knocked off your feet. "you okay?"

"yes, i'm okay." you answered, just laying there for a second going over memories of decisions you had made and regretting them before standing back up and holding onto your sword tightly.

"good, because you keep getting distracted. stop that or you will get yourself killed."

this bitch.

you rolled your eyes but he was right, you needed to stay focus on the fight. you briefly wondered why it was taking so long since percy was an excellent fighter and he could've killed the dracanae in five minutes flat.

"why. haven't. you. kill. this. thing." you panted out, landing a blow after each word.

"i don't know, maybe i wanted to spend time with you." he said sarcastically or at least you thought it was.

"very funny." you said dryly, why did he have to play with you like that.

"is not a joke though." percy said, feeling a bust of courage.

your head snapped to him so fast that you thought you might have gotten whiplash. "what?"

"look, i know this isn't the most convenient moment to say this but i’m full of adrenaline so imma take the chance to tell you that i like you." percy sighed and stopped fighting.

the dracanae stood there staring at the scene of you two completely forgetting about her.

"unfortunately for you..." you made a face, just for the drama of it and watched percy's face slowly fall. "i like you too."

percy let out a dry chuckle, throwing his head back with another sigh then shaking his head. "i hate you so much..." he mumbled then walked to you.

he grabbed your face between his hands and attached his lips to yours. you dropped your sword, putting your arms around his neck and kissing him back with as much passion as he was. it was so addicting, the smell of sea salt and the taste of blueberries of his lips was driving you crazy from just a few seconds of kissing.

you two separated then leaned back in after taking a few deep breath's, this was exactly what you needed right now. you could kiss him all day and not get tired of it. his hands came down from your face to your neck, to your shoulder until they rested against your hips.

"how dare you two do thissssss infront of me!! thisss issss—" the dracanae got interrupted by the humidity coming off the ground and turning to water that engulfed around her, drowning her voice inside of it.

you unfortunately couldn't see that at the time because you were too busy kissing percy jackson, your boyfriend? maybe.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[dazed-and-confused23]

Hi, can I request a story where a female reader wants to fuck Cooper and keeps making advances at him but Cooper always shuts her down. But when reader meets Hancock, she's so desperate to get her rocks off that she asks him to bang her, which he immediately agrees to because, well, it's Hancock. Reader and Hancock aren't exactly quiet when they're having sex which causes Cooper to be unable to sleep. They noises they make get to him and he jerks himself off. Internally, he's wishing he didn't blow off reader so many times because he could've been in Hancock's position by now.

Anon. I can't thank you enough for such a lovely prompt ❤️. I hope I've done it justice!

Opportunities

Part 2 -> HERE

Cooper can admit that you're a stubborn little smoothskin. This is the fourth time in three days that you'd slid up to him, all soft flesh and smelling delicious, and looked at him with such an innocent gaze that it always shocked him at the filth that spilled out of your mouth.

"You should let me suck your cock."

Cooper sucked in a harsh breath, his lungs rattling and sending him into a short coughing fit. You pat his back softly, expression concerned, until the ghoul shrugs you off and stomps forward.

"Shouldn't be sayin' shit like that to men like me, Smoothie," Cooper bit out, and willed down the arousal that wanted to rise up and consume him like a fuckin' tidal wave. They rounded one last corner and came upon the entrance of Goodneighbor, and Cooper slumped a little in relief when they passed inside the safety of the walls. Boston was a dangerous place.

Down in the Third Rail, you sit by yourself at the bar, an annoyed pout on your lips as you sip the drink Charlie had whipped up for you. Cooper has already retired for the night, shacked up in a room at the Hotel Rexford. You don't understand why your ghoulish companion doesn't want to have sex with you. There wasn't something wrong with you was there?

Your self depreciating thoughts are interrupted by a smokey voice, made rough by radiation and chems.

"Why the long face, sister?"

You turn and see one of the most attractive ghouls you've ever lain eyes on. He is lean and willowy, but you could see a hidden strength in the way he held himself. He wore a red colonial outfit, complete with a tricorn hat, and a smile so friendly you knew there was danger lurking beneath.

"Cat got your tongue?" He drawls after a moment, and you flush, thighs squeezing together just at the sound of his voice. It's over for you after that. You learn that his name is Hancock, and he's the Major of Goodneighbor. He buys you drinks, and it's an embarrassingly short amount of time before you turn to him, eyes hopeful.

"Will you have sex with me, Hancock?"

The ghoul doesn't miss a best, hands already on your hips as he leads you out of the Third Rail and to the hotel across the street, and conveniently right beside Cooper's rented room.

The bounty hunter wakes to the sound of two people fucking, and they are not being quiet about it. Cooper is seconds away from smacking the wall and snarling at them to shut the fuck up, when he recognizes the sound of your voice, and his annoyance turns straight to burning aroused, jealousy.

Blood rushes to his cock, and Cooper falls back in the bed, head hitting the pillow as he clenches his eyes shut. The sound of your breath moans, begging for more ring in his head, and the ghoul breaks. He pops the button of his pants and shoves them down, taking his aching dick in his hand and stroking roughly.

"Ahh~ harder, John. Please."

Cooper grits his teeth, regret curdling his stomach as he listens to someone else fuck you, take what he kept pushing away. It should be his fuckin' name that you moan, his cock that should be buried in your tight cunt. Coop wouldn't have kept pushing you away if he knew you sounded so sweet stuffed full.

"That's it, baby, ya feel so goddamn good."

The second voice is rough, and that green envy grows at recognizing the sound of another ghoul. Cooper snarls lowly in the room, his hand tight around his cock as he fucks his fist and imagines that it's him in the room with you, bending you over the bed and fucking you just like you've been begging him to.

The sounds you make grow in pitch, and Cooper follows right along, stroking his cock in time with the breathy pants that's fall from your lips. A strangled moan leaves his lips when his balls tighten, and he comes, seed spilling and coating his fist. Cooper sits up and wipes it off on the sheets without a care, brows pulled down in a scowl when the noise in the next room ceases.

Cooper stuffs his dick back in his pants and leaves the room, loping out of the hotel and back to the bar. He'd wait until you were finished with whoever the fuck John was, and then he'd be there to sweep you up. Coop wouldn't miss that opportunity again.

[ma1dita]

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

lips of an angel

pairing: married! leon x marriage counselor! reader

cw: infidelity, p in v, oral, over-usage of 'good girl', regret, leon is an asshole (like, he's really a dick), reader is also not a good person (so, hopefully it's ooc for u lol), not proofread enough

summary: leon is married to ashley (she deserves better) and he cheats on her with reader who is the marriage counselor

a/n: based on a reddit post lol. also, it's time for us to admit that lips of an angel is such a fucking good song and leon would listen to it. (imagining this is id! leon and that song came out around that time so actually it's perfect. anyway, bye)

wc: 2.7k

[edit] taglist

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It starts like many horror stories do: with a knock at the door. He's tall, dark, and handsome, standing in the doorframe. Except not that dark, not very tall at all, but incredibly handsome and you've come to find over the sessions you've spent together that his looks are your weakness. His weakness is you. And many other women. Including his wife, who usually attends these sessions, but tonight, he comes alone. Maybe it's the rain that's beating down on the windows - thought it should sound like a warning - that makes you feel sympathetic enough to let him in when you know you shouldn't.

You let him sit on your couch, but make him hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack so he doesn't ruin the furniture. So you can see his biceps better. And his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The first two buttons are already undone, but that's how he always dresses. You know this because you spend too much time looking at him. What does his wife wear? Skirts? Dresses? Pantsuits? She could wear a goddamn clown costume to every session and you'd be none the wiser because you're staring at her husband like he's a piece of meat.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here?" you ask him. "Your appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"I'm having marriage troubles. I thought you might be able to help."

It's in the job title: marriage counselor.

"Where's Ashley?" It's a loaded question, and the gun is pointed at your entire fucking career.

"She couldn't come. Plus, I don't think she'd like to know about these problems I'm having."

You take a deep breath, contemplating absolutely nothing because you've already made your choice. You made your choice months ago when you had your first appointment with the Kennedys.

“Remember when I said I had a history of cheating?”

“I do. Has this become a problem again?”

“Not exactly,” he says with a slight chuckle that you later find is ironic in nature. “But I’ve been having thoughts…”

“Are these thoughts sexual?”

“Very.”

“Have you tried taking care of it yourself?” You make a hand gesture to signal ‘if you know what I mean’ and pray he knows what you mean so you don’t have to say the words ‘jerk off’ explicitly.

“Yes, but it hasn’t worked.” He looks directly into your eyes when he says it.

"Are these thoughts about a specific person?"

"Yes." 

His answers, which are limited to only a few words at a time, make you feel like you're shaking up a magic 8 ball, and the blue goop reveals a die that has little to say beyond 'It is certain', 'My sources say no', and 'Try again later'. 

“Is there a way you could distance yourself from this person so you don’t have any potential ‘slip ups’?” you ask.

“Sure, but I’d have to stop counseling if I did.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon.”

“Right. Leon, I’m not trying to be presumptuous, but are you insinuating that these thoughts are about me?”

“That they are.” His smile gives you a golden star-shaped sticker for guessing correctly.

You give him a scowl. "I'll set you up with a new therapist, then."

“Let me ask you something,” he says, leaning forward, staring right into your soul. “Are you attracted to me too?”

“I’m not comfortable answering-”

“That’s not a ‘no’. Is it?”

You try to wipe the look of shock arousal off your face.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I remember you asking a lot of questions about my sex life, especially the parts that don’t involve my wife, and getting visibly flustered when I answered them.”

“Of course I asked questions like that. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. I’m sorry if you-” 

You should ask him to leave, separate yourself before you explode in frustration. Getting defensive is not a healthy way to argue. You know this. You've told him this.

“If I remember correctly you asked me about how I touch myself, when I do it, if I watch anything.” He doesn't wait for a response from you, but it wouldn't have come anyway. “And, the whole time you were sitting there chewing on your pen, pretending not to imagine it. And then writing it down in a hurry, making sure you got down every little detail.” He taps on your pad of paper.

“Can I see this for a moment?” He snags it from the table beside you and flips through the pages. Without thinking, you leap forward and try to snatch it from him, falling into his lap.

The embarrassing part is when he lifts you off of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s highly confidential!”

“Mr and Mrs. Kennedy,” he begins to read imitating your voice.

“Enough.” You use your sternest voice with him - which is far from stern.

“It says right here that Mr. Kennedy is 'a total dick’ but ‘totally fuckable’.”

“It does not!”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?” He looks up with a smile on his face that’s both charming and cruel.

"I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to play with me right now, Leon."

It's the devil's edition of 20 questions, it seems.

He flips the pad closed, and says, “I’ll leave right now if you answer one question truthfully.”

“Fine," you huff, snatching the pad of paper and stashing it out of his reach.

“Did you go home and touch yourself while thinking about me?”

You shake your head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not."

“You couldn’t even make it home, huh? You did it right here, didn’t you?”

You don't have to answer - the look on your face gives it away.

“Was it on the couch? Right where I was sitting? Where I'm sitting right now."

“Fine. You win, you got it right. Are you happy now?” You concede because you want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, so you can go hide your face and die. 

You want him to fuck you within an inch of your life and then you'll die happily. La petite mort? That's what they call it, right? You want that.

Leon just hums in response, giving you no insight into his thoughts. Though it doesn't take a therapist to guess that he's mentally fucking you. To your surprise, he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

When he gets to the door, you say, “Wait-”

“What?” He asks, nonchalant to such a degree that one might believe the events of the previous few minutes never transpired at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Like I said I would.”

“You’re just gonna leave? Do you get off on embarrassing people? Is that it?”

“No. I get off to you, and you know that." He's oddly defensive despite having the upper hand. "I also know that a large part of you despises me, but it’s because there’s a part of you that wants to fuck me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the therapist, not me.”

“I’m telling your wife.”

“You’re going to tattle on me?" He laughs. “That wouldn’t be very HIPAA-compliant of you, would it?”

“Why are you doing this?" It feels like a nightmare that you can't escape where a terrifying shadowy figure is chasing you while you're screaming out for help and no one's listening. Except, this is more horrific due to the fact that you like it. Your thoughts about the man in front of you are downright depraved. You are both the monster, mirrors of each other. 

"I thought you wanted to fix your marriage," you say.

“My wife wants to fix our marriage. You and I both know it’s doomed. But you’re not allowed to say that, are you?”

You shouldn't be saying half the things you are right now, but it's too late to turn back now. You are the sunk cost. And the ship that was the concept of 'fixing Leon's marriage' has already sailed.

“You want the truth? I’ve known since the moment you opened your mouth that your marriage was done.”

“Then why did you keep having sessions? Was it for the money?” He pauses. “I doubt it. You’re a good therapist. You could get other clients. There was another reason. And, we both know what that reason is, but I won’t make you say it. I’m not that mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And that’s what you like most about me.”

“It is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you want to? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Convince me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking me to convince you instead of telling me to fuck off? You just want me to come up with a reason that doesn’t make you feel bad about doing it.”

“And there isn’t one.”

“No, there isn’t," he says with a bit of pity, knowing he's dragging you down into the second circle of Hell with him.

“You have to swear to tell your wife.”

“Is that a yes?”

He did not swear to tell his wife, but Leon is a cheater and a liar already. If he swore to tell his wife, you'd only be an idiot to believe him. 

“Lock the door.”

He turns around and flicks the lock. “Done.”

You stand up and his mouth is on yours. He’s the best kisser. Silver-tongued, you should've known it. You can fucking taste it too. Metallic. No, that's blood. You bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

You’re the one who starts undressing him first but he doesn’t make fun of you. He helps you out of your top instead.

“Goddamn you have perfect tits. It’s a shame you always keep ‘em hidden.”

“It’s a professional environment.”

“Yeah, it’s so professional that you fuck your clients in it.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

"Don't worry. You’re not the first therapist I’ve fucked. I’ll lead.” Leon lays you down on the couch  - roughly, but cradling your head so you don’t knock it on anything. 

You gasp. "Leon, the couch is damp from your wet clothes," you whine.

"I promise it'll be soaked by the time I leave."

Before you can open your mouth, he’s kissing down your chest, making his way to your panties. His tongue is good at more than just talking. He has you unraveling within minutes, moaning obscenely.

“As much as love your pretty moans, baby, we’ve gotta be quiet. Don’t want you to get fired.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a good therapist, and a good girl.”

“You think I’m a good girl?”

“So good. And you taste amazing.” He places a kiss on your clit and you nearly cry, having forgotten the feeling of his tongue in the mere seconds you spent without it. “I want you to come in my mouth.” He sucks on your clit until you do.

Leon's lips are dark and puffy when they meet yours - the ones on your face. He asks, “How did you imagine us doing it?”.

“Mostly me on top of you.”

“It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he says, placing featherlight kisses from your jaw down your neck.

You shake your head. “None of this is.”

“I know. You've got morals. You’re a good girl.” He pauses before whispering into the shell of your ear, “That’s why you deserve to have me however you want me.”

His right hand is busy holding you steady so he fingers you with his left. You watch as his wedding band slips in and out of your pussy along with his middle finger, giving a double fuck you to his wife with each movement.

He seems fascinated by the squelching sounds, no longer focused on getting his dick inside you. The heavy rain outside covers up some of the noise but not enough to save you the embarrassment.

"Jesus. Just fuck me already." You try desperately to avoid sounding desperate, praying he takes your irritation at face value.

But you're too obvious, you wear your sick, sick heart on your sleeve. 

"You want my dick that bad and you haven't even seen it yet."

"I hope it's as big as your ego."

"No you don't. That'd be painful, medically concerning probably."

You want to laugh because he manages to be funny and charming as hell despite being an absolute dick, but that fact makes you hate him more. And the blood that courses through you has nowhere to go but south.

All the while, his fingers refuse to leave your aching center. "Leon," you whine, pushing his hand away, "you're gonna make me cum again."

"I know," he purrs. "I wanna make up for all the months you've spent here by yourself, with your fingers inside you instead of mine."

"I was pretending they were yours." There's no point in saving the confession anymore.

"I'm sure you were, but I've got somethin' better for you, baby."

And, abruptly, he removes his fingers. You watch him unbuckle his belt, and despite this being your fantasy, you look at him like he's betrayed you.

"What?" he says, coyly, "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, but I was about to cum, and you just took your fingers away. You're such an asshole!" You pout like a bratty child.

"Yeah, I know I am," he says - his words are muffled by the square packet he tears with his teeth. He slides on the rubber barrier before he picks you up and sits you down on his cock, disregarding the obscene noises you make as he shoves himself inside you all at once.

You're wet but there's a stretch. His dick is big, maybe not as big as his ego, but bigger than any you've taken before. This is how he gets away with it, you think.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. His hands have an iron grip on your hips. "You've gotta learn to loosen up and relax. You're too high strung. This is probably good for you."

It's not, you'll find when the orgasm wears off, but right now it feels really fucking good.

His thumb circles your clit while you bounce up and down, working well in tandem. Ironic, as you've made so little progress in your weekly sessions. As expected, the dual stimulation makes you slick with arousal, opening you up for him.

His voice sounds distant, droned out by your own moans which get even louder as his words get filthier. "Bet all your advice didn't work 'cause your brain was all fuzzy thinking about what my cock would feel like inside you. Or maybe you did it on purpose 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

"No… n-no-" you say, voice trembling just as your thighs do.

"S'okay, baby. Girls with messy pussies like you can't help it. Just need to get some dick in you and then you can go back to being a good girl."

Can you? Maybe you can a 'good girl' in the bedroom, but a morally-upstanding woman? Even in your own eyes, he's corrupted you.

Still, you call out for him, "Leon," you cry, the singular syllable drawn out. You are lucky that the thunder from the storm is louder than your voice could ever be.

"I know," he says, "I'm close too."

The way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. 

You are oddly dissatisfied at the fact that he spills into the condom, not into you. It feels so impersonal. Because it is. It doesn't escape you that he didn't say your name - not even a pet name - just a simple 'fuck' when he came.

You point him in the direction of the trashcan where he can throw away the physical evidence of the mess you've made.

His pants are back on in a second while you remain naked on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he says. "Ashley's making dinner. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

"You're gonna go home to her?" you say, more disappointed than surprised.

"Yeah. What did you think I was going to do?"

Truly, you weren't thinking. If you were, you would not have had sex with Leon. 

"I'm surprised you're not happy. I'm gonna go spend some quality time with my wife. That was your advice - wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You're our marriage counselor. I'm just trying to fix my marriage."

"You're doing an awful job."

"I know," he says, with his hand on the doorknob. "See you on Wednesday."

[tiredcreatur3]

middle aged toji fucking his son’s girlfriend cuz he’s a fucking scumbag of a father and obviously, who wouldn’t wanna fuck a tight lil pussy like that, even the more when you’ve been so so obviously teasing him ever since megumi introduced you to each other.

-

toji’s son, your boyfriend was already asleep on the couch after he decided that he should maybe start visiting his father more often now that he moved away after college and toji lived alone in such a big house.

you couldn’t sleep so you decided to go and get a glass of water in the kitchen, just wearing your boyfriend’s shirt and nothing else because you’ve already visited few times and felt safe enough to do so, panties sticking out as the shirt barely reached the bottom of your ass.

you almost gasped out loud but definitely jumped up a little once you heard your boyfriend’s dad’s deep voice, blushing a little bit as he stood right behind you to get something from the upper cupboard above you.

“ ‘gumi’s asleep?” he asked quietly and you let out a soft ‘yes sir’, taking a sip of your water.

you had to admit that he turned you on, made your panties drenched and tummy all tight. he towered above you, wide shoulders practically hiding you completely and oh, his gaze really did something to you. he was a really attractive guy but from what megumi told you, he was quite the piece of shit yet you couldn’t help but admire him any time you saw him.

obviously, you noticed how he’s been staring at you ever since you and his son become a couple. never touched you, never said anything. just hungry tired eyes staring you up and down whenever you two visited. and maybe, just maybe you enjoyed that and teased him and all, leaving your panties there few times and acting so so surprised when you’d never get them back. or acting like the sweetest little girl ever around him which oh, that was his weak spot.

and honestly, you don’t know how toji’s cock found its way into your cute little mouth few minutes later after a short small talk at 2 am in the morning, kneeling down like the good girl he knew you were, sucking his big fat cock as he rested back against the kitchen counter, his poor dick finally getting some attention, head lolling back few times as oh, you had such a little mouth that he was afraid to even fuck it but god, you knew how to work it so goddamn well.

he stared down at you with those soft hungry eyes of his, always seeming like he hasn’t slept in days, hair quite messy from probably rolling around in bed, sweatpants pooling at his ankles, tank top slightly rolled up as you sucked, bobbing your head and keeping eye contact with the older.

you whined a little bit, slurping at his cock as you used your hands as well, nodding your head after he shushed you, knowing that in the room next to the kitchen was your boyfriend soundly asleep.

he soon pulled you away and lifted you up on the counter no problem, not even realizing how light you were but god, it did something to him definitely. along with your soft hips and tummy, tits resting prettily under your shirt, nipples hard and prominent through the fabric. such a pretty little thing.

you immediately pulled your legs apart, he didn’t even have to say nothing, making him almost wanna chuckle, how dirty a sweet face like yours could be. he hooked two of his fingers under your underwear and pulled it aside, revealing your puffy wet clit, which was so hard not to notice and not to play with, the older rubbing at the little nub with his thumb as you sighed shakily which cause the male to use his other hand to shut you up.

“be a good girl and don’t wake your boyfriend up, yeah?” he rasped out to you in a low voice and you nodded your head, wanting to listen to him and be a good little girl, staying dead silent even though you were shaking, toji’s fingers all sticky and wet with your juices after stuffing that tight cunnie of yours with two of ‘em.

and oh, you couldn’t wait any longer, you just really really needed it, that tight coil in your lower tummy so so annoying, staring at the male the whole time as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your entrance, knowing he was after a vasectomy so there was nothing to worry about.

you inched your hips slowly closer to him, practically melting and falling apart on his cock once he began to fuck you, leaving you practically stunned and dumb founded, starry fucked out eyes watching the older male as he rolled his hips into your wet slimy mess of a cunt.

“that’s a good girl, shit..” he whispered out, abs flexing whenever he pulled out almost all the way and could feel how tight you were around him.

your mouth was still covered which you were glad for, shaky little pants leaving you still, your boyfriend’s father basically destroying you on his dick, making you forget everything and anything you’ve ever known except for pleasure.

he knew you’ve been innocently teasing him, testing the waters, how much he could handle and withstand and oh, he wanted you to learn a lesson not to do that or this would happen.

his other hand caressed your body, resting on your to your thigh and eventually going back to stroking your clit, so so puffy and red like the rest of your messy cunt as he fucked you nice and deep.

maybe even few more times, bending you over against the counter, practically lifting you off the ground whenever he’d hold your hips, watching how hard it’d be for you to keep your mouth shut.

maybe, just maybe, even fucking you for the third time, letting you hug him and hold onto him like a tick as he’d rut his hips into your soapy cunt already filled with two of his loads and you yourself having came a bunch already.

and then letting you waddle back to your boyfriend’s arms, legs all wobbly and cunt full of his seed, all messy and trembly after fucking you nice and good to warn you what happens when you tease him for too long before going out for a quick cig.

not like it was of any help because this was definitely worth the teasing in your opinion.

[snwpcktz]

A PIN STRAIGHT TO MY HEART

PAIRING: jungwon x fem!reader

GENRE: high school au, classmates to lovers, acquaintances to lovers, fluff

SYNOPSIS: the famous decelis academy confession board is where students pin their written feelings on an anonymous sticky note in hopes of their crush reading it. for y/n, this is the perfect opportunity to finally come to terms with the feelings she has for her classmate--yang jungwon. she has everything planned out, from the color of the sticky note she would be using (blue, it's jungwon's favorite color) to the location she would pin it on the board (smackdown in the middle of the decorative heart the student council put up for valentine's day ages ago). but what happens when y/n sees jungwon pinning his own confession note mere seconds before she planned to?

WARNINGS: mutual pining, little jealousy, swearing, reader is a little oblivious, reader uses she/her pronouns, mentions of other idols (sunoo, niki, wonyoung, minji, rei, intak, minjae)

WC: 5.3k

NOTE: hello everyone! here's my first fic, sorry that it took so long! i hope that the wait from the teaser wasn't bad! and ofc i'm open to any and all feedback :) pls enjoy the read!

"should i do it?"

wonyoung sighed for the nth time. "y/n, you ask me this every ten minutes and i give you the exact same answer. do it! there's nothing to lose since it's anonymous."

"yeah, but i want him to know it's from me," y/n mumbled, picking at the food on her lunch tray.

"then put your name on it."

"but what if he rejects me after that?"

"then don't put your name on it."

"but i need him to know that i like him!"

"goddamn it, y/n!" wonyoung groaned, massaging her head with her hands. "at this point just confess in person. you're really stressing me out here."

y/n rolled her eyes. "but i have like a 99.999999999% chance of rejection if i do that."

"and that's why we decided to do the confession board!" wonyoung retorted. "look, we're getting nowhere with this, so i suggest that you take my advice and- you're not even listening to me."

wonyoung was right--y/n was indeed not at all listening to her. not when the yang jungwon just entered the canteen in all his glory.

crisp uniform, broad shoulders, fluffy hair, and those gorgeous eyes. yang jungwon was just as attractive as he was yesterday. and the day before. and the day before that. scratch that, since freshman year.

the first time y/n met jungwon was in freshman biology, where they were partnered up to dissect a frog. it had been a few months since they had been in the same class, but y/n never interacted with him until they were paired together for the lab. in spite of her ridiculous comments and irritatingly loud reactions, jungwon has completed the lab calmly and with ease, even caring to explain everything she had missed while revolting at the sight of their frog.

once freshman jungwon handed in their neatly written lab report and shot a reassuring (and adorable) smile to his lab partner, y/n knew that the heat rising in her face and the rapid beating in her chest meant that she had taken a liking towards this boy.

and since then, y/n had reserved her heart for the one and only boy who managed to make her tummy flutter with giddiness.

of course, that was from way back in freshman year. has she made any progress since then? absolutely not.

even though the famous decelis academy confession board had been a temptation every single year, y/n simply could not bring herself to pin her feelings on it. but after reading hundreds of anonymous confessions, y/n had decided to finally get over her hopelessness and muster up the courage to post a note of her own. she had an intricate plan set in stone:

step one - purchase blue sticky notes (because blue is jungwon's favorite color) and dog stickers (because y/n found out that he has an adorable dog after stalking his instagram)

step two - write out a heartfelt confession that does not give away y/n's identity but still shows some hints to who she is (this would take several trials)

step three - arrive at school at exactly 8:25 AM on thursday, which is when everyone is trying to get to homeroom and will not be around the confession board located next to the art studio

step four - pin the note right in the middle of the heart from valentine's day so that it's extremely hard to miss

step five - pray that yang jungwon reads it and feels the same and asks y/n out and starts dating her and proposes to her and marries her and they live in a nice house with two kids and a dog until they grow old together

well, step five was pretty unreasonable but the rest of the plan would work! as long as y/n stopped staring at jungwon and actually started to listen to her friend, who was trying to get her to even begin step one.

"if you don't do this, some other girl might snatch him away," wonyoung commented, picking up her chopsticks and pointing them at y/n accusingly. "so you better get to work."

"okay okay, i'll do it!" y/n replied with a soft sigh following her words. "i just hope he reads it."

"he will. as long as you actually make the note," wonyoung added. "you do this every single wednesday. make this one the last time this happens."

"okay, jesus. i will. oh my fucking god."

wonyoung's lips curved into a smile. "good."

8:25 AM on a thursday. y/n was already at school, looking around the arts building for the confession board with her note in her hand. she had spent three hours crafting the perfect confession note for jungwon (the pile of crumpled sticky notes in her trashcan is enough proof of that), neatly writing out each word and carefully decorating it with little dog stickers.

she mentally crossed out step three of her plan as the wood border of the bulletin board came into her sight. it was perfect. an empty hallway with the lights dimmed down and no sounds of other students. this was her one chance to finally pin her confession to the board.

she smiled while looking at the board that was mere steps away. the spot smackdown in the middle of the large pink heart was empty, just as planned. the universe was most definitely on her side.

suddenly, y/n could hear footsteps coming from the opposite end of the hallway. panic rushed to her head as she quickly hid behind a wall near the board, stuffing the note in the pocket of her school blazer.

she peeked her head out to observe whoever was passing by. maybe it was just a teacher. or the janitor. or the theater director. either way, she needed the coast clear for her to pin her note.

the person turned around the corner, closing in on the confession board. y/n squinted her eyes, trying to catch any noticeable features. school uniform, broad shoulders, styled black hair- wait, was that yang jungwon?

y/n's eyes widened as she swallowed down the anxiety in her throat. why was yang jungwon at the confession board at (now) 8:26 AM on a thursday?

jungwon approached the confession board, his back facing y/n from her hiding spot. she could see him pull out something from his pocket and reach over to the container of thumbtack pins to the left of the board. was yang jungwon really posting a confession note?

y/n's suspicions were confirmed when he pushed a red pin through a pink sticky note, right in the empty space in the middle of the pink heart. she could feel her heart beating rapidly as she watched him walk away leisurely, fear creeping into her head once again.

she paused for a minute, unable to calm the pounding in her chest as she slumped against the cold wall. taking one last glance at the board, y/n pushed herself off of the wall and turned around, deciding to head to class.

a million questions were running through her head, but only one overshadowed any other thought she had: did yang jungwon just post a confession to another girl?

y/n felt her frown tugging even further down her face throughout the day. of course, the confession board was a hot topic every single day--especially when someone adds a new sticky note to the board. but y/n didn’t expect that the identity of the author who wrote the latest pink sticky note would be revealed so soon.

“jungwon apparently told a classmate that he wrote it, but he won’t say who it’s to,” a student said while passing y/n’s desk.

and there was that. the mystery recipient. the person who ruined all of y/n’s plans. all she wanted to do was finally confess her feelings with the hope that they could be returned. but what was the point of doing that now when her crush had already confirmed that he has feelings for another girl?

“i think it’s to minji, she’s been talking to jungwon a lot recently.”

y/n let out a frustrated huff after hearing that. she wasn’t in the mood to listen to people talk about possible candidates for jungwon’s mystery crush, especially when she barely had any chance of filling that spot.

wonyoung could only frown sympathetically, watching her friend's gloomy state. she knew how much this confession meant to y/n, but neither of them could have predicted that things would turn out this way.

“do you wanna get food, babe?” wonyoung asked, gently rubbing y/n’s head that was face-planted on her desk. “maybe a snack will help.”

“nothing can cure what i’m feeling right now,” y/n grumbled.

“you need to get up. you’ve been stuck at your desk for almost all of our break.”

“i don’t feel like getting up.”

wonyoung sighed before standing up and stretching her arms. “come on, let’s go get you something to eat. i’ll treat you.”

y/n groaned while sliding out of her seat. “i’m only doing this for free food,” she muttered as wonyoung linked arms with her.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

wonyoung practically dragged y/n by the arm to get to the snack shop, trying to avoid lingering in the hallway when everyone was talking about jungwon’s note.

"did you hear that jungwon confessed to someone? he confirmed it himself!"

"i think he likes rei, she's close with his friend niki."

"it has to be to minji, she's literally the only woman he'll look at."

y/n huffed at the comments flying around her with an uneasy feeling at the pit of her stomach. it upset her to imagine jungwon with another girl, staring into her eyes with love glassed across his own. she squeezed tighter onto wonyoung's arm as they swerved through the crowd, reaching their destination as quickly as possible.

unfortunately, luck was not on their side. the person y/n least wanted to see at the moment was standing at the drinks shelf, surrounded by some of his friends--and minji.

"yang jungwon!" y/n sharply hissed at wonyoung, pulling on the sleeve of the taller girl's blazer. "yang fucking jungwon is here! with minji!"

her friend turned to glance at the said boy and girl and rolled her eyes. "ignore him, let's go get our food."

y/n allowed wonyoung to drag her to the shelf stocked with savory snacks, shooting a small glare at minji before turning her head around.

what she didn't notice was that yang jungwon had recognized her presence the moment she turned around. he held the cold watermelon soda closer to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

"i don't know why people think it's me, i'm already in a relationship," minji sighed, fiddling with the strawberry milk in her hands.

"well, you do spend a lot of time with jungwon," niki reasoned, leaning against a nearby wall. "at least in terms of girl-space-friends. he doesn't have a lot of game."

"but some people think it's rei and she doesn't spend a lot of time with jungwon," minji countered. "actually, i don't think i've seen them interact since they've been introduced to each other."

"so if it's not minji or rei, who is it?" sunoo questioned.

all three students turned to look at jungwon, who slowly snapped out of his daze. "huh?"

"who'd you write the note to, won?" minji asked.

"i don't think i can answer that," jungwon mumbled, clenching the soda can tighter. "i'd prefer to keep that private."

"come on, we're your closest friends!" niki groaned, frowning at jungwon's response. "you can tell us--in exchange, we'll help you get the girl."

jungwon paused, pondering over niki's offer for a moment with his friend's eager stares fixated on him. he let out a brief sigh before answering, "fine. i'll give you a small hint."

his friends gasped, anticipation evident on their faces. jungwon took another quick glance at y/n, who was searching for seaweed-flavored chips, and felt the fluttering feeling in his stomach once again.

"she's in this room with us. right now."

his friends looked at each other with confused expressions. "it's just us four and the cashier...and intak..and minjae...and wonyoung...and y/n," sunoo listed, scanning the entire snack shop.

"the cashier? be so fucking for real right now bro," niki scoffed with a disgusted look on his face. "she's like, 70."

"no, what the fuck?" jungwon grimaced. "i mean someone our age. who do you take me for?"

"oh, i think i know who it is!" minji exclaimed with a smile. "it's y/n, isn't it?"

jungwon widened his eyes. he could feel a sharp rush of heat to his cheeks as he gulped at the mention of her name. minji let out a small chuckle at the boy's obvious reaction.

"really? you haven't talked to her since, like, freshman year," sunoo said, judging the reaction he just witnessed.

"yeah, but she's just so- ugh, you wouldn't understand. did you know that she braids her hair when she's stressed?"

"you're such a creep," niki sighed disappointedly. "no wonder you were always staring at her in class."

"look, she was doing it in first year history during our mock exam and i asked her about it," jungwon explained before glaring at niki. "i am not a creep."

"does she know your note's for her?" minji asked.

"no, i don't think so," jungwon replied with a small frown forming on his face. "i don't even think she likes me back. i mean, i don't really talk to her so i probably just seem weird."

"a creep," niki corrected, poking jungwon's shoulder harshly. "you seem like a creep."

"shut up."

"well, we can help you talk to her again so that you can show your interest," sunoo offered while tucking his phone into the back pocket of his uniform pants. "like right now."

the pink-haired boy whipped his head around to where y/n and wonyoung were standing, who had moved onto the bakery section.

"wonyoung! y/n!"

jungwon smacked sunoo immediately after the two girls' names left his mouth. "what the fuck are you doing," he muttered, trying to clench his lips together to seem like he wasn't talking.

"uh, helping you? duh," sunoo replied with a roll of his eyes.

meanwhile, the two girls stood across the snack shop, frozen with multiple bags of snacks in their arms.

"why did jungwon's friend say our name?" y/n questioned, also clenching her lips in fear that her crush would notice her talking about his friends. "and how does he know we exist?"

"the question is actually how does he know you exist," wonyoung responded before pulling y/n's arm. "come on, let's go see what he wants."

"no!" y/n whisper-yelled. "i can't...he's there...and minji's there..."

"you'll survive," wonyoung sighed. "we're going and that's final."

ignoring her friend's protests, wonyoung dragged y/n over to the group of four. "hi sunoo, what's up?"

"nothing, jungwon just wanted to tell y/n something," sunoo replied with a grin, causing jungwon's eyes to widen in concern.

"he did?" y/n mumbled.

"i did?" jungwon whispered, shooting a glare at sunoo's smiling face.

jungwon glanced at y/n but quickly looked away, swallowing down the nervous bundle in his throat. he didn't know if he could contain himself if he looked one second longer into her curious eyes.

he cleared his throat for an unnaturally long time, causing his friends to send questioning looks towards him. "um, yeah, uh...i, well, i was wondering..."

y/n found herself slightly leaning towards the anxious boy, which only caused jungwon's heart to beat faster.

"uh...do...do you have history next?"

niki rolled his eyes while minji felt the need to facepalm herself.

y/n shot a glance at wonyoung before responding, "um, yeah. why?"

"well, uh..." jungwon felt himself breaking out in a sweat, panicking to make up an excuse. "i was...uh-"

"he wanted to offer his notes to you since he just had history," sunoo quickly covered. jungwon blinked before nodding, swallowing down his anxiety once again.

y/n's eyes widened. it was common for jungwon, an intelligent and diligent student, to offer help to people in academics. but what shocked her was the fact that he offered her his history notes--as if he knew that it was her weakest subject.

she didn't hesitate to accept the offer, sending a wave of relief over jungwon. "uh, i'll drop them off once i get back to my classroom."

"yeah, no problem. thanks for the notes!" y/n replied, shooting a small smile at the boy before allowing wonyoung to drag her to the register.

once the duo was far enough, jungwon turned around to face his friends with an excited smile curled on his face. "did you see that? she smiled at me!"

"yeah, no thanks to yourself," sunoo grumbled. "i did all the work. for free!"

"you're too awkward, jungwon," minji sighed, a pained expression on her face.

"i think you should stick to being a nerd," niki commented. "it...suits you better."

niki spent the rest of the break running away from said nerd.

y/n slumped in her seat, resting her cheek in her left hand and tapping her foot on the ground. she checked the clock above the blackboard. 10:27 AM. three minutes left for jungwon to fulfill his promise.

she let out another sigh. she didn't expect herself to anticipate much from the exchange--after all, he was just offering her his history notes. but she found herself rushing back to her classroom, waiting (and struggling to wait) for his presence at the doorframe while each minute dragged on.

10:28. a frown etched onto y/n's face. the day seemed to just get worse and worse. first, her confession was ruined by her crush himself. next, her crush proceeded to post a confession to another girl. now, her crush failed to complete a promise two minutes before her least favorite class.

another moody sigh. y/n lazily reached into her bag, pulling out her history textbook and her pencil case. she should've known to never trust men, like her mother said. all men are liars.

she slowly flipped through her textbook, feeling her frown drag down even further. the classroom was bustling with chatter, savoring the last couple of minutes before another hour long class. but here she was, slouching in her seat with a gray thundercloud above her head. she could practically visualize wonyoung looking at her pathetically from across the room.

the room came to a sudden silence. y/n sluggishly raised her head. was their history teacher here early?

there he was. yang jungwon, frozen at her classroom's doorframe with a notebook in his hand. his cheeks were flushed with a light pink as he weaved through the students, approaching y/n's desk.

y/n felt herself stop breathing. he did come to fulfill his promise, after all. huh. maybe not all men are liars.

jungwon bashfully smiled at her, gently placing his notebook on her desk. he wasn't hard of hearing, he could tell that everyone was whispering about him--more specifically, about his confession note. all he could hope for was that his crush wasn't super obvious, but he was sure that what he was doing at the moment actually made it 10x more obvious.

"um, here's my notes," jungwon said in a hushed voice, conscious of the sudden volume change. "hopefully they're useful."

"thanks..." y/n mumbled, making eye contact with the boy for a mere second before glancing away. it was too hard for her to contain the pounding feelings in her heart, especially when the yang jungwon had his eyes on her (and only her).

she could only imagine a world where he would stare at her, eyes filled with love and adoration.

"no problem," jungwon replied, noting to himself about how cute she looked today. if only he could sit next to her, one arm around her shoulder and another guiding her through the history material. he would never forgive the administrator who put them in separate classes.

"um, aren't you going to be late?"

y/n's comment snapped him out of his trance, suddenly realizing that he was still standing in front of her desk with students around him still whispering about his confession note. awkward.

jungwon shut his eyes close for a second. she probably thinks i'm a creep. niki, i guess you're right.

"uh, yeah. i'll just...i'll go now."

he mustered up a little courage to send a small wave before rushing out of the room, eyes glued to the floor in front of him.

y/n let out a quiet snicker, finding the boy's awkwardness humorous (and extremely cute). unfortunately, she realized too late that everyone's eyes were still on her and coughed unnaturally loud to cover up her previous reaction.

the sound of heels clicking caused all the students' eyes to rip away from her and immediately slide into their seats. their history teacher was finally here, ready to lead another sleep-inducing lecture.

"good morning class," the history teacher, ms. choi, announced. "please turn to page 127 of your textbooks. we're picking up where we left off from last class with the silla dynasty."

y/n reached for jungwon's notebook as the students around her searched for the page in their textbooks. she easily found the respective page of notes due to the sticky note jungwon had marked the page with.

such a cute pink, y/n thought, brushing her thumb over the familiar-colored sticky note. too bad he used it for a different girl.

it was twenty minutes into the class and y/n found herself extremely bored. although jungwon's notes were perfectly organized and super helpful, y/n couldn't help but feel her attention span slowly decreasing. the textbook was boring, the content was boring, and ms. choi's voice was boring.

she decided to flip through jungwon's notebook. as expected, all of his notes were neatly written with key ideas highlighted and citations to textbook pages. what else could she expect from him?

y/n closed the notebook, running her thumb along the edge of the pages like a flipbook. the glimpses of blue highlighter partially satisfied her boredom, along with the flash of pink at the very end of the notebook. wait, pink?

y/n's curiosity got the best of her as she turned to the end of the notebook, revealing multiple pink sticky notes with lengthy paragraphs and words scratched out in black ink. being the nosy person she is, she decided to read the notes, tuning out ms. choi's monotonous voice.

i've liked you for a long time, but i haven't had the courage to confess.

oh. they were drafts of his confession note.

y/n pursed her lips, taking in a sharp breath. she swallowed down the discomfort she felt and continued to read the notes.

ever since freshman year, i've been attracted to you in so many more ways than i can describe. that sweet smile you show off to your friends. the laugh you let out at small jokes. the tenderness in your eyes as you talk with the cashier in the snack shop. i see why she said that you remind her of her granddaughter.

y/n bitterly smiled. he really likes her, huh?

i like am in love am pathetically in love with you. i feel like a lost puppy, hoping for the smallest interaction with you every single day. i wonder if you can feel my stares from across the lunch room, desperately hoping that you would happen to notice me and look back. i know we haven't talked much since freshman year, but i can't help but imagine us together.

y/n quickly diverted her eyes to a different sticky note, chewing on her lip harshly. she didn't know why, but she couldn't stop reading them, even if his words only caused her more pain.

i hope you can accept this confession, but if you don't like me back i hope we can become friends again. from, your freshman bio partner (p.s. i'm glad that we were paired up for that frog lab)

wait, frog lab? y/n's eyebrows furrowed. the only partner jungwon had for the frog dissection lab in freshman biology was...her.

y/n's heart pounded against her chest. she needed to read whatever note jungwon posted on the confession board, right fucking now.

the moment the bell rang, y/n shoved all of her history materials in her bag. she didn't want to spare a minute from reaching that damned confession board that she had been avoiding since morning.

grabbing jungwon's notebook, y/n joined the crowd of students rushing towards the canteen, forgetting about wonyoung who appeared behind her.

"let's eat with rei today, hm?" wonyoung suggested.

"can't talk right now, won. i need to be somewhere," y/n responded before pushing her way through the crowd.

"y/n, wait!"

y/n ignored her friend's concerned voice, mentally making a note to apologize to her later. she ran through the halls, opposite of all the students heading towards the canteen. hugging the notebook close to her chest, she made a beeline towards the arts building, feeling the beating in her chest increase every single second.

once she arrived, she slowed down her pace, allowing herself to catch her breath and wipe off the light sweat on her forehead. there she stood in the same position she was in at 8:25 AM, right in front of the confession board littered with colorful sticky notes.

a couple of students lingered around the board, checking for any new confessions before heading to lunch. as y/n's breathing slowed down, she approached the center of the board, eyes locked on the pink sticky note posted mere hours ago.

she took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to read the note she had been avoiding all day.

to my freshman year crush, i've liked you for a long time, but i haven't had the courage to confess. that is, until now. ever since freshman year, i've been attracted to you. your smile, your laugh, your kind personality. it's no wonder the cashier at the snack shop says that you remind her of her granddaughter. grandparents only say that to people they know have the purest, sweetest souls on earth, and you are one of them. i am utterly, pathetically, and desperately in love with you. i feel like a lost puppy, hoping for the smallest interaction with you every single day. i wonder if you can feel my longing stares from across the lunch room, hoping that you would happen to notice me and meet my eyes. i know we haven't talked much since freshman year, but i can't help but imagine us together. i wish that i had the courage to confess in person, but i'm afraid of rejection. i hope that this confession comes off well to you, and i 100% understand if you don't like me back. i just hope that we can be friends again, at the very least. from, your freshman bio partner (p.s. i'm glad we were paired up for the frog lab. as taylor swift said, i guess i was enchanted to meet you)

y/n felt her breathing stop as she finished reading the note. it was too good to be true. she needed to talk to him, to confirm with him, and to confess to him.

she wasted no time running to the canteen, earning questioning stares from the students she passed by. the canteen was busy per usual, bustling with student chatter and silverware sounds. y/n skimmed the room, eyes landing on the one person she wanted to talk to.

she rushed towards his table, avoiding the mass of lunch trays around her. "jungwon!" she called.

the said boy looked up from his table, curious round eyes meeting hers. "could i talk to you for a minute?"

jungwon nodded, standing up to follow y/n. what she didn't notice was sunoo winking at jungwon, niki mouthing a "go get her, tiger!", and minji softly smiling with pride.

jungwon followed y/n to the hallway outside of the canteen, trickling with the last students getting their lunches. y/n faced jungwon, feeling her cheeks heat up at the sight of his curious gaze.

"um, i wanted to return this to you," y/n began, handing over his notebook.

"oh, thanks," jungwon replied, taking it into his hands. he felt himself grow a little disappointed--was that all she wanted to tell me?

y/n softly cleared her throat before deciding to continue. "so, uh, this might be in invasion of privacy but i got really bored in history and looked through your notebook and i might have found your sticky notes and i might have read them...without your permission?"

"notes? what notes?" jungwon mumbled, flipping through his notebook. it only took a second of him skimming the sticky notes in the back for him to shut the notebook closed, a furious blush spreading across his face.

"and, uh, i read one that ended with 'from your freshman bio partner' or something like that and it mentioned the frog lab. and then i remembered that i was your partner during that lab but i wasn't sure if you wrote that for sure so i went to check the confession board and it said the same thing so...yeah."

jungwon was frozen, cheeks bright red with panic-stricken eyes. "so...uh, i just wanted to confirm if-"

"yes," jungwon whispered, not daring to meet her eyes. "it- it is about you..."

he squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of silence, preparing himself for rejection. he could already feel the weight in his heart getting heavier, thumping against his chest.

"i, uh, i- i like you too, jungwon."

the boy opened his eyes, shock evident on his face. he whipped his head up, now seeing a y/n with an equally flushed face not meeting his eyes.

"y- you do?"

"yeah," y/n mumbled, a shy smile spreading on her face. "i really, really like you."

jungwon couldn't help but smile back, trying his best to contain the butterflies practically swarming in his stomach.

"so, um, i was actually planning to confess to you today," y/n admitted, earning a surprised reaction from jungwon. "but i saw you post your note on the confession board first and i got scared because...well, i thought that you confessed to someone else."

y/n reached into her blazer's pocket, pulling out the crumpled blue sticky note that she had been hiding the whole day. "i guess i'll just give it to you now since...well, yeah..."

she quickly flattened out the sticky note before handing it to jungwon, who gently took it with a small smile.

to jungwon, i've liked you for so long but i've finally decided to confess. since freshman year, you've been nothing but kind to me. i felt myself melt into a puddle every single time you shot a smile at me or offered your help with something. i can’t help but admire your charming appearance, your charismatic leadership qualities, and the smile that you give to every person alike. you’re loved by so many people and i happened to fall into that same crowd. i know you most likely do not feel the same but i hope that we can talk more, the way we did back in freshman year. from, anonymous

jungwon couldn't help the shy grin growing on his face. every word written completely erased all the anxious emotions he had in his head. this is what it feels like, he thought. this is what it feels like to be loved back.

jungwon didn't need to say anything. he simply took y/n's clammy hand into his, intertwining their shaking fingers together. no words were needed after they had spent hours of their lives writing out their feelings for each other. they shared a smile, feeling secure together and lovingly gazing into each other’s eyes.

for the first time for the day, y/n was glad that jungwon had interrupted her confession, pining his heart on the board so that she could give him hers.

© snwpcktz

taglist: @jngwnlvs

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 23 (chan pov)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i really loved writing from chan's pov. i hope you all enjoy this one!!

[ read chapter 22 here ]

Chapter Twenty-Three: Of You

You haven’t spoken to me in days.

A few months ago, this wouldn’t have bothered me at all. I would have been fine with it. I would have preferred it. Here I am now, silently pleading with you at the table to look at me. But you don’t. And it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said those things to you the other night. I shouldn’t have fucked you like that.

Seeing you hurt as a direct result of my actions has never been easy to accept. In the beginning I brushed it off as being necessary. After you bulldozed through the walls I had up, though, it felt impossible to reassemble them. I’m Humpty fucking Dumpty over here.  

Should I have sent you away when you showed up at our house? Lee Know was in charge of the applicants, so I was floored seeing you walk in behind Seungmin that day. If I’d seen you amongst the candidates beforehand, I would have rejected it...maybe. I would have at least been able to spare you of the bullshit I put you through then, and again now. It’s unfair to you. I know it is.

But once you were here, I didn’t want you to leave. I pushed you away because I needed you to make the choice to go—I’m too selfish when it comes to you, I learned that quickly. I’ve never felt this way about anything before and I honestly don’t know how to cope with it. I feel whole when I’m with you in general, I feel invincible when I’m fucking you…how can this possibly be wrong?

Now I’m left hanging on to the tiniest of threads that connect us and I’m trying not to cling too hard for fear that it will snap from all the weight I bear in this. The thought of losing you terrifies me. And I know it’s inevitable.

I attempt to talk to you after dinner when I see you in the hallway. I want to apologize for my actions, but you cut me off.

“Don’t be. You’re right. We should want to do this and I’m going to give it a try.”

I feel consumed with rage at your words. I want to lash out and scream or punch a hole through the goddamn wall. But I don’t. I let you go.

I have to let you go.  

On Sunday when you come to my room to grab your sheets, you don’t say anything. I deserve it though, don’t I? If I hadn’t taken that trip with you my father wouldn’t have grown suspicious. I wouldn’t have to give you up for the next two weeks when I already have so little time left with you. If I hadn’t opened up to you, this wouldn’t be so hard on both of us. And on top of all that, I’m the one who told you we should be open to this first. I’m reaping what I’ve sown.

Allie comes in a little while later to put her sheets on your bed. The sight of them there doesn’t look right. Neither does she.

I watch as she moves around my room, oblivious to my mood and making small talk. I’m responsive…I think.  I will myself to feel some kind of emotion while looking at her—even if it’s just lust. She’s pretty, I could be attracted to her. If I call her over to my bed right now, she’d come. I could fuck her…but I don’t want to.

My ears perk up when she says she wants to spend the first night with me. As much as I want to object, I don’t. I can’t, really.

After dinner, I quickly shower and get into my own bed with the lights off before she returns. I can’t fall asleep, though. I’m thinking about you. Who are you staying with tonight? Are you sleeping in their bed?

I’m still wide awake when she comes back in, wearing just a towel. I can’t even be bothered to take a gander.

It disturbs me.

She shouldn’t be here. 

“Chan? Are you asleep?” she calls out into the darkness.

I remain silent and still. I hear her change into her pajamas and climb in her—your—bed, and finally feel relaxed enough to actually try falling asleep.

She stays with Hyunjin for the next three days and it feels like a relief. I’d rather be alone. But…being alone, with my thoughts does little to help me. I can’t stop thinking about you. What are you doing? Is Seungmin being good to you?

As fucked up as my mental and emotional state are, on Jeongin’s birthday I can’t keep being a recluse. He’ll be offended if I don’t show up for a little while, at least. So, I join the others in the basement for drinks and karaoke. Drinking to drown my sorrows is not something I enjoy, but tonight I want to. Especially since Allie will be in my room. I don’t want to do anything I might regret—but have you?

I’m one drink deep by the time you come in with Changbin. You seem happy. He offers to get you a drink, which I don’t mind. Then he calls you his girl. Which I do mind.

At that, I finish what’s left in my cup and give myself another heavy-handed pour of whiskey to replenish it. Have you fucked him? I wonder. The thought makes me feel sick to my stomach. I can’t help but feel selfish. In this fucked up situation, I know none of these guys would do anything to intentionally harm you. I know you’re in good hands, but…fuck. I don’t want anyone else on this entire planet to have you.

As the night carries on, everyone’s having a good time and I’m sulking in the corner like a toddler that’s been forced to share his favorite toy. I don’t know how else to feel right now. I am used to seeing you be flirtatious with Hyunjin. Seeing you cuddled up to Changbin on the couch, though, makes me want to snatch you away from him and claim you in front of everyone. But I can’t.

I can’t even be mad at him. He means well. And when he gets up to perform, I’m left smiling at his antics. I couldn’t seriously hate any of them, even if you are involved. I’ve known them for too long. These are my brothers. At the end of everything, they’re the ones who will be with me the rest of my life. Not you.

“Chan-hyung!”

I’m ripped form my confuddled thoughts when Jeongin says my name. I immediately shake my head—I’m not in the mood.

“For my birthday,” he adds. “Stop being boring and old.”

I frown at that.

Then Lee Know is marching towards me, grabbing me by the arm, and pulling me to the other room. I don’t put up too much of a fight—I’m old and boring, after all.

“For your birthday,” I look pointedly at Jeongin to which he beams back at me. “What do you wanna hear?”

“That new song you were finishing up last week,” he says.

“No, not that,” I shake my head.

For my music production minor, I’ve been spending more time in the studio than usual. There’s no better way to get my feelings and frustrations out than through music. Tortured artist and all that.

“Yes, that. It’s my birthday.”

He’s really milking this birthday thing. He connects his phone to the speaker, and I silently curse myself for having sent him the song. Everything I’ve done lately has come back to slap me in the face.

The melody starts to play, and I let out a sigh, trying to shake my troublesome thoughts and get into performance mode. I turn to face the TV; I can’t look at you while I sing this.

“Got so many questions, you seek information. No need to be desperate, we’re just getting started.”

I started writing this song before we even took our trip, but only just booked the studio time to record it. The lyrics cut deeper now than when I originally wrote them. They reveal the way I’ve felt about you. The way I still feel about you.

This is bad, isn’t it?

Do you hate it?

Are you repulsed after the way I treated you?

As I continue singing, I turn around to face everyone. My eyes find you first. You seem taken aback—it’s understandable.

“Locked in sight, we’re in trouble. A lock and a key making rumbles. I know you want me, don’t crumble.”

I avert my gaze before the next lyrics. Looking at you and singing them will make me crumble. But I mean every single word. I never thought I’d meet someone that feels so perfect for me. Why did it have to be like this?

When the song is over, I pass the mic to Rhiannon and retreat back to the bar. You’re performing now. You’re smiling and happy…all the things I wish I could make you. But I can’t. I’m not allowed to. Not for real anyways.

My eyes are so focused on you that I don’t notice Allie until she’s snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Earth to Chan—you okay?” she places a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m good,” I say, sitting up straight and drinking from my cup.

She’s standing between my legs. Again, I will myself to feel something…anything. Maybe not unbridled attraction, but at least a desire to fuck her. It doesn’t happen. I raise a hand to her waist to test it out, but it doesn’t feel right. I could kiss her right now, get it over with.

“I have class at 8 so I’m gonna head up. You coming?”

I shrug, dropping my hand from her waist.

“Come on,” she says, sliding her hand down my arm to my wrist.

I let her pull me off the chair and up the stairs with her. I guess I could go to my room with her. I probably should.

So, I do. I follow her up the steps, her hand still holding my wrist. We get to my room, and she shuts the door behind us.

“I’m gonna shower first,” I say, in hopes the steam will clear my mind up.

She releases my wrist and I retreat to my bathroom.

I should fuck her. I really should. Even though I don’t feel physically attracted to her, I can think of you to make my dick hard. Then I can fuck her and get you out of my head. I can end this turmoil.

The shower does little to make me feel better. Nothing can make me feel better.

Except you.

I spend far longer than necessary in there and when I get out, I’ve lost all conviction to sleep with her. As I re-enter my room, I’m hoping and praying that she has fallen asleep.

She hasn’t.

“Get some rest…I’m gonna go make a snack.”

“I can make you something,” she offers, pushing the sheets back.

“No, it’s okay—thank you, though. Go to sleep.”

She nods and pulls the blankets back over her.

Downstairs, I sit down on the couch and turn the TV on. I’m not even hungry. I just didn’t want to be in my room with her. I’ve never felt so hung up on someone before, it leaves me at a loss of what to do. If I fuck her, it would only be to help myself move on from you. I’m just not convinced it would work. And I’d hate myself after for it. But have you already moved on? The thought keeps plaguing me.

I remain in place, rooted to the couch, as the others start to file out of the basement. First Han and Charlotte, then Lee Know, then comes Changbin…and you.

He’s drunk. He has one arm slung over your shoulder, and both of yours are wrapped around his waist to support him. You help him up the stairs without so much as a glance in my direction. What are you going to do up there? I want to go up there after you, but I can’t.

The sounds coming from the TV start to annoy me. I mute it and stare blankly at the moving images. I don’t know how much time passes in silence. My attention is drawn to the stairs at the sound of footsteps coming down.

It’s you.

You immediately look away from me and proceed into the kitchen. I shouldn’t follow you. But I’m up and off the couch before I can stop myself. I’m drawn to wherever you are. I’m a magnet and you’re my true north.

With every step I take towards you the voice in my head—my father’s voice—is telling me to stop and turn around and I hate it. I hate that voice. I hate that it wants to steal the one piece of unadulterated happiness I’ve felt in years. You feel like bliss. You feel like hope.

He threatened to make you leave. I swear to God I nearly fucking broke right then and there. He can yell and berate me all he wants, but to threaten to take you away before our time is up? Out of the question. I put up a front, acted nonchalant about you.

‘She doesn’t mean anything, Appa.’

 Lie.

You mean everything.

When I enter the kitchen, you’re grabbing water bottles from the pantry. I don’t have a plan, but I know I need to be near you, so I walk over to the pantry and wait for you to turn around.

The second your eyes land on me, all traces of feeling confused and lost leave my body. I’m found. My body is filled with the purest warmth, and I have to touch you to get more of it. I have to have you. You avert your eyes to the water bottles in your hand and I feel a pain in my chest.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, placing a hand on your waist and pulling you towards me.

It’s an unfair question. You don’t know this inward battle I’ve been fighting since you showed up here. But I don’t know what else to say. It’s less of a question and more of a plea, really.

“I’m not doing anything,” you say softly. “I’m just…existing.”

“That’s all it takes, honestly,” I reply.  

“Chan,” you whisper, shaking your head, eyes still on the water bottles.

You won’t look up at me. Why won’t you look at me? I need you to look at me.

I take a few steps back from the pantry and bring you with me. This is the most I’ve touched you in a week. I’m not letting you go. I hold your waist with one hand and use the other to grab the water bottles, two by two, from your hand and set them on the counter before returning my attention to you.

“I feel like I’m in shambles when I’m away from you,” I admit, hooking a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at me.

“You’re drunk,” you say, trying to push me away.

I hold on to you tighter, standing my ground.

“I miss you.”

You close your eyes and sigh, shaking your head again. You don’t believe me?

“You can’t.”

“But I do.” I say, bending down to nuzzle my face into your neck.

If you push me away again, I’ll take that as a sign. If you’ve made up your mind, I’ll have to live with it.

I wait for it, but it doesn’t happen.

Instead, you wrap your arms around my neck and pull me closer to you. I take in a deep breath and feel the stars align as the familiar smell of your skin ensnares my senses.

My hand leaves your waist and trails up your back, into your hair. I grab a handful of it and tug back on it. You look up at me with those soft fucking doe eyes that make my insides melt. The complete and utter trust you have in me. I can see it.

I smash my lips against yours, maybe too hard, but I don’t care. I want you. I fucking miss you.

You don’t hesitate to kiss me back, just as passionately. Do you miss me too?

I grab you by the waist and hoist you up on the counter as we kiss. My hands fumble at the waistband of your pajama bottoms. I want you so bad. Why am I nervous? And then, you’re helping me, leaning back and lifting your hips to push them down. I pull them off and toss them on the floor beside us. I scoot you to the edge of the counter and lower myself to my knees.

You tangle your hands in my hair as I rub my nose along your slit, inhaling my favorite scent. You smell so good, baby girl. I use my tongue on you next, needing to have you with all my senses. You throw your head back and let out a quiet whimper as I continue to fill myself with what I’ve been deprived of. What I don’t want to go without.

You.

My hands grip your thighs and as I’m licking, lapping, fucking you with my tongue, the emotions I so desperately willed myself to experience earlier surface. And I know then. I know I’m done for. How can I willingly give this up?

I stand from my knees and pull you off the counter, covering your mouth with mine again.

Do you like the way you taste on me? Your moan says yes.

“My cock throbs every time I see you, y/n,” I tell you, breaking the kiss as I turn you around, groping your breasts over your t-shirt. Your head falls back against my shoulder and litter the side of your neck with kisses. I pull you against me and press my hips against yours. I want you to feel how hard I am. How hard you make me. I could come in my pants right now, without even fucking you.

I’m helpless when it comes to you. Can’t you see that?

“Tell me to stop,” I plead, resting my cheek on yours and thrusting my hips against you again.

You shake your head and lean over on the counter, poking your ass out at me. You’re such a good fucking girl. I slap your ass with the palm of my hand, watching as it jiggles in the dimly lit kitchen. I grab a hand full of it, squeezing tightly.

I push my shorts and boxers down and grab my cock with one hand, holding your hips steady with the other. I rub my cock up and down your slit, groaning at how wet you are. Your pussy is always so wet and ready for me. Do you need me just as much as I need you?

“Every time before I fuck you,” I say, teasing your opening as you moan, “I tell myself I can live without it.”

I ease myself inside of you and we both let out the biggest sigh of relief at the same time.

“But I can’t,” I continue, slowly withdrawing. “I fucking can’t.”

I thrust myself back inside of you with as much force as I can and all hell breaks loose.

I realize the precarious situation we’re in. In the kitchen. But I could not care any less. My cock is home inside of you. This is where I’m supposed to be. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  

I keep thrusting into you and you fuck me back. You want me just as much as I want you, don’t you? But do you need me like I need you? I can’t ask you that, so I just fuck you harder instead. It’s not healthy to communicate this way, but I can’t bring myself to say these desperate words to you. You take each thrust of my hips without running away and I love it. I fucking love—

No. No. I can’t.

The sound of your hushed moans, combined with the knowledge that we could be caught at any second, have all of my nerves standing at attention. You grip the edges of the counter as I grip your waist, pulling you back against me as hard as I can.

Mine.

Right now, I don’t care if you’ve fucked Seungmin or Changbin or both. They can’t hold a candle to what we have when we’re together like this. That much I’m certain of.

You’re mine, y/n.

You stand on your tiptoes and arch your back. I grit my teeth, and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shake off my release. I need more. But even with my eyes closed, I can picture how you look in front of me. I have every curve of your body memorized; do you know that? The dimples on your back that I love pressing my thumbs into when I grip your hips. The thought makes me growl as I pummel into you harder and faster.

You’re perfect. I need you to know that. With every thrust, every grunt, every moan. I need you to know.

“Chan,” I hear you say and my eyes snap open.

I see your hand buried between your legs, rubbing your clit and working yourself to an orgasm.

Yes. Please, baby girl. Come on my cock.

I feel your pussy, my pussy, clench around my cock as your legs start to shake and I let myself go too; thrusting into you with reckless abandon as I come.

I’m convinced there’s no better feeling in the world.

I’m glad you stayed.

I’m glad I didn’t see your name on the list before you showed up.

Your legs continue to quiver as I lay myself across your back, leaving my cock inside of you.

I don’t want to move.

I don’t want you to leave me.

[ read chapter 24 here ]

a/n: HOW ARE WE FEELING, MY LOVES? poor baby chan is stuck between a rock and a (constantly) hard place. i am so so so excited to hear your thoughts.

[makoodles]

pxelo | tonowari x reader x ronal [nsfw]

masterlist

pairing: tonowari x fem!human reader x ronal

word count: 10k

warnings: nsfw, threesome, human x na'vi, oral sex, p in v sex, v slight femdom (ronal is bossy), size difference

summary: As a human on Pandora, you are used to feeling like an outsider. You cannot bond with the flora and fauna the way the Na’vi can, but that doesn’t mean you can’t watch and admire. You’ve always been fascinated by the Na’vi and their ways of life, and the newness of the Metkayina is equally as captivating as everything else you’ve seen so far. But there’s one thing that has really caught your attention in Awa’atlu. Or, perhaps more accurately, two things. And it seems like you've caught their attention right back

read it on ao3

Awa’atlu is a wonder.

The white sand shores and bright turquoise ocean is reminiscent of a tropical paradise, and the way the Metkayina interact with the world around them is nothing short of beautiful. You watch it all in awe, appreciative and slightly envious by turn. 

As a human on Pandora, you are used to feeling like an outsider. You cannot bond with the flora and fauna the way the Na’vi can, but that doesn’t mean you can’t watch and admire. You’ve always been fascinated by the Na’vi and their ways of life, and the newness of the Metkayina is equally as captivating as everything else you’ve seen so far.

But there’s one thing that has really caught your attention in Awa’atlu. Or, perhaps more accurately, two things.

You had come to the ocean-side village alongside Norm to care for Kiri after she had suffered from her episode, and after the other humans had returned to their outpost among the Omaticaya, you had chosen to stay. Initially, your presence among the Metkayina was met with suspicion. As far as you’re aware, they’ve never actually encountered a human before. They watch you with sharp gazes and narrowed eyes, and maintain careful distance from you. You can’t blame them; you represent the people that have invaded their planet.

But over the few weeks that you’ve been living in the village, there are two particular gazes that weigh heavier than any other. 

Tonowari and Ronal carry the responsibility for the whole clan on their shoulders, and you understand that your appearance sets them on edge. The way they watch you so closely is understandable, really. 

But still. Their stares fluster you in a way that is absolutely mortifying.

They’re both so tall and beautiful, the perfect picture of a united front working together for the good of their people. With the classic azure skin and big blue eyes that are so characteristic of the Metkayina, they’re almost supernaturally attractive. Even though they’re looking at you because they are suspicious, their close regard makes you feel hot and itchy underneath your skin. It might be easier to be watched by them if they weren’t so goddamned attractive.

For the most part, you stay out of their way as best you can. Your presence amongst the clan is disruptive enough – you figure the best thing to do is keep a low profile. 

For the most part, that works just fine. You keep close to the Sullys when you can, The whole reason you’re staying in the village in the first place is so you can keep an eye on Kiri, and that involves living among the Sullys in their marui pod. It can be a little uncomfortable, at times – you are the only human, and it can lead to you feeling terribly out of place living with them, especially since you know Neytiri is not particularly pleased with your presence. Despite this, sometimes you find that the clan leaders watch you just as closely when you’re around Jake and Neytiri as they do when you’re alone.

The Sully kids, at least, don’t mind your presence in the slightest. They take to dragging you around the place, which keeps you occupied. Tuk especially seems to relish hanging around you; perhaps it’s because you’re roughly the same size, despite the age difference.

She drags you swimming with her, laughing joyously as she splashes around and explores the reefs along the village. You follow her contently, relying pretty heavily on your exo-mask in the water as you go diving or sitting on the wooden pier leading out into the water.

“Watch me dive, watch me dive!” Tuk cheers, showing off her form as she goes running off the platform and leaps.

It’s not particularly graceful, and she hits the water with a splash that has you wincing from where you’re sitting just outside the Sully marui pod. Still though, when she resurfaces you make sure to clap and smile in approval. 

“Wow!” You call, grinning. “So impressive, Tuk!”

Your legs are dangling into the water from the edge of the marui pod, and you feel your skin beginning to warm and dry beneath the sun. You have no proper swimming attire and the clothes of the Na’vi are too big for you, so you’ve taken to swimming in your cotton underwear and old bra. They’re pale purple and covered in delicate little white flowers, and you might be embarrassed about it if the Na’vi weren’t so comfortable with their own bodies. You know they really don’t give a shit about what you wear.

Tuk is grinning, swimming back closer to you with her ears flicking in delight at your praise. “Do you wanna see me do it again?”

“Oh, I would just love to.” You say, lips twitching. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Kiri floating on her back in the water, her eyes closed and head tilted back towards the sky. She has been quiet since her episode, though you are pleased to see that she looks much brighter and healthier than before. 

Tuk has just started to wiggle her way out of the water in order to jump in again when a shadow falls across you from behind. Startled, you raise your head. 

Behind you stands the tall, broad form of the Metkayina clan leader. Tonowari cuts an intimidating figure, with his broad shoulders and many tattoos and his neutral, even expression. His ears are lowered and his jaw is clenched, and he stares at you with those bottomless blue eyes in such a way that your heart is sent galloping wildly in your chest. 

“Oh!” You choke, startled by his presence. “I- Hello!”

Your grasp on the Na’vi language is pretty good, but your accent sounds thick and clumsy thanks to your nerves. Tonowari tilts his head, watching you closely. The Metkayina are built differently to the Omaticaya; this close, you can really admire the broadness of his shoulders, his strong chest, and his huge biceps. 

It takes a moment for you to realise that he’s watching you right back. It appears his focus is on your clothing, however. His brow is slightly furrowed as his eyes trail over your cotton bra and somewhat skimpy underpants. They’re still damp from the water, clinging to you in a way that has turned them slightly transparent. They’re not nearly as revealing as some of the Na’vi coverings, and yet you feel embarrassingly exposed all the same.

You shift, and try to bring your arms up across your chest in a way that is casual. When Tonowari doesn’t immediately respond, you decide to try again.

“Um… are you looking for Jake?”

That finally gets a response from him. He takes a step forward, and you try not to flinch as he lowers himself down to one knee in front of you. You have never been this close to him before, and it feels as though his gaze is burning a hole in you.

“Yes,” He says, and his voice is so low and rough that it sends a shiver down your spine. “I am looking for Jakesully.”

“He-” Oh god, your voice is cracking. How mortifying. You clear your throat hastily. “He is out on his ilu, with Neytiri.”

Tonowari dips his head in acknowledgement. You notice his eyes straying towards your chest again, and you feel yourself grow warm under his gaze. Does he even realise what he’s doing? He must find your human form and clothes completely bizarre. You try not to shrink under his stare.

“I see,” He says, and his eyes dart away from you towards the water, where Tuk is now floating around Kiri. “You have been left alone with the children?”

That rankles a little, despite your efforts to remain calm. You know that both he and Ronal have been eyeing you mistrustfully from the start, but you resent the implication that you are not trustworthy enough to have around the kids.

“I care for them.” You say, and your tone is a little sharper than you had intended. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to them.”

His ears lower, and you wonder if you have upset him. 

“You are small.” He points out. “You are not likely to be able to stop anything from happening even if you wanted to.”

Ouch. That one hurt.

You straighten your shoulders, before clambering your way up to your feet. Slowly, Tonowari mirrors you and stands as well. Even at your full height, you barely reach his navel. It’s a fight to keep your expression neutral when faced with the sheer size of him.

“Well,” You say a little stiffly, momentarily distracted by the sunlight reflecting off the glass beads that dangle around his chest. “Jake and Neytiri trust me. I’m enough for them.”

Tonowari raises his chin at that, his mouth turning down as his ears pin back. He doesn’t appear pleased with that statement at all, staring down at you with his lips pressed tightly together. You feel pinned under his gaze, and try not to shift around anxiously.

It’s Kiri’s voice that breaks the tension between you.

“Dad will be back soon,” She calls from the water. When you turn to look at her, you can see the way her eyes dart between you and the Olo’eyktan. “We can tell him to go and see you as soon as gets home.”

For a long moment, Tonowari says nothing. He just keeps looking at you. It’s a little overwhelming, and you find yourself struggling to maintain eye contact. Eventually though, he gives a little rumble deep in his chest and steps back.

“Yes.” He says, his voice a little louder now. “Tell him.”

You nod cautiously, and he nods once in return before turning on his heel and striding away. You’re left standing on the bouncy floor of the net bridge that connects the Sully marui to the rest of the village, wondering just what on earth all that was about.

You can’t help but wonder if you’ve done something to offend the chief’s family. After that one little interaction with Tonowari outside of the marui, it seems like his and Ronal’s staring is upped a notch.

Now, it’s like you can’t leave the marui at all without being under some sort of surveillance. You can feel their intense stares from all the way across the village. While Tonowari’s stares are rather obvious, Ronal’s gaze is more subtle. She watches you from beneath her dark lashes, casting looks in your direction anytime you’re wandering the beaches or following after the Sully’s in the village. 

The tsa’hik even watches you when she comes to visit the Sully marui to check on Kiri. It would be easy to miss the way her eyes slide over to you after she examines Kiri, but you are beginning to grow familiar with being watched. It feels like a weight settling over your skin, and you fight not to fidget as you help Neytiri cut up fruit.

“She is doing well.” Ronal says, a little stiffly. “She is strong.”

The relationship between her and Neytiri is still a little strained, but they have established something of an understanding. 

Neytiri nods, her ears flicked back in gratitude. “I thank you for your help. Will you stay for food?”

Oh god, please say no, you think in a panic. You don’t know how you would cope sitting in such close quarters with her for so long, especially not if she keeps looking at you like she has been. Her regard is intimidating, but it also makes you feel clumsy and stupid. She’s probably one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen, and having her stare at you like that is driving you a little crazy.

“No,” Ronal says, much to your relief. “But I have brought you summauti.”

She proffers a basket of fruit, and Neytiri’s expression softens a little in acknowledgement of the gesture. She takes it, and maintains careful eye contact as she nods.

Ronal’s head turns then so that she is staring at you head-on. It is the first time that she has looked at you properly, not just out of the corner of her eye, and you find yourself startled by the intensity of it. 

“Does the sky demon eat with you?” She asks.

You try not to shrink under her gaze, and instead tilt your head up to meet her stare. To the side, you can see Neytiri beginning to frown, glancing between the two of you in clear confusion.

“Yes,” says Neytiri. Though you know she is not pleased with your presence among her family, her shoulders square and she sounds defensive. “She watches over Kiri.”

One of Ronal’s ears twitches, as though that’s not the answer she was hoping for. Still though, she appears to lose interest in both you and the conversation. She just clicks her tongue, before stepping back out through the marui pod and disappearing without another word.

In the ensuing silence, Neytiri turns to you with an almost comically bemused and suspicious expression.

“What was that?” She demands, eyes narrowed.

You’re still watching the entrance to the marui, the fabric of the tent flapping slightly from where Ronal had pushed it aside on her way out.

“I have no idea.” You answer honestly, completely bewildered.

The Sully kids settle into Metkayina life slowly, but steadily. They are learning well, adjusting steadily, and they begin to grow happier and more comfortable with their surroundings. It is heartening to see, especially since they’re such sweet kids. 

It’s all going so well. Perhaps it’s inevitable that a wrench is thrown into the gears at some point. 

The wrench comes in the form of Lo’ak and Ao’nung arguing, once again. It’s not unusual, and it’s certainly not the first time that it escalates into shoving each other. The problem comes when you decide to try and step in and try to keep them apart.

God, what a stupid thing to do. They’re both bigger than you, and they don’t even really see you as you shout at them to stop. It’s Ao’nung that ends up knocking into you, though it’s not really his fault – it’s his tail that gets you, long and wide like a fin. It smacks into your side and knocks you back into the ground.

You hit the sand with a slap, your head knocking into the ground and sending stars blooming across the back of your eyelids. There’s a sharp burst of pain in your shoulder, and you wince as you reach to grab your arm.

It’s painful and embarrassing, but at the very least it ends their argument pretty quickly. Lo’ak yells louder, calls Ao’nung an asshole, but then crouches by your side quickly to check that you’re alright.

Ao’nung has paused, and watches Lo’ak kneel down beside you to check you over with an odd expression on his face. You’d like to think it’s guilt, but you really don’t think he cares that much.

“You could have seriously hurt her!” Lo’ak snarls, his lips peeling back off his teeth. “She is not like us, her bones break easily!”

“Stop that,” You snap, irritated by all the arguing. “That’s enough.”

Ao’nung’s tail is coiled between his legs, his big blue eyes watching you with an odd sort of heaviness. “I will take you to my mother.”

Well, that damn near knocks the breath out of you all over again. 

“What?” You practically yelp, taking Lo’ak’s hand as he hauls you to your feet. “No, no, I don’t think-”

“You are bleeding.” Ao’nung interrupts, reaching out to point towards the arm you had landed on.

You follow his gaze, only to find a tiny scratch on your forearm. You must have landed on a sharp little stone or something. Though it’s oozing a little blood, there’s no pain at all.

“What?” You say again, distracted and a little bewildered. “No, that’s nothing. It’s a little scratch, I don’t need-”

“Oh man,” Lo’ak interrupts, his own brow furrowing. “Fuck, you’re bleeding. Should I get dad?”

“Stop being so ridiculous!” You hiss at both of them, covering the little scratch with your hand. You know that the two of them have gotten worse scratches in their training, nevermind the injuries they’ve given each other. Their overreactions would almost be comical, if it weren’t so embarrassing.

“My mother will wish to see to you,” Ao’nung continues to insist, frowning. “Especially since I was the cause of this.”

The contrition is odd, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to take no for an answer, especially as he reaches out to grab you by the arm. His grip is strong and rough, and you yelp as he tugs your shoulder painfully in its socket.

He whips his hand away from you immediately, clearly startled by your noise of pain. Lo’ak leaps forward to push at him again.

“I told you she’s easy to break!” Lo’ak snaps.

To your surprise, Ao’nung does not argue back. He just glares at Lo’ak, before looking back at you. Instead of grabbing at you again, he settles for attempting to herd you back towards the village using his outstretched arms like you’re an animal.

It becomes clear that you don’t have much of a choice pretty quickly. Lo’ak soon joins in with trying to herd you towards the tsa’hik’s marui. You have no idea what’s going on but when you try to dig your heels into the sand, Lo’ak loops his arm around yours and pulls you on. 

“It’s just a scratch, it’s hardly even bleeding!” You hiss as you get closer and closer to the marui, your nerves flaring as you realise that you’re going to be presented in front of Ronal in a matter of moments.

It’s Ao’nung that answers; his ears are low and his tail is curled between his legs. “We were told not to fight. If my mother finds out later that I disobeyed and also drew blood…”

He trails off, though his meaning is clear. You find yourself confused. They have drawn more blood than the measly scratch on your arm in their past scuffles, so you can’t imagine why they are so contrite about this now. Does he mean that he shouldn’t have drawn your blood? Lo’ak’s concern isn’t entirely surprising, but Ao’nung? You don’t even know the kid, but you can tell that he’s not sold on the idea of having a human around the clan. You getting a tiny little scratch shouldn’t phase him in the slightest.

When Ao’nung marches you to the marui, you shrink into yourself a little. 

Ronal is sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of coral, and she’s crushing it down into a fine powder. When Ao’nung pulls aside the fabric covering the entrance of the marui and steps in, her head snaps up to look at him.

“Mother,” He says carefully, before reaching behind him to draw you forward. “The sky demon was hurt.”

The speed with which Ronal stands is startling, especially considering her swollen belly. You try not to flinch back too obviously.

“What happened?” She asks tightly, her nostrils flaring. 

Oh man. Ao’nung is braver than you are, because if you were on the receiving end of that sharp glare you think you would crumble to dust. As it is, Ao’nung just ducks his head repentantly. 

“I knocked her over. It was an accident.” He mumbles, his ears flat.

“Accident.” Ronal hisses at him, furious. “You were warned-”

“I am sorry.” Ao’nung winces.

Despite yourself, you actually feel sorry for the kid. You were a teenaged idiot yourself once, and it really was an accident on his part. You shouldn’t have inserted yourself into their stupid bickering the way you did.

“It’s not really his fault.” You manage not to quail under Ronal’s gaze when she turns to look at you. “I was underfoot.”

That doesn’t seem to appease her very much, and she just bares her teeth at Ao’nung and Lo’ak once more. “Your father will deal with you later. Out.”

The boys don’t wait to be told twice. They turn on their heels and flee the hut, leaving you alone and nervous as Ronal approaches.

Good lord, she’s tall. As she bends down on one knee to look at you, you start to sweat. Shit, she’s probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life. Her elegant features and enormous round eyes are sharpened by the dark tattoos that decorate her face like rippling waves, her face framed by a cloud of soft dark hair. In the privacy of her own home, she is wearing a woven top that is significantly more simple than her usual decorative clothing, and it does almost nothing to cover her breasts. You struggle not to look, cheeks burning.

“Show me.” She demands, her voice husky with aggravation.

You stick your arm out immediately – you value your life far too much to argue with her right now. She reaches out and closes her thick four fingers around your wrist, pulling you a step closer so she can peer at the damage. Honestly, the cut is so minor that you’re embarrassed to even be wasting her time with it.

“It’s really nothing-” You begin, but she doesn’t appear interested in listening to your protests.

“I have a paste that will fix this.” She says instead, pushing herself to her feet.

You’re expecting her to move towards the table further into the marui where there are bowls of pastes and herbal medicines lined up in neat little rows, but her next move takes you entirely by surprise. 

She tucks her hands beneath your arms and picks you right up as if you weigh nothing. Even when you yelp in shock, she hardly looks at you at all. Fuck, she’s lifting you so easily that it sends an electric little jolt right down your spine.

With you dangling in the air like an idiot, Ronal steps over to one of the large woven chairs and sits down in it. Bizarrely, you end up sitting on her lap like a fucking child.

You’re frozen, staring up at her with wide eyes. You can’t figure out why on earth she would have put you in this position – how the fuck is this conducive to healing?

She must notice the look on your face, because her brow raises and her ear flicks. 

“You are too small.” She points out. “You think I should stay on my knees hunched over just to treat you?”

“No.” You say hastily, still flushed and embarrassed. 

Oh god, okay. It’s just so she can reach you. That makes this okay, doesn’t it? There’s nothing weird about this. You’re just… You’re just straddling one of her wide thighs so that she can reach your arm, that’s all. Maybe you’re the one that’s making this weird just by getting awkward about it?

You have to fight not to squirm as Ronal dabs a cooling clay-like paste over the abrasion on your arm. It soothes the light sting, but you hardly notice. Your attention has narrowed down to the point of contact between you and Ronal; you’re still wearing the thin underwear you had been swimming in earlier, which means that you feel mortifyingly bare and exposed where you straddle her single thigh.

When she grips at your bicep, you wince. You’re pretty sure your shoulder is bruising, and Ronal’s little grimace confirms your suspicion.

“You were watching the children when my son knocked you down?” Ronal asks, her voice low.

“Uh.. yes.” You say a little awkwardly. “Kiri, mainly. That’s why I’m here. I’ve got first aid training, so if she has another seizure I might be able to help. Not that you can’t help too of course! I, um, I know that you’re quite skilled-”

Oh god, you’re babbling. The only thing that saves you from total humiliation is the fact that Ronal nods at what you say. Her face is settled into grim neutrality but she seems satisfied with your compliment to her skills.

You can’t help but glance down. The Metkayina are built differently to the Omaticaya – their lower legs and arms are wider, the tails larger, their upper bodies stronger. Their thighs are a little wider than that of the Omaticaya as well, and you glance at where your own legs are sprawled awkwardly around her upper leg, your skintone contrasting oddly with the ripple-like blue stripes across her skin.

When your eyes fall on her stomach, you swallow. You’re so stupid – she has a mate, she has a whole family. You are almost certainly reading too much into this whole thing. You need to get yourself under control.

You clear your throat. “Will your baby be here soon?”

Ronal doesn’t look at you, but hums quietly beneath her breath. “A few more months to go.”

Ah. You had thought that she was closer to the end than that. You try to shift your weight, before realising that there’s no way of adjusting yourself without rubbing yourself awkwardly against her. You don’t want her to get the wrong idea, so you go still.

After a beat, she looks at you from beneath the fan of her dark lashes. “I am big now. It makes moving difficult, sometimes.”

You seize on the opportunity for regular conversation with both hands. Now that you’re this close to her, she hasn’t sent a single glare in your direction. Her gaze is as watchful and intense as ever, but it doesn’t seem to be fuelled by hostility. You’re determined to keep on good terms with her, so you smile as brightly as you can through your mask.

“I can imagine,” You say quickly, relieved with how well this entire interaction is going. “If you’d like, I can help out! I can… I can collect herbs, or gather coral, or whatever you want.”

You don’t think you’re imagining the way the corner of her mouth twitches, but it’s such a small movement that you nearly miss it entirely. She’s still looking at you through half-lidded eyes. This close, her stare doesn’t seem hateful or distrustful at all. It’s enough to have you growing warm and embarrassed where you’re sitting on her thigh.

“It is not just movement,” She says, and her tone has turned very casual. “I am too large now to comfortably be intimate with my mate in the way I would like to be.”

You freeze. That is absolutely not what you were expecting.

“Oh.” You say. It sounds as though you’re being strangled.

“Tonowari takes care of me and my needs, of course. He is a generous mate.” Ronal continues, as though this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having with someone she considers a demon who is currently splayed across her lap. “But sometimes I miss getting fucked properly, like before he put the baby in me.”

It feels a little as though you’ve just been clubbed over the head. Had Ao’nung hit you harder than you realised? Are you absolutely losing your mind right now? There’s no way the woman who has been watching you with a narrow-eyed glare ever since you got here is talking to you so casually.

She looks up from your arm, eyes piercing. “You understand what I mean, don’t you?”

“What?” You breathe, lost.

“You are lonely here, no?” Ronal asks. She has no mercy; it doesn’t matter that you’re obviously confused. “When was the last time that someone touched you? Was intimate with you?”

There must be some translation issue going on here. Maybe your grasp on Na’vi wasn't as good as you thought it was. Or maybe you’re just imagining the undertones that seem to be going on here. Still though, while this is bewilderingly out of your comfort zone, you attempt to match her casual tone.

“I-” You swallow thickly. “A while.”

Ronal hums again. Your arm has long since been treated, but she has not yet let go of you. She is too busy watching you as though she can read every thought in your head from your face. You wonder if she can tell how flustered you are – it must be obvious. Oh god, does this mean that she’s noticed the way you’ve been looking at her and her husband? Noticed the way you’ve been admiring them? You thought you were being subtle.

“Jakesully does not touch you?” She asks suddenly. “Neytiri does not touch you?”

You nearly choke. “No! No, I just- I’m staying with them to help out, that’s all.”

Something in her face changes at that. It’s subtle enough that you nearly don’t notice, but upon closer look you see that she looks pleased.

“You must be frustrated.” She says lightly. 

 You feel more aware than ever of your position. You’re wearing nothing but your still-damp underwear, straddling the thigh of the large, beautiful woman who is now asking you whether or not you are sexually frustrated. Surely you can’t be imagining this? This can’t possibly be an ambiguous situation.

You should probably be cautious with your answer. You’re in a precarious position as a human within the clan, and you should really think carefully about your answer here. The last thing you need is to cause a diplomatic incident by accidentally offending the Olo’eyktan’s family. But as it stands, you’re feeling reckless and stupid and yes, a little frustrated.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Kind of.”

Ronal begins to smile for real then. It’s not a soft smile; her lips pull back from her sharp teeth in a way that is honestly very intimidating, and her hands come down to land on your hips.

“How long?” She asks, leaning forward to murmur against your ear. “How long have you gone without relief?”

You shudder a little as her breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your throat. It feels like you’re going crazy. 

When you don’t answer, she clicks her tongue impatiently. “A few weeks? Months? Years?”

“Over a year.” You say shakily.

 It’s not like you didn’t have options – the outpost for humans living among the Na’vi were full of people looking to get busy with each other, but there was no one that really caught your eye and the old vibrator you kept locked in a chest under your bunk did the job just fine. Or at least, you thought it had. Judging by the growing sense of yearning in your lower belly, you’re beginning to suspect you’re more touch-starved than you realised.

Ronal makes a soft noise, her wide hands flexing and tightening around your hips. “Poor thing. So neglected.”

Her next move surprises you so much you nearly jolt right off her lap. She uses her hold on your hips to pull you further up on her thigh. You slide along her taut skin, your clothed pussy grinding against the corded muscle.

You squeak, throwing your hands up to grab onto her shoulders. When she does it again, a shudder tears its way through your spine. Heat is building fast in the juncture between your legs, and your hips jut forward along her outstretched thigh as she encourages you to rock against her.

She keeps pulling you to rock your hips with one hand as she raises her other hand to tug at your bra.

 “Remove this. I wish to see you.” She orders.

You scramble to reach the clasp behind you immediately. Maybe you should think this through a little bit more, but you’re horny and desperate and running on pure instinct right now. You tear your bra off and throw it to the side, taking a breath as Ronal’s hand runs across your bared breasts.

“Oh god,” You breathe, clutching at her shoulders as she encourages you to rock against her thigh. 

Sweat is beginning to build around your brow as your panties grow almost uncomfortably sticky. You’re certain she can feel how slick you are even through the cotton of your underwear, but she doesn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, it seems to delight her. When the hand on your hip slips from your waist down lower, her thumb comes to rest against your clit through the soft cotton of your panties. You let out a breathy moan of surprise, your nails digging a little into her shoulders as you clutch her for leverage.

“They have not been taking care of you,” Ronal says, right as her fingers dip inside your underwear. 

When she rubs a careful circle around your clit you whine, desperate for some relief. She runs her fingers experimentally along your slit. You’re so damn horny that even the slightest touch has you rutting your hips forward into her hand, desperate for her to touch you more, harder.

“Who?” You ask hazily. Your thoughts feel clouded and stupid – her fingers are big, and your head spins when her thick index finger begins to press inside you.

“Jakesully. Neytiri. The forest people.” She rumbles, her ears twitching as you clench around her finger. “You are so wet. You have been wanting this, yes?”

“Yes, but-” You gasp when another one of her fingers enter you, the stretch stinging for a moment before easing into warm pleasure. “Jake and Neytiri have been taking care of me. They just would never- they are mated.”

Ronal snorts a soft chuckle, her fingers curling lazily inside you as you shiver against her. “So? It is not unusual for a mated pair to court another.”

That is news to you. You know little about Na’vi mating practices; polyamory had never crossed your mind.

“What did you think was happening?” She murmurs, fingers twisting. You jerk against her chest, and she huffs another soft snort of a laugh. “You have watched over our children. You accepted the offerings of fruit that I brought. When we watch you, you watch us right back.”

Those sound like pretty normal things to you, but she says them with such weight that you realise pretty quickly that there’s some meaning behind those things that you’ve missed at some point.

There’s a soft scuffling sound at the entrance of the marui pod, and you feel yourself jolt back to the present. Ronal’s hands on you remain steady and firm, which means you can’t move too much, but you still manage to twist round to see who just entered and- oh fuck.

It’s Tonowari. 

He stands in the entrance of the pod, his eyes flared wide in obvious surprise and his lips pressed firmly together. You jolt on Ronal’s lap, mortified. Oh shit – he’s just walked in on you in a rather compromising position with his wife. 

Fuck, her fingers are still inside of you, and you’re pretty sure you’re dripping all over her hand. Is he angry? Is he going to kill you?

“Ronal,” He rumbles, taking a slow step further into the pod. “We said we would take this slow.”

“She is so eager to help.” His wife says, before turning to look at you with those pretty big blue eyes. “Aren’t you?”

“I-” You choke, looking back and forth between them. What the fuck is even happening?

“She says Jakesully and his mate do not touch her,” Ronal says, her voice low and husky and rumbling in her own chest – it reverberates down through her body which in turn has you clenching tighter around her fingers. “Look at how desperate she is, my love. You would deny her this?”

Tonowari’s deep blue eyes drift over your exposed chest and belly, and down to where his wife’s hand is stuffed down your cotton panties as you straddle her leg. You’re sure it makes quite the sight – you can see the way his gaze lingers around your thighs, where they’re quivering around Ronal’s. He takes another step forward, then another.

“Come and touch.” Ronal encourages him when he gets close enough, her gaze dark and lidded. “She is soft. Softer than you would believe.”

Tonowari reaches out immediately, as though he’s a slave to his wife’s commands. His hand lands across your chest, splayed out over your sternum, and you shudder at the sheer size of it. Fuck, it spans from shoulder to shoulder and down to your tits. It should probably put you off, or at least freak you out a little, but instead you’re sure that Ronal can feel you squeezing around her hand.

He leans down so that his chest is plastered against your back, the heat of him searing against your bare skin. He’s huge, his large hand keeping you tucked carefully against the bulk of his torso as he leans in to murmur to you.

“You want this?” He asks, his breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. 

Ronal’s thumb rolls over your clit and your hips jerk, pleasure throbbing up your spine as you take a shaky breath behind your exo-mask.

“Yes.” The word practically comes out on a sob.

You can feel him grin against your throat, and then a big beefy arm is looping around your waist and you let out a startled little sound as you’re hauled into the air again. Just like before, a surprising little shock of arousal shoots through you. They manhandle you so easily, it’s difficult not to get affected by it. 

As he holds you against his chest, your legs dangling mid-air, Ronal rises from the chair she was sitting in and tugs your panties off you entirely. She tosses them carelessly to the side before taking the opportunity to assess your naked body as it’s held tight to her husband’s. She must approve, because she shoots a sharp smile over your shoulder towards Tonowari.

When Tonowari’s hand reaches down to cup your pussy, you make an odd strangled noise in your throat. Fuck, his hand is even bigger than Ronal’s – it encompasses your pussy entirely, his thick fingers rubbing curiously at the dampness that has collected between your thighs. He lets out a little rumble of surprise, the sound vibrating into your back.

“You are so wet.” He says, one of his big fingers pressing inside of you just like Ronal’s had only moments ago.

His wife makes a quiet sound of amusement, before reaching to remove her own woven chest covering and small loincloth. As distracted as you are by Tonowari’s touch, you can’t help but gape at her revealed breasts and cunt, shiny with what is unmistakably slick from her own arousal. For some reason, it takes seeing the physical signs of Ronal’s arousal for you to realise that this is real, this is actually happening. 

Ronal steps forward, and takes your chin between her thumb and index finger, holding your face firmly so that you’re looking right into her ocean-coloured eyes.

“Tonowari will fuck you,” She says, and you have to fight with everything you have not to moan at the words alone. “Like I said, he is a generous mate. We will make sure you are cared for.”

“Oh, fuck.” You say, like an absolute moron.

Ronal just grins, sharp-toothed and a little bit vicious, before sinking down to the floor. Tonowari follows her as if it’s some unspoken signal. Ronal lays back, her body reclined across the pretty woven rug that covers the spongey, bouncy floor of the marui. When her legs spread, your eyes are drawn to her pussy, blue and glistening between her thighs. You’ve never seen Na’vi anatomy up close and personal like this, and you find yourself cursing your need to breathe through your exo-mask with everything you have. You think you’d give anything to get your mouth on her right now – you’d bet she tastes just like the ocean.

Tonowari settles on the floor in front of her, then pushes you gently onto your hands and knees right in the middle of them. You’re trapped between Ronal’s legs, and you look up at her with wide eyes as Tonowari shifts behind you. She’s watching everything so closely, her eyes following her husband’s every move as he pulls your hips up, causing you back to arch as you’re forced to your elbows.

It takes a moment for you to realise that Tonowari is waiting for Ronal’s guidance, and you look up at her pleadingly. You don’t even know what you want, but you know that if someone doesn’t touch you somehow, you’re going to self-combust.

Under her stern veneer, you can see what is unmistakably amusement lurking in her pretty eyes. She nods at Tonowari; it must be some sort of signal that you don’t understand, because the next thing you know there’s an overwhelming, searing wet heat being pressed up against your cunt.

You almost squeal in shock, and it takes an embarrassingly long moment for you to realise that it’s Tonowari’s mouth that’s been pressed against you.

Truthfully, there’s a pretty big chunk of your brain that can’t believe this is happening. You’re on your elbows and knees with your ass in the air as the chief of the clan kneels behind you and suctions his mouth to your cunt, right there in the cradle of his pregnant wife’s thighs. You wonder if you’ve just lost your mind and are maybe hallucinating. They’re two of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life, and you’ve somehow ended up in an alien threesome with them? You don’t even know how this could have happened.

When his tongue starts to prod at your clit, your whole body jerks in surprise. His tongue is rougher than you had expected, textured like a cat’s, and it feels startlingly good as it rasps over your clit. Your hips twitch and chase after his touch, but he keeps you firmly in place with his grip on your hipbones.

“Oh god.” You whimper, head swimming. Without even really knowing what you’re asking for, you whisper, “Please.”

Ronal has reached a hand down to toy with herself, and she watches your expressions eagerly. Occasionally she will look back at Tonowari, as if she’s assessing his performance.

“Suck on her.” Ronal intones. She sounds perfectly neutral – if you couldn’t see the slick coating her fingers as she rubs at herself, you might think she was entirely unaffected by this whole thing.

Tonowari takes direction like an absolute champion, which isn’t something you expected from the Olo’eyktan. On his wife’s orders, he licks and sucks at your clit so eagerly that your back bows and you let out a genuine, overwhelmed sob. Your hips twitch away from him and then back into his mouth by turns, unsure of what you actually want. It’s overwhelming, but it feels impossibly good.

You’re already so keyed up from your earlier grinding on Ronal’s thigh and then her subsequent fingering, so it’s not a surprise at all to feel that familiar coil of heat beginning to build in your lower belly. Maybe it’s down to the situation, but you swear it’s building faster than any orgasm you’ve ever had.

Tonowari’s big, flat tongue rasps over your clit once more, and the coil snaps. You whine pathetically, gasping as your hips hump back against his face as you come, burying your face into your arms. Ronal isn’t having any of that though, and you feel her fingers wind into your hair before she pulls your head right back up – it seems she just wants to watch your face slacken and jaw hang open stupidly as you’re rocked by your orgasm.

As soon as Tonowari realises that you’re coming, his tongue begins to move faster. He laps frantically at you, drawing your orgasm out until you’re gasping and swearing and twitching against his face. 

You’ve practically gone cross-eyed by the time your orgasm has shuddered its way through you, and Ronal begins to pet at the side of your head. 

“Good,” She says, humming in approval. “You are relaxed?”

“Yes.” You mumble, but it comes out winded and stupid-sounding.

Ronal nods, clearly pleased. “You are ready for him, then.”

Yes, you think, toes curling in anticipation. Oh god, yes. You’re definitely ready for him – you’re so horny, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so desperately empty in your whole life. You’re clenching around nothing right now; the thought of having someone fill you up sends a tingle of anticipation racing through you.

You’re still a little spaced out right now after your first orgasm, so you don’t notice when Ronal disappears for just a moment only to reappear with a little wooden jar filled with something. It’s only when you feel liquid being dribbled over your pussy that you raise your head, squinting.

“It’s oil,” Tonowari says from behind you. “To help with the stretch.”

It’s the first thing he’s said in a while, and his voice is rough and husky and makes your toes curl. God, he sounds so good. Is he breathless from eating you out, or is it from the anticipation of what’s to come? You wish you could see him properly, but being spread out with your ass in the air for him is a pretty exciting position, too.

Ronal repositions herself in front of you once more. It seems like she’s trying to get the best angle for watching, and she ends up pulling you a little bit further up so that you’re leaning against one of her thighs for support. 

The tip of Tonowari’s cock presses against you, far slicker than you had expected, and you feel your mouth drop open. Shit. You can’t see it, but it feels fucking huge. You had known on some level that it would be, of course. Tonowari himself is enormous, it only makes sense that his cock is proportional.

Your eyes flick up to Ronal’s, a little panicked. “Will it fit?”

She grins; an intimidating baring of her sharp teeth. “Yes, little thing. It will fit.”

Tonowari starts to press in, and your brain blanks out at the sensation of the slow, wet slide of him stretching you open.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You chant, breathing heavily. 

The pressure of the stretch is intense, stinging a little despite the copious oil and fingering. He takes it slow, rocking into you in little increments as you clutch onto Ronal’s thigh like your life depends on it. She just hums, watching with avid interest as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen with every little twitch of Tonowari’s hips.

You’ve never been stretched so full before, and he’s not even fully seated inside you yet. You wonder if you’ll feel the ache of this for the rest of your life.

With one last little rock, Tonowari is seated as far inside you as he’s going to go. You have no idea if he’s all the way in, but you swear that you’re drooling inside your exo-mask as you struggle to take what you’re given. 

Tonowari grunts. You’re sure that you’re squeezing him like a vice, despite all the stretching they’ve done, and his big hands flex where they’re holding your hips. You can practically feel the effort he’s currently exerting to restrain himself, to wait until you adjust to his girth.

“How does she feel?” Ronal wonders. Your face is buried in the softness of her thigh, and when you roll your head to the side you’re greeted with the sight of her rolling her clit between her fingers as she bites her lip.

The sight causes your pussy to flutter a little, and Tonowari swears softly as he drops his head down to rest across your shoulder.

“Tight.” He grits out, an odd sort of noise torn out of his chest right alongside the word. It takes a moment for you to realise that it’s an odd sort of purring.

“Fuck!” You cry out, his rumbling vibrating right through your body. 

You’re shuddering around him, your hands flailing desperately around – you don’t know what you’re even looking for, whether it’s stability or comfort that you’re looking for, but you end up finding both. One of your hands is clasped by Tonowari’s enormous paw of a hand, pinning it against the floor (while being so careful not to crush you) as he hunches over you, and your other hand is taken by Ronal’s and held tight by her leg as she rubs at herself with her free hand.

"Breathe, sweet little thing." Tonowari rumbles in your ear.His voice is low and raspy, which makes you tighten up around him mindlessly. The bastard sounds amused. "You're taking it so well."

It takes more effort than you might think to follow that order. Your breath comes in shuddering gasps inside your exo-mask, sticking in your chest everytime he pulls out, dragging along the slick flesh inside you and setting your nerves alight as he presses inside of you inch by excruciating inch.

“Careful.” Ronal bites out, squeezing lightly at the hand she’s holding against thigh as she touches herself.

Tonowari just groans in acknowledgement as he humps into the slippery heat of your pussy. “Talk to me, little one,” He grunts into your ear, pulling you back against him. “Let me hear you.”

“I’m good,” You wheeze, burying your face into Ronal’s thigh. “I’m so good.”

That makes him laugh, throaty and deep as it rumbles against your back. He leans forward so that the entire long line of his torso is pressed against your sweaty naked back, the sheer size of him absolutely dwarfing you. He’s hot against you, the thick length of him inside setting your nerves alight and filling you more than anything you’ve ever experienced.

When he pulls out and ruts into you properly, it nearly drives the breath right out your lungs. He pulls out again, carefully, and then in again. 

"Fuck!" You gasp again, squirming a little as he starts up at a steady pace.

Ronal snickers, reaching out to brush some of your sweaty hair off your face. “You see? I told you that you would be cared for. It feels good?”

“It-” You begin, but then Tonowari presses in and the force of it pushes you further up Ronal’s leg, your sensitive breasts dragging along her smooth skin. You wheeze, and try again. “Yes, it feels.. I feel-”

"You do feel good," Tonorwari murmurs into the side of your throat before biting at it, his teeth scraping lightly against your soft skin, "So tight around me. Oh, yes, that's it."

Each thrust pushes you further up Ronal’s thigh, clutching at both her and Tonowari’s hands as though they’re your lifelines as you’re rocked back and forth by turns, like waves on an ocean.

The burning stretch has melted into a hot, liquid sensation that begins pooling in your stomach as you push back to meet his hips the best that you can. It feels so good, and you smile dazedly up at Ronal as you tighten up around Tonowari’s cock; he makes a soft sound of pleasure and wraps his arm firmly around your stomach to keep you close to him.

“Oh,” Ronal coos, cupping your face with one hand, right under your exo-mask. Her voice itself is a little condescending, a little mean, but her touch is so gentle. “Look at that smile. Such a happy girl.”

Goddamn, you should probably be a little annoyed at being on the receiving end of that tone, but to your surprise you find yourself shivering pathetically under her stare. 

You just feel so full, and Tonowari’s thrusts keep pressing up unrelentingly against that one squishy spot inside of you that makes your legs go completely weak. If not for Ronal’s thigh beneath your chest and Tonowari’s hands holding you up by your hips, you think you would have collapsed in a puddle on the spongey marui floor.

Tonowari’s hips are rolling into yours at such a rapid yet effortless pace that your breath is catching in your chest and your eyes are rolling wildly. When Ronal slips a hand under your belly to start playing with your clit, you make a soft, broken-sounding moan and throw your head back eagerly.

You can feel his heavy balls slap against your clit with every thrust, and you don't miss the way they begin to tighten and draw up as his thrusts get faster. He adjusts his angle just slightly, but it's enough to have you dropping bonelessly against Ronal’s thigh as you moan.

"Fuck, there, don't stop!" You gasp, the words coming out on a wheeze. You sound as desperate as you feel, all fucked out and stupid.

You’re met with soft chuckles from the mated couple above you, as though they find it absolutely adorable that you’re making demands.

“We’re not going to stop, little sky demon,” Ronal snickers as Tonowari presses a sloppy kiss between your shoulderblades. “Go ahead and let go.”

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and heat growing rapidly in your belly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter as your orgasm draws closer, and your breath begins coming in rapid pants.

You just manage to get out the words "Oh, yes-!" before the pleasure growing in your belly crests and your back bows as you start to cum. It feels like the most cathartic orgasm ever, like all of the pressure that's been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Tonowari keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time.

Ronal makes a sound of deep satisfaction – she has abandoned the rubbing at her own clit in favour of leaning down to press a little kiss to the side of your head. It’s such a soft gesture, so far from what you would have expected from her given her usual stern demeanour.

Tonowari hisses so violently that it almost startles you – you’re guessing that you must be clenching hard around him. Perhaps that’s what sends him over the edge. The purr he lets out is more reminiscent of the roar of a chainsaw than anything else, and you feel the slick gush of his cum inside you as he chokes out a moan.

Tonowari continues to fuck you through his own orgasm until you turn into an oversensitive, whimpering mess. Finally, finally, what seems like the longest and most drawn out orgasm of your entire life begins to peter out. Your chest heaves and your lungs burn as you try to get your breath back, and you wonder absently if the way your heart is thrumming so desperately in your chest is cause for concern.  You feel like you’re moments away from a  heart attack. Your hips ache and your muscles burn, and your brain  feels as though it's been liquefied. 

You still feel as though you’re mentally miles away when Tonowari gently pulls out of you, before gripping your hips and flipping you around so that you’re on your back. For a long moment, all you can do is stare at the top of the marui as your chest heaves. There’s not a single thought in your damn head – it’s like there’s been a damn factory reset done on your brain.

It could be moments or hours that you lay there; you lose track of time. But soon hands come to lift you, and you allow your head to fall limply against the chest of whoever’s picked you up. Your eyes are still closed, but you feel yourself being carried and laid down somewhere. Hands are still petting you like you’re a damn cat, but you don’t bat them away – it’s nice, in a way. You feel cared for.

When you finally blink your eyes back open, dazed and exhausted, you find yourself almost face to face with Ronal. She’s peering closely at you, a little crease between her brow that smooths out when you open your eyes.

“Ah, you are awake.” She notes. “Sky demons have poor stamina.”

Her head is cushioned against a big blue shoulder, which causes you to look down at the big blue chest you’re laying across. It seems as though they had relocated all three of you to one of the big hammocks at the back of the marui. You’ve been draped across Tonowari’s big broad torso, and Ronal is tucked right up against his side with her hand resting across the small of your back.

“Go easy on her,” Tonowari chuckles, nuzzling at his wife’s temple. “We will work on her stamina.”

Your heart does a funny little leap in your chest, your once still mind leaping into overdrive.

“Oh, shit,” You breathe, wide-eyed. “I can’t believe that just happened.” A single thought pauses your descent into pure delirium, and you raise your head from Tonowari’s chest and squint at Ronal. “Wait, did you get to come-?”

“Yes,” she says simply. “While you were dozing.”

“Oh.” You say. You’re partly relieved that she was satisfied, but you’re mostly disappointed with the fact that you missed it.

Her smile grows sharper as she notices your reaction. “Next time,” She whispers to you. “You will watch.”

Your cheeks heat and you clear your throat as you grow flustered. Oh god, next time. They wanted to do this with you again. Holy shit.

“We will collect your things from Jakesully later,” Tonowari says, before moving to nuzzle at your temple. “For now, rest.”

“My things?” You repeat, blinking dazedly. “But- I’m staying with them to help Kiri.”

“Kiri is fine.” Ronal grumbles, her fingers moving in concentric patterns across the bare skin of your back. “You may check on her in the mornings and evenings. You do not need to stay in their marui.”

Maybe if you didn’t feel as though your brain had been literally fried from the way they had fucked you, you might have been better able to gather your thoughts. As it is, you do as Tonowari had suggested and rest as you flop bonelessly against his chest.

“Moving in together is a big step.” You mumble. You’re trying to make a joke, but you’re so tired that your tone mustn’t match. As it is, it seems to fall flat.

“Yes,” Ronal acknowledges, her fingers kneading at a knot in your lower back. You swear your eyes nearly roll back at the sensation. “Big step. We have discussed it much and watched you often. We will see how it goes.”

For all her ribbing at you about your stamina, she sounds sleepy herself. The severeness of her features have softened, and her stroking at your back turns lazy. Beneath you, pressed tight to your naked chest, Tonowari is still purring. It sends soothing little reverberations down your spine, encouraging you to relax into his big body. His own handsome face has slackened a little in obvious satisfaction, though he sends you a soft little smile when he sees you looking up at him.

We’ll see how it goes, you think to yourself as your eyes drift closed in the embrace of the two enormous aliens holding you. That sounds good.