#woman thrown out from train

[alluralater]

haha. i’m lowkey in danger of becoming obsessed with this woman and we don’t even know each other what the fuck

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[flowersforjude]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader 

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | When Cregan Stark begins his search for a wife, some hidden feelings come to light.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6,484(Idk what came over me okay!?)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mature Content-Explicit Descriptions Of Sex | Friends to lovers, Longing and pining, Love confessions, Possessive!Cregan, Smut: Piv, Oral(fem receiving), Clit biting, Hair pulling, Multiple orgasms, Biting/bruising(VERY MILD), Wife/marriage kink, Size difference. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I did not anticipate Cregan Stark pulling me out of my writing slump. But everyone say thank you Cregan! For those of you waiting for it, Hea Mēre is still coming. I just wanted to post something since I haven’t put any new works out here lately. Hea Mēre is coming SOON, though, I promise.

masterlist | read on ao3

Word had spread that the Warden of the North was in need of a wife. And so the great hall of Winterfell was now a symphony of merry music and proud spoken promises. Nearly every great house in the north flocked to Winterfell’s gates one after the other. Some lords arrived with nearly their whole households in tow. Some only brought their daughters. 

Cregan, ever the loyal man, had welcomed them to his home as any good liege lord would. Demanding a feast be thrown in the honor of northern unity. 

The revels had been at their height for hours now, and you took in as much as you could handle. As the night wore on, though, you found a need for respite. The boisterous laughter and clambering of drunk men was a muffled sound to your ears now. Out here in the chilly corridors, only the howling wind could truly be heard. 

It had been close to a year since Cregan took the seat of his late father. Since then, the north has rallied behind him. Came to pledge their words of fealty and wish their lord prosperity. And now they came again to offer him their daughters, sisters, and nieces. You knew he would take a wife at some point—some point very soon. And because he was a northman through and through, he would marry a northern woman. One from a great house with a long history and ample influence. 

For some reason, all your preparation for this moment had done nothing to aid you when it actually came.

The wind swirled around you like a restless spirit, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself to stave off the chill. You could just go back inside, but all the warmth in the world could not tempt you. Witnessing all the eligible ladies of the north look upon Cregan with hungry and hopeful eyes was an unnecessary cruelty you didn’t wish on yourself. It wasn’t as though you could fault them for it. He was Lord of Winterfell, and as such, he was obligated to take a wife. What woman wouldn’t want that to be them? 

You yourself had yearned for it for as long as you could recall. Practically growing up alongside him, youthful companionship had reformed as enrapturing affection. There was not a day where you did not cross paths with him, often purposely carving out time to spend together. You were always available to each other; living within the same keep had made it quite impossible to be apart. 

Your father was Master of Arms; being a second son from house Cerwyn, he was granted knighthood in his youth. The late Lord Rickon Stark had appointed him as Master of Arms a handful of years before you were born. 

Your father had trained Cregan as a boy. The memory of first meeting him was still clear as glass even after all these years. 

The snow was still cool against your cheeks as you sat atop a railing, observing your father working with the boys during one particular day. You had snuck away from your Septa some time ago, preferring the chilled air outside to the stuffy heat indoors. That, and your hands ached from all the needlework you’d been made to practice. 

Cregan had caught sight of you almost immediately. Smirking at your attempt to conceal yourself from searching eyes. You smiled back at him, pressing a small finger to your lips silently, asking him to keep your secret. 

And he did. He said nothing to your father during the training session. Pretending you weren’t there at all. It wasn’t until your father caught you himself that you were sent back inside with clear instructions to apologize to your Septa for running off. 

It was an act of fate that later that day you and Cregan crossed paths in one of the winding halls of Winterfell. In a second long bout of courage, you stopped him to say a proper thank you for not ratting you out. 

The rest was simply history. 

“I was wondering where you’d run off to.” The low rumble of a voice invaded your troubled thoughts. 

The sound of footsteps thudded against the old wood. You turned to see Cregan rounding the corner, his slate eyes resting on you. The flickering torchlight caught the contours of his face, and for a moment, the weight of his presence made your heart race.

“Why are you all the way out here?” He asked, his deep candace rolling over you like thunder. 

“I just needed some air.” You answered, hoping he’d deem it a suitable reply. “The festivities got a bit overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a thrill of familiar fondness down your spine. “Overwhelming is one way to put it. I can hardly hear myself think in there.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body casting like a shield against the cold. “But I am glad I’ve found you.”

You nodded, not catching the implicating tone in his voice. You dropped your gaze to the frost-kissed ground. “I suppose everyone is eager to make an impression tonight. Especially the ladies.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, laced with a bitterness that you were not used to hearing from your own voice. 

He noted the sour tone in your words. He himself admitted to being caught offhand at the unexpected abundance of marriage proposals. When he had alluded to wanting to look for a wife, he hadn’t anticipated this. Truthfully, the only woman he would want to wed was standing beside him. In the years of closeness with you, you had unknowingly taken his heart right from him. He recognized the fact that he hadn’t owned his heart for some time now. He had given it to you long before he even realized it. 

If he was certain you would accept, he’d have asked your hand in marriage instead of entertaining half the northern population.

“Eager indeed.” He replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. “It is all rather…overwhelming.” He sighed, echoing your words from before. 

You disliked seeing him so burdened. In the months since he took the role of Warden, though, that oppressed look marred his handsome features far too frequently for your liking. 

“You need not rush into anything.” You consoled, wanting to take his strains and carry them yourself.

He grunted, resting his hands over the pommel of Ice. The great longsword hanging at his side. “Would you have me keep my people in suspense?”

“I would rather you keep them waiting than to risk your own happiness.” You said, your voice softer now, carrying the weight of your concern. Sometimes it felt foolish to worry over him so much, but you supposed that was a condition of loving someone.

“What do you think would make me happy?” The question wasn’t unexpected; he oftentimes sought out your advice just as you would with him. But to speak with him of his potential nuptials felt like a shard of ice was lodged in your chest. 

You met his eyes; gone from the silver shine was the frustration replaced with a sort of keenness to know your thoughts. Most would say his eyes were two wild winter storms, and they could be if he was so inclined. But you had always seen them as bright stars hanging high in the sky. Shining down with their silver light that pulled you in and stole your breath. 

“I would say marriage to someone who could honor and carry on the traditions of your family.” You replied, a peak of the true depths of your devotion seeping into your words. “A lady that would care for you, and not simply the title that came with you.” 

“Someone like you, perhaps?” Cregan suggested a teasing lilt in his voice, but there was no mistaking the tinge of sincerity. He stepped closer then, forcing you to twist your position to where your back was against the railing. His warmth clouded your senses for a moment, causing you to lose track of your thoughts. 

“You jest.” You retort, a nervous laugh bubbling from your lips. “This is serious, Cregan.” 

His expression shifted, a spark of intensity igniting in his eyes. “I am being serious.” He countered, an unusual tension crackling in the cold air. There was something new swimming in his eyes, firm but soft the longer he looked at you. “You’ve always been more to me than just a companion or a friend. You must know that.” 

A scoff sounded from you. “Must I?” You echoed incredulously, your heart pounding in your chest. The chilly air felt electric, humming with unspoken words and emotions that had been buried for too long. 

He pressed closer, his presence mudding your resolve. “Yes,” he insisted. “Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I crave you by my side above all else.” His voice was low and earnest, not a hint of deception to be found. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your lips parting to take in a shaky breath. “I am not a woman that could ever be considered as your wife.” The words stung as they left your lips, trembling on their descent. He was alluding to everything you had secretly hoped for, yet the reality of it felt like a dream you weren’t sure you could grasp. “I am the daughter of a second son. I hold no titles, no grand connections. And certainly-”

Cregan silenced you with a searing kiss. One that was all flames and fervor, but slow enough to feel every movement of his mouth molding over yours. A soft gasp slipped past you, and he drank it in, claiming it for himself. 

Your hands hung by your sides for a moment before your body caught up with your mind. But once his solid arms coiled themselves around your hips, something in you snapped in place finally. Hands went to his shoulders, gripping onto the thick fur of his cloak. He pulled you in, your back coming off the railing, pressing you to him so no space was between you. 

Your lips struggled to match his pace, but it was not for lack of trying. All these years of tampered emotions and repressed desires made everything blur together. The only tangible thing to be felt was Cregan. He held you with the utmost gentleness, his hands falling along your curves but never drifting too far or squeezing too tightly. 

The yearning threatened to spill over. Bubbling within the both of you and being tended higher and higher with every slide of your lips against each other. You knew better than anyone that he had a roughness about him. And you wanted to coax it out; you wanted him. 

His teeth nipped your bottom lip as he walked you backwards. Pressing you into a wooden pillar, he brought you flush against him. Though, through all the furs and layers of clothing, there was nothing to be felt. You could sense his hunger in the subtle low noises in the back of his throat and the way his touch grew feverish. 

When he left your mouth to trail his lips along your jaw and down your neck, you took the opportunity to reign in your self-control. When he hitched one of your legs around his hips, though, you could feel your composure slipping away. The line of propriety daring you to cross it as his fingers kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh. 

“Cregan.” You sighed as he kissed a line across your jaw. There were things you wanted to say. Things you needed to speak about. But your desire-addled mind couldn’t bring forth a single syllable. 

A loud roar of laughter sounded from the great hall, pulling you both back to the present. Cregan huffs into the crook of your neck, the hot puff of his breath sending goosebumps along your spine. 

He dropped your leg but kept his hold on your waist. “I will not take you for the first time in my halls where anyone could see.” Everything inside him screamed at him to continue, to hike up your skirts and make you his once and for all. But he would not have the first time muddied with the risk of prying eyes. He would have you, but only somewhere safe, warm, and private. 

“If this is what you want,” Cregan murmured. “I would have you in my chambers, though; if you wish to not continue, I will leave at once.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, eyes meeting his as your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest. “I have never wanted anything more than you for as long as I can recall.”

With your words solidifying what you both wanted, he pressed another quick kiss to your lips. Taking your hand in his, you made the all too familiar walk to his chambers. 

You had some time to think while trending through the halls. Your mind was made up, resolved, and set in stone, but nerves prickled at your skin. Not for the act itself really, but the knowledge it would be with Cregan. After all this time and all the wondering, it was finally happening. You hadn’t quite wrapped your head around it yet. 

This part of the keep was dead silent, far away enough from the great hall that the raucous of the gathering was a distant memory. The doors to his chambers were tall, heavy oak, crafted from large stocks of trees from the Wolfswood. As Cregan pushed them open, the warmth from inside his rooms wafted out to greet you. 

Passing through the threshold, you felt the shift of everything. Nothing would be the same after tonight. “What happens afterwards?” You question, words leaving your lips in a whisper as his makes an expedition across your jaw. You didn’t want to doubt him, but all of this felt like a dream moving so quickly you couldn’t discern if anything was real. 

“I will make you mine tonight.” He murmured, one arm going around your waist. “And you make me yours. Then we will be wed before the Weirwood tree.” 

“You would make me your wife?” You asked softly, watching as his face became puzzled. 

“Were my words not convincing enough?” A smile pulled on his lips, though he did not let it overtake his expression. He hummed a deep sound, lips falling here and there on your neck. 

His sugary tone thrilled you to your core. His hinting words and the press of his mouth made a surge of arousal swirl within you. “Perhaps you should just show me,” you urged. 

Not wasting another second, his arm around your waist hauled you to him. Your fingers gripping the fur of his cloak, pulling yourself as close as possible to him. Cregan’s mouth met yours frantically. His kiss was hungry, filled with a deep-seated yearning for you that he had tried to ignore. 

The heat of the room multiplied. Gone were the frozen winds from outside, a blazing inferno taking its place. That fire churned between you as he kissed you with the roughness you knew lay within him. Once again, you failed to keep up, but you were more than content to let him kiss you into a stupor. His teeth scraping the skin of your bottom lip as he worked on the clasp of your cloak. 

Letting the heavy garment fall to the floor at your feet, you shivered at the loss of its warmth. Wanting to level things out, your hands undid the fastening of his, a thrill shooting to you, noticing the eagerness in which he tossed it to the ground. 

“Cregan.” You whispered, trembling at the feeling of his hands at your back untying the laces of your dress. The material sagging around your shoulders. Grey stars met your eyes, asking you if he could continue. Nodding your consent, he slid the dress down, never letting his eyes wander as the garment pooled at your feet.

Your shift was the only thing separating your nakedness from his eyes. But you couldn’t help but feel the severe imbalance between you. As he made home in your neck again, your hands went to work on the restraints of his tunic. One by one, the clasps opened for you until you pushed the clothing from his shoulders. 

He huffed out a laugh into the skin of your neck that turned into a shudder when your fingers slid under his shirt. You let your hands feel along the corded muscle of his abdomen. Years of hard training formed his body into the mountain of a man that he was now. 

You moaned outright when he bit the skin below your ear. His hands mapping out the dips of your curves. Gripping here and there with his digits, unable to help himself when feeling the heat of your skin from beneath the thin shift. 

Growing desperate, you started raising his shirt up to say you wanted it off. He untangled himself from you just enough to aid you in lifting it over his head. It joined the rest of your clothing on the floor.

Seeing what was always hidden underneath those layers of thick garments had your head spinning. He was all solid muscle and pure strength. Powerful yes, but knowing that he would never use that power against you in a way to cause harm was exhilarating. 

Not being able to help yourself, you let your fingers lightly glide over the impressive map of his stomach. He indulges you for a few moments before your nails scrape along his skin, causing a growl to rumble through his chest. Snatching up your hands, he pulled you flush against him again. He devours your mouth with uncontrolled need. Lust was all but dripping from him, but the underlying affection would not be drowned out. Cregan was a man of few words more often than not, so he preferred to show you all that you meant to him. 

Hands taking hold of your hips, he maneuvered you to his bed. His eyes shining with tenderness as you let him lay you down on the mattress. The furs covering the sheets were soft beneath you, surrounding you in a comforting embrace. Cregan stood over you for a moment before going to his knees. Spreading your legs apart, he made home between them, his shoulders coming up under your knees. 

He wanted to taste every inch of you, trail his lips and tongue along every curve and sensitive patch of skin he could find. Hands coming up to the straps of your shift, he paused to see you already shaking your head. He grinned to himself as he removed the last bit of fabric hiding you from him. Off your shoulders to reveal your breasts, down your sides to uncover your stomach, and finally letting it fall away to bare your center to him. 

“Let me taste you.” He rumbled, his voice dropping deeper than you’d ever heard it. It’s timbre shooting a buzz of delight through you. The heat in your belly grows hotter, filling you with yearning that threatens to break you. 

You nodded, feeling the warmth trickle down to your core. “Yes, please.” Those two words were all he needed—your breathy answer coaxing an unquenchable thirst within him. And he intends to drink his fill. 

He kissed his way down your body. Guaranteeing you felt every kiss pressed to your skin and every scrap of his teeth. You were growing breathless already, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Anticipation makes your heart thud wildly inside your chest.

His lips gave attention to every plane of your body. Scorching his path from your neck to your breasts, and then to your stomach to make his way to your thighs. 

A low grumble crawled up his throat when your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. The heavy pressure of his mouth slid closer up the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin there before going over it with his tongue. He could all but smell your arousal now this close to your center. The hunger to dive right in was almost overwhelming. The broad expanse of his shoulders pushed your legs further apart. Settling them over his back, his hand gripped the flesh of your thighs. 

As the breath caught in your throat, your stomach swirled with delicious nerves. The warm slick gathered between your thighs was a glittering treasure Cregan took for himself. A surge of self-satisfaction rippled through him. 

He takes in the wiggling of your body on his bed and hears the shaky inhales of your breath. Your thighs were twitching in his hold as he sank his teeth into the soft skin once more. You were like silk, smooth under his touch. The difference of his calloused fingers against your velvet skin was pure excellence in his eyes. 

The first kiss he gave your slit knocked the breath from your lungs. When he licked a burning stripe up your core, your hearing grew fuzzy. His movements were careful and calculated to push you to the edge of complete insanity. 

His arms around your hips went to bring you closer, a groan clawing up his throat as he pursued the pleasure of your cunt. He opened you to him with his tongue, desperate for whatever you granted him. A whine parted your lips as your hands gripped at his hair, your hips chasing the feel of his mouth without you even realizing it. 

He was nothing if not formidable, even while he lapped at your wetness like a man starved. Resting between your legs, shoulders tensed with the vigor of his movements. He was solely focused on you, moaning into your center absently like he had never tasted something so sweet. He would spend the rest of his days with his face buried in your cunt if he could. 

The heated cord within your belly continuously wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue. His mouth was ravenous, kissing and sucking with urgency, like if he didn’t make you come on his mouth, he would die.

“Cregan.” You sighed, writhing within his hold, causing his arms to grow tighter around you, locking you in place. The feeling was complete euphoria but also the sweetest torture at the same time. You yanked on the dark stands of his hair, urging him closer as if he wasn’t already practically inside you. “Please, don’t stop.” You begged, glancing down to see his starry eyes stuck on you. 

He wasn’t about to let such a saccharine request go unanswered. But he also wasn’t going to let you squirm and wiggle about as you pleased. His belly was raging with hot fire, waiting for the chance to be released. His cock strained against his trousers, aching with the need to be inside of you. But he wanted to taste you spilling on his tongue first. He kept up with his heavy strokes against your center, drawing you closer and closer to your peak. 

You were like honey on his tongue, surgery and sweet, all for him to devour. Listening to the melody of your whines and moans quickly became his favorite music. It brought him pleasure almost as much as it did you to know the ruinous state he’s gotten you in. 

Your legs began to shake around his head, small tremors of ecstasy swimming through you. Cregan raked the path from your entrance to your clit with his tongue, circling the bundle of nerves a few times before taking it in his mouth. The soft gasps of his name that came from your lips as he sucked on your pearl were maddening. It had his fingers digging harder into the pliant flesh of your thighs, surely leaving bruises he would have to kiss once this was all over. 

He was known to all as a stoic and serious man, but when he flicked his silver-hued eyes at you, they were nothing if not a flurry of affection. The sight of you on his bed breathless and lost to the pleasure he was giving you was heart-stopping. He had always thought you to be the prettiest girl he’d ever known, but now he likened you to a goddess. You had bewitched him body and soul. 

His mouth still worked over your core. Switching between dipping his tongue into your entrance and wrapping his lips around your clit. Whenever he sucked the nerves in his mouth, he was rewarded with the prettiest sound to ever grace his ears. A high-pitched whine that slowly faded to a deep sigh. 

You wanted to close your legs around his head, lock him there for the foreseeable future. But every time you moved your legs, he pried them apart, keeping you open to him so he could lavish his affection upon your cunt. His nose nudged your pearl whenever he dipped further down. You didn’t know how much more you could take. The peak was right there within your grasp; you just needed something to push you the rest of the way. 

He was unrelenting, seemingly just as obsessed with bringing you apart with his mouth. A scream ripped past your lips as Cregan took your clit back in his mouth once more. His teeth bit down on the sensitive bundle of nerves, not hard enough to break skin but just enough to shoot a spike of pleasure pain down your spine. He drew his teeth away and soothed your pearl with his tongue.

“Cregan!” You sputtered, hips lurching forward to chase his mouth. You felt as though your whole body was on fire, that any moment now you would burst into flames. Your eyes screwed shut as stars exploded behind your eyelids. He dragged his teeth over your clit again, making your grip on his hair tighten even more. If you weren’t so out of it, you would have worried about pulling his hair out completely. “Do that again.” You pleaded with a trembling breath. 

A huff of mild amusement escaped him before he was wrapping his mouth around your pearl and biting. He pulled at it with his teeth only to release it and sooth it over with his tongue. He drew whimper after whimper, moan after moan out of you. All the while, your legs shook around him with the weight of your impending release. 

“Gods, I’m close!” A pleading moan tore past your lips, brain going hazy with the mounting pleasure. Your nails dug into his scalp as the cord grew taunt. The roughness didn’t discourage him, though. It merely made him all the more determined to push you over into oblivion. 

“Please.” You spoke out into the air. A few more moments of his ministrations: bite, pull, sooth, suck. The cord snapped. A sharp gasp sounded from you as you shook like you were back in the cold winds outside. Everything spilled over; goosebumps erupted over your flesh. The heated tidal wave of your release rushing along your body. The sheer power of it having your back arching from the bed. 

It felt as if your body was humming as your peak subsided slowly. Sinking back upon the furs, you untangled your fingers from Cregan’s hair. He was still gently lapping at your wetness as you reluctantly pushed him away. He lifted his head, eyes looking upon you with such reverence. 

He kissed his way up your thighs, making sure to pay extra attention to the bruises he’d left. His lips were soft and caring on your sensitive skin. As he made his way further upwards, he pressed his face into your stomach. “I love you.” He whispered so faintly into your skin you weren’t sure if he even realized he said it. 

“What?” You gasped, going up on your elbows to look at him. Face still buried in your middle, he murmured it again. This time raising his eyes to gauge your reaction. “You do?” You mumbled, becoming flustered all over again. 

He crawled over you, covering your body beneath his burly physique as he claimed your lips. Your hand went to his cheek, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I do,” he husked. You took a moment to look at him, his eyes shining with adoration. “You still doubt my affections?” 

You’re shaking your head instantly. “No,” you protest. “I simply didn’t expect you to say that.” You were grinning like a fool, mouth curved upwards in a beaming smile. He returned it, with one albeit smaller than yours, but it was still all him. You laughed into the kiss he gave you as he situated himself back between your legs. 

“Allow me to show you then.” He spoke in a hushed voice. All you had to do was nod, and he was shucking off his breeches, kicking them from the bed. 

You couldn’t see him, but you felt him big and hard against your thigh. Nerves swirled within you—not that he would ever hurt you intentionally, but that there would be no way around it hurting. You knew he would put your well-being above all else, though. 

The barely-there smile still rested upon his face. “You’re still smiling.” You point out completely besotted with this mountain of a man. 

“Hush woman.” He let out a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It was difficult to keep up his stone-like appearance in your presence. It always had been, but with your wide eyes looking up at him still hazy with pleasure, it was increasingly harder. 

Bodies aligned and chests pressed against each other, you leaned up your lips searching for him, wanting another kiss. The kiss was as sweet as honey, soft as silk, much like you. From deep within his throat, a low rumble of approval echoed, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he returned the kiss with fervor.

You went to wrap your arms around his shoulders and found you could barely touch your hands together at the nape of his neck. Still though, it didn’t stop you from racking your nails across his skin. Hoping it would spurn him on. His cock rocked against your thigh, tip hitting your core for a split second. 

“Patience, my girl.” He warned, rough palm soothing back your hair. “Slowly, I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed a line across your collarbone, nose skimming along your skin. You felt him slide up along your thigh, the tip nudging at your entrance again. Just that little friction had shivers racing up and down your spine. 

He canted his hips forward, pushing just slightly into your cunt. He was as big as he seemed evidently; the sting spread further as he slid in slowly. Inch by inch, with every ridge and vein feeling like it was being imprinted inside you. Once he was half way seated, you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. A faint grunt of discomfort slipped past you. Your hand gripping the nape of his neck tightly. 

He paused, looking down at you. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Keep going. I’m alright.” You promised, loosening your hold on him. He pressed a soothing kiss to your hairline before he pressed forward again. 

Having him inside you even halfway was something you would have to get used to. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the stretch and sting were fading already. Once he was fully inside, the feeling of him filling you was almost overwhelming in the best ways. Cregan gave you ample time to adjust, holding himself back from rutting into you. He never wished to harm you, even if your warm tightness was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt. 

You tested your limits by rolling your hips to meet his. A hiss left the both of you as his cock slid even deeper, hitting some part of you that had you seeing stars. “Move.” You urged, back arching to press against him. 

He drew out only to snap his hips forward, driving himself back in. Taking care to be as gentle as he could, he began a harsh but deep hitting pace. He was ardent in his lovemaking, cock thrusting into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He was keeping good on his promise to show you just how much he loved you. 

You wrapped a leg around his hips, his hand instantly going to hold it in place. Fingers lightly running across your skin. Your other leg spread wider for him, giving him as much room as you could to accommodate his size. A melody of whines and gasps flew from you with every thrust. Your nails running down the rippling strength of his back. 

His face was hidden in your neck, lips assaulting your skin. Bruising kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Teeth joining to nip here and there, leaving marks that you would deal with later. He pounded into you with equal fervor and tenderness. Cregan was nothing if not devoted in all things, so each thrust was measured to ensure he seated himself fully inside you every time. 

With the whole of Winterfell in the great hall or asleep, you worried not about concealing the volume of your moans. Needy whines and whimpers left you, one after the other. A particularly harsh snap of his hips had you stuttering out his name. You felt like you were being split in two, but it was the most pleasurable thing you’d ever experienced. 

The friction of your bodies sliding together was addicting. Each glide of his cock along your innerwalls drove you closer and closer to another peak. Walls tightening around him, drawing a muffled curse, he spoke into your neck. Your hands went to his hair once again, bringing his mouth to yours. You kissed him as his cock kissed your womb. Your lips molded together as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your thigh. 

You nipped at his bottom lips as he had done to you, causing a growl to rumble up his throat. There was urgency about him now, with his release building and building buzzing at the base of his spine. 

He dropped the hold on your thigh, planting his weight on his forearms by your head. Using the leverage to rut inside you at a faster and deeper pace. Intensity danced between you as his cock drove into you, seated fully inside you, then pulling out only to plunge back in. 

There was an almost divine feeling to being inside of you. As if Cregan was made for you and you were made for him. He had to wed you, had to say the vows beneath the Weirwood tree, and make you his wife. His Lady of Winterfell. 

He groaned at the thought, snatching your lips between his own for another blazing kiss. Teeth knocking together and tongues sliding over each other—this was not a romantic kiss. It was full of base needs and wants. The drive to claim you as his and never give another man the chance to see you like this. You were his. 

“Cregan please.” You pleaded into his mouth, your breath mingling together. He didn’t relent; your whispered appeal only spurred him on. He was aching and pulsing inside you. Cock thrusting so deeply, he vaguely pictured you struggling to walk in the morning. The thought sent a smug ripple down his spine. Your thighs were trembling, and with this being your first time taking him, you very likely will be sore. 

“Do you have another in you?” He huffed out the question. His release was just within his reach, but he wanted to feel you gush around him first. Have the tightness of your walls gripping him like steel as he pushes into you for the last time before spilling his seed. 

“Mhm.” You hummed around your harmony of whimpers and gasps. You rolled your hips to meet his as if to further prove what you wanted. The friction doing delicious things to the both of you. 

You’d lost count of how many times he’d sunk into you. It was too many to keep up with. But the look that glimmered in his eyes told you it wouldn’t be much longer until another rush of euphoria greeted you. 

His cock battered into you, his pace becoming faster than before. His hands moved from beside your head to grip your hips. Fingers sliding under to hold the small of your back, he lifted you slightly off the bed. The new angle had him hitting that spot within you that had you writhing up to meet him. Your senses became cloudy with nothing but the feeling of him inside breaking through. 

“That’s it, my girl.” He husked out, feeling you shudder beneath him as your cunt clamped down on his length. He kept up his pace, racing after his own peak. Lowering you back down to rest on the furs again, he groaned heavy and hot into your neck as he spilled inside of you. The warmth exploded at the base of his spine and spread. Keeping his hips moving to help you both ride out your pleasure, he thrusted into you a few more times. 

You whimpered as he withdrew from you, but he was quick to soothe you with a slow kiss to your lips. You fingers threaded through his brown tresses holding him to you. The display was all care and affection, a stark contrast to the intense moment between you just seconds ago.

When he rolled off you, he didn’t go far, his large form laying out beside you and drawing you to his side. His strong arm slung around you, locking you to his side. 

An easy silence fell over you as you both regained your senses. The aftermath of your coupling filled to tender caresses of hands over heated skin. Soft presses of his lips upon your jaw, making your head relax into the pillow. 

You weren’t aware of how much time passed before a halting thought crossed your mind. “Should I not leave?” You asked. Cregan furrowed his brows at you as if you were speaking in riddles. “There will surely be whispers if I am seen in your chambers in the morning,” you clarified. 

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. His hold on you becomes tighter and a touch more protective. “You will be my wife soon enough. Whatever any of my people have to say about it, they will do well to make sure I do not hear of it.” 

Completely smitten with him as well as his response, you choose not to argue. Much preferring to settle back into his warmth and spend the night caged within his arms.

I think this is the longest fic I have ever wrote, but I'm in love with it.

﹙taglist﹚@madame-fear

[rafesgfs]

three cents

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: talks of big dick energy, prostitution if you squint, red wine, gray sweatpants (mentioned)

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

[buckyalpine]

Imagine the fluff of Bucky retiring from the avengers because he met you, the sweetest thing on the planet, the woman he's down on one knee for ready to marry in a heart beat. He's built a house from the ground up, a quite place for your little growing family because not long after the wedding, he has a baby boy on the way. It’s all perfect.

The absolute angst of him losing you when complications arise during the delivery and the doctors and nurses chase him out, not giving him a chance to hold you and comfort you. The last thing he sees is your labored breaths and dropping pulse.

He hears the cries of his son moments later but his happiness is short lived when the med bay is forced into an emergency evacuation because of an attack on the compound. He sees a blur of doctors rushing you to a different wing and in the midst of the chaos, his new born baby is placed into his arms. He pleads to be able to go with you but he's dragged out with no answers with the building crumbling and bursting into fire and flames behind him moments later.

He's inconsolable.

Completely distraught.

The memorial service held for you leaves Bucky in shambles, clinging onto the tiny bundle wrapped up in his arms, the only thing he has left to live for now. He doesn't want to go on without you, it's just him and his little boy in the world. He know he has to be strong for his son so he carries on as best as he can. His heart hurts when his baby boy asks for his mama.

He visits your grave often but he never truly feels peace.

There was never even a body for him to bury.

Bucky comes out of retirement when Tony calls him about a mission. He knows its serious because they wouldn't ask him to come for just anything. He doesn't want to fight again but he does it for his son; the world has to be safe for his baby.

"Daddy will be just fine" Bucky reassures his now 5 year old, pressing a kiss to his head, leaving him to stay with Sarah while he's away. When he's back at the compound, he's given a briefing on what they're up against. They leave the next morning.

-

"I've got them in the west wing, headed towards you Steve" Bucky may have been out of the field for a couple of years but his skills and training still run in his blood. He trails behind the target, gun in hand, catching a knife that's thrown his way before dodging another. He gets them cornered in an abandoned ware house, ready to end it all, justice be damned, he just wanted to get back home to his baby boy. He's about to pull the trigger but that's when he sees it.

The red skull with tentacles surrounding it.

He freezes.

He blocks a punch that comes his way, grabbing their wrist and holding them in place, shoving them against the wall. All he can see are their eyes.

Bucky knows those eyes.

No.

He rips the mask off and nearly sobs, his hands trembling as he continues to hold them with all his strength knowing it was hurting them but what choice did he have.

"Doll?"

Just a thought, okay love you, bye.

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[cafterdark]

I don't think y'all truly grasp what fucking a god would be like.

Not only are they beings who can shape reality like clay, but they have such a massively different conception of time, morality, and existence that they become alien to you

For example, let's say you are a normal guy:

One moment you're looking at yourself in the mirror, the next in a quiet field. Before you even have a chance to react, a voice rips through your tissue paper body. It is multilayered, unable to stick to one voice, but is it smooth and alluring and almost feminine.

"I have chosen thee to be my temple." The voice says.

"W...who are you?" You stutter out.

The voice doesn't answer. For a moment you wonder if you've gone insane, then she begins. A thousand hands of light touch you, some delicate and precise, some wild and rough. They grab and grope and tear and claw and brush and pinch and slap all over, all at once. One hand grabs your short hair and forces you to look up in the air and she says:

"Let me show you your purpose."

You are launched in time to a temple, backwards or forwards, you don't know. It is lit by candles, showing that you're at the feet of a massive marble statue of a nude woman. The hands force you to your knees, all while feeling up your boiling body. You look up and only catch a glimpse of her beautiful thighs before you're unstuck in time again.

You feel yourself dragged back to reality. You're in a woman's body, being fucked by two other women in a dingy hotel. One hold the leash to a collar around your neck, the other holding your legs as she fucks you with her dick. The hands are still there and guide you, teasing each moans from your throat and buck of your hips. You've never felt this good ever as you start ascending the mountain of arousal. The collar chokes you enough for a momentary blackout

You're back in the temple, still looking up. You catch a glimpse of her hips, grabbable, with curves in just the right spots. You blink in awe and find yourself in another woman's body, actually no, a robot woman's body. You're connected to a machine made of tech so powerful you can't comprehend by series of wires and plugs throughout your body. A woman, dressed in lab wear smiles, kisses you, and starts the machine. You feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. The woman's smile widens, then a notification appears on your HUD

Sensitivity increased 150%

A soft glide teaches down your back and you feel your entire body kicks in response. You ascend further up, climbing step after step towards orgasm. Each touch the machine simulates makes you skip ten steps. The woman's laughs at you makes you skip more. The heat is unbearable, your fans spinning at Max speed, their noise filling the background. You get a warning notification about overheating and you're back at the temple.

The hands keep your arousal steady as the hand tilts your head further up still. You're enraptured by the most perfect pair of tits you have ever seen. The last bit of thought you we're holding onto is wiped away by their glory. But before you can properly worship them, you're thrown back in time.

You're in another temple, hazy and thick with the perfume of incense. You're in a priestess' body slick with oil, prepared to worship your goddess with your other priestesses. You look around and see the rest of your order staring at you and approach. After a long moment, you realize that you're the offering. The other women attack you with kisses and teeth and hands and nails in just the right spots. Each blow brings you closer to the peak. They pin you down and begin fucking you with their trained tongues and you blank out. You're so close now you can see the peak. You pray to just be allowed to reach it.

You're set back to the temple again and with one swift yank of your long hair, brings your eyes to the statues face.

It's you.

You don't know how you know. It looks nothing like you, but it's you. And you're gorgeous you can feel the orgasm coming, it's so so so so close now. The world stops, your body freezes.

You find yourself stuck one step before the peak, staring at your beautiful features and unable to do anything about it. You're stuck there for a long time. An hour? A year? A Millennia? A second? You don't know. But by the end, you're asking Her to let you cum. She responds:

"Do you know your purpose?"

"Yes... Goddess," you pant out. "As your temple... Where your followers... Worship you"

"Good Girl" She says.

Those two words bring you over the edge and you find yourself cumming harder than you've ever done before. Each convulsion rips away a part of your past life, what you ate for breakfast, your job, your hobbies, your name. If you could think through the tsunami of pleasure, you wouldn't care. Goddess will provide, she always will. But for now, you are drowning in devotional ecstasy.

After an eternity, you finally feel the afterglow bleed in. The hands let go and you collapse to the floor, letting the darkness consume you.

You wake up on the bathroom floor and groan. Was it really just a dream? You get up and look in the mirror and see you. Not the fake you that you wore before, but the you Goddess crafted, her masterpiece. You smile and dance in your body, that statue turned flesh, and laugh a beautiful laugh to celebrate and thank Her.

"You know your purpose and are trained in it," She says in the back of your mind. "Begin."

"Yes Goddess"

You leave the bathroom and begin your new life. After all, what's a god without her temple?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Wiped Out II

Fridolina Rolfö x Teen!Reader

Summary: You look like your cousin

"Wow."

You frown a little bit, eyebrows drawn together as you look at Aitana.

You met her after the match against Spain in the World Cup and you know she's Frido's friend.

"What?"

Aitana's eyes glance between you and Frido, dancing from one of you to the other.

"I mean...it really is uncanny!"

"What is?"

Her finger is raised to point at you and then to Frido. She can't seem to make words as her mouth opens and closes

"You two are practically identical!"

You puff your cheeks out in outrage. "No, we're not! Don't say that!"

Frido scoffs next to you. "Is it really that bad? To be told you look like me? Most people would consider me pretty." She pinches your cheek and you swat at her.

"It's different when I've been told that my whole life," You say," You know I had someone ask at school where my sister was."

"But you don't have a sister."

"They meant you, Frido."

"But I'm your cousin. Why would they think I'm your sister?"

You exchange an unimpressed look with Aitana.

"Because we're practically identical. We look more closely related to each other than just cousins."

"I mean..." It's Ingrid that's speaking now, sitting in her cubby. "It is scarily uncanny. I don't need to look at old photos to see what you used to look like, Frido."

"Wait until the baby photos come out," You warn her with a little smile," Then you'll see just how alike we really used to be."

It's not a bad thing, actually. Looking like Frido, that is. No matter how much you jokingly complain.

She's your cousin but she's always treated you as something closer than that despite the age gap between you. You love her a lot even though she's a bit protective and has a bunch of random rules for you like mandatory hugs every day and being her taste tester for when she makes dinner.

"She used to be called my mini," Frido brags, a casual arm being thrown over your shoulder," I used to buy her outfits so we could dress the same."

You giggle a little. "Until some woman at the store asked if Frido was a teen mum?"

Her own smile falls. "I thought I told you to stop telling people that!"

"If you want to bring up the matching outfits then I'm bringing up the teen mother incident." You shrug and Frido rolls her eyes fondly at you, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"Alright," Ingrid says finally, standing up from her cubby and stretching out her back," Let's get down to training. We've only got a few more minutes."

Frido walks with you until about halfway where she pulls you to a stop.

With her knee still being hurt, she's on a strict rehab schedule and can't come down onto the pitch with you but that doesn't stop her from walking most of the way there.

"I'm only in rehab for a few hours," She tells you," So I'll come out and sit on the grass until training's over, alright?"

You rolls your eyes. "Yes, Frido. Like every other time you say it. I think I know this speech by heart by now."

"Go on," She pushes you lightly away," You can take your snark elsewhere."

Like clockwork, hours later, Frido appears at the side of the pitch, sitting down on the grass and stretching out her knee.

You can just tell by the way she's squinting that she was getting impatient during her rehab.

She's clingier now that you've made the move from Sweden to Barcelona with her. She'd been ecstatic when the announcement went out and then stern when she realised you hadn't told her in advance.

It was funny, winding up your cousin but once she'd gotten over that, she'd been very excited to tell everyone she knew about the fact that you and her would finally be playing for the same club.

She was probably more excited than you were and Magda begged you to make her shut up about it during camp.

But no one could make Frido shut up, not even when you called your auntie and uncle to see if they could.

Frido was just too excited.

"All done?" She asks as you jog over.

You nod, helping her up onto her feet.

"Let's go get you checked out," She says, her arm finding it's familiar spot over your shoulders.

Frido had been excited when it was announced you were joining Barcelona. You had been excited too.

You had just forgotten about how much she fussed over you.

It was routine now as you sit in your cubby and peel off your socks and boots.

Frido's always been a bit fussy with you. She'd never truly been just your cousin. More like a sister sometimes with the way that she annoyed you. More like a mother with just how much she fussed.

She does this every time, ever since that third place match against Australia when Raso's studs hit your back.

She inspects your legs for bruises and presses on your muscles, watching for even a hint of a wince.

You know she's noticed one of your new bruises after you and Esmee collided earlier but it's not too bad and the pair of you just burst out laughing the minute your legs got tangled together.

Frido purses her lips though, pressing experimentally on the patch of skin and you nudge her with a toe.

"I'm fine," You say.

She doesn't look convinced.

"It was just a bit of silly fun."

"We should keep an eye on it," Frido insists and you roll your eyes," Just in case."

"How is it that you're the one that's just undergone surgery and you still find time to fuss over my tiny bruises?"

Frido kisses your forehead. "Well, I've got to keep an eye on my mini-me."

[cowboybeepboop]

Addicted

"But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care."

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, romantic

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: A one night stand with Hangman leaves him desperate and begging for more.

Warnings: Public sex, making Jake beg, p in v sex, riding him, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex.

a/n: Not really much to say other than I hope you enjoy <3 Also send any requests my way, could be for anything :)

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the airstrip as the jets roared by, their engines a deafening symphony that seemed to shake the very earth beneath your feet. You had always loved this time of day, the way the light painted everything in hues of gold and red, making even the most mundane tasks feel like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. But today, the sight of the planes brought with it a feeling of anxiety rather than excitement. Training with Maverick was intense, and as one of the few women in the program, you knew you had to be twice as good to be considered half as good.

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where pilots went to unwind after a long day of pushing the limits of gravity. You scanned the room, spotting the familiar faces of your colleagues, all of them men. The only other woman present was Nat, known as Phoenix, a fellow Top Gun graduate who had become your closest ally in this male-dominated world. She sat at the bar, her eyes lighting up as she saw you, offering a nod that seemed to say, "You can handle this."

Bob, with his boyish grin and easy-going demeanor, was the first to stand up and greet you. He pulled out a chair, offering it with a gallant flourish. "You're looking as sharp as ever, Y/N," he said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration that made your cheeks warm. You sat down, grateful for the respite from the catcalls and lewd comments that had been thrown your way since you walked in.

As you chatted with Bob and Phoenix, you couldn't help but notice the blond man across the room, his eyes locked on you like a homing missile. You had heard rumors about him—Hangman, they called him—a cocky pilot with a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. His stare was unnerving, a silent challenge that seemed to say, "I'm going to make you mine." You ignored him, focusing on the conversation and the cold beer in your hand, but the heat of his gaze was impossible to ignore.

As you’re sitting with the two, talking, the man starts walking over towards you, coming to a stop next to Phoenix with a smirk on his handsome face. You look up at him curiously while Nat gives him a stern glare. “What do you want, Bagman?” she questions him with an accusatory tone.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, standing beside her, leaning his hip against the bar. "Can't a guy say hello without getting into trouble?" He joked, his eyes flickering over to you.

He looked you up and down slowly, a cocky grin on his lips. "I don't think we've met before." He muses, extending his hand out. "I'm Hangman, but you can call me Jake."

“I’m Y/N.” you ignore his extended hand, leaning closer to Bob to add distance between you and Hangman.

He raised an eyebrow as you ignored his hand, a smirk playing at his lips. "Playing hard to get, huh?" He teased, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's cute."

He glanced over at Bob for a moment, taking his hand back and stuffing it in his pocket. "You two a thing?" He asked casually, his eyes flickering over to you again.

Bob opens his mouth to deny being with you. “Actually, yes we are.” you grin, taking Bob’s hand in your own. Right now you were relying on him to take the hint and play along with you.

Hangman's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you and Bob holding hands. He couldn't deny that he was a little surprised, he assumed you were friends. He tried to brush it off, but a hint of jealousy stirred inside him.

Unfortunately your plan to get Hangman to back off by pretending to date Bob, was going less than swimmingly. It seems he doesn’t care whether you're already spoken for or not. The evening drags on with him still sending heated glances full of desire your way.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night, as you say your goodbyes and start to head out of the bar, Hangman's attention is immediately caught by your departure. He watches you exit, his eyes following you as you make your way to your jeep.

He debates for a moment, contemplating whether or not to follow you. His desire wins out, and he makes up his mind to follow you. He says his own goodbyes to the group and discreetly follows you outside, keeping a couple of paces behind you.

“Are you going to say something? Or are you just planning to keep following me like some creep?” you lean against the hood of your car, arms crossing under your chest, eyes narrowing at him.

Hangman freezes as you turn around and call him out. He hadn't expected you to notice him so quickly.

He smirks and steps closer, closing the distance between you both. "Just admiring the view," he drawls, his eyes roaming over your form shamelessly.

“Oh is that so?” you hum, gazing up at him with an unreadable expression.

"Absolutely." He nods and leans against the jeep beside you, standing so close that your bodies nearly touch.

He looks down at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "You and Bob, huh?" He comments casually, a hint of a taunt in his tone.

“Are you jealous?” you reply with a teasing smile.

He lets out a scoff, pretending not to be affected. "Me? Jealous? Please." He rolls his eyes, but there's a flicker of something in his gaze that gives him away.

He turns to face you fully, his arm resting on the jeep behind you, trapping you in. "I just don’t get why you're settling for Bob." He says, lowering his voice. "What's so special about him, hm?"

“I’m not *settling* for Bob,” you hop up on the car, sitting on the hood with your legs crossed. “He’s a gentleman, very sweet, and damn cute.”

Hangman's eyes flicker over your body for a moment, watching as you hop onto the hood and cross your legs.

He grumbles under his breath, slightly annoyed that you didn’t seem to get his point.

"Yeah, Yeah, he’s sweet and cute, whatever. I can be sweet and cute too, you know. Sometimes." He counters, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“So you are jealous.” you giggle, leaning back on your palms, uncrossing your legs. “And what makes you so special?”

He glares at you, his jealousy bubbling to the surface. "I'm Hangman, sweetheart. I’m the best, hottest, and most talented pilot there is." He says confidently, his ego on full display.

He steps even closer to you, his body slotting between your legs now. He gazes down at you, his hand resting near your hip. "I could show you a good time, unlike Bob."

You flick your tongue out, licking your bottom lip. “A good time hm?” you wrap your legs around his hips pulling him against you.

A small gasp leaves Hangman's lips as you pull him closer, his body automatically responding to your touch. He places his hands on your hips, his grip firm but not rough. He looks at you through hooded eyes, his gaze dark and full of desire.

"You have no idea." He practically growls, his body pressed against yours.

“Sounds inviting,” you murmur, with a small smirk. “But I don’t make a habit of sleeping with coworkers… especially when I have a boyfriend.” your tone is teasing.

Hangman's eyes narrow as you remind him of your supposed relationship with Bob. He leans closer, his nose nearly touching yours.

"Please," he retorts, his breath lightly tickling your skin. "We both know you're not actually dating him. I saw the way he looked at Phoenix earlier. He's got it bad for her, not you."

“While that may be true,” you let go of his waist, pushing his chest with your hand. “My point still stands. I don’t sleep with my coworkers.”

Hangman stumbles back a step, a mix of disappointment and frustration on his face. "Oh come on," he runs a hand through his hair, "We're both adults here. Don't tell me you don't feel the chemistry between us."

He steps closer to you again, his hand reaching out to gently grip your chin, tilting your head up towards him. "One night, no strings attached. It can be our little secret."

“A one night stand..” you bite down on your bottom lip, “Are you sure you’ll be able to walk away after one night?”

He chuckles, his hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek. "Sweetheart, one night with me and you'll be the one struggling to walk." He says with a cocky smirk, his tone confident and full of male arrogance.

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "I guarantee you'll be begging for more."

“I guarantee you’ll be the one doing the begging.” your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Hangman's smug expression quickly vanishes as you pull him in, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss filled with fire and desire.

He lets out a low growl, his hands grabbing your hips and pressing you even tighter against him. He devours the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor. As he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy, he looks at you with feral eyes. "Don't underestimate me, sweetheart. I never beg."

“Get in the car,” you brush your hand down his chest, fingers ghosting over his erection. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable.” Hangman's breath hitches as your fingers brush against his bulge, the touch sending a shiver through his body. He nods eagerly, a mix of impatience and anticipation on his face.

"Alright, alright. You lead the way." He steps back, letting you get off the hood and move around to the driver's side. He opens the passenger door and gets in, his eyes on you watching your every move.

The drive to the apartment is filled with tension, Hangman's hands occasionally drifting to your thigh or hip, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

As you enter the apartment and make your way towards the bedroom, Hangman's hands remain on your waist, his grip firm and possessive. He's practically glued to your back, the scent of his cologne filling your nose.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" He mutters into your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. You turn around in his grasp, pressing a heated kiss to his lips, your own hands sliding down his body.

He groans into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you as close as possible. He returns the kiss with equal fervor, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive intensity.

His hands roam over your body, sliding down your curves and gripping your hips. His touch is almost bruising, his need for you evident in every move he makes. He walks you backwards towards the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving small kisses and bites in their wake.

The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, and Hangman guides you to sit down, his hands never leaving your body. He stands between your legs, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

Hangman's hands, strong and insistent, began to pull away the fabric that separated your bodies, his movements quick and sure. Your shirt was the first to go, lifted over your head and tossed aside with the ease of a man used to getting what he wanted.

His eyes roamed over your bare torso, drinking in the sight of your firm breasts, the peaks of your nipples pebbled with desire. He reached for the clasp of your bra, his fingers deftly unhooking it before sliding the straps down your arms, leaving it to fall away and expose you fully to his heated gaze.

With a smirk, he went for the button of your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours. As the zipper lowered, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged, pulling them down your hips and over your thighs. You helped him, lifting your legs one by one, allowing him to remove your shoes and socks as well, leaving you in only your underwear.

His own clothes followed suit, the sound of fabric rustling and buttons popping filling the room as he stripped away his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abs. His jeans were next, the leather belt unbuckling with a snap before the denim hit the floor, leaving him in his boxers.

He stepped closer, his hands sliding up your bare legs to the band of your underwear. With a single, fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in the fabric and dragged it down, leaving you completely bare before him.

You felt a rush of cool air against your skin as he stepped back to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with lust as they traveled over your body. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him as he removed his own boxers, his erection springing free and bobbing slightly with his every movement.

Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come making your stomach flip-flop. His hand reached for yours, pulling you to stand and bringing your bodies flush together. His erection pressed against your stomach, hot and demanding.

You felt his breath on your neck as he kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck, holding him closer as he continued to kiss and nibble his way down your body.

The feel of his bare chest against yours was electric, sending waves of heat through you. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt his thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, and a moan escaped your lips as he rolled them gently, teasing and pinching just enough to make you arch into his touch.

He was methodical in his exploration, as if he were memorizing every inch of your body. With a sudden surge of confidence, you pushed him against the mattress, surprising him with your strength.

He chuckled, his eyes flashing with excitement as you slid on top of him, straddling his hips. You lined his hardness up with your wet heat, feeling the tip of him nudge against your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

Opening them again, you stared down at him, a challenge in your gaze. Without a word, you began to ride him, your hips moving in a rhythm that was both agonizingly slow and incredibly sensual.

He watched you, his eyes hooded with desire as he felt your wetness envelop him. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he held on for dear life, letting you set the pace.

His breath was ragged in your ear, his voice a low murmur of encouragement as you rocked against him. You felt him swell inside you, his length filling you completely, and you knew he was close to the edge.

You leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, your breasts smashing against his skin. The friction was maddening, and you couldn’t help but increase your pace, chasing your own release.

His hands slid up your back, gripping your shoulders as he pulled you down for a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hips began to meet your movements, the two of you moving in perfect sync.

The bed creaked beneath you, the only sound in the room aside from the ragged breaths and soft moans that filled the space. The tension grew, a coil tightening in your stomach, signaling the approaching climax.

You felt his muscles tense underneath you, his grip on your hips tightening, and you knew he was close. You leaned back, letting him take over, his hands guiding your hips as he drove into you with a ferocity that had you seeing stars.

Each thrust was a declaration of dominance, a claim of what was his. You threw your head back, crying out his name as the orgasm washed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the exquisite sensation of his cock buried deep inside you. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you collapsed against him, your chest heaving with exertion.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as your bodies remained connected, both of you lost in the aftermath of the passionate encounter. For a moment, there was only silence, only the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

Then, with a soft chuckle, Hangman leaned his forehead against yours. "You're something else, Y/N." He whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and satisfaction.

You couldn’t help but smile, your breath still coming in short gasps. "I aim to please," you murmured, before pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

He rolled you over onto your back, his body still inside of yours, and began to move again, slower this time, more deliberate. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last as long as possible. He kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours.

The kisses grew more intense, his teeth sinking into your skin, leaving small marks. You didn’t protest, instead, you arched into the pain, your nails digging into his back as he claimed you once again.

This time, the passion was more intense, more raw, as if the first time was just the beginning of something much more powerful.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, casting shadows across the wall as your bodies moved together. The bed rocked beneath you, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall, a silent testament to the passion that had overtaken you both.

As the second climax approached, you felt yourself tighten around him, your body begging for release. He groaned, his movements growing erratic, his need for you consuming him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he reached his peak, filling you with his warmth.

Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, he stilled, his body collapsing next to yours. You both lay there, panting and trembling, the sweat from your bodies mingling on the cool sheets. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

__________

The next few weeks are filled with tension between you and Jake. Where you are seemingly unaffected by the night you shared, Jake can't shake the memory of the night he shared with you.

He replays every moment in his head, relishing every touch, every kiss, every sound you made. He tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat whenever he sees you, the way his eyes keep finding you in a room, and the way his body responds to your mere presence.

You’re back at the bar, hanging out with the other pilots while playing pool. Jake can't tear his eyes away from you as you lean over the pool table, lining up your shot. He watches intently as your body moves, the way your hips sway, and the way the pool cue rests in your grasp.

He takes a sip of his drink, attempting to appear nonchalant, but his eyes never leave you, drinking in your every movement.

You notice his lingering gaze and shoot him a questioning look, feeling Bob’s hand snake around your waist as he pulls you into a hug. You lean into his embrace as he whispers a soft goodnight before he leaves.

Jake's jaw clenches at the sight of Bob's arm around you, a flash of anger and jealousy passing through his eyes. It takes all his self-control not to stride over and pull you away from the hug.

He watches as Bob leans in, whispers something in your ear, and then leaves. Jake's hands ball into fist, his knuckles turning white as he forces himself to stay seated. You walk over to Hangman, arms crossed.

“Jake, we need to talk.” your tone is firm. You’ve been noticing his lingering stares, the way he seeks out your touch and attention. It’s been a frustrating couple weeks.

Hangman looks up at you as you approach, his expression guarded. He knows exactly what you're talking about. The tension between the two of you since that night has been unbearable, and he knows he can't keep up the act much longer.

He tries to feign nonchalance as he responds, a cocky smirk on his face. "What's there to talk about? We had our fun, right?"

“Come on, outside.” you practically demand, glaring at him before leaving the bar. Hangman's cocky smile falters a little under your demanding tone, but he quickly recovers, grabbing his jacket and following after you.

Once outside, he turns to face you, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Alright, we're out here. What do you want to talk about?" His voice is casual, but there's a hint of wariness in his eyes. He knows this conversation is not going to go the way he wants it to.

“What’s your deal?” the two of you are off in a dark corner, hidden behind the bar. “You’re the one who said *just* one night, yet you can't seem to stay away.”

Hangman's jaw clenches, his carefree demeanor slipping for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"I don't know, alright?" He snaps, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. "I didn't think it would be so damn hard to just walk away from you."

He starts pacing back and forth in the small corner, his body tense, like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You scoff, “You’re not the commitment type, so what exactly is this all about?” your gaze is hardened as you lean against the wall.

Hangman stops pacing, his back to you as he takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

"It's not about commitment, alright?" He says, turning back around to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "It's about you. I can't get you out of my goddamn head." His voice is hoarse, and there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before.

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed, expression full of confusion. Hangman steps closer to you, eyes searching your face.

"Don't look at me like that," he mutters, his voice gruff. "I...I don't know what I'm doing. I don't do this. I don't get attached, I don't get possessive. But I can't stop thinking about you, I can't stop wanting *you*..."

He reaches for you, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers, his touch gentle. "Please..." His voice is barely above a whisper, a plea. "Please don't make me stop." your gaze softens as he moves closer, desperate for you.

Hangman's plea hangs in the air, his voice revealing more vulnerability than he's ever shown before. He's practically shaking from the effort of resisting his growing desire for you.

He leans in, mere inches from your face, his breath hot on your skin. His eyes lock with yours, a mix of need and desperation swirling in their depths.

"I *need* you, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I've never *needed* anyone like this before. You're driving me damn crazy."

“And here I thought you weren't the begging type.” You hum, hands going to his muscular waist. Hangman's breath hitches at your touch, his body responding immediately to your proximity. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm not. Usually." He answers, his voice a low rumble. "But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care." His body presses against yours, his grip on your hips tightening as if he’s afraid you'll pull away.

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.” you tease, enjoying the feel of his body against yours.

Hangman's eyes widen for a moment as he registers your words, then his smirk returns, a challenge in his gaze.

“Is that right?” He drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs. He runs his fingers up and down your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“I’d do just about anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above your hip. You gasp, legs spreading for him.

“Yeah?” you guide his hand under your skirt, back pressing against the wall. Hangman's eyes darken as his hand moves underneath your skirt, his touch sending shivers up your spine. His breathing is ragged, his gaze hungry as he looks up at you.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Anything, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want." His hand moves higher, his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear. His tongue slips out, running along his lower lip as he watches your reaction.

“Jake,” you whine his name, “I need you,” your fingers move to his hair, pulling him close. Hangman lets out a low moan as you pull on his hair, your words making his chest tighten with desire.

"Yeah, that's it. Say my name," he practically growls, his nose brushing against your inner thigh as he presses closer to you.

"I'm goin' crazy here, darling. Tell me what you want." His hands grip your thighs, his mouth trailing soft kisses along your skin, moving higher and higher until he reaches the edge of your underwear.

“I want you..” you gasp. Hangman's lips move against you, his breath hot against your clothed skin. He pulls you closer, his grip tight on your ass, as if he can't get close enough to you.

"Do you taste as sweet as you look, sweetheart?" He murmurs, his teeth nibbling at the fabric separated you, you gasp in response desperate for more. "I'm dyin' to find out." The bulge in his jeans is now apparent, his desire for you straining against the fabric.

Hangman looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes filled with a combination of need and heat. He pulls gently on the fabric of your underwear, his voice rough as he speaks.

"Can I take these off, sweetheart?" His hand moves up your thigh, his touch gentle. "I need to taste you, every inch of you."

Jake's gaze is intense, his eyes locked on yours as he slides your underwear down, revealing your glistening core. You nod the cool night air that kisses your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your legs.

He kisses your thighs, working his way closer to your center, his breath hot and his mouth watering. As he licks you, you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure.

His tongue moves in a slow, deliberate circle around your clit, teasing and taunting you until you can't help but whimper. He smirks, knowing he has you on the edge, and continues his sweet torture, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You lean back against the wall, supporting yourself as his mouth works magic on your body. Your legs tremble, and your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as you feel the orgasm building deep within you.

His tongue slides into you, stroking you deep and slow, and you can't hold back anymore. You moan out his name, your body convulsing as the climax crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Hangman doesn't stop, even as your legs give out and you slide down the wall. He holds you up with one hand, his mouth still working tirelessly. You're lost in the sensation, your mind a whirlwind of pleasure as he devours you.

Finally, you manage to push him away, gasping for air. "Jake, enough," you murmur, your voice shaky. He chuckles, standing up and pulling you into a standing position.

"I'm not done with you yet," he says, his voice low and full of promise. He kisses you deeply, his tongue tasting the sweetness of your orgasm on his lips. You melt into the kiss, your body craving more of him.

Hangman's hands move to the button of his jeans, fumbling slightly with the zipper. His desperation is palpable, his breathing heavy as he works to free his erection. He pulls out his cock, thick and hard, the moonlight casting shadows over it.

You moan into his mouth as he lifts you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist. He presses you against the wall, your hands holding onto his shoulders for balance. His tip teases your entrance, coated in your juices from earlier.

With a gentle nudge, he slides into you, filling you up. Your walls clench around him, trying to keep him inside. He groans into your mouth, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that has your toes curling in your boots.

You're both lost in the moment, the cool night air surrounding you as he fucks you in the alleyway. His movements are deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his need for you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw, feeling the stubble that's grown in since the morning. You break the kiss, panting for air as you stare into his eyes.

"I need you," you whisper, your voice filled with passion. Hangman's eyes flare with desire, his hips moving faster, his strokes deeper.

The bricks of the alleyway press into your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies move together in a dance as old as time.

You can feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing as he fights for control. But you want more, need more. You rock your hips against him, urging him to go harder.

He obliges, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his hands gripping your ass tightly. You throw your head back, your moans echoing through the deserted alley as you reach for your own release.

Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, your body spasming around his cock. Hangman groans, his own climax following quickly behind, filling you with his warmth.

He holds you there, his body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of the moment etched into every line of his face.

Slowly, he lowers you to the ground, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound. You lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

He tucks himself back into his pants, his gaze never leaving yours. "I can't get enough of you," he says, his voice gruff.

You laugh, the sound a little shaky from the intensity of the encounter. "Is that so?"

Hangman's eyes never leave your face, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. His hands grip your hips, his touch both possessive and gentle at the same time. He leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Damn right it is," he murmurs, his voice low. "I'm addicted to you, sweetheart. Can't get enough." he kisses your shoulder, pulling your waist as he presses you to him.

[littlereddream]

Rubies in Red

Catwoman protege reader crossing paths with Red Hood? Don’t mind if I do

Your most vivid memory from your childhood is one spent sitting on playground asphalt with your elementary best friend. The material scratched both of your legs rough, no matter how you sat. The sun beat down on both of you, but it hardly mattered when coupled with the frozen popsicles in your hands. Your friend’s mother, a kind yet quiet woman, had taken the liberty of handing you the cold treats before you’d gone to play outside.

Thinking yourselves scientific geniuses, you’d spent an entire hour discussing what you’d do once you figured out how to build a Time Machine.

Your friend had mentioned that she’d like to travel to the future and ask if cotton candy is still a thing. You can hardly remember what your own answer had been. Perhaps it was something about traveling to a historical time period and becoming a pirate or western outlaw. Maybe it was something different entirely.

Whatever it was, present you would like nothing more than to revise your answer. With the power of a Time Machine, you’d have no trouble immediately using it to travel back three days, before you ever listened to Selina Kyle.

Just a few jewels, she’d said.

Easy money, she’d promised.

What she’d neglected to tell you was the fact that the jewelry store fell under the territorial jurisdiction of a certain vigilante in red.

You’d done everything right. Got in without tripping any security alarms, secured the jewels without triggering a single sensor, and successfully made it out to an adjacent rooftop through a fire escape. The rubies clicked in your pocket, light in weight but hefty in value.

It’s right as you’re about to head back down to the streets that a hand wraps around your wrist to pull you back from reaching the rusty ladder. You curse, all training thrown aside in favor of attempting to scramble out of the tight grip. It’s all futile, the hold unrelenting as you’re turned to face the man it belongs to.

The things you’d do for a Time Machine.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice from the helmet is inhuman, modulated to hell and beyond terrifying.

“No,” you squeak, before clearing your voice. “No. Just heading home.”

It’s a relief that those words come out stronger, but it’s short lived when the Red Hood quickly maneuvers both of your wrists to one of his hands, the other heading towards the pocket on your jacket.

“Do you mind-“ you shout, but the jewels are already out of your pocket and in his free hand.

“I do, actually. Pretty as these gems are, I just don’t feel like they belong to you.”

He reaches back to drop the rubies into the pocket of his own jacket. You start to think he’ll release your wrists, already sore from the strength of his hold, but what he does instead only leads out worse for you. Despite your struggling, Hood is able to easily spin you to face away from him, now holding your wrists behind your back. You hear the click of handcuffs being unclipped from a belt, and…

“Wait! Just hold on a sec’. Come on, man.”

Surprisingly, Hood does hold on. He’s silent, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s waiting for you to continue.

“You don’t really wanna arrest me, do you? For this? Honestly, what’s a little theft between two, equally skilled vigilantes?”

He snorts, or at least you think he does. Really annoying modulators tend to make that hard to discern.

“Equally skilled, yeah?” He taps a gloved thumb on your wrist, remind you of your situation.

“Yep. That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

Someone kill you now. No need, actually. You figure Hood’s about to do it anyway.

“You sure did.”

Then the grip around your wrists is loosening, then letting go completely. You whirl around, rubbing the reddening skin there.

“What?”

“You said equally skilled. It’s been a quiet night, I’m bored, and you don’t wanna get arrested. Get me on the ground, and I’ll let you go.” He shrugs.

There’s a silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

“You’re toying with me.”

Hood brings up a hand, making a so-so gesture.

“What’s stopping me from running away now?” You question.

If a metal helmet could look unimpressed, this is what it would look like. With a wave of his hand, he motions to the building’s edge.

“Be my guest, if you think I won’t catch you.”

Asshole, asshole, asshole.

Fine. You’d play his game.

With no other warning, you rush his legs, aiming to get them to buckle. With no other tell of your actions but a grunt, Hood doesn’t look a second closer to falling than before. It looks more like you’re just hugging his legs.

“Wow. I think I might be wounded. Check for a sprain while you’re down there, would you?” He huffs.

New determination has you adjusting to stand, though your lack of coordination in the moment has you stumbling over his own boots. The mere idea of tripping in that moment wounds you more than any injury could.

You and your poor, poor pride.

Before you can fall though, there are gloved hands on your hips, steadying you.

You’re close to him, almost uncomfortably so. This near, you can see the exact like where his armor ends at his neck, a small exposed area of skin before the helmet. There’s sweat beaded there, likely a remainder from before he found you on the rooftop.

Even more concerningly, he hasn’t let you go. It’s like he’s stunned by his own actions, his hands a foreign body that moved out of their own free will.

Seize the opportunity, Selina once taught you.

Half a second before he finally releases you, you’re sliding the rubies back into your pocket. Then? Quickly unclipping his only set of handcuffs on the belt, you throw them off the rooftop, far as you can get it.

Hood freezes, staring in the general direction you threw before snapping his head to level you with a look. You stuff down your terror at the way his fists clench in frustration to force out a shrug.

“Fetch.”

Minutes later, you get to walk free with a pocket of rubies and Red Hood’s threat ringing in your ears.

“I’ll track you down soon, sweetheart. Once I do, those rubies are gonna be the least of your problems.”

The only thing that scared you more than the words—no, the promise—was the slight pinch of excitement you felt hearing them.

[barcaatthemoon]

make a move || fridolina rolfo x reader ||

frido's teammates convince her to make the first move with you.

mapi snickered as she watched frido watching you. it couldn't have been a mistake that you almost always found yourself near their bench whenever you came to report on their games. you had always loved the sport, and barcelona was your favorite team. it was why you had initially jumped at every opportunity to report on the women's team. you still loved the game, but admittedly, you also had developed quite a crush on a certain swedish player.

"what is so funny?" alexia asked as she glanced at her friend. mapi pointed at frido, who was staring at you like she was head over heels. the two of you had spoken several times over the course of her time in spain, and the whole team had caught onto her feelings for you. "she's wearing that dress frido likes."

"trust me, she definitely noticed. isn't that right fridolina?" mapi teased. frido reluctantly tore her eyes away from you to glare at mapi. "(y/n) looks good in that dress. it does wonders for her ass."

"careful, frido can fight," ingrid warned. mapi didn't listen and continued to tease, earning herself a water bottle thrown her way. their antics continued throughout the end of the game, just a small distraction that you could see from the corner of your eye as you reported on the end of the game. the team began to file onto the field to celebrate, which was when you took your opportunity to speak with frido.

"excuse me, miss rolfo, do you have a moment to talk about the game?" you asked. frido let out a small sigh as she heard mapi and alexia laughing behind her.

"for you, i have as many as you need," frido said. you blushed at her words. years of media training had never stood a chance against the charming swedish woman. every single time that you interviewed frido, you felt like a bumbling idiot. some of your co-workers had noticed this, but the players that you interviewed liked you quite a bit and always let you interview them no matter what, so nobody said anything.

"thank you. congratulations on the win and successful header in the corner. i know that it's definitely my contender for goal of the match. what was going through your head today?"

"we're coming in as champions, and this first game is just a taste of what's to come for the rest of the season. everybody has been working hard, and we all just wanted to show that today," frido answered. the two of you continued your interview, and once it was finished, you reluctantly let her go and found more players to speak with. after about 30 minutes, you were finished with post-game interviews and your crew began to pack up their things.

"go on, they're getting ready to leave. this is your chance," ingrid said as she pushed frido towards you. the blonde felt like a baby deer as she tried to walk casually over towards you. luckily for her pride, your back was turned as you chatted with a young fan.

"ahem, excuse me, do you have a minute?" frido asked as she noticed your conversation come to an end. you stood up and looked at her, more than a little surprise she came over to talk after the cameras were done rolling.

"i guess i could find a few for you." you were definitely flirting with her, but were doubtful that it would amount to anything. flirting with frido was nothing new for you, and it always ended up the same way. you never went on any dates or saw each other outside of the football stadiums.

"good, i was hoping that maybe after this we could meet somewhere. i don't know if you have much work to do after this, but tonight, the girls will all be out at a bar. maybe i could get your number and let you know which one? i bet you could get some pretty interesting quotes." frido was trying very hard, and you appreciated the obvious effort.

"i would like that a lot." you scribbled your number on the back of one of your business cards. "the ones on the front are for the channel, but my personal one is on the back. feel free to call or text me for other things, i hear that i'm great dinner company."

"well, i can't drink on an empty stomach. does 7 sound okay?" frido asked. she felt like her lungs couldn't quite pull in enough air, but you were smiling at her, so she must have been doing something right.

"perfect, i look forward to dinner and a few drinks. it's a date," you said. frido swallowed nervously as she nodded, and she swore she was going to pass out when you leaned in and kissed her cheek.

…

"you know, it isn't too late for us to just turn around and go somewhere else," frido offered as the two of you turned down the street the bar was on. your dinner date had been nice. in terms of first dates, it was one of the best ones you'd been on. the restaurant was nice, frido was great company, and everything was just casual enough to keep you out of your own head.

"that sounds nice, but i'm kind of excited to see what everybody is like off of the field. and don't worry, i'm not going to be collecting any quotes," you told her. frido sighed and pouted at you, which nearly did get you to agree to go somewhere else, but one of her teammates spotted the two of you.

"about fucking time! do you know how long we've been waiting for you to get over here?" you had met claudia a couple of times before, mostly from your coverage from the barcelona b-team games. she had always been one of your favorites to interview, despite how difficult it could be to get to actually answer your questions.

"oh good, they're waiting for us," frido grumbled. you rolled your eyes as you grabbed frido's hand and led her into the bar. the patrons were mostly the players, and they all turned their heads to look at you when you walked inside. frido was quick to pick out a spot with some of the quieter girls and led you over to join her. "what can i get you to drink?"

"a manhattan if they have it. if not, just a shot of vodka," you told her. frido looked surprised by your choices, but didn't say anything. you had been a bit of a partier at university, so you knew that you could handle anything. the drink thing was also a good test of your dates because the last thing you wanted was someone who was overly judgemental.

frido left and came back just a couple moments later with your manhattan. she had something clear for herself that she took a sip of as she slid in next to you. it was a bit awkwardly cramped until you moved her arm around your shoulders. the two of you sat there with two of her teammates, marta and caroline, who were more than happy to sit out some of the more rambunctious activities of the night.

"do you dance?" you asked as you noticed more of the team move onto the dance floor.

"not really, no. you can go if you'd like to though," frido answered. she started to move out of the booth, but you held onto her to keep her next to you.

"no, it's fine. i'm having fun like this. i'm a little too sober to dance by myself."

…

"do you have to go all the way to madrid?" frido whined. you had your bags packed for your weekend in madrid. the weekend was full of games for both the women's and men's leagues, and your boss wanted you at all of them. it was a big step, and while it was a lot of work, you were more than ready for it.

"yes, i do, and while i would love to stay and enjoy your bye week with you, i have to go. don't miss me too much, okay? i have to go, my cab will be here any minute," you said. frido grumbled, but sat up to give you a proper goodbye hug and kiss anyway.

the two of you were a few months into your relationship and it felt unreal. you loved frido, you were sure of it, even if you hadn't said it yet. you hoped that frido loved you too, and a part of you knew that you wouldn't feel this way if she didn't. everything was too strong to just be coming from one direction.

"text me before you get on the plane and when you land. then, if you feel up to it, give me a call at the hotel? this feels like an awful long time to be away from you." frido cupped your cheeks in her hands and leaned down to kiss you. without your heels, you felt so small next to her. you had never really realized how much of an edge those gave you when standing around athletes all day.

"i will, i promise. see you monday night, love you," you said as you stepped out of frido's apartment. you hadn't even realized what you said until you were in the car and riding towards the airport. you were terrified to look at your phone, but when you did, you couldn't stop smiling from frido's message.

*'i love you too <3'

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 2

Summary: “Y/N’s first self defense class leads to some inevitable tension, all of which is thrown out of Y/N’s mind when she gets an unexpected visit at her office desk…”

Wc: 4.8k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: sexual TENSION😈, brief mention of SA, blood

A/N: hi everyone! I am so positively overwhelmed by the great response this new series has been getting🥹. I have such a good feeling about this and I hope you’ll appreciate this little adventure we’re going on😋. Xxx

P.S. I would also recommend listening to ‘Knuckles’ by the Snuts. Not only because it’s a great song, but along with NFWMB, it’s kinda the theme song of this series🤭.

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It was 8:55pm.

Harry had never been so fixated on time before. It was like his brain was counting down each second, even when he was trying to concentrate on quite literally anything else.

All weekend he had been wondering whether or not Y/N would show up tonight. Even though he had other things to do, and plenty of more urgent matters occupying his mind, the thought of her still managed to take up some space.

He hadn't heard from her. Not that it was technically possible; he didn't give him any contact information. God, why was he sweating this so much?

8:59pm.

The gym was entirely empty. He always closed early on Tuesdays. The rest of the week he stays open until 12am. There are more people who go to the gym late at night than he thought, but since he needed to cut himself some slack, he decided to use Tuesdays for that.

Not that he really cut himself some slack. He'd stay and do his own exercises, then stay longer to work on administration. He would eventually go home at around 11pm. Greg scolded him for it, demanding he take some time for himself, but that seemed to be impossible for Harry.

He loved this. He loved helping people and the shitty administrative stuff was nothing in comparison to the smiles he would see on people's faces upon leaving the gym. Whether that was one of the women in his defense classes, or a man who'd reached his new weightlifting goal. He loved seeing people happy.

9:04pm.

A wave of disappointment flooded through Harry's body. He didn't even know why he thought she'd come. It's not like he gave any indication that she wanted to. She actually told him, outright, that she didn't. He needed to check himself into a mental hospital or something... occupying himself so much with a girl he met once. He needed some sort of reality check.

The sound of the reception bell tore Harry from his thoughts, his head shooting towards the hallway where the sound was coming from. His feet began to move before he could even comprehend, and when he turned around the corner, a small sigh left his mouth.

Shit. There she was. Wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized Rolling Stones t-shirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail, much like it had been the last time he saw her. It still looked different, though, as if she had put in more effort this time. There were no stray hairs, and the ponytail was braided. Her eyes were as big as ever, and he could've sworn they gleamed a bit when they landed on him.

Angel.

"Hi." She smiled shyly, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag that slung around her shoulder. The corner of Harry's mouth tugged up.

"Hi."

She didn't say anything, just stared at him and waited for him to continue talking. Harry, however, was too busy with looking at her that he forgot he should probably say something. It's why it took him a little longer to say:

"C'mon, let's go to the other room."

He waited for her to pace towards him before he turned around and walked to the training room. He tried, he truly did, to stay casual and just keep walking, but he couldn't help it. His head turned—just to check, he said to himself—to see the beautiful woman still walking behind him. She really was here.

Having entered the training room, Harry walked onto the mat, Y/N following him closely. He turned around and gestured for her to put her bag on the ground. She did as instructed, and stood back in front of him. He noticed her posture, the way it was extra straight. She was compensating for the insecurity that displayed in the way she fiddled with her fingers behind her back. She probably thought he didn't notice, but there were mirrors all around the room, so he could see every single part of her.

Harry titled his head downwards and looked at her. He was only realizing it now; the height difference between them. He had seen it last week, but now that he was standing close to her, it was more prominent.

"I want to say beforehand, that during these classes I will have to touch you." He said softly, his voice still in that low baritone. Y/N's lips slowly parted, but no words came out. "Is that okay with you?"

From the way her cheeks flushed after vigorously nodding her head, he could tell she had found her quick agreement to be a bit embarrassing. Harry only smiled.

"Words, please, Y/N."

"Y—yes," She quickly answered, and Harry opened his mouth to communicate his approval, but the continuation of her consent caught him off guard. "You can touch me."

His heartbeat began to pick up a bit, blood rushing towards parts that it should definitely not be rushing to. He clenched his jaw and balled up his fists, hoping the tension in the other parts of his body would refrain his cock from straining too hard against his pants.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? Why was he acting like he just got out of prison?

"Let's warm up." He said gruffly, sounding more moody than he wanted to. Y/N nodded, looking at her feet as she took a step backwards. She waited as Harry walked to the bench to get jump rope. When he walked back and handed it to her, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"It's to get your heart rate up. It'll have you ready for the exercises."

"Okay." She took the rope from his hands and got ready, but never started the exercise.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. Her eyes went all big like it did in that first class.

"Oh— no, nothing. I was waiting for you. I don't know why... you're the instructor, of course." She was rambling again, shutting her eyes tightly for a few seconds after closing her mouth. Harry bit his lip to keep himself from chuckling at the woman in front of him.

"You know what, you're right, I'll join you. I haven't done my exercises today anyway." He said as he grabbed another rope. It was a big fat lie; he had trained for a good two hours today. But these exercises were harmless fun, and if it would make her feel more comfortable, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"Would you like some music? I always prefer it because it tends to get kind of quiet in here. But we don't have to. It's really a personal preference." Harry explained, holding up his phone. A small smile appeared on Y/N's face.

"Uhm, yeah, that would be great. What do you usually listen to?"

Harry shrugged. "Uhm, rap usually."

Y/N hummed. Harry squinted his eyes at the woman in front of him, then raised a brow.

"You don't like that, do you?"

"What? No! I don't care, really. You can put on whatever you want." She was quick to defend herself. She wasn't exactly lying. Y/N didn't care, she wouldn't dream of opposing the man in front of her.

"What do you usually listen to?"

"Uhm, I like older music." You confessed. Harry tilted his head.

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Jazz, Soul, classic rock, a bit of hard rock, disco."

Harry nodded, and looked down at his phone to type in something. Y/N frowned—probably wondering what he was doing—but a giggle escaped her as 'Let's Hear It For The Boy' started playing through the speakers. Harry's eyes twinkled as he took in the sight of her. He couldn't help but smile pridefully, knowing he made her laugh like that. It felt like an accomplishment.

"Okay, let's begin."

And so, Harry and Y/N began jumping with the jump rope next to each other. He told her to count until fifty out loud, and she obeyed him. By the time they were done, Y/N's heavy breathing made her realize that her physical shape had gotten a lot worse since moving out. She always used to run back when she lived with her parents, she told Harry, but she hadn't found time for it since she'd moved.

They did a couple other warm-up exercises together, and when stretching the final time, Harry dared to comment.

"You're pretty flexible."

Y/N looked up, shrugging at her instructor. "I was a cheerleader back in high school, and I used to do a lot of yoga in college. Maybe it stuck."

"Yeah, probably." Harry nodded, admiring the woman in front of him. She talked so casually about herself. She was actually impressively flexible; it's why he noted it in the first place. She was taking herself for granted, he could tell.

"Okay, let's start, shall we?" Harry said, getting up to his feet. Y/N silently nodded as she followed in his footsteps. "I'm going to teach you some basic things, but I also want to ask you if there are some specific exercises you would like to focus on. If so, we can start by handling those after having learned the basics, okay?"

"Okay." Y/N said, taking a deep breath.

"You can think about it, and tell me next time." Harry added, and as The Jackson 5's ABC began to play, the real exercises started.

Y/N listened intently as he explained her the basic things about throwing a punch. Balance was the most important thing, Harry had said. She followed his instructions closely and stood with her feet shoulder-with apart, her right foot—the dominant one, he told her it had to be—slightly ahead of her left one.

"Good." Harry's sound of approval had awakened something in your stomach. "Now clench your fist— you have to wrap your thumb around your index and middle fingers. Otherwise you'll break your thumb."

Y/N did as he said, keeping her wrist straight. Her stomach dropped as he let out a disapproving hum. He went to stand beside her as he lowly said:

"Bend your knees."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Y/N bent her knees a bit. From all the nervousness she kept stretching her limbs all the time, going against his order. Seeing her answer to him so quickly had made him smirk a bit.

"Good."

He didn't miss the deep breath Y/N took as he spoke. She desperately wanted his approval. It was endearing... and other things that it shouldn't be. Harry mentally slapped himself in the face. This was a professional environment, why were his thoughts racing the same way they used to back when he was a teenager? It was pathetic, really.

"Now, when you punch someone, it's important to put your entire body into it. If you punch without moving the rest of your body, it won't have as much of an impact. You have to generate the power from your core and legs. That way, the blow will land way harder." He explained, trying not to smile at Y/N's faint frown as she took in all the he was saying. She was so concentrated, wanting to absorb every piece of information he shared. "Like this."

He showed her what he meant. Y/N nodded and tried to imitate her instructor, but without much luck.

"You don't have to lean forward that much. If you turn with your entire body, it'll do that for you." He said, and had to fight the small grin that threatened to form on his lips when she tried to hold herself back too much this time. She huffed in annoyance.

"How am I ever going to be able to defend myself again if I can't even get a punch right?" She murmured, mainly to herself, as she pinched the bridge between her nose. Harry's ears perked up at what she said.

What did she mean with 'again'? Rage started simmering in his body at the sole implication of someone having done something to this woman that made her have to defend herself. Is that why she was so interested in the class? Why she wanted to learn so bad despite being so shy? Because someone had hurt her, or threatened to, and made her feel unsafe?

"Can I touch you?"

Y/N's gaze shot up to Harry's, keeping them locked for a few seconds before she let out a soft 'yes'. He nodded once, went to stand behind her, and told her to get back into position. As soon as she had, he grabbed her hips. Firm, but light.

"Do it again, slowly."

Y/N did as he said, and let him help her move her body in the right way. Automatically, her foot stayed in the right position, and she wasn't really leaning forward anymore.

"That's it." Harry said proudly. He was kind of caught off guard when Y/N sucked in a breath and turned around, his hands falling off her hips immediately. For a second, he felt bad, not having wanted to make her feel uncomfortable in any way, but when he saw her swallow, biting her lip, he knew that his touch had caused something else.

Fuck. He was definitely better off not knowing.

"I— Can I drink some water?" Y/N asked, almost sounding like she was out of breath. Harry did his best not to let it get to his head too much as he nodded, biting inside of his cheek. She scurried over to her bag, and took out a water bottle, of which she probably gulped half down before she set it down on the bench.

"Okay, c'mon. We have a lot to cover." Harry said when he felt she was lingering by the bench too much. She immediately walked back to him, and there was sense of pride that filled Harry's chest. Such a good listener, she was.

Y/N was exhausted. Her first self defense class was finally over, and it was a lot harder than she thought it'd be. They went over the basics of punching, and Harry had decided that she definitely needed to build some muscle. In the end, they practiced half an hour longer than the original hour Y/N thought the class was going to be. The regular classes were sixty minutes, so she'd just assumed.

It was also unbearable. She couldn't believe how worked up she was getting over the proximity between her and Harry. It was embarrassing, she had to be ovulating or something. Of course, it probably also had something to do with the fact that Harry was singlehandedly the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, but she shouldn't have let that distract her from her goal. She needed these classes, she needed not to be weak anymore.

After the class, Harry told her to be here at the same time next week, and she thanked him before walking out of the gym.

Harry probably didn't expect her to still stand outside ten minutes later when he walked out to lock up, but when he noticed the pouring rain, it looked like he understood.

"Did you walk?" He asked casually, locking the door. Y/N shook her head.

"Bike." She pointed to the soaking wet bicycle a few feet away.

"D'you need a ride?" He questioned, stepping towards her. Again, she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'll just wait until this blows over."

As if the universe and the weather were playing a crude joke on her, loud thunder ripped through the sky just as the sentence left her mouth. Harry tilted his head a bit.

"Yeah, no. I'm dropping you off at home." He said, and before she could protest, Harry began to walk away, right into the rain. He stepped into his car and drove over to Y/N, then got out of the car again. As he approached her, he asked:

"Where are the keys to your bike?"

Too stunned to say anything, she just handed him the keys. She was a little occupied with how hot he looked all soaking wet and— oh Jesus, she needed shock therapy.

She watched as Harry carried the bicycle and out in the trunk of his car. The grey hoodie that he must've thrown on before leaving the gym was a few shades darker now, and strands of his hair clung to his forehead. He made his way to the passenger door, and opened it, a wave of his arm gesturing for her to get in. She ran into the car, the door closing behind her with a harsh thud.

Harry ran around the car and got in himself, closing the door and turning the vehicle on immediately. Y/N's eyes went wide as Harry pulled the hoodie over his head, tugging his t-shirt up a bit along with it. She eyed the tattoos that inked his hip bones. They seemed like... leaves of some kind? She couldn't exactly make it up in such a short time because she shifted her gaze to the car window and strictly kept it there as soon as she'd realized she was staring.

"Where to?" Harry asked, but Y/N only replied with a distracted hum, not daring to take her eyes off the car window. She had never been around someone who'd made her so nervous before. Sure, she'd been awkward a whole bunch in her life, especially around her crushes in high school. But she was 23 now, she shouldn't be behaving like this around men anymore!

"Y/N?" He leaned forward, waving a hand in front of her face. She snapped her head to him.

"Oh, sorry!" She said, her tone revealing how stressed she was.

"It's okay. Just type in your address, and I'll drive you home." Harry answered sweetly. His soft, green eyes made him seem like much less of an intimidating man. That was, until one would look further down his body of course. The man was extremely jacked, and while that was very hot, it could also be quite scary. But she couldn't find any part of herself that was afraid of him.

No, he might've intimidated her, and that might've made her act like an complet fool in front of him, but she wasn't scared of him.

The silence during the car ride was mostly filled up with Harry asking Y/N questions about herself. Where she was from, what she'd studied. She, alike, returned those questions and found out a bit more about Harry's past as well.

The he was a boxer, retired two years ago, and now owned several gyms. Y/N knows she should've been taken aback a bit when she asked Harry's age and he said he was 29, but for some reason it worked the opposite for her.

Was this a topic for therapy?

She hadn't time to think too much of it, as he soon pulled up in front of her apartment complex. They both got out of the car and Harry helped carry her bicycle to a little garage for bikes at the side of the apartment.

They walked back towards the car, both drenched in water by now, and Harry turned around to say goodbye, but Y/N interrupted him.

"What do I owe you?" She asked, not caring that she was standing in the pouring rain and she was shivering from the cold. A sort of didn't want the conversation to end just yet. Harry thought it over for a few seconds, then shrugged.

"Nothing." He said, to which Y/N knitted her brows.

"But I need to pay you for the classes." She stated the obvious, at least she felt like she was.

"It was a try-out class." Harry replied with a smile.

"I already had my try-out class." She reiterated. Harry shook his head.

"That was your group try-out class, this was your private try-out class. Try-outs are always free."

Y/N bit her lip, unsure of what to say to that. Eventually she settled on something in the middle. "Fine. I'll just tip you extra good the upcoming classes."

Harry let out a laugh. "Sure, angel."

She could've sworn that her heart skipped the beat at the sound of that nickname rolling off Harry's tongue. Did he really just call her that? Y/N scanned for answers in Harry's face, and only noticed a slight shock in his eyes, but it was quickly covered up with that casual ease that always seemed to be hanging over him.

"I— I'm gonna get inside. Thank you for the ride, and the class."

Harry just gave her a small nod. "Anytime."

With that, Y/N turned around and hurried to her apartment complex, shivering by the time she got inside her own place. Her mind was racing, everything that had happened tonight kept flashing through her brain and it was like she could feel the burn of his fingers on her hips.

This was so unlike her. Unlike anything she'd ever done. Taking this class was a risk, one she'd thought being worth it, because it would bring her safety and security.

But this... these tingling feelings crashing into her like an avalanche— she hadn't felt like this since college. Hadn't had a crush become so intense in such a short time.

What the hell was she gonna do about this?

All she knew is that she couldn't stop thinking about him. Not as she got in the shower, nor as she got into bed. She kept tossing and turning until she gave into that feeling that had been nagging at her all night, her hand slowly sliding down her belly and to the sensitive ache that had been growing between her legs.

She closed her eyes and didn't even have to try to imagine Harry's hands on her again, the way he'd said those words to her. As if he wanted her to misinterpret them for something dirty.

"Can I touch you?"

"Do it again, slowly."

"That's it."

The sound of his voice ringing through her head had Y/N rubbing her fingers faster over her clit, her legs starting to close from the immense stimulation. Nevertheless, she forced herself to keep them open as she pleasured herself. Small gasps for air began leaving her body as she felt her climax coming closer and closer.

"Sure, angel."

The teasing tone in which he spoke, the playfulness in his eyes and the accent with which he said the nickname, that memory is what made her make a mess all over her fingers. A small moan even left her mouth in the sound of his name, and although no one was there to hear it, Y/N was embarrassed as she went to the bathroom, cleaned herself up, and went back to bed.

She did fall asleep quite quickly after, though. She was exhausted.

The next morning, there was a slight flutter in her stomach and a smile on her face as she opened her eyes. A new reason to get up in the morning had been making its way into her life, and she couldn't feel anything but giddy about it. Having a crush was always fun.

Despite the replaying of yesterday's practice over breakfast, and the heating of her cheeks at the memories of his words in the car on her way to work, Y/N knew that she was playing with fire by letting herself indulge in this crush. She needed to be careful not to let it go too far. A simple crush wasn't a problem, but he was her instructor and if she truly wanted to learn something in those self defense classes, she better separate business and pleasure.

With the loads of work she had to do at work, Y/N managed to drown out most of the thoughts about Harry the rest of the morning. She was finally relaxing after getting some important papers sent over—which was a stressful problem, as they had to be sent yesterday but some incompetent idiot messed up, leaving Y/N to solve it by herself first thing in the morning—when she got an e-mail from Sophie.

You are invited to

SOPHIE'S 30th BIRTHDAY PARTY

SATURDAY 5 OCTOBER

8:00pm (don't be late!)

Theme: Casino Night

Y/N stared at the invitation on her computer screen, a wide smile covering most of her face. She knew she didn't have any plans, but she still checked her agenda to make sure she was available Saturday next week. She felt like a child who'd just gotten her first ever birthday invitation. It sure felt like that.

Y/N hadn't really had such sweet friends before. Getting along with Sophie had been so incredibly easy and although she always felt like it was too good to be true and there must be some sort of trap, there never was. Sophie just enjoyed Y/N's company, and vice versa. It was like having a big sister and a best friend in one.

About five seconds after silently celebrating having received the invitation, Y/N began to stress about what present she should bring her new friend. It had to be something good. Sophie had earned a lot of money, and could basically get herself anything she wanted, so it had to be more of a sentimental gift.

Y/N had her eyes on a present already. She was very enthusiastic about it; it was something Sophie would really like.

All caught up in the excitement, she didn't notice a tall shadow standing over her until he coughed to get her attention. Y/N looked up, dread filling her stomach as she locked eyes with Oscar. She was still trying to remember how to breathe since her body just shut down out of anxiousness at the sight of him, when he started talking.

"Look, I'll keep this short, because I know you don't want to talk to me," He looked to his left and right before grabbing onto the desk and leaning over it. "but I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

Y/N could do nothing but blink at the man in front of her. What was he talking about, 'same page'?

"Things didn't really go how I thought they would that night, and I've accepted that. But I would appreciate if you wouldn't go around telling people."

"Telling people what?" The words left her mouth before she could stop herself. Originally she didn't want to utter a word in front of this man, nor did she believe she was able to, but this demand of his made her stomach twist. The way he said it, the distaste so apparent on his tongue. As if she were an inconvenience to be dealt with. He'd really mastered that heartlessness that only the cruelest of lawyers could conjure.

"You know what..." He said through clenched teeth, giving her a bit of a warning glare. The anger that boiled within her was new. She had never experienced it in such a large quantity before, and it had her acting out of character.

"What? About you assaulting me?"

The sentence had barely escaped her mouth when Oscar leaped forward a bit, frown so deep that it had made the vein in his forehead extremely prominent. She flinched at the sudden movement, tilting back into her chair. She felt the sped up pace of heartbeat as she clenched her fists, the rest of her body frozen in anticipation of what he was going to do.

"I did not assault—" he stopped himself, his crazy eyes calming a bit, as if he realized he was still in the office. "You know what, you can run to whoever you want. This firm trusts me, and they know what kind of man I am, that I would never do such a thing. Either way, it’s most likely not my job you'll be risking by bringing forth such an accusation."

Y/N had no idea what to possibly say to that. Not that Oscar gave her the chance, seeing as he backed away and walked off before she had the chance to come up with something. She began breathing more heavily with every step he took away from her.

Did he just threaten her?

A tingling pain in her hand distracted Y/N from the rabbit hole of thoughts she was just about to fall into, and when her eyes moved to see what it was, she raised her brows at the sight of blood in her hand.

Unconsciously, somewhere in between looking at the invitation and Oscar's impromptu visit, she must've grabbed the pair of scissors that were laying on the desk. She must've balled up her fists so much that she cut her hand.

Staring at the blood, a thousand thoughts running through her head, only one was the loudest.

She needed to get out of here.

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno

[whatifitookalilnap]

Headcanon that Korra had every Avatar stressed beyond belief in all aspects of her life:

Korra: *gets thrown into a compound for over a decade*

Aang, gnawing at the bars of his enclosure: NO NO NO THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA THIS IS THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF WHAT I WANTED FOR HER! I WAS TOO YOUNG TO TRAIN TO BE AN AVATAR AND I WAS TWELVE! YOU MANIACS ARE PUTTING HER INTO AVATAR BOOT CAMP AT SIX YEARS OLD??? KORRA IF I COULD FREE YOU I WOULD-

Korra: *gets into another better where the Avatar state is necessary*

Roku, leaving his place in the spirit world to assist: OH MY GOD HOW MANY VILLAINS ARE AFTER YOUR HEAD WOMAN I DID NOT HAVE TO WORK THIS HARD IN MY AFTER LIFE WITH AANG

Korra: *has to fight spirits*

Kuruk: WHAT NO KORRA GET AWAY FROM THOSE RIGHT NOW PLEASE YOU DO NOT WANT A PAINFUL AND SHORT LIFE! KORRA JUST RUN

Korra: *dealing with Zaheer and his insane anarchy quartet*

Yangchen: WHAT. WHAT THE HELL. THAT FREAK GETS THE GIFT OF AIRBENDING AND IS USING IT TO TAKE OUT ONE OF MY REINCARNATIONS???? THIS IS SICKENING KORRA EVISCERATE THAT TROLL I DO NOT CARE HOW YOU DO IT JUST END HIM

Korra: *falls into a deep depression and leaves for three years*

Kyoshi: WAIT NO COME BACK YOU NEED TO CONFESS TO ASAMI! KORRA LISTEN TO ME I TOO WAS A SAD BISEXUAL THAT DIDNT REALIZE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE RETURNED MY AFFECTIONS WHILE I SPIRALED OUT OF CONTROL! DO NOT REPEAT MY MISTAKES KORRA GO HUG YOUR FUTURE WIFE-

[jaythes1mp]

1224 words, 7239 characters, 54 sentences, 27 paragraphs, 4.9 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You had always had a vague understanding that your biological father was well-off, as he would consistently transfer a substantial amount of cash to that woman each month. However, while you were fortunate enough to not have grown up in the most deprived area of Gotham, it didn't necessarily mean that you had lived in the lap of luxury either.

Despite the knowledge that your father was wealthy, you had still scraped by in a small, cramped apartment, constantly relying on his financial support and night jobs to survive. You supposed that your situation could have been worse, but it didn't make the reality any more bearable. You often wondered what it would be like to live in a well-appointed home and never worry about money, but those thoughts were quickly thrusted aside and squashed down by the woman’s polished heel. Every time, the woman’s sharp words brought you back to reality.

You hadn’t deserved that life. She would remind you time and time again.

You grimace, the thought of your mother, or rather, that woman, entering your consciousness disgusting you. You weren't sure if she'd ever truly earn the title of 'mother.'

It wasn't until you reached the age of eleven that you become painfully aware that not every child had to desperately plead with their mother for food, and that it wasn't normal for parents to hold their kids needs over their own heads.

It had become abundantly clear to you from a young age that the woman was never truly interested in motherhood and had only kept you out of a slim chance that one of the men she had whored herself out to would be wealthy. She targeted men at lavish galas, her sole purpose for going being to hook up with them in exchange for large amounts of money. They usually sent nondisclosure agreements along with the cash, ensuring her continued wealth. However, your existence disrupted her carefree lifestyle. ‘It was perfect, until you came along.’ She’d say.

She had exploited Bruce Wayne for money. Getting him drunk with enough press around to stress about his ‘playboy image’ to bed her. Afterwards, she demanded a large sum of money, and he gave it to her without a second thought. He hadn’t even fully read over the details. Just signing up for a wire transfer to her account every month for the next few years. He hadn’t even been aware of you.

Too preoccupied with training the young Robin to even be aware of your birth.

Throughout your life, the woman had consistently manipulated the truth, spinning a tale in which it was your fault that your father had ‘left.’ And, despite your reservations, a small part of you still believed her words.

She had carefully cultivated your sense of guilt, instilling the belief that your very existence had driven your father away. Her venomous words and manipulative behavior had left deep emotional scars, convincing you that you were unworthy of a loving father's affection. Or rather, anyone’s affection.

That day, when you turned sixteen, was the day that woman unceremoniously ushered you out of her home. Clothes and any belongings that she didn't deem worthy enough to sell for a few hundred dollars were carelessly thrown out into the hallway. By the time you made it back from work, most of your belongings had already been looted by the other tenants and homeless kids who roamed the building.

With a mixture of desperation and hope, you had gathered the few remaining possessions that you could salvage, cramming them into your work bag. Your fingers had trembled slightly as you dug out your old, cracked phone. Desperation clawed at your chest as you dialed her number and slammed your fist against the door.

You hadn’t been surprised when your repeated calls went unanswered. Frustration and anger boiled within you, mingled with a pang of hurt and despair. Deep down, you knew it was futile to even attempt to break down the door, as that would only result in consequences that you were unwilling to face.

With a steely determination, you forced back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you, walking to the nearest bank with a firm resolve. You withdrew every penny you had painstakingly saved over the past two years and closed the account, ensuring she could no longer access any of your hard-earned money.

Armed with the few thousand dollars you had managed to retrieve, you began a desperate search for someone, anyone, who would be willing to offer you a roof over your head. Despair gripped your heart as you realized how limited your options truly were.

At that point, the members of the Batfamily had been cognisant of your existence for about a year. Bruce having taken a DNA test for Alfred’s medical examination. Yet, despite their general awareness of your presence, it seemed they had made no direct attempt to reach out or provide assistance. On the surface, your life appeared stable. You resided with a supportive parent, attended school, and held down a job. From all outward appearances, there didn't seem to be anything particularly noteworthy or concerning about your circumstances.

But they were detectives. One would expect them to possess keen eyes for details, especially when it came to the nuances and subtle signs that might indicate something amiss. Yet, they had missed the marks, failing to acknowledge the more subtle indications of your turmoil.

Jason discovered you the morning after you had been cruelly cast out from your home. You were found sleeping outside, your weary head nestled against your overstuffed work bag. Wearing an old, frayed sweater for a makeshift blanket.

Typically, he wouldn't have paused to take note of a sight akin to this. He was all too gruesomely acquainted with the sight of homeless, neglected children on the streets. But as his gaze fell upon you, there was an unsettling sense of familiarity that snagged his attention.

The question nagged him persistently, scratching at his consciousness like an untamed itch. Where had he come across you before?

Then, suddenly, recognition flashed across his mind. You were the same child Damian had fixated upon just over a year ago. The demon spawns little obsession.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Why on earth were you on the streets? It was blatantly obvious that it wasn’t a safe environment for anyone, let alone you. The mere notion of the young Wayne finding out that his blood kin was unhoused would undoubtedly send the typically stoic demon into a frenzy.

He let out a resigned sigh, leaning down to gently nudge your huddled form. His sharp, calculating grey eyes roved over your slumbering figure, taking in every minute detail with a sense of keen observation.

You stirred at the touch, groggily lifting your head from your overstuffed bag. Your bleary eyes slowly peeled open, blinking owlishly in the early morning light. Confusion and exhaustion mingled in your expression as you caught sight of Jason crouched down in front of you.

That was the day your life began to intertwine with the tightly woven web of the Wayne family. From that very moment, you became ensnared within the complex and sometimes suffocating grip of the Wayne's protective and possessive nature.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

Shorter than usual, but more of a dive into the reader’s backstory.

Comments, asks, and reblogs are very appreciated! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[bleach-your-panties]

sexy prompts for inumaki! all characters aged 18+

"T-Toge...we shouldn't do this here...they could easily see us, even from down there!"

The white-haired male only breathed a warm sigh into the crook of your neck as he helped you balance your leg up on the windowsill.

While Maki, Yuta, and Panda trained in the courtyard down below, Toge was sliding his long cock between your creamy, wet folds.

Your left hand haphazardly gripped onto the material of his pants while your right arm laid wrapped around his neck.

His nose bumped against your cheek, his silent way of asking you if you wanted him to continue.

"Yes, but, please Toge, we need to be careful. Okay?"

Those last words were lost on his ears as he shifted and gripped you underneath your armpits.

He expertly aimed his cock up at your hole and allowed you to sink yourself onto it just as you'd done so many times before.

Your face swarmed with heat as Toge bounced you on him hurriedly - there was no telling who might come around the corner or down the hallway and see the two of you in this position, but that was the entire thrill of public sex, wasn't it?

Not to mention your friends who might idly decide to glance upwards and get an eyeful of Toge pounding you in front of the open window.

But Toge, the ever-observant boyfriend noticed your apprehension about being caught, so what did he do?

He folded you at the waist, never slipping out of you as he continued his relentless thrusts.

"T-Toge! Slow down!" Your hands gripped his legs now while your head hung upside down, giving you a perfect view of his balls slamming against your ass.

"Huh, did you guys hear something? It sounded like it came from the second floor." Panda pointed a clawed finger up towards the window, where Inumaki gave him a close-eyed smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh, never mind, it's just Inumaki."

Maki pushed the furry away and adjusted her glasses to gaze up at the window as well.

"Inumaki?! What are you doing up there? Your ass should be down here training with the rest of us! And where's Y/N?!"

She impatiently stalked off with her staff thrown over her shoulder, mumbling something about slackers. Yuta brushed a hand through his dark hair sighed, and followed after the green-haired woman with Panda in tow.

"I'm gonna cum, Toge..I...my head...getting dizzy..."

Next, you were pulled up and your back slammed up against the wall beside the window. Your shaky legs came up to wrap around your boyfriend's waist.

Toge continued to bounce you on him in this new position, relishing in the sound of your moans and the way your chest bounced in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his shoulders while your head lolled to one side. He wanted to laugh at you, but instead let out a loud grunt. His hips stuttered and he carefully lowered both of your bodies to the floor, dick pulsing and shooting his cum up against your walls that gripped him for dear life.

"Toge...you're a monster..." You huffed at him once you came down from your orgasm and he did laugh this time while holding up the "I love you" hand signal.

"I love you, too, you bitch."

----

sexy prompt list:

#21 - Fucking with the window wide open

💗💗🍡°tagging: @darkstarlight82 @eternalalmondd

[satorhime]

on the ground ˚₊· gojo satoru + nanami kento. ── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : : f!reader, explicit smut, threesome + cuckholding, reader n gojo r in an established relationship, public foreplay (on an empty train), oral sex (m + f receiving), face sitting, spanking, degradation, teasing, praise, fingering, handjobs, double penetration (sort of), unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, cum play, squirting, snowballing, messy nasty smut w / lots of pet names lol ･｡･ w.c. 15.6k.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis & notes : nanami is awarded his apology, and more. part two of off the table, but can be read as a standalone. + ໒꒰ྀི ⸝⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ྀིა ⊹ omg omg i finally, FINALLY completed this fic. i struggled a lot with the direction i wanted this story to go in, but i'm finally satisfied and can share it with everyone. i hope you enjoy it & expect errors because it's an absolute chunk of words. thank u 2 @fushisslut for beta reading <333

nanami kento is out of his mind. 

you see, he must be. that’s the only reasonable explanation for his behavior tonight. when people perceive him, they see him as a stable man with a level head on his shoulders. they take in the pristine cut of his designer suits, the glimmer of his luxury wristwatch, and they can’t help but see the prime example of a professional jujutsu sorcerer. his technique isn’t a lightshow to impress others, but consists of preordained, calculated mathematics for him to achieve the best results in a fight. even the higher ups trust him more because they’re soothed by his polite speech, strategic outlook, and solid reliability— because he can be summed up into one safe, khaki-colored box that will never pose a threat to their way of order, even if he disagrees with it. 

normal. standard. boring. 

but every sorcerer has a flaw, a trigger nestled deep inside of them just waiting to spring them into insanity. it can be anything, really— a fight with a formidable opponent or your favorite coffee shop getting your morning order wrong on a bad day. nanami’s own flaw is a crack in the perfect design of his foundation that can be exploited way too easily if you know where to look for it. 

and gojo satoru knows the exact location. 

while nanami has tried his best to ignore the tension crackling like a steady current between you and him, satoru sees everything. his crush on you is obvious though. written all over his handsome expression when you simply smile at him or your shoulders brush in a crowded meeting room and nanami makes the mistake of looking down to snap at you to give him space, only to be enraptured by the sight of your pretty face and lower, the print of your cute little nipples pressing through the thinner fabric of your tight sorcerer’s uniform. his ears pinkening up like strawberry syrup swirled on top of milk. 

the fact that he jolts awake almost every night from wet dreams about you, cock dripping wet in his briefs can’t be written on his face, but it happens. making him feel adolescent, green as fresh grass, when he has to slip a hand into his underwear and fuck against his dry palm with your name whispered desperately on his tongue until he cums, messy and full of shame, all over his belly. 

nanami kento’s weakness is a woman off limits. 

perhaps gojo should feel possessive and territorial that another man has such blatant feelings for his pretty girlfriend, but gojo feeds it like cupid with a heart-shaped arrow. only feeling like a winner in the long game he plays. and tonight, well, tonight is living proof of that. 

right now, you’re strolling ahead of nanami with gojo’s long arm thrown lazily around your shoulders. the three of you are heading leisurely towards the train station, as if you’re like everyone else out on a weekend night— casual colleagues walking home together after a boring company outing.

the city at this hour is alive, a kaleidoscope of movement and bright, twinkling energy. usually, nanami would enjoy a walk like this under the starlit night, tilt his head up and inhale the fresh breeze as he walks the long way home to unwind after a long shift but he just can’t, not tonight. not when he’s strung out and so fucking hyperfocused on your every move. not when the noise from the neon billboards flash loud advertisements, bustling shopfronts, and drunken giggles from twenty-somethings stumbling out of upscale bars washes away all rational thought from nanami’s skull until all he can think about is you.

it’s humiliating. his self-control over his own actions is usually adamant, an indomitable shell around his being that should have kept him from giving in to his desire to fuck all traces of gojo satoru from your body, but how can he really resist it? he should have known better than to get up from that table and follow the two of you home, but it’s too late to turn back now. especially when the colorful streetlights illuminate your frame to him, the late night breeze stirring the flowy hem of your expensive little cocktail dress— giving him a flash of the supple swell of your naked ass cheeks, panties still tucked away in gojo’s pocket. 

gritting his teeth, nanami tries to look away but he’s locked in. picking up on the slight limp in your walk instead— no doubt from the rough way gojo fingerfucked you under the table earlier. the memory of desperate tears glazing over your big doe eyes as you pleaded for them both, begging nanami to give you permission to cum, twists a serrated knife into the mass of hot arousal already simmering in the pit of his gut. 

you’ve got him entranced, just like that, staring at the soft jiggle of your ass until gojo notices and kisses his teeth, smoothing the hem of your dress down in mock chivalry as he glances back at nanami with a bright sparkle in his quicksilver blue eyes, blackout sunglasses slid low on his pretty nose and grinning with those fanged incisors gleaming in the moonlight like a predator.

god, nanami hates the way his mouth runs dry at that look. 

“it’s just like old times, eh?”

 gojo leers out as soon as the three of you pile onto the train. his crude vocals are too loud, slashing through the quiet to bounce against the big metal walls. blinding fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting an eerie green glow. 

“i don’t know what you’re referring to, gojo-san,” nanami lies breezily, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate the headache forming behind his brow at the teasing sound of gojo’s voice. “if you could please be quiet now.” 

oh, but nanami knows exactly what the other man is referring to, doesn’t he? the unique moments in life when gojo satoru and nanami kento operated on the same wavelength. younger days before nanami left for university abroad at copenhagen, drunken nights in the dorm at jujutsu high after tough missions. dares and childish games that led to beer-flavored spit swapped between giggling peers. a lost bet. nanami never backing down from a challenge. suguru dutifully filming with a cracked flip phone as gojo mouthed down the length of nanami’s cock— 

he was a madman for playing gojo satoru’s games then, and he definitely is one now. 

“what’s like old times?” you pipe up with a question, breaking through nanami’s thoughts. your head bobbles between the two men rudely leaving you out of the conversation, confusion wrinkling your pretty features. “what are you two whispering about?” 

nanami grits his jaw, refusing to elaborate, but gojo huffs out the beginning of a chuckle and parts his lips to answer you. be it for dick, pussy, or spilling secrets better left buried, he can never keep his mouth shut, can he?

“mmm, nothing you need to worry that pretty head about tonight, angel,” he shrugs, a lazy smirk settling on his pink lips. the threads of patronization laced through his words makes you even more curious, though. “we’re just reminiscing.” 

his long arm curves around your neck after that, tugging you towards him. bending his head down to press his nose against your hair affectionately, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in a gentle kiss obviously meant to disarm your questions. 

and of course, it doesn’t work. 

“oh, i see,” you nod, like you’ve cracked the code. eyes fluttering down into narrowed slits at the both of them. “you two shared many women before like this, have you? is that what you’re talking about?” 

it doesn’t sound like an accusation. after all, you know how experienced your boyfriend’s appetite is, but the words come out a little more bitter than you intend. satoru quirks a snowy brow, still gleaming his signature grin. how would you react if you knew their truth, their history? 

“we have not,” that was kento, finally speaking up to clarify when it’s his reputation on the line, earnestly hoping that you’ll drop the subject. 

“but we’ve shared each other,” and that was satoru, cupping his hand to your ear like he’s spilling a juicy little scandal. 

“o-oh-” 

whatever answer you expected, it wasn’t that. 

your mouth opens to ask another question, but a safety recording cuts the conversation short before the train lurches forward, speeding out of the station. soon, you’re out in the city— skyscrapers and bright lights blurring past the windows at breakneck speed. 

gojo’s cue now that you’re temporarily sealed away from civilization. 

he leans against a pole, smirking against your hair. his hand caresses a path down your front slowly, and you momentarily forget how to breathe, sucking in your tummy because it’s starting again— his nasty fucking game. 

and for the first time, there is a third player. 

“remember the last time you tired putting your hand up my skirt on a train, gojo satoru?” you remind him as his hand begins to slither into the cleavage of your dress, disappearing under the fabric to shamelessly cup one of your breasts, giving it a gentle knead and making you bite down on a gasp. “not to mention, there’s cctv right there-” 

“how was i supposed to know there was an officer right across from us?” 

“you literally have the six eyes, satoru.” 

“shut up.” he huffs. “what are you so worried for anyway? we’re alone, and that guy won’t tell anyone what we’ve been up to. he wants you just as much as i do, right nanamin?” 

“i was under the impression you invited me back to your home, not to get arrested,” nanami retorts dryly, but his tone is a complete contradiction to the look in his honey brown eyes. he is staring across the train car at you with so much open lust, his intensive gaze simmers heat all the way underneath the surface of your skin, making you squirm even more. it’s that look in his eyes alone, like he wants to ruin you for your own boyfriend, that makes each move of gojo’s a little more than proprietorial. a farewell to his darling baby before he auctions you up for the taking. 

only, he surely intends on taking you back at the end of the night because you belong to him. but only after he checks off a certain box— after he burns the vision of you getting fucked on another man’s cock while he watches into his temporal lobe. 

“i’m not worried about nanami-san,” you frown, rolling your eyes, “i’m worried about the cctv.” 

“i’ll handle it,” he promises, his voice dark and low. he kisses your ear with a whisper that sends a hot shudder down the curve of your spine. “why don’t you go and greet nanami properly while i do, sweet girl? he’s over there all by himself.” 

your head whips around, eyes wide at his suggestion. nothing can really surprise you about the six-foot-three smirking egomaniac you’re dating at this point. that limp in your walk, the cooling slick still coating your sticky thighs from your last orgasm, and your missing pair of ruined panties are a testament to his want to fuck you in every location, in every way possible. to etch his mark into the world that stands at his feet, one drop of cum at a time. 

even if it means offering you up to nanami kento like a sacrificial lamb plump and ready for the slaughter. 

and you? you’re perfectly fine with being a sacred contribution left at his alter. 

“or are you scared?” gojo wonders, glancing over at the other man.

it’s not just a meaningless taunt. both you, and nanami can hear the weight behind the question. it’s a chance to back out. a consent form. he may be a greedy, overpowered sorcerer with an insatiable love for dirty fucking but he respects nanami, and he respects you above all else. you’re the love of his life, a little piece of his soul living outside of his body, and he knows how many steps he can take outside of the box before he runs into boundaries. and though you never back down from one of his challenges, though your mind is honey coated in lust, you lift your gaze to the ex-salaryman and you consider him, one final time. 

anyone with a pair of eyes can appreciate the beauty in nanami kento. he is all sharp contours and deep tenor. timeless handsomeness that reminds you of an old money heartthrob from the sixties, or a classic comic book hero. nanami may be the complete opposite of your boyfriend, austere and jaded, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to him, that you did not enjoy the steadiness of conversations with him and the few, ill-delivered dry jokes he indulges in from time to time. perhaps it was the throb in your clit convincing you, or the memory of him demanding you be a good girl and cum for them both back at the restaurant, but god, you fucking wanted him.

no, you wanted them both, and you would deal with your shame for it in the daylight hours.  

“don’t you know me at all, gojo satoru?” you finally break the silence with a confident smile, making gojo snort at you before he shoves you off the deep end— hands on your shoulders to nudge you into stepping across the train car until you stop in front of nanami. 

he is the only one sitting down, watching you approach with that stoic expression of his. at first glance, he looks utterly unimpressed, but you should have known better as your legs bump his spread knees and you glance down, getting a glimpse of the outline of his hard cock bulging against the tight inseam of his khaki slacks. 

your breath shortens into a needy pant. wondering what it would feel like weighing your tongue down after you’ve wriggled him out of that boring designer suit of his? or how much it would make your hips ache as it stretched your cunt out until you soak gojo’s expensive sheets down to the last thread? 

warmth blooms over the skin of your cheeks as his sharp eyes follow your line of sight. he quirks an amused brow, catching your shameless stare locked on his lap. he barely shifts under the attention, no slouch in the posture he holds with an easy confidence. “didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare at a cock you don’t plan to sit on, young lady?” 

“who says i don’t plan to sit on it, nanami-san?” you mouth off, even as your knees weaken under the weight of his authoritative tone. you hear gojo scoff in amusement, still leaning against that pole, arms still folded as he watches the scene unfold— playing out just how he wants it. 

“you’re still standing, obviously,” he points out, and how he makes such simple words sound like honey spread over velvet you don’t know, but the deep, flat timbre of his monotone flutters a lick of arousal through your belly. 

“do you want me to?” 

“come here and sit, back facing to me,” he instructs, gesturing to his lap. he doesn’t even think about putting his hands on you, no matter how desperately he wants to, letting you build up the courage to obey someone new. instead, he unfastens the buttons on his blazer slow, one by one, before removing his goggles and tucking them away into an inner breast pocket. sandy hair tinted slightly green under the lighting in the train as he waits for you. it isn’t easy for him to fight the more reckless part of himself when you’re standing there, staring at him like this, and he’ll be ashamed tomorrow to say that he didn’t even try. “well?” 

behind you, gojo wears a dangerous smirk. temple of his skull resting against the cold steel of the balance pole, content to watch his girlfriend climb into the lap of another man. you’re thankful that the subway car the three of you are in is deserted. you had kept your head down when satoru shamelessly flicked his wrist at the mechanical sliding doors as other passengers tried to board, slamming it shut in their confused faces and twisting the metal into a makeshift lock with cursed energy so that no one else is around to witness what you’re doing. 

you settle until your back meets nanami’s firm chest, your heart beating erratically. the sorcerer’s muscled arm feels warm through the sleeves of his tailored jacket as he wraps it around your torso, pulling you securely against him. embarrassment makes you shy as you realize that you’re sitting on your coworker’s lap with no panties on underneath your dress, his wide stance forcing your thighs to spread— rucking your dress up past your hips and exposing your pretty pussy to gojo’s twinkling gaze. 

“the cctv-” 

gojo nods, and you whimper softly as he shifts to stand a little taller, smartly placing his massive stature in front of the camera embedded in the beam above your heads. “that’s that,” he claps, then he lifts a brow, “oi, oi. you gonna take all night? our stop is next.” 

“not everyone is quick as you, gojo-san,” nanami snorts at his own little joke before he dips his head, pressing his nose to your pulse point. his eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he breathes in a gust of your perfume. scented like ruination, supple like forbidden fruit laid over his lap— he can’t resist pressing his lips to your neck first, his veined hand cupping your face, thick fingers curled under your chin to guide your head in his direction afterwards. “she deserves my patience.” 

“tch.” gojo rolls his eyes.

nanami has always been a quiet man. he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and barely then, refusing to make idle small talk and declining offers to mingle after work with his colleagues, but you know what he wants without words. your own fingers move, brushing over the buzzed wisps of hair at the nape of his neck as he parts his lips. tender in the way he finally tastes you, in the way he suckles your plump lower lip into his mouth.

you’re unfamiliar, but your kiss feels decadent to him and already, he’s determined to learn you. how many times had he lost focus in a meeting, wondering how you would feel on his lips, his tongue, his cock? the blond sorcerer presses his thumb against the middle of your cheek, keeping your jaw parted so that he can pet his tongue over yours until you gasp desperately into his mouth. 

the kiss is slower than what you’re used to, but nanami gives you passion, even though he’s a stranger to your body— a scene that your boyfriend watches with hungry, almost envious eyes. you can feel the burn of his stare from across the metal car. seeing you writhe all over his kouhai’s lap, twisting your fingers in his short hair, sucking his lower lip into your mouth, makes hot need churn in the pit of gojo’s gut to take his place.

he’s supposed to be blocking the cctv, but he can’t help it. before he knows it, he’s crossing the space of the train in a few strides, taking a seat next to you and nanami. 

you jolt when you feel the familiar weight of satoru’s big hand splay out over your thigh. heart beating erratically. saliva coating your lips and you whine because you’re desperate for more, but you don’t have to wait long. 

“my turn, sugar,” satoru grins, tucking a finger under your chin to pull your head away from nanami and towards him.

you go to him easily, no care at all that the security cameras are watching you bounce between the two men and their touches. letting your boyfriend smooth your hair away from your face before he cups your cheeks, sparks dancing down your spine as he kisses you insistently, urging you immediately into a hungrier slide of your lips against his own. 

“oh,” you sigh, and satoru shushes you with his wet tongue between your lips. he loves tonguing you down, leaving you breathless with the hunger he feels for you. sweetness of the dinner wine he spit into your mouth earlier lingers in the kisses he gives you.

it’s easy to get lost in him, to bathe in the attention when someone like gojo satoru is willing to give it to you. you’re so lost in his kiss that you almost miss the sound of nanami’s sudden, muted groan; a needy throb pulsing between the seam of your cunt as you realize you’ve been squirming over his lap without meaning to, the hard weight of his clothed cock pressing snug between your bare ass cheeks, the tip rubbing against your clit. 

“this isn’t the place for that. be still.” 

“but i want to.” 

nanami grunts in the back of his throat as you ignore him, plush hips swiveling down, grinding against the sensitive head of his cock beneath his khakis, his rough fingers squeezing your thigh desperately in reprimand. 

“can’t handle her already, nanami?” gojo taunts in a drawl, redirecting his kisses down your neck affectionately so that nanami can claim your lips again. they’re swollen, bitten by kisses, strawberry rouge smudged and ruined as they build a routine, taking turns sharing your kiss, stealing the breath out of your lungs to draw into their own.

you know that comparisons are against the natural rules of a threesome, but you can’t help yourself. they touch you so differently, vintage and brand new— opposites like the burning rays of the summer sun and the cool beams of the moon during winter, but their intensity is the same. 

satoru... satoru kisses like a man out of time because love has a habit of being snatched out of his hands, and life is fleeting in the world you live in and he needs to show you just how much he feels for you before it’s too late. he’s impatient and a little forceful, digging prints into your skin, leaving marks and love bites that sting in the aftermath— so you’ll never forget him, he thinks. he’s not shy, never ashamed to touch you in the middle of a crowd because your taste is just that fucking sweet to him and he won’t waste a minute of time he has with you. you can always feel his desperation, the urgency to prove his devotion embedded into each, skilled kiss. 

and then there’s kento, who kisses like he’s stopping to appreciate a masterpiece in a museum. there should not be so much reverence in his touch, not when you belong to someone else and he’s just an extra in your movie, the thrill of the hour for a sexually adventurous couple— but he is unhurried and thorough in the face of your greediness. feeding you by hand what he wants you to have. if you surge forward to take what you want, he counters and nips the tip of your nose in a bite that startles you, that makes you giggle, leaving you soft as putty in his grasp. and when he kisses you . . . when he kisses you it feels like he alone can stop the hand of the clock itself. as if he’s got all the time in the world, even though he is a man who only has the pleasure of your body for one night. 

if he can survive a train ride with you, that is. 

“stop moving.” 

“pretty please, nanami-san. i need jus’ a little... jus’-” you plea, and despite his warning, you plant your heels on the edge of the train seat. leverage to grind your pussy over the weighty print of his cock. back and forth, choking on little whines against nanami’s lips while satoru kisses at your collarbone and stares between your thighs. it’s frustrating to have nanami sitting there under you with a barrier in the way, the friction a tantalizing itch that makes you want to dissolve into sobs. you can hardly find it in yourself to care that you’re wetting the fabric of his pristine clothes with the sticky arousal dripping out of your little hole as you angle your hips down, dragging your clit over the cool zipper of his pants. 

“you want it that badly? you’ll writhe all over my cock, on a train no less, with your boyfriend sitting right next to you? you should be ashamed,” nanami tuts, reeling back to press his voice to your ear. “but there, there. i’ll give you something proper to rub on.”

“that’s not fair ‘cause you told me to sit, mmfgh-” you pout in petulant protest, nanami’s words causing your skin to blister under the heat of them, but satoru cuts you off once more by suckling your lower lip, grinning a little when you choke on a whine.

though the ex-salaryman’s tone burns a lick of shame down your arching back, one of his hands hitch up to your breasts to soothe the sting, squeezing the soft flesh through the fabric of your silky dress. and then, his other hand fondles your thigh and you inhale because he’s so fucking close— rough, calloused fingers slipping along the joint of your hip to brush over your mound. 

“here it is,” he announces, pressing his wet mouth to your cheek, reveling in the whimper you give him as he pushes a stiff thumb against your clit, pressing it down hard. keening, your hips twitch forward eagerly. his finger doesn’t offer much friction, but you rut against the palm anyway until he draws his middle finger down, spreading your folds and swirling an unhurried circle around your entrance, causing your breath to fan out of your chest in a rush.  “don’t be shy about it. rub against my finger and let satoru watch.” 

satoru isn’t interested in just watching though. 

he takes your hand and guides it to his clothed crotch first, a ruined moan punching out of his chest when you immediately wrap your fingers around the outline of his cock. it’s hard against your palm, and though the angle is awkward, you make due; rubbing your hand over him until his hips jerk up off the seat. as a reward, you feel satoru’s index finger join kento’s between your thighs, rubbing figure eights into your wet, puffy clit. you have to squirm helplessly between the two men playing with you like a pretty doll. delighted sounds leaving gojo’s lips as he mouths at your breast, flicking his tongue over your clothed nipple until the front of your dress is damp with spit. 

all three of you know that this is going too far. that the two men are devouring you in the middle of an empty train car, and you need to stop this before the security camera records any more of your sins. but how can you, when gojo pinches your clit at the same time nanami dips the very tip of his finger inside you, a low groan rumbling from his throat at the way you greedily squeeze around the thick digit, wanting to suck him in further. he clenches his jaw, staving off a groan. knowing you’ll feel so fucking heavenly around his cock when he spades you on it—

but just as the both of them are about to give you what you want, push two long fingers into your needy cunt, rub soreness into your clit until you cry, the train screeches to a slow, metallic stop at the next station. you startle, eyes flying wide open in mild panic as the doors prepare to slide open. 

“oh, well, i do believe this is our stop,” satoru says nonchalantly like he’s back to pulling the strings, like he wasn’t about to fucking cry at being interrupted when all he wants to do is make you cum again. whistling the melody to one of your favorite songs as he dips in to press one last kiss to your cheek before he stands up, stretching his arms overhead to pop stiff joints. “if you two are finished giving the security guard material to fuck himself with during his shift, let’s go.” 

the air is thick with cloying tension, oppressive enough that you can hear the ragged breathing from both sorcerers. once you exit the train, you know what’s waiting for you. your belly lurches in delicious anticipation at the mere thought of it.

gojo satoru fucks like a god and that’s when he is alone. his competitive streak will have him trying to ruin you, not satisfied until you’re fucked out and bruised and crying, with another man sharing the field. and nanami... nanami kento is an enigma, a paradox you could have never pictured agreeing to share a woman for the night with someone he is seemingly annoyed by all day, all night.

but proper, orderly men like him have a tendency of harboring the darkest desires of them all, and you have a feeling discovering what they are tonight means having trouble getting out of bed the next morning with stiff thighs and an aching cunt. 

“are you alright?” nanami murmurs, as cordial as ever. he barely seems affected at all, except for the unsteady hitch in his breathing— and, of course, the fact that his cock is dripping uncomfortably wet against the too-tight fabric of his briefs. his hand abandons you, sliding around to smooth your dress down before he sets you to your feet on the floor. 

nodding, you step forward on shaky legs, and satoru stretches out his hand for you to take. but before you follow him this time, through the automated doors and onto the platform, you look back and offer a hand to the 7:3 sorcerer with a grin that nanami knows you had to have picked up from satoru. 

“coming, nanami-san?” you repeat gojo’s words from earlier, offering yourself up to them both for the night. 

nanami huffs out a snort, glancing down at his fingers in consideration. the thick digits still glisten with your glossy cum under the fluorescents, the knot in his throat bobbing with starvation. he feels insane for crossing a boundary and getting involved with gojo satoru again (and now... now, you) but he’s lost all fucking sense, all self control at this point. any other day, he would be too dignified to even bring a woman home after a date but tonight, he raises his fingers to his mouth to suckle them clean without ever taking his eyes off of you before he dries them on a handkerchief, ever the gentleman. god, he wants to weep at the taste of your pussy on his tongue, but he stands to his full height and curls those long digits around your waiting hand instead. 

“after you.” 

gojo’s penthouse in shinjuku is dark and chilly when the three of you walk inside. nanami doesn’t pay much attention to the living space as he trades loafers for guest slippers with pandas printed on the top at the door, but he feels out of place when he finally does glance around.

nanami never had any reason to think about gojo satoru’s living situation or interior decorating skills, but he’s surprised at how... human it looks.

to him, gojo is a curse. a curse that he respects, tolerates, and trusts, but a thorn in his side nonetheless. it is a childish thought, but he had expected to find the space to be as annoying as he is during the day. though it was obviously a bachelor pad meant for a man who never intended on settling down, there are signs of you all over it, turning it into a real home.

he passes by polaroids decorated with stickers and framed photos of you with his students at the beach in okinawa, presumably snapped by satoru himself. pastel pillows and plushies mismatch with the cool design of deep sea blue and sleek black furniture. he has to avert his eyes with a disbelieving scoff when you hurry past him to snatch one of your bras off the back of the couch, as if you and your freak of nature boyfriend didn’t invite him back here for one reason and one reason only. 

“are you hungry, nanami-san?” you ask suddenly to shatter the ice, glancing around the apartment nervously. you’re trying, okay? how are you supposed to know how to start a threesome with your colleague? “i, uh- i know you didn’t get to finish your meal at the restaurant and i’m not the best cook, but oh-! we do have leftover takeout in the fridge-” 

“what she means,” gojo begins, clucking his tongue at your awkward hospitality, not phased in the least bit when you shoot him a murderous glare that could level a city, “is to ask if you’re ready to finish what you started on the train. she’s wet for you- i bet she wants to know how different your fingers feel from mine when they’re fucking her.” 

he pauses with meaning, letting it hang in the air like a fat, full moon, grin widening as he drags that salacious blue gaze down right to nanami’s crotch. “how different something else of yours feels too.” 

“you are unbelievably crude.” 

“why don’t we show nanami to the bedroom?” gojo suggests, eyes on you now. you have no choice but to nod, a nervous bubble trapping your words inside of your throat. you spin around, heading down the long hallway and to the main bedroom, your red bottoms clicking against the lacquered marble floors. 

the entire penthouse stands for what being the precious scion of jujutsu society can buy you in a rich city. gojo’s bedroom is nearly the same size as the main living area itself, an open space with high ceilings, glass walls, and warm amber lighting. the furniture is sparse so as to not overwhelm his senses. there is a sitting area of chairs by the big glass windows that display a perfect view of tokyo’s glittery skyline, and a california king bed sits focal in the middle of the room, the memory foam mattress dressed with expensive bamboo sheets the color of rich chocolate.

it’s all familiar to you, a second home, but when the doors shut behind the three of you and you’re truly alone with them, the presence of two powerful sorcerers watching your every move, their lust humming around your body in a chokehold and threatening to devour you whole, makes you feel like you’re walking into this room for the first time.

as expected, gojo wastes no time when the doors are closed. he closes the space between the two of you, pressing the lean line of his stature against your back. you welcome him happily, desperate for his actual touch and not the teasing he does when he wants to make you cry. he lowers his head, pressing featherlight, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder that earns him the tilt of your head to allow him more access, eyelids fluttering shut as he reaches the junction of your neck. 

“satoru...” you breathe out his name in the softest of sighs, and he makes a sound that he hears you— wrapping an arm under your breast as he bares down with his teeth, sucking a bruise into your skin while his fingers pinch the zipper of your dress. dragging it down until the fabric crumples to the floor and you’re the first one completely naked. 

“is this the real reason you took me to dinner with you, gojo satoru? to get me out of my dress?” 

“i don’t know what you mean, princess,” he says, and then he twists your body around to face him. cobalt blue orbs drinking down the sight of your naked body, darkening as he watches the way your nipples stiffen under the cold blast of air from the vents overhead. “i can get you out of your dress anytime i want.”

nanami almost rolls his eyes, but finds the restraint not to. he has enough confidence to make himself at home, too, while gojo undresses you. removing his blazer, he folds it neatly over the back of an armchair before moving to the silver drink cart on the other side of the bedroom where your boyfriend keeps alcohol he is too lightweight to actually consume, but you can feel his attention on you even though he makes himself scarce.

“are we being rude?” you whisper, only for satoru’s ears as he thumbs over one of your nipples, swallowing dryly. satoru follows your line of sight to nanami, and scoffs as if you’re being ridiculous.

“don’t worry about him right now. he knows what to do and he’ll come over when he’s ready. look at me.” gojo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze up and forcing you to look up into the twin pools of his blue eyes. at the sight of your plush body, his chest becomes so tight with want that it takes every last ounce of his self restraint to not flip you over, press you into the mattress, and split you on his cock. “that’s it. keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

“attention hog,” you roll your eyes. 

“gonna be a brat in front of our guest?” he hums, backing up until he sits on the edge of the bed. legs spread so that you can settle in between them. even though you’re no stranger to being naked in front of satoru, you feel exposed with the other man in the room. it doesn’t help that nanami is so quiet and observant— the sharp cut of his stare prickling against your skin from where he stands at the window, sipping dry scotch from the glass he poured himself. just knowing that he is waiting to make his move has your cunt pulsing with need, sweat beading along your hairline. 

hands resting on gojo’s shoulders, you lift a leg and climb into his lap. his hands drop down to gather the seat of your ass into his palms— shamelessly kneading the fat roughly between his fingers before delivering an open-handed smack that’s so fucking hard it gnashes your teeth together, your cunt clenching desperately around emptiness.

“o-oh-! what was that for-”

“for neglecting me all night,” he whines, and brings his hand down once more— quick, dirty slaps to your ass that bounces off the hollow walls of his bedroom until tears spring to your eyes, a bittersweet mixture of pain and pleasure that you love. “for holding out on me. not letting me fuck you on top of that table where everyone could’ve watched. for being a smartass.”

“dirty old exhibitionist.” 

“damn right,” he grins, like a madman. edging back on the bed and dragging you with him until you’re straddling his hips now. his cock pressing deliciously up against your pussy through his slacks and somehow, you’re no further in getting what you want than you were back on that fucking train. it frustrates you, knowing that he would rather tease you out than let you sit on it. but you know that satoru is good for it, and the only thing you can do right now is grind your hips down in a slow circle, rubbing a sticky spot into his designer slacks. 

“there’s just no satiating you, is there?” he sighs, one hand leaving your ass. thumb dipping between your folds to brush over your clit, the little nub oversensitive, puffy with need, and you squirm at his fleeting touches. “sit on my tongue then, huh? been dying to taste this pretty pussy all night long, angel.” 

“but i want-” your lips part to whine, but gojo sweeps in to kiss you quickly, sucking your bottom lip against his warm tongue that shushes your protests so quickly, it’s embarrassing. 

“you want my cock in you, i know,” he drawls, as if he feels sympathetic for you— as if he’s your liberator and not your executioner. this is nothing for him. oh, he’s plenty aroused. been aching to be buried in your cunt since the beginning of the night, but he could tease you for hours with his relentless touches and mocking words because it’s that much better. he’s a giver, and your pussy is so much sweeter to him when he’s got you swollen with need, cheeks streaked in tears. “or maybe . . . maybe you’re begging for nanami’s now?” 

you feel your heart flip, and you’ll never really get used to the feeling of knowing that you’re here, agreeing to get fucked out by your boyfriend and your colleague and they’re both denying you. head spinning into a dizzy twirl with arousal as you squirm over satoru’s clothed cock, desperate for friction. you try to bat your eyelashes, make it pretty, make him relent into skipping steps. “want you both, ‘toru. need you both. i’ve been so good for you, right? i deserve it.” 

“you deserve it, baby. and you’ll have us. after you sit on my tongue.” he says, adamant in this. 

“ugh!” 

gojo is so nonchalant about it, waiting expectantly for you. despite how confident you are in your sex life with him, it’s one of those positions that you’ve always been a little too shy to do often, but it’s hard to even think about refusing the skill of his mouth when he looks like that.

he’s reclining on the bed now, propped up on one elbow with those pretty summer eyes smoldering under wintery lashes and the peaks of his snowy hair falling over his forehead. pressed shirt all wrinkled now with the buttons popped open so that you can see glimpses of his strong chest and the ridges of his toned abs— just beckoning for a pretty girl like you to crawl up his broad chest and smother his face with your plump thighs and intoxicating scent. 

“what if i smother you?” you try one last time but the words sound ridiculous to even you.

“dare you to try,” he taunts, bravado on full volume but he squeezes the flesh of your thigh in reassurance as he reads between the lines of your words; catches the real meaning. “you shouldn’t worry about that, angel. i can take it. know why?” 

“not this again-” 

“know why?” he insists, like a bratty child.

you roll your eyes, but an endearing smile cuts through the thread of anxiety worming its way into your confidence. gojo’s talkative nature isn’t always annoying— sometimes, he knows exactly the right thing to say. “because you’re the strongest?” 

“that’s my girl. now get up here already. nanami is getting impatient.” 

nodding, you listen to him. inching up his body until your thighs cage in the handsome angles of his face, those striking azures glittering like gems between your legs as he smirks up at you like he’s got the best seat in the fucking house when in reality, it’s you. 

you screw your eyes shut as gojo leans forward, bracing yourself for that first warm lick of his tongue over your sensitive nerves— 

but instead of putting his mouth on you, the sorcerer presses his nose right up against your mound and takes a long, lewd whiff of your pussy— the sweet and sour musk of your slick clinging to the curls at your mound, filling his nostrils with a heady scent that makes a hoarse whine stumble out of his chest. 

“you’re so gross, satoru! behave-” you squeal, reaching down to tug painfully at the messy white strands of hair on his head, but the twinge of pain that shoots through his skull only causes him to grunt even more in pleasure. 

“and you smell like heaven, angel.” his nose nudges against your clit as he licks a long, rough stripe up the length of your slit. he’s not surprised that you taste as sweet as you smell either— you always do. sticky honey smearing all over the inner parts of your thighs and he makes sure it coats his tastebuds just as good too, appeasing your pretty cunt with starter flits that makes you grow hot. 

one of his hands trail up your tummy, landing right on one of your tits. he twists your nipple between the rough pad of his thumb, a whimper choking off at the base of your throat at the pinch.

pleasure blooms slow between your hips. it’s so gentle, so deceiving that you almost forget who you’re fucking. gojo satoru is never really gentle . . . sometimes he forgets you’re not as strong as him, that you can fall apart at the seams if he fucks you the right way. he’s just warming up, and you fall for it every time. relaxing into his grasp, a rabbit ensnared. letting him lick you into submission, and by the time you begin to squirm, intending to run from his oncoming onslaught, your boyfriend is locking you into place with his strong arms roping around your thighs. 

giving you no choice in it but to curl your fingers around the headboard in front of you and endure another round of the cruel pleasure awaiting you. 

“f-fuck, i could drink you dry,” he whispers under his breath, the low rumble of his baritone muffled by the press of your puffy pussy smooshed against his full lips, the vibrations tightening your hips with stinging jolts of arousal. 

you’re still so sensitive, gummy and docile in his grasp. body too tense and unable to move as gojo’s sadistic streak kicks in and takes advantage of your weakened state. he stiffens the tip of his tongue to a hard point, wriggling it right under the hood of your clit where he laps over the oversensitive, used nerves before suctioning the nub into his mouth so tight that you can feel the pull in the veins underneath. it burns. it’s everything. heat seething molten in the pit of your tummy, behind the skin of your clit, up the base of your spine. 

“gentle... s-satoru, gentle. i’m so sensitive-” 

“take it for me, baby. just for a little while.” 

gojo satoru eats pussy like it’s his breakfast of champions, like he’ll lose his mind and wage wars on the streets of tokyo if he doesn’t begin every morning and end every night with his snowy head buried between your thighs. he’s so messy with it too, spitting and smacking to wet up your pussy. saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, down his chin, into the collar of his shirt— unbothered that the lower half of his face is glossed up in your honeyed juices as his hands force your hips into a slow grind over his lips and tongue. 

and then, as if you’re not already burning from the inside out, your breaths choke off in your throat when he suddenly drags his tongue down, lapping over the entrance to your drooling cunt before he pushes it up into you. 

“o-oh- oh my god.” 

even though it’s nothing more than bothersome pressure, it feels so fucking good that it makes you want to collapse. thighs trembling and burning with the effort to hold up your weight. gojo makes languid, hungry pushes of the soft muscle against your walls that has you whimpering and gasping out. hips jerking as you forget yourself, bouncing down on his tongue like you’re fucking on his cock. and it’s exactly what he wanted, too— his moan is ragged, full of approval. cock throbbing against the tent in his slacks at the little sounds you make. 

you’re so caught up in the feeling of gojo fucking you with his tongue, eyes squeezed shut and knuckles aching around the grip you have on the headboard, that you had forgotten all about the other man in the room until he’s standing right next to the bed. his glass of scotch held in one hand while the other reaches for you, two fingers tucking under your chin to force you to look at him. 

nanami’s gaze roams all over your body. from the swell of your breasts to the tremble in your thighs as your tight cunt twitches around gojo’s tongue. your skin prickles over with goosebumps, swallowing nervously under his open scrutiny. his history with satoru and his apparent crush on you aside, you wonder what he thinks of you now? if such a proper, virtuous gentleman can keep up with insatiable freaks writhing on the bed in front of him. 

will he still dream about holding your hand on tuscan beaches after watching you grind on satoru’s face while begging nanami to touch you with big, pretty eyes, whimpering his name for mercy? 

“nuh-nanami-san, please-” 

“kento,” he murmurs, correcting you. and he doesn’t need the liquid courage— nanami kento is a man full of surety, but he drains the last dregs of his scotch anyway. “address me as kento tonight.” 

“kento,” you breathe and nod, like a good girl. “want you now. want somethin’ in my mouth.” 

visibly shivering at the sound of his given name leaving your lips, at your pleas, the ex-salaryman sets the empty glass down on the nightstand and then he’s reaching for you again. he traces your face, and then the underside of your breasts. his gaze briefly dips between your legs, too. and something in you stirs at the heated look that passes between the two men you’re in between. intense coffee brown meeting mischievous ocean blue before gojo smirks and looks away first to put his attention back on you as his tongue spears up against your sensitive spot, flicking and wriggling against it to spread warmth all along your hipbones and make you cry out desperately. 

reaching forward with greedy hands, you grip onto the front of kento’s dress shirt, needing a distraction from the tight coil winding slow in your gut. you tug him down to an angle where you can meet his pretty lips in a messy kiss. 

though you may have been the one to initiate it, nanami overpowers you easily. he makes the blood rush from your head, leaving you dizzy as he indulges you with his tongue. pausing to kiss over your jaw, sighing soft in the back of his throat like he’s coming home after waiting years to be able to fucking do this. it’s an overwhelming feeling, having one man lick into your mouth while the other challenges your sanity with his tongue against your pussy, his only goal to have you gush all over his face.

“finally,” kento breathes hotly, cupping your cheeks gently in his big hands as he kisses along the corner of your mouth, nipping at your upper lip like he can barely hold himself back to speak, his big hands palming your breasts. “i can become acquainted with this sweet mouth of yours without that one interrupting.” 

but oh, he shouldn’t have said that. 

gojo grunts in offense, but he doesn’t dare stop when you’re so close. if anything, it makes him worse. his hand replaces his mouth, and you barely have time to protest before he pushes three long fingers into your sopping pussy, curling them and fucking them back and forth with a quick pace that makes you ache, the tip of his tongue back to wriggling under the hood of your clit to spear right against those burning nerves again, causing you to thrash and bite down on nanami’s bottom lip, orgasm cresting too fucking fast, washing down over you like a strong tide ready to wipe out your mind—

“give me one right now, and i’ll let nanami fuck your mouth. come on, angel face, give it here-” 

“s-satoru, don’t-!” it would be a scream, but nanami drinks it down in a kiss. breath stolen right from your lungs as gojo forces the orgasm out of you, clenching and squelching so violently your cunt pushes his fingers out and you splash wetness all over the lower half of his face even though your clamp your knees together and try to hold it. tremors lock up the muscles of your thighs, and the pleasure chokes you out. high swirling in your head. you feel swollen, fucked out in the aftermath. knowing that satoru did it to prove a point, and not for your pleasure because you’re barely satisfied from it. your fingers are tangled in kento’s shirt, nearly tearing the fabric as satoru smirks victoriously between your thighs with his face soaking wet.

you push his head away from you weakly, but you know that he won’t let you off with just one. 

you don’t want him to. 

“y-you didn’t have to force it,” you whine, still shaking. “i fucking hate you.” 

“that wasn’t very kind, sweetheart,” kento is the one who speaks next, clucking his tongue. and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you insulting gojo, tearing his shirt, or nearly biting his lip in half or all three. but his lips look so fucking good all bitten and swollen, a dollop of blood pooling where you broke the skin that you ignore his scolding. at least until nanami takes your hand, pressing it firmly against the crotch of his slacks— letting you get a feel of just how painfully stiff his cock feels underneath the fabric.

“i expect that apology i was promised now.” 

god, you don’t need to be told twice. 

watching nanami through fluttering eyelashes, you work through unbuttoning his shirt and pants. the buckle of his designer belt clinks as you wriggle them down his hips just enough to free his cock. you can’t help the whine that leaves you, breath leaving your chest in a whistle at the way it slaps against his abdomen. it’s pretty. he hisses at that first contact of your hand wrapping around the base, moving it out of the way as you lean forward to press a kittenish kiss to his sharp, defined hipbone. 

“your cock is almost as handsome as the rest of you,” you breathe, voice the weight of a siren’s call. “can i taste it?” 

oh, you could pull him underneath the sea with the way you’re looking at him. he barely gives you a nod, and you smile. only a man as pristine as nanami would look this dignified with his pants tucked under his ass cheeks and his expensive shirt hanging off his shoulders, barely held out of the way as you stroke him slow from root to tip, wetting your palm with his sticky precum, opaque over your fingers for an easier slide. 

it’s not surprising that he is beautiful everywhere. a dusting of sandy hair on his defined chest and a sculpted adonis belt that tapers off into a pale and veiny cock. it’s not too long, slightly curved up towards his naval. perfectly heavy and thick— weighing your wrist down with body and strain. it feels scandalous and forbidden, like you shouldn’t be here stroking another man’s cock while your boyfriend watches, but then you remember that he is enjoying this most of all. 

“put your mouth on him, angel,” gojo instructs suddenly, pressing sticky kisses along your inner thigh to remind you of his presence. he barely sounds winded, nipping bruises into your pillowy skin as his salacious gaze locks onto the visual of your hand working over nanami’s leaking cock. “i’m almost done down here.” 

with that, he suckles your puffy clit back into his mouth. his throat flexing as he drinks down the pretty juices leftover. your hips jerk in surprise, but you try your best not to fall. to focus on your part in all of this. you grip onto nanami’s hip for purchase as your swollen lips part for the dripping, thick tip of his cock. sheathing your teeth like gojo taught you and sucking nanami between them slow, letting the 7:3 sorcerer feel the warm slide of your cheeks, fulfilling his darkest little desire of getting to fuck your mouth. 

and nanami hates to admit it, but gojo satoru being there to witness it, all six eyes on him, is like an added summer bonus. 

nanami is such a patient man. he would never think about forcing your pace, but he does place his hand on the top of your head, gently rubbing his thumb over your soft hair. it makes you want to please him further, sinking the tight ring of your mouth down on him until he grunts. the rough texture of your tongue scraping against the sensitive underside of his cock. you’re always such a good girl when it comes to sucking dick that satoru feels that familiar lick of envy burn fury-green in his sternum at the thought of his own erection sitting neglected in his slacks, but he wouldn’t miss the sight of his darling angel struggling to fit nanami’s girth fully into your little mouth even if the world was burning. 

“don’t suck him in like that or he’ll cum too fast and ruin it for all of us.” 

you’re about to reel back, smart off and tell gojo that you know how to properly suck a man off, that you’ve brought his ass to snot and tears with your mouth before, but something in your belly warms with lust instead and your words die under the weight of nanami’s cock pressing your tongue down as you remember what gojo said on the train. that maybe he’s instructing you because he already knows what makes nanami’s knees weak. that those pretty pink lips of your boyfriend’s have been right where yours are now. stretched obscenely around nanami’s thick cock, tongue flicking over the slit of his leaking head, swallowing like a good boy when the 7:3 sorcerer paints his throat white—

oh. 

“that’s it,” kento murmurs under his breath, low and gravelly. ruined. he bends at the waist, cupping your cheeks in his big hands, thumb brushing over the bulged outline of his girth pushing against your cheeks as you suckle around him. “i dreamt of this. laid awake at night thinking of how you would look when i touch you, how you would look with your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock.” he thinks he was a fool for saying that he does not praise or disparage, because he can’t help himself now. how can he not praise you, sweet, perfect you, when you’re suckling on him like that? staring up at him through coquettish eyelashes with a mouth so fucking molten, it makes his stomach churn.

he’s almost nauseous in his pleasure. huffing out low groans as you bob once, twice, swallow around the tip of his cock and repeat. trapping nanami in an endless cycle that makes his knees buckle out. falling too fast for the hot brand around him that burns straight through his skin. eventually, he has to draw back. huff out a groan as he lets himself slip out with a wet pop. “stick your tongue out for me, love. say ah.” 

curling your tongue down to your chin, smiling impishly when the sight makes him groan. he moves forward after a moment of reprieve, slapping the heavy tip of his cock against your flattened tongue— smearing sticky precum all over the surface. you barely have time to swallow it down, slide his sweet taste down your throat before he cups your cheeks in warning and his hips surge forward. widening your eyes in surprise as he widens your jaw at the same time. 

nanami kento isn’t at all what you expected. you figured he would be gentle and slow with you, almost boring in his romanticism. but your hands fly to his hipbones as your throat flexes and you choke around the thick stretch your colleague lodges down your esophagus. 

“that’s it. let me in.” he whispers, and he makes the words sound like heaven when he’s committing sin. you’re only granted a moment to breathe when he springs back, grunting deep in his chest as you part so obediently for him. spit bubbling down your chin, pooling to drip between your breasts and onto satoru’s cheek where he distractedly plays with your clit underneath. your jaw aches, but you let him bruise your throat without complaint. 

“fuck, fuck. you’re so good for him, baby. can’t wait to feel that pretty throat struggling ‘round my cock too.” 

“you’re neglecting her, satoru.” nanami chastises above the volume of your wet gurgles and gargles, jaw locked tight in pure pleasure. he places his hand on your shoulder, bearing down to add weight and force you back onto gojo’s waiting tongue. your boyfriend smirks against your skin, encircling his lips around one of your puffy folds, nibbling it with his teeth before he laves you with long, wet stripes of his tongue. it becomes a push and pull of how long they can tease you. every heated lick at your frayed, overstimulated nerves and every thrust of nanami’s cock against the gummy patch of your throat threatens to make you faint. 

“pw-pleashe-” you blubber around the stretch of nanami fucking into your mouth, fluttering your teary lashes up at him— hiccupping desperate gulps of air into your lungs when nanami eases his hips back immediately, pulling off your tongue so that he can listen to your sweet pleas. 

“i think she has something to say,” satoru muses as nanami wipes his thumb over your lips to wipe away the dribbles of spit drooling down your chin and connecting you to the flushed, aching head of his cock. 

“what is it, love? go on.” 

“i can’t take it anymore. please please please-” 

“been thinking ‘bout it since we left that restaurant, huh?” gojo swipes an indulgent, selfish lick of his tongue over your clit one last time before he’s lifting you off of him and moving out from under your body, letting you settle amongst the pillows instead as he kneels on the bed. “you’ve been nothing but an angel for us tonight so how can i deny you?” 

you should be embarrassed the way your heart leaps in anticipation, heat swarming in your belly and you shamelessly open your legs for him, but satoru doesn’t move an inch to touch you.

you’re convinced he enjoys watching you suffer when he moves to stand behind nanami instead, resting his chin on the younger man’s shoulder so that he can look down the long expanse of his torso while he boldly curls his fingers around nanami’s cock with a firm grip, just to make his entire body pitch forward with a startled grunt—

“gojo-” 

“look how hard you’ve got him, princess,” he muses gleefully, bright eyes shining as he swipes the wide pad of his thumb over the head of nanami’s cock. and you can’t help but look, watching the way clear precum bubbles out of the slit and smears between the joints of satoru’s fingers as he strokes him slowly. nanami’s cheeks flush, his lips parting on a groan before he seems to remember himself and clenches his teeth.

you’re reaching down before you know it, slipping a hand between your own thighs and petting two fingers over your folds but satoru’s gaze whips over to you so fast your heart drops to your gut, his eyes darkening as he catches you with a red hand. “don’t you dare, you little slut. wait your turn.” 

he waits until you nod meekly, move your hand and curl your fists to your chest and then he’s back to his task.

satoru’s hand is different, it’s always been like that. while your touch had been soft, warm, unfamiliar— satoru’s is intense and vivid, like a bad memory. his palm is calloused friction as he drags his hand up the thick length of nanami’s cock, spreading your leftover spit into his skin. no kind of rhythm in his movement, just enough to make the blond man’s hips buck forward before he’s ripping his hand away and chuckling to himself.

“you just couldn’t wait to get your hands on my cock,” nanami bites out through gritted teeth. 

“you’re right,” gojo purrs, a teasing grin on his lips, and then his attention slides to you. “i think nanami wants to fuck you first, sugar.”

at this point, you could care less who gets there first— as long as you’re given what you want the most. glancing at gojo with watery eyes, you look over at him for approval. wondering if he’ll edge you to the brim and snatch it away from you again, but he nods, giving you a soft look that melts your insides to goo. “i’ll admit, i’m reluctant. i’ve been dying to get into this pretty little cunt all night long, but i’m gonna be nice and put you both out of your miseries.” 

“i’ve got something else you can do for me, anyway,” he continues. his nimble fingers move to pop the button on his own slacks then, sliding them down with little effort. he isn’t wearing any underwear, and you swallow greedily around a dried-out tongue as you get your first glimpse of the night of his pretty cock. it bobs out— flushed bubblegum pink and pearling at the tip between strong thighs frosted over by white peach fuzz. unfortunately, you don’t get a chance to reach out and wrap your fingers around it because nanami is crowding your space, letting you breathe in the spicy scent of his expensive aftershave. 

“you’re so eager to do whatever he asks. will you do the same for me tonight?” he wonders, looking down at you with flushed cheeks and mussed hair. 

demure in the way you press your knees further apart until they brush the sheets, making room for his hips to slot in between them. scooting into his lap until your ass cheeks nudge against the wet tip of his cock— legs draped over his muscled thighs so that he can see everything. nanami’s eyes droop down, raking desperately over that pretty little cunt of yours. he swallows, the knot in his throat bobbing under the thin skin before he reaches down to spread your slit apart, all slicked and gooey in strings of wet and the remnants of satoru’s spit. 

“such a pretty pussy,” nanami breathes out the compliment like a prayer, like he’ll die if he doesn’t bury himself in your cunt within the next few minutes. “but i didn’t think you were so tight here.” he marvels, the tip of his cock just barely slipping past your entrance and catching. “how you manage to take that idiot is beyond me.” 

“that almost sounds like a compliment,” gojo quips, but his sky blue attention is distracted between your legs. 

it’s funny how a simple night out to a birthday dinner for principle gakuganji turned out like this— with your stoic, antisocial colleague wrapping his veined hands around your squishy thighs and laying the length of his cock, fat and leaking, on the top of your puffy mound to compare the difference.

the man in front of you is nothing like your quiet colleague. where you expected soft serve missionary and whispered praises from him, you got a fucking size kink and him sucking his cheeks against his teeth before letting a warm glob of spit trail from his mouth to drizzle onto his cock. it’s lewd, how he lets it cool there, watching it spread down the side until it drips onto your pussy as you squirm under the perverted scrutiny from both men. he grips the base of his cock and taps the tip against your clit to make you squirm, smearing his spit as he moves. 

“kento,” you breathe, the tight ring of your cunt twitching because he’s so fucking close to where you want him.  “fuck me already.” 

“be patient, love,” he coos, and you feel the calloused pad of his thumb shift from holding your folds open to dipping his thumb into your cunt briefly, making you jump. “how long does satoru usually make you wait and beg for what you want?” 

“too long. oh, he’s so cruel to me, kento,” you simper, batting those wet eyelashes to get your way, your hands grasping at nanami’s tapered hips. 

“i’m not like that,” he reassures. “if you want something, i’ll provide it for you.” 

and then, nanami’s hips angle down before sinking forward, the push of his cock spreading the walls of your cunt apart agonizingly slow.

“nghhhh-”  

it feels like heaven, and both of you let out a groan. it’s everything nanami dreamed of. pleasure scrapes up his spine, numbing everything else around him and burning his nerves raw until all he can feel is your pussy, splitting open nice and sweet for him.

“so good for me, just a little more,” nanami clenches his jaw, fingers digging into your hips as his lidded eyes stare down at your pretty face— eyes wide and swollen lips suspended in a silent moan. 

immediately though, nanami knows that you’ll be a fucking problem. for all your begging for him, you don’t take it well. he’s barely in as it is, only just past the fat, flushed crown and you’re already choking on gasps and gurgles. slipping out of his grasp and scrambling further up the bed, running to gojo— running away from that first, twinging stretch of the blunt weight of nanami’s wide cockhead. 

“oh, no you don’t- where are you runnin’ off to, sugar?” satoru is the one who reaches down, hooking his hand behind your knee and keeping your leg pinned open for nanami, halfheartedly twisting a fist over the head of his own cock as he watches the other sorcerer force himself through the tight walls of your pussy.

“god, fuck-!” you whine, pressing your forehead against gojo’s knee. 

“what’s wrong? is this not what you begged me for? begged us both for?” 

“y-yeah, but i- c-can’t take it. ‘s too big, ken. w-won’t fit.”

“now you’re just flattering me to get what you want, love,” he murmurs, voice soothing over your frayed nerves like melted chocolate; his soft, nasally voice vibrates against your skin as he dips his head down, pressing his lips to the valley between your sweaty breasts before angling his head to wrap his lips around one of your peaked nipples. “don’t you worry now, i’ll make sure it fits. i’ll make sure you take every inch of my cock.”

you hate that his words sound oddly reassuring, like he’s soothing a frightened animal— like he’s not wider, heavier than satoru when he reels back before fucking himself into you again, to the hilt this time. snorting under his breath when your knees close up, clacking violently against his hips. your first instinct is to push him out, thighs shaking with the effort to take him but he’s sinking with so much weight that it knocks the breath out of your lungs, giving you no choice but to let him split you open.

gojo doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he is enjoying your struggle. he’s scratching the itch of a longtime kink of his, mumbling to himself like a madman about how you look so fucking hot like this, how you take nanami like the good girl you are. this is exactly what he wanted, and he always gets what he wants; but it’s what you wanted too. you wanted satoru to watch the way you thrash against the sheets, the way your pretty lips part to moan your coworker’s name— how fucking beautiful you look arching your back off the bed, hair splayed out on the pillows with another man’s cock fucking inside you.

“how does he feel, angel?” 

“so big, s-so fucking wide-!” you squeal, your words hiccupping off into a throaty moan, “i can’t-” 

“why don’t you be a big girl for nanami? show him how good you are at taking cock, baby,” satoru purrs, stroking his hand across your soft cheek. you nod a little, bite down on your lip, curling your fists into the sheets as nanami fucks steady, raw soreness against the walls of your cunt. the soft swell of your breasts bouncing with each calculated, hard thrust. you muffle the sounds you make against satoru’s knee, but nanami seems to enjoy your gasping cries. practically cooing in response each time he drags one out of you. 

“show him that you can take two at once.” 

before you can comprehend what he means, kento is the one who pauses his strokes, encapsulating your hips in his big hands before he tips you onto your side to give satoru easier access. it’s strange, seeing two men who don’t get along work together to fuck you to tears but it also warms your cunt, a feverish flush traversing through your veins because they’re taking care of you so well. nanami hooks your ankle over his shoulder, bending you until the joints in your hips ache and then he fucks back in, his blunt fingernails digging bloody moons into the doughy skin of your thighs at the feeling of your cunt swallowing him up once more. 

when gojo shifts his hips forward, you know what he wants and you loll out your tongue like a good girl, waiting until your boyfriend wraps his fingers around the back of your head, spindly digits tangling in your hair painfully as he guides your head forward, running your tongue across the leaking slit of his cock, let you gather up his precum on your tastebuds. groaning. sucking in his gut as you let him use your mouth for his pleasure, letting him control you like a little rag doll. and when he tugs on your hair, your swollen lips close around the tip of his cock, suckling on it obediently. whining when you suck just right and the salty taste of his watery precum coats your tongue. 

“look at you, you’re filthy,” nanami mutters, and though the degradation should smart, it makes your hips buck up against his in response because nanami says it with so much fucking veneration, it sounds like he’s praying to god. “i should have known because of who you’re dating, but look. at. you- you’re worse than he is. thrashing all over my cock while you suck another.” 

“k-kento-” 

you don’t need a mirror to know how you look under them. vixenish. a thing out of fantasy, a greedy little cockslut happily splitting open those honey thighs for one man while your pretty mouth is wide open for another; wedged between both of them to be used for their pleasure.

and you couldn’t be happier— you dip low, tonguing at the seam of satoru’s balls, spit congregating at the corner of your lips before he shakes his head, cheeks candy cane red and blue eyes lidded. fingers tightening in your hair with a brutal twist of his wrist, hips fucking forward to sink himself further into your mouth. 

“f-fuck, sweet girl. just like that.” 

nanami’s watching the entire thing, his gaze fixated on the two of you as you suck gojo greedily between your lips. his heart thumps wild, and he can’t help but fuck a little harder at the sight, a little faster, a little meaner, because he knows what you’re tasting right now from experience. salt and sugar at the tip, precum gathering against your tongue that never ends because satoru is messy. his throat dries up, sandy hair falling over his forehead as he tucks his chin against his chest and forces his eyes shut. 

“how does she feel, nanami?” satoru goads, voice breathless, lidded eyes flickering to the man fucking between your legs. “better than me?” 

“better than you ever have. look how easy she’s opening up for me,” nanami shoots at the white-haired man, his fingers holding one side of your pussy open so both men can watch nanami’s cock slide in and out, your cunt expanding to take him with each sink before squeezing down when he presses deep. he’s made a mess of you already— the thick root of his cock coated in a ring of white cream, flecks of it splattered over his lower abdomen.

it’s too much— fuck, he can barely keep his composure. he’s losing control and it’s too much and that’s why nanami does it. he’s overwhelmed. you run too hot, and his gut feels like it’s on fire. each sink of his heavy cock against the warm, squishy walls of your cunt, combined with satoru’s low groans and the sound of you choking around his cock up front threatens to send him over the edge too early. that’s why nanami’s honey eyes darken, why he reaches for satoru— gripping him hard by the nape of his neck and tugging him forward. 

gojo grunts in surprise as nanami yanks him in, but it isn’t as if he doesn’t want to go; as if he doesn’t want to chase the thread nanami is weaving right now. they barely share a heated look before gojo dips his head, locking them into a kiss. 

the first thing that crosses your mind is that it’s so fucking hot, and the second is that the way they kiss each other is not the gentle way they coaxed you into letting them explore your mouth. they aren’t delicate with each other, and you should not have expected them to be.

gojo usually has so much control over nanami— being a stronger sorcerer than him, dominating the conversations they have by annoying him to no end— but when they kiss, it’s different. nanami grips the back of gojo’s neck in a vice, keeping him in place while his long fingers tangle in the short strands of nanami’s hair. it’s all heated licks into satoru’s mouth, lewd sucks against nanami’s tongue. like they’ve waited so fucking long to do this again. one drunk on your pussy and the other drugged out on your throat as they kiss each other vigorously. 

their lips are wet with spit, and at one point gojo bites down on nanami’s tongue hard enough to nick it, groaning at the metallic tang that rides over his taste. you don’t miss how nanami’s hips drive into you harder after that, forcing his grunts down gojo’s throat as punishment. 

if you had any doubts that they had done this before, you don’t have them now. it’s obvious in their chemistry, and though the thoughts swirl in your mind, you don’t feel jealousy as they tongue into each other’s mouths. no matter what, you are the center of satoru’s world and nothing will change that. instead, it’s hotter like this, seeing the two of them kiss each other. knowing the three of you are sharing each other. 

“who told you that you could stop?” kento’s gaze flickers to you, head tilted down and directing the question at you. his chest rises and falls in a desperate heave as satoru mouths a path across the sharp cut of the ex-salaryman’s jawline to the long, toned expanse of his neck. leaving aubergine nips and bites along the smooth olive skin there that nanami hisses at. 

you had been so caught up in watching them that you don’t even remember stopping. you’re almost too fucked out to function yourself— to keep up with the only task you had besides laying there and taking cock, but your cheeks warm as nanami scolds you for slacking off. at some point, you had pulled off of satoru’s cock, rubbing your spit against his skin with a halfhearted, lazy handjob. neglecting your poor boyfriend to watch them kiss. nanami’s hand drops, gripping the back of your head and forcing you to swallow satoru’s cock once more. you suck him in quick, gurgling spit and precum and air in a dirty choke as the warmth catches him off guard and his hips snap forward too fast, the tip of his cock brushing against the fleshy patch at the back of your throat and gagging you out. 

“good girl, f-fuck. you’re so good for me, so good, so fuckin’ good,” oh, he sounds like he’s almost sobbing. 

as you pull him further in, a hot brand suctioning around the girth of his cock at the same time nanami boldly scrapes a fingernail over one of his nipples. it’s enough stimulation, enough overwhelming pleasure that he feels a lurch in his gut, a kick in his balls and then he’s withdrawing almost as fast as he buried himself in, pulling his cock off your tongue at an almost reluctant pace, a string of spit connecting you to his flushed tip.  

“need a minute. can’t cum yet,” he expels a deep breath of relief, grinning at you lopsidedly and bending at the waist to kiss your puffy lips— groaning when he tastes his musk on your tongue. but it’s obvious that gojo satoru isn’t tapping out of his own game.

instead, he stretches out on his belly and suckles one of your nipples into his mouth, pulling the little nub so hard onto his tongue that you feel your eyes wet up at the sensation, walls clenching around nanami with a gasp. he quickly grows bored, though. hand trailing down your tummy until you jump in oversensitivity as his fingers shift through your spread slit, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your puffy, sore clit as nanami sinks in and out of your pussy.

you whine, wanting to cum so desperately that your lashes are wet with frustrated tears, grinding against each of nanami’s thrusts, euphoric dopamine filling your brain each time his fat cock fucks right against that sweet spot inside of you. 

“gojo-san, behave,” nanami warns suddenly, already knowing what the snowy-haired sorcerer is up to. gojo just grins, and then his fingers are dipping a little further, a dangerous glint in his eye that makes your heart sink. 

“aw, come on, spoilsport. i just wanna see how your cock feels inside my girl,” he says innocently, but his smirk betrays his intentions completely. you hiss through your teeth as satoru fishhooks a finger into your pussy, thrusting it right alongside nanami’s cock and tugging, stretching you out even further.

“o-oh-” you keen, and then your boyfriend is leaning down and licking a broad stripe over the length of your slit, hardening the point of his tongue to flick it rapidly against your clit, the heady scent of sex filling his nostrils, making him lightheaded.

you squeak out in surprise, fingers flying to grip his hair, acrylics digging into his scalp because you’re so delirious with pleasure now, fucked out and so so full— walls twitch and clench with each weighted thrust of nanami’s cock, the forked ridges of the veins along the shaft dragging against your nerves, slick squelching out of your stretched hole to drip down the middle of your ass cheeks. 

“look at me while i’m fucking you, darling,” nanami beckons for your attention and you give it to him, looking up at him with misty, lidded eyes. “there we go, there’s my pretty girl,” he croons and he knows that he shouldn’t stake a claim on you like this— you’ll be back in satoru’s arms soon enough, you’ll never belong to him, after all, but he can’t help himself; his hand petting your cheek affectionately as he fucks into you. “you’re going to make me cum soon, love. gonna make me fill up this perfect little cunt. do you want that?”

“yes-! want your cum, kento. want it so bad.”  

“that’s right, darling. let me hear it. let me hear you scream my fucking name in front of your boyfriend.” 

“want you to cum inside me, k-kento. wanna cum with you. f-fuck me, it feels so good-!” you plea, and the beginnings of an orgasm stirs in your tummy— warmth spreading all over the nerves of your clit and building until you can feel it right on the edge, so close that tears bubble up in your pretty eyes because you want it so fucking bad. all it would take is for nanami to fuck into you at the right angle, for gojo to crook the fingers he still has inside of you and press up against that sweet spot and make you fall apart underneath them. 

but you should have expected that gojo satoru would have other plans. his tongue innocently flicking out against your clit until he moves down, mouth widening a little further so that when nanami reels his hips all the way back and plunges forward, it’s not your cunt that nanami sinks into, it’s satoru’s mouth. pretty pouty lips closing around the head of nanami’s cock at the last minute, hollowing his cheeks out, sucking him all the way to the back of his throat like a fucking professional—

“what the- fuck,” a guttural grunt of surprise is punched out of nanami that sounds so deep, so ruined that it rattles your teeth, his entire body trembling at the hot suction swallowing around his cock and he’s lost to it, no chance of fighting it or scolding satoru for the dirty trick— he simply grips the back of his head roughly, burying himself down the sorcerer’s throat as he spurts white ropes of cum onto gojo’s tongue, forcing him to drink every fucking drop. 

nanami heaves in the aftermath, barely able to catch his breath. “can you ever get through the day without being a freak?” 

“keep degrading me,” gojo sighs before he grips your cheeks, squishing them between the pads of his fingers until your tongue pushes out from the pressure and he can lean over your body, lolling out his own tongue and drizzling a thick strand of his spit and nanami’s leftover seed from his mouth into your own, bringing a moan to your lips as your hips thrash. you make a show of playing with it— spreading white it over the surface of your tongue before you swallow eagerly, whining needily as his cum slides down your throat. “it makes my dick even harder.”

“i didn’t get to cum,” you pout.

“sorry, princess,” he doesn’t sound apologetic at all when he looks down his nose at you, shrugging one broad shoulder. “can’t let you have all the fun. don’t worry, though. i’m going to take care of you.” 

you would be lying if you said your stomach didn’t lurch at the promise. 

you’re vaguely aware that the two of them are switching places, eyes too blurry with clouds to see for sure until nanami sits back against the large headboard and pulls you into a half-seated position so that you’re leaning against his chest and his strong arm is encircled around your middle as satoru nudges your cum streaked thighs apart. your eyes are lidded, but you still can see him brush his fingers over your used pussy before he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, unforgiving and no further warning before he presses inside of you.

heat washes over your entire body, your belly aching as you’re filled up to the brim once again. where nanami was thicker, satoru is everything— overwhelming, all consuming. making your eyes slam shut during that first push every time, unable to help your high pitched whines as he forces you to take every last inch of his cock.

“not gonna say ‘t-toru it’s too much’ for me like you did nanami? i must be losing my touch,” he sneers, mocking you with a condescending coo, his eyes rolling down when he bottoms out inside of you.

“f-… god. f-fuck you.”

“anything for you.”

satoru isn’t interested in teasing any longer, not when he’s been on edge for hours. the unruly, hard rhythm of his fucking has you squirming on his cock quick, each thrust knocking you against nanami’s bare chest— giving you nowhere to run. it hurts, but it’s so good. your cunt too sensitive after being used all night long like this, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

“be good for him, darling,” nanami encourages, and you think you could get used to the way he holds you— his lips pressed against the temple of your head, his breath hot against your skin as he presses the softest of kisses there, contrasted with the brutal lashings of satoru’s fucking. 

you nod dumbly, letting yourself be wrapped in nanami’s strong arms as satoru fucks in and out, relentless in his strokes, keeping that familiar ache in the pit of your belly. his hips press against yours as he grinds the tip of his cock against the entrance to your womb and he knows he’s too deep when you wince, when your fingernails scratch against his tapered v-line to beg for mercy so he compromises, drawing back until he can see the foam streaking his cock.

“puh-please, ‘toru,” you pant out, guttural and desperate so satoru falls over you, groaning into your shoulder as he does exactly what you asked— slamming his cock into you. making you cry out in surprise as he fucks deep once more, pulses of pleasure burning through your body and making your legs clamp around his hips.

“i-i can’t-” you whine, squeezing your thighs together, but satoru holds you open, not taking your complaints, pressing you down further against nanami so that it’s impossible to escape the dirty onslaught of his cock. “much- too much-!”

“oh, now you say it, ” satoru growls out, rolling his hips. “too late. cum for me and i’ll stop. come on, sweet baby. cum on my cock.”

you can tell that he’s losing it too, the friction almost too much to bear for you both. wrapping your arms around satoru’s neck and clinging to him, you bite your lips to muffle the gasps and moans trying to escape as the heat stirring in your belly is almost to bursting now, a rubber band pulled taut and ready to snap. 

nanami ducks a hand between the wet slide of your bodies, pushing his middle finger against your clit. rubbing in quick circles and you mewl, squirming and thrashing against them both. “do what he says, cum for him.” and you try to hold it, try to last a little longer but it’s no use; the three of you are pressed against each other beautifully and the room feels hazy and hot, suffocating everything else until your pleasure is sharpened to a bright point, until you can feel nothing but them. raw pulses. inner walls spasming against satoru’s cock as he thrusts against you, fucking against that spot inside you until it feels sore, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass cheeks each time he sinks into you. 

“i-i’m g’na cum, oh f-fuck, i’m gonna cum-!” 

“oh, there we go,” satoru groans as he fights through the tight squeeze of your walls, like you’re late and he’s tired of waiting.

your vision dots with black stars, screams echoing off the walls of the room in gojo’s penthouse before your back arches and you’re gone, squirting as your swollen walls clamp desperately around satoru’s cock; drenching the sheets below as you gush all over them both, sniffling as the force of your orgasm forces hot tears to spill from your eyes that gojo and nanami bend down to lick away from your cheeks.

satoru follows close behind, his own climax hitting him like a fucking train— groaning as buries himself deep to cream your cunt with his thick cum. the sight of the two of you, so pretty and filthy as you cling to each other, makes nanami cum again too. completely untouched, spurting hot seed against your lower back where he holds you up.

it feels like forever before your eyes flutter open and when they do, you look up at nanami, his face flushed and hair mussed out of the confines of his hair gel. then, your eyes slide down to gojo who is looking utterly pleased with himself. he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, pulling it free before his thumb gently spreads your folds apart, snorting when you hide your face in your hands as both of them fixate on the sight of your ruined cunt once more. thighs streaked with sweat and cum, strands of seed dripping out of your hole to pool beneath you on the sheets. you look so messy and nanami has to tear his gaze away, his gut lurching with the desire to eat it out of you. 

“fuck, that was good,” gojo breathes, and you whine when he scoops up some of the cum leaking out of you with two fingers and pushes it back into your pussy.

“stop staring at it-!”

“don’t be shy. i’m glad i was given the privilege to see you cum like this, darling,” nanami murmurs, kissing your temple as he pries your hands away from your face. then he moves from behind you, letting your body rest amongst the enormous sea of pillows satoru keeps on his bed. “i trust that the two of you will allow me to eat dinner in peace next time, now that you’ve satisfied another one of your appetites.” 

“no promises,” you giggle, stretching out on the bed and bringing one of the pillows closer to cuddle it. 

“i should help you clean up. satoru, where do you keep the towels?” he says and though he sounds like such a gentleman, it’s really because if he keeps staring at the cum leaking out of you in rivulets, he won’t be able to ever leave this fucking room.

but the white-haired sorcerer doesn’t answer him. instead, gojo flops down and hooks an arm around your waist— his long legs tangling with yours as he pulls you against his chest. it feels symbolic to nanami, somehow. like he’s shared your body, shared his own in a way, and now he’s ready to fit the rightful pieces of the puzzle back into their places.

for a moment, nanami had almost forgotten that neither of you have ever belonged to him. 

he is the outsider, after all. 

his expression remains neutral because he knows when he has overstayed his welcome, knows when one of satoru’s little games are over and there are no rematches. he has been in this situation before, after all— younger, reckless, and just as foolish as he is now— so he stands up and prepares to leave with dignity, walk over to his neatly folded clothes on the armchair by the window and hope that he doesn’t fall asleep dreaming about the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. praying that now that he’s had you, it’ll be out of his system for good—

“where are you going, kento?” you wonder in genuine confusion, wrapping your hand around his wrist to halt his stride as you tilt your head up with a frown. nanami feels his heart kick in his chest. “we can clean up later, silly. come back to bed.” 

“i don’t think i should stay,” nanami sniffs, wishing he had his tie to adjust out of nervous habit. 

“you know, leaving right after you fucked my brains out is not very gentlemanly of you, nanami kento,” you scold halfheartedly, mouth twisted to the side.

“i have missions in the morning so i regrettably cannot-” his ears turn crabapple pink at your crude words, his free hand reaching over to gently pry your fingers away from his wrist but you refuse to let go.

“well, if you want to be a proper lover, then you will,” you tug on his wrist insistently, almost yanking him back onto the slightly damp covers. satoru grins like a cheshire cat as nanami obliges you, sliding into bed on your other side. 

nanami has never wanted to slap an expression off of someone as much as he does now, but as usual satoru sees everything. he sees what nanami refuses to admit right now: that he was relieved you asked him to stay. that you may just have him completely gone. that tonight unearthed long buried feelings for white hair and a mischievous smile. that he just needs a little bit of time, a little bit of coaxing, to stop being so stubborn and come to terms with those facts.

“i told you she’s greedy, nanami,” satoru grins. 

“i suppose i have no choice then, do i?” 

“nope,” you confirm, and you know that the three of you have a lot to discuss tomorrow about what this means but this progression feels natural, adding balance.

nanami staying with the two of you feels like it was meant to be.

“you have to make breakfast in the morning.”