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puckinghischier · 7 months ago

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Quick Study

Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

WARNING: SMUT! minors DNI. 18+. unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem!recieving, oral m!receiving, p in v, smut with the smallest sliver of plot. praise kink if you squint sideways and upside down.

summary: quinn loves to help you experience new things

notes: so…i don’t know what happened i think i blacked out tbh. this is kinda on theme with the request but also kinda not?? more so inexperienced!reader than in innocent!reader. idk my fingers had a mind of their own okay? enjoy 🫶🏼

request: I read a post that headcanons Quinn getting off on teaching you things and how to do things well, and that has just convinced me he has a thing for innocence… feel like that could be a great premise for smut

[4.4k]

Quinn has always been praised for his patience and willingness to teach those around him. It’s likely what landed him his new captain residency, but he likes teaching. He always said if he didn’t make it in the league he’d like to be a teacher and a coach, spreading his knowledge of history and hockey to the next generation.

What he didn’t realize until he met you, though, was how much he really enjoyed teaching.

He loved explaining the game to you, seeing your eagerness to pay attention and learn for him. Watching you glance at the cheat sheet he made you on your phone during games, making sure you’re able to keep up with the various penalties called, has him puffing out his chest a bit.

He loved explaining to you the most recent book he was reading, telling you all about the time period and the historical context of whatever story piqued his interest that week. He’d notice the empty space on the bookshelf after he finishes the book, glancing over to your side of the bed to discover the book with your bookmark tucked neatly between its pages, heart swelling when you’d bring it up over dinner, wanting to learn about his interests.

What he loved the most, though, was figuring out everything he could teach you.

He knew when the two of you first met that you were fairly inexperienced, not having ever really dated much before, but once he realized how inexperienced you really were? His mind went wild with the possibilities.

There was a certain pride he felt in being the person to guide you through all of these new experiences, never rushing you, always making sure you were one hundred percent comfortable before he tried anything new. He encouraged you to ask as many questions as you needed, telling you there’s never any reason to feel embarrassed around him.

He’d note the way you’d sit there and take in every word as he explained the different scenarios and sensations certain actions could elicit from your body, eyes wide and hungry. The second he would open the conversation for any questions or clarifications he could see the nervousness creep in, almost retracting into yourself out of embarrassment.

“I just��I don’t know exactly what you mean. You can…you know…feel that just from your mouth?” you’d ask him, voice barely above a whisper and eyes darting all over the room.

“Oh, darling, I can’t wait for you to experience the amount of things I can make you feel with my mouth,” he would nearly groan out, both angered and thankful that no other guy you’ve ever been with allowed you to experience all that the body has to offer.

Your cheeks would instantly heat, but not out of embarrassment. Quinn could see the gears turning in your head, the slight adjustment of your thighs coming closer together hinting to him how much you’re enjoying the picture painted in your head.

The day you told Quinn you had never experienced an orgasm, though? He was nearly seeing red.

“What do you mean you’ve never ‘gotten there’” he repeated your own words, not realizing the harsh tone of his voice until you looked away from him, watching your face contort into an expression of guilt.

“I- I don’t know. I mean, the couple of times I’ve actually…you know…went there with a guy, it never really happened. I guess I was doing something wrong, I don’t know,” you spoke softly, shrugging meekly.

Quinn took a deep breath, calming himself the way he would on the ice, before scooting closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You could never do anything wrong, you hear me? The fact that the fools you were with before were too sorry to make sure you were taken care of, and apparently didn’t know what the hell foreplay was, is not your fault.”

Nodding slowly, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and chewed on it lightly. “I think…I want you to show me,” you said so quietly Quinn thought he imagined it.

“Say that again?” he needed you to clarify, wanting to make sure he’s not just hearing what his dick wants to hear.

You inhale, preparing yourself to put on your brave face and finally find the courage to tell a guy what you want. “I want you to show me. Teach me what it’s like. I want to experience it with you.”

And damn. If that didn’t get Quinn’s dick rock fucking hard. The idea of showing you everything you’ve been missing, everything he knows he can make you feel? He could almost come right here on the couch, never even having to touch your skin.

Quinn didn’t say a word, simply grabbing your hand and prompting you to stand, leading you to the bedroom that was practically shared at this point, considering how often you stayed at his apartment.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you and looking down at your big, round eyes. He had to remind himself this was about you, and not to get too ahead of himself.

Bringing a hand up to caress your face, brushing away a small strand of hair, he rests his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your soft, pink lips. Using the slightest bit of pressure, he wedges his thumb in-between them, causing them to part just enough for him to slip it into your warm and inviting mouth.

He feels your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger, never once breaking eye contact with him. He closes his eyes, the image in front of him overloading his brain. The second you start to suckle on the rough pad of his digit, he jerks his hand back, surprising you.

“Sorry, did I do something wro-“

“No, never,” he interrupts you, voice low and gravely. “But this is about you and I can’t let myself get carried away.”

Opening his eyes, he sees the flush come back to your cheeks, watching the outline of your tongue rolling around in your cheek. “I want to learn,” you look at him with pleading eyes.

“I know, baby, we’re gonna get there, promise,” he assures you, catching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You shake your head back and forth, “No, I want to learn how to please you.”

Quinn can feel every ounce of blood in his body make its way straight to his already near painful cock. The innocence and eagerness on your face making his knees buckle.

“I’ve never…given a…a blowjob before,” you stuttered, your bashfulness from earlier coming back. “I never felt like I’d do a good job, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone and scare them away, so I always said no. But I want you to teach me. Please?” you pleaded, using your eyes to convey your willingness.

If there was ever a world record for how fast a man can come without even being touched, Quinn would say he’s a pretty close contender right now.

He clears his throat, trying to choke down the groan that nearly came out. “I- uh. Are you sure?” is all he’s able to sigh out, feeling like an idiot because he can’t even form words.

You nod your head silently, not knowing if you could find the courage to ask again.

“Fuck, baby,” Quinn shudders, swallowing thickly, bringing a hand down to readjust himself in his sweats.

Figuring you need to show some sort of initiative, you bring your hand up to replace his, cupping him over the thin material.

Quinn’s entire body jerks forward at the feeling of your small hand covering him, resting his hands on your shoulders for support.

Your breath catches, not expecting to receive such a reaction from him, but it only encourages you to keep going, squeezing just enough to apply a slight pressure to his length.

Quinn grunts, shuddering at the sensation. “Fuck, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice, a slight whine but still deep and powerful, shoots a bolt of arousal straight between your legs. You start stroking his still clothed shaft, enjoying teasing him.

“Show me what to do, Q,” you whisper seductively, his actions only growing your confidence in your actions.

With his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, he wastes no time in moving your hand and ripping the sweatpants down so roughly his dick literally springs free. He sighs at the lack of constriction, creating a sweet friction with his own hand.

Seeing him bare for the first time, you feel the extra saliva form in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around him and find out how his skin tastes.

Too lost in the beauty of the man in front of you, you don’t realize he’s gazing down at you, watching how in awe you are of him.

“Babygirl, you can’t look at me like that and expect me to last longer than three seconds once you start touching me,” he snaps you out of your daze, drawing your eyes to his face.

You blush, focusing on the bedroom floor to hide your eyes from him.

Bringing his hand back up to your face, he forces you to look up at him, the intensity of the moment making you squirm.

“Touch me,” he commands, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your chin.

Following his instructions, you grasp him in your hand again, moving your hand gently across the textured skin.

You pump slowly, waiting for Quinn to tell you your next move.

“Shit, faster,” is all he whimpered, moving his hips to meet your motions.

Moving your wrist a little faster, you’re so taken with the sounds he’s making you hardly feel the bruising grip he has on your shoulder, grounding himself to you.

“Quinn, wanna taste you,” you whined, watching the precum leak from his pink tip, tongue darting out to lick your lips in anticipation.

“Okay, just-” he shudders, interrupted by a moan, “just, no teeth. And don’t take too much, hollow your mouth out a bit, and keep using your hand if you need to.”

Belly swirling with nerves and excitement, you position yourself a little farther onto the edge of the bed, face to face with his strained cock.

Taking a deep breathe, you test the waters by placing a chaste kiss on his tip, licking the salty precum off of your lips. Opening your mouth, you take the plunge and follow his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as your mouth rolls over his length, your tongue feeling the weight of his thickness.

You look up at him as he watches you, waiting for any hint of praise in what you’re doing, wanting to make sure you’re doing it right.

“Shit, just like that, baby, keep going,” he encourages, feeling you stop when his tip tickles the back of your throat.

You will yourself not to gag, enjoying the feeling of your tongue against his cock too much. Trying to combat the feeling, you swirl your tongue around him, feeling every ridge and vein.

Quinn is fighting against every muscle in his body, from wanting to bring his hands to your head and push your mouth further onto him, to wanting to snap his hips forward and bury his dick in your throat.

“Can move a bit if you want,” he hisses out as your tongue runs across his sensitive tip once again. “Doing so good, though. Feels unreal. Don’t know how you’ve never done this before.”

You want to smile, but can’t with your mouth full of him, so you start bobbing your head instead, slow and careful. You bring your hand up to cup his balls, remembering one of your friends telling you guys seem to like that.

Quinn jerks his hips forward at the feeling, not being able to control his actions at that point, dangerously close to blowing his load down your throat.

He removes himself from your mouth, watching the spit trail down your chin. The sight is so pornographic he almost finishes anyways, digging his nails into his palms as a distraction.

“Was-,” you start, wiping the dribble off of your mouth, “was I not doing it right? I remember someone telling me once guys liked when you touched them like that. Did I scrape you with my teeth? Did I-“ your hoarse voice is abruptly cut off by Quinn shoving his hands under your arms and lifting you to your feet.

“You were amazing. Too good. If you would’ve kept doing that for even thirty more seconds I would have come in your mouth, and while the thought drives me insane, there’s only one place I want to come tonight,” he tells you, bringing his hand down to untie your soft pajama pants as he finishes his sentence, fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your stomach.

You suck in a sharp breathe as he starts rolling the pants down your hips, exposing your simple, cotton underwear.

“Well, if I knew this is what we were doing tonight I would’ve dressed more appropriately,” you said softly, wanting nothing more than to bring your arms down to cover the exposed skin.

Quinn chuckles. “You could be wearing a diaper for all I care. I’d still be rock hard at the sight of you like this.”

“Weird, but sweet?” you respond, trying to break up the intensity you feel as you kick the bottoms off of your feet.

Amused smile on his face, Quinn shakes his head at you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the thin material.

You shake your head yes, knowing there’s no going back after this moment.

“Words, babydoll, ‘member?” he mumbles, staring at your taut nipples through the shirt.

“Yes. To everything. I trust you,” you breathe out.

Quinn’s heart jumps to his throat, surprised at how excited the confession makes him. Knowing he has your complete and total trust with something as important as this adds a whole new level to what he’s about to experience with you.

The shirt is over your head before you can think twice, standing almost bare in front of him.

“Shit baby, knew you were stunning,” he starts but pauses, letting his eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin. “but think you were painted just for me,” he worships your body, trailing his fingers over the dips in your collar bones in awe, watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Your turn,” you whisper, feeling the flush on your cheeks, not wanting to be the only one on display.

Not being able to take his eyes off of the smooth skin of your body, he removes the rest of his clothing before you can even blink, staring at the toned man standing in front of you.

Of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, considering he never likes to wear a shirt to bed, and having spent a weekend at his lake home a few months ago. But to see him completely naked before you is a sight you never want to forget.

Breaking the stare you both hold on each other, he moves your body to lay down on the bed, guiding you to move further up the bed as he crawls over you, stopping when your head rests on one of the million pillows.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he pants from above you, bringing his mouth down to place wet kisses along your neck.

You inhale deeply, the feeling lighting all of your nerves on fire.

Too distracted by the feeling of his tongue darting out to swirl along your skin, you don’t notice his hand has made its way to the band of your underwear, slipping a finger just under the barrier.

“Off, take them off,” you pant out, wanting the fabric gone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obeys, sliding the material off of your body in record time.

Quinn forgot everything he was supposed to be doing when he saw you bare before him. He could practically smell your arousal, watching your pussy glisten in the low light of the bedroom.

“Bet you taste so good, hmm?” he rasped out, sounding like a man starved.

Squirming, your body fights to find some sort of friction to ease the ache between your legs, never having felt so turned on before.

“What do I need to do? Tell me what to do, Quinny,” you whimper, wanting to know what you’re supposed to be doing, desperate for relief.

Your desperation makes his cock throb, having forgot how hard he was, too distracted by you. But to watch you writhe and whine and look to him for guidance makes him painfully aware of how much this is all affecting him.

“Absolutely nothing. Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, darling,” he all but pants, licking his lips like he’s about to eat a five-star meal.

He moves his body down yours, shamelessly dragging his lips down your warm skin, taking his time and savoring every inch.

Once he reaches your soaking cunt, he teases you with hot breaths, wanting to admire every fold and crevice before exploring you with his mouth.

Placing small kisses on both thighs, letting his scruff scratch the sensitive skin, he finally lets his mouth find your core.

Licking a clean stripe up from your hole to your clit, he grips onto your legs, baffled by how good you taste on his tongue. He dives in like he’s never known such a luxury, slurping and sucking every inch of your perfect pussy.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, the pleasure overwhelming. You don’t know what to do with yourself, feeling like you’re flailing your limbs all over the place. Moaning and grunting, Quinn can sense your frustration with not knowing how to express your pleasure.

“Touch my hair. Pull it, tug it, hold on to it. Whatever you need to do. Just touch me,” he instructs you, the vibration of his words on your clit causing you to cry out, tangling both hands into his soft hair.

Quinn groans at the delicious pull on his scalp as you use his hair as your outlet, feeling his dick brush against the comforter as it twitches. He starts to grind against the mattress, not enough to push him over the edge, but enough to provide him with temporary relief.

He continues his assault on your dripping core, not caring if he were to drown in your arousal, loving how it practically leaks out of you, not wasting a single drop.

Once he feels you’re ready, he brings a finger up, slipping it inside of you and feeling your walls instantly clench around him. The sensation only drives him further, burying his nose deeper into you, if that was even possible.

Pumping his finger in and out of you slowly, he adds a second, ensuring you’re ready for him in the minutes yet to come.

Arching your back at the fullness of two of his long, thick fingers, you carry out a particularly rough tug of his hair, earning a moan so loud you want to do whatever you can to hear it again.

“Feel so good, Q. Never – ah! – knew I could feel like this,” you groaned, digging your heels into the bare skin of his shoulders.

“C’mon, know you’re almost there. Gotta let go f’me,” he grunts against you, feeling the flutter of your walls around him.

The unfamiliar pit in your stomach grows at his voice, never wanting him to stop talking to you.

“Oh, like that, huh? Like when I talk to you, pretty girl? Like when I use my voice while pressed up against your pussy?” Quinn asks you, feeling how you clenched when he spoke.

His vulgarness made the ball of pleasure grow even larger, threatening to pop at any moment.

Quinn hummed against your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, inhaling just enough to create a small vacuum of suction.

The new feeling caused something inside of you to explode, a pleasure burning throughout your whole body so intense you think you lose your hearing for a few moments.

Quinn rides you through your orgasm, licking and sucking every drop of physical pleasure from your body. When he removes his mouth from you, you’re laying limp under him, the look of bliss on your face sparking a feeling of pride within him.

You have no clue what just happened to your body, not registering a single thing until you felt Quinn’s fingers running through your damp hair, fluttering your heavy lids open.

“There she is. Thought you went and fell asleep on me,” he chuckles, caressing your bright red cheek.

“mmmm” you hummed out. “Think I can taste colors. What did you just do to me?” you ask him, starting to gain control over your body again.

Quinn full on laughs at you, hiding his face in his bicep. “I think that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me,” he marvels down at your state, knowing he was the first man to ever make you feel like this.

You’re trying to think of a clever or sexy response, but get distracted by something poking your leg. Looking down, you notice how hard and red Quinn’s dick is, remembering that he never finished earlier when you had him in your mouth.

“Oh!” you say in surprise, drawing attention to his…situation.

“What can I say? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he references your intense release.

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed. “Well, I can think of something hotter,” you say quietly, reaching your hand down to grab his length.

Quinn gasps as the contact, the most sensitive he thinks he’s ever been.

“Now I want to watch you,” you can recognize the sound of your voice, not knowing what having an orgasm did to you.

Crashing his mouth onto yours, the first time he’s kissed you all night, your grips falls from his shaft, bringing your hands up to pull his shoulders closer to your body. The friction of his skin on your hard nipples alone is about to drive you over the edge again.

“Gonna wreck you, you know that? Wreck you like you’ve wrecked me,” Quinn says on your lips, bringing your bottom lip between his teeth before letting it snap back into place.

You don’t know where the sudden rush and roughness came from, but you can’t say you’re disappointed. Something within him snapped hearing you express wanting to watch him come undone under your influence, and Quinn can’t control himself anymore.

“Show me, Q. Show me what I’ve missed all this time,” your mouth is operating on a mind of its own, not sure what part of your brain has been unlocked by Quinn’s magical mouth.

Quinn growls, hiking your leg up to rest around his waist, leaving the other flat on the bed, standing on his knees as he brings his hand to line himself up with your still dripping cunt, causing your hands to fall from his body. His own hand finds one of your full breasts, toying with the nipple, causing a sharp gasp to fall from your lips.

“Ready?” his voice goes soft for a second, wanting to make sure you’re still good.

“Please,” you whine in response, shaking your head yes.

As he slowly sinks himself into you, he realizes that he’s found his new favorite place. Buried deep inside of your heat, the warm squeeze against his rigid cock, is what he was put on this earth to enjoy, he thinks to himself.

Your whimpers are the perfect soundtrack as he slides himself in and out of your slick, worried he’ll slip right out if he pulls out too much. The ease with which he glides through convinces him you were made for him. Every inch of you, made to be ruined by him.

“Tell me how to move,” you moan out. “Tell me how to make this – shit! – better for you. Teach me.”

Just like before, hearing you whine and beg for him to teach you, wanting to learn from him, has him losing all of his resolve. He completely slips himself out of you, slamming back into you with such force it takes your breathe away.

Hearing your gasp, Quinn brings his hand down, pressing on your lower belly to intensify the feeling of how deep he is inside of you right now.

“You’re perfect. Doing so good f’me. Best little student ever, know exactly what to do without even being told,” Quinn praises you, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Just wanna make you feel good, Q. Don’t wanna take all the fun for myself,” you respond to him, bringing your arms back up to the skin of his broad shoulders, raking your nails down the clammy skin, not realizing the burn of your nails down his back is the final string for Quinn.

He cries out, not wanting to come before you, but he’s so close he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.

Mustering all the resolve he has left, he removes his hand from your belly, bringing it down to circle your clit, pinching it every so lightly.

He feels it the second you reach your second release tonight, the squeeze of your walls as they clench around him making it impossible for him to pull out, triggering his own orgasm to leave his body and leak into you in spurts.

His body shakes from the sensation, letting out some of the most pornographic noises even he’s ever heard. And he was once a teenage boy with unlimited access to the internet.

The two of you come down from your highs together, Quinn’s hand letting your leg fall back down onto the bed, and slowly removing his softening cock from you, both of you whining at the loss of contact.

He flops down next to you, needing a moment to recover before he made any move to clean either of you up.

“So…that’s what I’ve missed out on for all these years?” you asked out loud through shallow breaths, not even turning your head to look at Quinn.

Quinn managed a small laugh, replying with a small “Told you it was them, not you.”

You turned on your side to finally look at your sexed out boyfriend, admiring the way his hair was damp with sweat and his lip was swollen and red from biting it out of pleasure.

“Well…I don’t think I quite grasped the concept. I think we need to do it again,” you proposed. “You know, for study purposes,” you shrugged.

And Quinn knew you were (mostly) joking, but he’ll be damned if his dick wasn’t already half hard again, not knowing what he was going to do with you now. A monster of his own creation.

2K notes · View notes

ctrlhope · 11 months ago

Text

Love Thy Neighbour (m)

synopsis: Jimin is a patient man, at least, he thinks he is. But you test him so much. Can’t you just be good? Be so pretty for him? He knows you want to be. Knows you can be so perfect, just for him.

p.jimin x f.reader

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: wc: 4.5k

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: genre: yandere/dark, smut, dark content

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: content: yandere/dark!jimin, noncon, dubcon, implied non-human!jimin, kidnapping, use of a sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, rough sex, jimin is lovesick and delusional and also a gross perv, lmk if i missed any <33

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! the demons won and i finally decided to post this after it was sitting in my drafts forever <33 i wrote this about a year ago with jimin in mind, but then i posted it to my anime blog instead. if you read it over there… no you didn’t AHSSKSH it’s still probably my favourite thing i’ve ever written tbh <33 im back into the swing of writing so nightlight coming soon!! as always please read the warnings <//3

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Creak.

Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your hiding place.

Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.

Bang.

His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.

“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, face coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.

You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. He was practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was weird, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. Not whenever he would come knocking on your door asking for sugar, at least.

You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself, your hands shaking. You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot was shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.

How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.

It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.

You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.

He said you taste delicious.

It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.

The way you could tell that he craved more.

Craved everything you had to give.

You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.

Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.

Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.

You learned that that night.

He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.

His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monster that just got his kill.

He had.

He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanour changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.

“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.

You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.

Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.

But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.

He loves that smell.

If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.

He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.

Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.

You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.

Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Seokjin told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!

You are already better than he ever imagined!

Bang.

The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!

He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.

The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.

“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defence but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.

You want to scream.

He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.

He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you..

“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.

Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.

How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.

“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are just so hard to understand…And I really couldn’t wait for you any longer.”

You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.

How deep whatever he feels for you runs.

You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it colour. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.

You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.

You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.

You can do this. You can do this.

The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.

Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.

Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.

Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.

You land flat on your face.

Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.

A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks dishevelled. Crazed.

He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.

“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”

You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.

“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”

He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”

The simple statement makes your blood run cold.

“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”

You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.

Exactly how he wants it– wants you.

You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making up his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”

His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~”

All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.

He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.

“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.

Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to silence in the dead of night when you’re left with your thoughts.

“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”

The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.

“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. He’s too thick. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”

His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just–!

“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.

His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—

Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?

He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.

Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savour this… who knows when you might come around again?

Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.

Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.

You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when your head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything, really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.

He likes you.

He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.

Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.

He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.

The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.

“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.

He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.

You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.

You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.

“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.

“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, losing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.

You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.

He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.

“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary.

Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Want to be good. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.

Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”

He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.

Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.

Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.

Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.

A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.

Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re stuffed. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.

He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.

He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”

He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your walls before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.

He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.

He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.

“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”

Right. Tomorrow. Cause this is forever.

You can’t help the small smile that creeps to your lips at the thought. Forever. ♡

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

788 notes · View notes

achilles-rage · 25 days ago

Note

“leaving notes in obscure places for your lover to find”. Theoretically this would be cute for buck but he’s so stupid tall that the stuff he hides is wayyyyyy above my eyeline and the stuff I’ll hide is wayyyy below his to ever find it 🫙

lol this is so funny i love this. lowkey made me🥺 by the end. anyway<333

“leaving notes in obscure places for your lover to find” from this post

buck had been waiting for you at your favourite restaurant for almost 30 minutes, anxiously checking his phone every minute or two to see if you had texted him and he somehow hadn’t felt it vibrate. each time, nothing.

he had left you a note this morning telling you to meet him here at 7, so where the hell where you? sometimes you’re a few minutes late, but 30 minutes late has a pit forming in his stomach; his mind coming up with worst case scenarios. he can see that you’re still at home, as you have your locations shared with each other, but that doesn’t mean nothing bad has happened.

you’re relaxing on the couch in your pyjamas when he finally calls you, and when he hears you pick up the phone, he’s met with a “where are you?”

“where am i? where are you?” he asks, his brows furrowing in confusion as he leans back on his chair and crosses an arm over his chest. he’s not angry, but he can’t help but be a little upset that you’re not here.

“i’m at home. are you out for dinner with someone from the station? you better bring me home some dessert,” you reply, pausing your show when you hear the slight exasperation in his voice. you had checked his location earlier, and when you saw that he was at your favourite restaurant, you couldn’t help but pout a little.

“i was supposed to be here with someone. looks like she stood me up,” he mutters, a little upset that you forgot about his surprise date. he thought you’d love it.

“who?” you ask, your own brows furrowing now. you don’t know any people at the 118 that would do that.

“you,” he says after a moment, realizing that you have no idea what he’s talking about. the word almost comes out as a question as he sits up straight in his chair. “i left you a note.”

when he hears you swear that he didn’t, he’s even more confused. he’s been leaving little notes for you for months, how could you not see this one?

“it’s where they usually are. top corner of the bathroom mirror,” he tells you, and he hears you scoff with a soft laugh, then stand up and pad over to the bathroom.

he hears the soft gasp leave your lips, and then you laugh louder.

“how many have you left there?” you ask. you’ve never seen any notes where he seems to put them. they’re way at the top of the mirror; far enough out of your eyesight that you’ve never even thought to look up there. especially because you put a note on the mirror for buck everyday, too, but on the bottom corner.

“i’ve been putting them there for months. ever since we saw that movie where the couple did the same thing and you said you liked it,” he says while slipping his wallet out of his pocket and placing some money on the table. he knows you won’t be coming now, so he might as well go home to you.

“no, i’ve been putting them up for months. in the bottom corner,” you say with a giggle, standing up on your toes to grab the little post-it note and studying his sloppy handwriting.

“you have?” he asks, feeling his heart warm at the idea of you doing the same thing for him. he’s in the car now, and all he wants is to get home and wrap you in his arms.

“i guess our eye-lines aren’t the same,” you say with a laugh. you go back to the couch with the note in your hand, and when you sit down, you let your finger move over the ink of the little heart he added with a smile on your face.

“yeah, i guess so. i’ll be home in 10, and we’ll figure out where to put notes we’ll both see,” he says with a chuckle, and you agree, smiling to yourself.

“i love you,” you say softly into the phone.

“i love you, baby. see you soon.”

257 notes · View notes

heartyluv · 12 days ago

Text

Note: This is very different from anything I’ve ever written, but the idea came to me and I just had to try it out. I really like this, to be honest. I hope you do, too! ♡ (I proofread it as best as I could, but I had to rush, so please forgive any mistakes!)

Link to part two :)

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Oral (Fem!Receiving), Rafayel is drinking blood, you’re in the middle of the ocean (This is set in like the Medieval period.)

Word Count: 2,847

Summary: Rafayel gets his pretty princess back.

VampireLemurian!Rafayel/Princess!Reader

Your father deciding to marry you off was not something that surprised you. It didn’t even disappoint you. It pissed you off.

Since you were a baby, your mother has ensured you were raised and taught about what it meant to be a queen as well as what it should look like. But in truth, you knew that every etiquette lesson and monotonous instruction was really a step-by-step guide on how to be a subservient woman under the iron rule of an insufferable man.

It was last month when your father, the king, told you that you were to be married to the eldest son of one of your families most important allies to ensure loyalty and companionship for many more years to come.

Your father was never a man to back down from a decision once it was made, especially if it was one that would offer him great benefit. You’ve been on this dreaded ship for two days now—with three more to go—to marry a man you’ve seen no more than three times in your life. But you had no say and no way of escaping it.

Even if the castle you’ve lived in since the day you were born was uptight and stuffy, it was still home. Now, you’d have to learn your way around another if you wished to fool yourself into some semblance of comfort. Outside of that castle that felt like the rooms were a little too cold with halls too barren, there was a kingdom outside of it with people you’ve grown to know and respect. People who treated you like you were somebody other than a princess.

You’re below deck now, refusing to step outside to enjoy any light, whether it be from the sun or the moon. Guards stood ground in front of your door and were posted all around the ship and servants would come and go like clockwork to bring you meals, clothing, and hot buckets of water to bathe. In truth, everyone aboard this ship feared your father, even down to the crew who safely guided you through these unpredictable waters. You’ve been taken care of. At least it was being done by someone since the people who were supposed to be your parents couldn’t bother to do so.

As you sit in your quarters on a bed so luxurious that it makes you huff out a small laugh to yourself at such a ridiculous thing, you dip your quill in the small bottle of expensive ink and draw on the parchment you brought with you on your journey. Drawing calms you, even if you’re not great at it. The ability to have some sort of power in your hand to create anything you’d ever want is as close to freedom as you’d ever get.

It makes you think of him. Of the man you met a handful of times on the small walks you’d take on the beach to get away from the responsibilities you carried. He was always there, somehow. Always where you were, ready to talk and listen. He taught you how to properly distribute the ink on your quill so that it let you control the flow of your creativity. It was him who showed you an appreciation for art in a way that you’ve never had.

He was the one who showed you that love was real, even if you never told him how you felt. In the small time that you knew him, you were certain there was no other person on this planet that could ever fulfill you like he could. He made you laugh at his jokes and theatrical antics, made you wonder if his lips were as soft as they looked. He made you feel.

Beautiful just isn’t enough of a word to describe him. Maybe magnificent, ethereal, even god-like would have to suffice because not even that did him justice. He was perfect. He was the one thing you looked forward to every night. You would sneak outside of the castle walls late at night, just to see him longer than the few hours you did before the sun set. But, you were sent off without ever being able to say goodbye. Your parents had you on lockdown, as they feared you flee after you were told about your impending doom of a loveless marriage.

Would he think you’ve abandoned him? You’d never know.

You lose yourself in the mediocre drawing, feeling the sleepiness start to set in. That was the only way you knew it was night time besides the fact that you’d get your final meal and a snack to follow a few hours later before all was silent for the evening.

It’s not long until the serenity is disrupted. Once soft and calm steps above you on the wood were starting to rap against the boards with urgency. Small thuds would follow, then came a scream. Followed by another before they started to blend, stopping as quickly as they started.

Panic fueled you. Were you being attacked? No one besides the family you were set to marry into and your kingdom knew about your departure.

You quickly stand, your royal blue nightgown gliding across your ankles as the lace trim tickles your skin before resting, unlike your rapidly beating heart. You grab your dagger that you were gifted by your grandfather from the nightstand, pulling the sharp blade out of its scabbard.

Your mother never wanted you to learn how to fight. She said it was unfit for a lady and that a man would protect her at all times. But your grandfather never believed in such idiotic things. It’s why he secretly gave you lessons on how to take care of yourself should the time ever come. You were always grateful, but truly hoped you never need it. But it seems like it may be a reality sooner than you imagined.

You take a deep breath before taking cautious steps toward the door, twisting the knob and quietly pulling it open to see the two guards who seems to never leave. Their swords are ready, holding a stance that is prepared for a threat. The soft glow of the candle scones on the wall behind them makes their gold and red armor shimmer.

“M’lady, please get back inside,” the one to your left says without looking at you.

“What is happening?” you question quietly, not wanting to alert whatever or whoever is out there. “Has anyone gone to check?”

“No,” answers the one of your right. “Our duty is to keep you safe. Leaving would jeopardize your safety.”

While you understand, not knowing what you’re going up against is equivalent to going into a battle with your eyes closed and your weapon sheathed. But you’re not dumb. You have no armor to try and go find out yourself and this dagger could only help you against so much.

The noise outside starts to increase, this time the thuds are so forceful that you’re sure the wood is splintering. The ship rocks as if the water is just as afraid of what’s happening, making goosebumps decorate your skin. Rain spatters, the usually calming sound now eerie and dreadful.

“Princess, please—” Before the guard can say anything, the door on top of the steps swings open so hard that it hangs off the hinges.

There’s only one person there. For a moment, you believe that one of the crew members escaped and is coming to help, alert, offer anything to inform, but when a blue glow emits from where the eyes should be, you freeze.

“Announce yourself!” commands a guard.

The moonlight behind this person from outside is the only thing that outlines their body, making them impossible to see the shadowed outline clearly.

“Someone has tired to take my princess away from me without my permission,” the airy voice tsks.

You know that voice. You couldn’t imagine forgetting it. You step forward and the guard to your left roughly grabs your arm to keep you back. You can’t correct him or even snatch yourself away because he’s hit with a ball of flame that throws him roughly against the wall.

With wide eyes, you look down at the man that you hope is only incapacitated.

“Rafayel?” you whisper his name, unsure now. The man you knew on the beach wouldn’t have down this.

“You know this man?” questions the last guard standing.

The stairs creak as the anonymous individual starts to descend with grace. As he comes into candlelight, your breath hitches. It is him.

But he’s not the same. He’s not who you know. The white dress shirt with wide sleeves that taper at the wrists, the one you told him was your favorite, is stained with crimson red blood. His glowing eyes pulse with power as he smiles the closer he gets. He’s soaked from the rain and blood dirties his perfect lips, a trail falling down his chin.

Once he reaches the final step, a sword is thrusted into his abdomen.

“No!” you scream. You look at the guard who has triumph all over his face. It’s swiped away when Rafayel tilts his head ever so slightly. His hand juts out, grabbing the guard by his throat and effortlessly lifting him off the floor.

“Remove this for me would you, love?” he asks you. Your hesitance is momentary. You grasp the blade’s grip with one hand and shudder at the blood that seeps through even more when you pull it out. His lack of reaction is even more disturbing.

Thrown to the floor, the metal clatters. The man in Rafayel’s hand chokes at the constriction on his throat. His feet dangle as he struggles to get them to touch the floor.

Then, it happens too fast.

Rafayel brings the man close and stares into your eyes with his glowing blues before two sharp teeth present themselves before sinking into his captive’s flesh. The burly man screams in pain as teeth piece his skin. Within seconds, Rafayel pulls back and licks the red off his plush lips before releasing the guard to let him crumble to the floor.

You can’t speak. You want to, but you feel frozen with shock and partial fear. You hold your dagger tighter. With the only sense you seem to have, you turn around and run into your room before shutting the door.

What is happening? This isn’t real, you try to convince yourself.

You’re frantic in your search to find another way out, but there isn’t and you know that. Deciding to barricade it with what you can, you find that you don’t have enough time because the purple haired man pushes the door open with ease.

“Have I scared my princess?” he smirks.

“Don’t hurt me,” you plead breathlessly, raising your dagger in warning.

The blue in his eyes rest, returning to the unique mix of color you’re accustomed to. The rain platters cease at the same time as the waters calm. The boat settles, allowing you to finally feel as steady as you can be.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he steps closer, ignoring the threat. “Left without saying goodbye, miss. That’s quite rude, don’t you agree?”

“I had no choice,” you push out.

“I know,” he nods. “It’s why I’m here. To give you back your ability to choose. As well as…” He trails off, using his thumb to push the small amount of blood at the corner of his mouth inside. “Give you the opportunity to make more decisions.”

With a whoosh of sudden flame conjured by his hands, the dagger is out of your hand and in his.

“You killed those people.”

“I’ve killed no one, pretty. What kind of monster do you think I am, hm?” He studies the dagger. “This is cute. Fit for you.”

“Rafayel…”

“I like when you say my name, you know? You don’t know how much I’ve missed you during the nights. Our nights. Had to ask around that kingdom of yours to find out what happened to you,” he sighs. He sees your concern and decides to ease it.

“No one is dead, truly. Just unconscious.”

“But you—”

“Drank their blood, I know. Believe me, they’re fine.”

“But the fire… The teeth, the strength—”

“A vampiric Lemurian. Shocking combination, indeed.”

“How did you—”

“Get here?” The small scowl on your face because of how he keeps interrupting you makes him smile. “You have a very memorable scent, my sweet. I can track you with ease. And Lemurians are very fast swimmers.”

“What do you want?” you command from him, trying to seem stoic. That makes him smile more before he tosses the dagger somewhere.

“You, of course. Duh,” he grabs your hands, making you flinch. “Believe me, if there was a way for me to have gotten to you without all this, I would’ve done that.”

You nod slowly, taking his word for some reason.

“Are you afraid of what I am? Of what you’ve seen?” he asks.

“More astounded than anything.”

“Hm,” he hums. “And if you could do the same?”

“What?” you say lightly.

He presses his face into your neck, gently licking your skin and follows it with a kiss. “One bite here, and we’d be together. Forever, without worry or interruption. Would you like that? To be with someone who knows your heart better than the woman who formed it or the man who ignores it?”

He nips at your flesh, making you press closer against his body. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you there. “I’d show you true freedom, my princess. A world that could be yours if you just said yes.”

As if you’re enchanted by his very presence, all your body can muster in response is a nod.

“Is that a yes?” he checks and you do it again. “Excellent,” he grins harder. “It’s an easier transition when you’re relaxed. I can help you. Will you let me?”

Your breathless yes is enough to make him push you onto the bed behind you. He doesn’t waste time pulling your gown up and above your hips. As he kneels like a loyal subject, he spreads your legs wide once settled on his knees.

“No panties?” he smiles as you look down at him. “You knew I’d be here, didn’t you?”

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s just… more comfortable.”

“And easier for me.”

His mouth is on your pussy, burying his nose deep as he inhales your scent. You cry out as his tongue licks long and languid stripes up your hot cunt. You feel the wetness of his saliva lubricate you and the strength of the muscle push into your hole. Your hand tangles into his damp locks, pressing him closer.

“Raf…” you breathe. “Your tongue…”

He sucks your clit then uses the tip of his warm tongue to stimulate you and your hips buck abruptly. “Oh, you’re so sensitive. So perfect and so, so, delicious.”

Needing to be closer, he takes your legs and puts them over his shoulders and grabs your hips to pull your body towards him. He consumes you whole, devouring your doubts and fears and replacing them with want and eagerness.

You grind your hips against his face as he tongue fucks you slow, smearing your juices all over your soft curls. Had blood not been a crucial part of his survival, your pussy would undoubtedly be the only thing he needs to live.

“I’m… I feel—”

“Relax,” he mutters against your pussy lips. “I have you.”

The sounds wet kisses and filthy licks erase the silence, accompanying your soft cries and mind numbing moans.

It’s like he clears away all the memories you had of the people he harmed to get to you. You can’t even seem to care as he brings you to ecstasy. Your eyes close at the overwhelming pleasure, using one hand to curl the sheets in your fist and the other to hold his face close.

His tongue is magic and its as your orgasm approaches that your body starts to relax, welcoming the bliss. But, Rafayel moves at a speed so inhumane that you have no time to register. He’s in between your legs and his fangs bare. Leaning down on top of you, his teeth sink into your neck, venom secreting and mingling into your bloodstream to change your very being.

He covers your eyes as he feeds, disorienting you. The sharp pain is replaced with a burn and before you can scream, he pulls back and his eyes pulse blue before swiping a hand over your eyes and putting you to sleep.

He stands, ignoring the aching of his cock in his pants. Later, he tells himself. He closes your legs and pulls down your dress. Pulling you up and over his shoulder, her carries you out the room and up the stairs, stepping over the pitiful guard’s bodies. The litter of unconscious bodies remain all across the deck as he approaches the edge.

“When you wake, princess, you’ll be Queen in the world you belong.” With that, he jumps into the water, surrounding you both in a bubble that will help you breathe until your transformation completes.

He has you now. He’ll give you everything. And when your pretty eyes open, all of that will be revealed to you and it’ll be more than you could’ve ever imagined.

#love and deepspace #love and deespace smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #medieval #vampire

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bowsnchoso · 10 months ago

Text

Interrupted – Gojo Satoru

➺ synopsis: you and your husband, Gojo, were spending some time together until he got an urgent call for work. will he make it up to you once he arrives back home?

➺ character: Gojo Satoru

➺ word count: 6.9k

➺ cw: married couple, femreader, sweet pet names (cause Gojo is soso cutie) lots and lots of teasing (like always) fluffy, so much loving, shower scene, nipple play breeding, smut, nsfw, aftercare crumbs, did i mention lots of loving? (there's lots!) ^^

➺ note: i can't get enough of my blue-eyed king so here's another little post about him, enjoy!

It was times like these that you relished the most. Your fingers tangled up in his silky white hair, his blue eyes that mimicked the crashing waves of a blue ocean, rolling over your body, drinking you whole.

Your husband, Satoru, marveling at your body, seeing right through your soul. His hands caressed the innate curves of your tempered body, having your figure well memorized under his avaricious and gentle touch, yet he still couldn’t seem to get enough of you. No matter how many times he held you close, no matter how many times he had you wrapped in his arms, snuggled in his chest. No matter how many times he inhaled your intoxicating scent, the inebriated state it left him in never seemed to ebb.

He purred against your intricate touch like a loving kitten would, his hand stroking your waist as you toyed with his hair, brushing the stray tufts behind his ear. His eyelids were heavy, carrying the weight of his equilibrium, but the lubricious gaze in his cerulean eyes remained as vibrant as ever, glistening as the stars would under a new moon.

You two lay side by side, simply gazing at your husband as you two engaged in conversation with one another, sometimes getting sidetracked by your infatuation for one another.

He grabbed your hand that stroked at his hair, and he began kissing each of your knuckles, peppering his soft lips above your skin, tracing them over your hands, drinking you up, as he typically did.

“I miss spending this kind of time with you, Toru.” You whispered, watching the way he kissed at your limb.

He hummed, and the vibrations of his gruff voice ricocheted throughout your body, sending waves of a tempestuous storm in your raging heart, adorned in his love and touch.

“I miss it too,” his voice was like honey against your skin, sweet and smooth, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with work, I need to pay more attention to my gorgeous wife, don’t I?” He teased you, reeling you into his figure, gently pelting your face and jaw with kisses.

You couldn’t help but giggle, flustered by his immense attention. “You pay attention to me, it’s just I want more moments like these.” You expressed, accepting his kisses and attention despite how flushed they made you. “I know you get busy, especially with missions, I know how important they are.”

He trailed his lips down your arm now, simply attacking you with his incessant love. “I bet you didn’t think marrying me would also mean you have to deal with my work, right?” He said, now caressing his cheek against the soft skin on your arm.

You watched him, blushing. “When we were boyfriend and girlfriend I was already aware of how busy you were. I figured that getting married wouldn’t push back any responsibilities you have… but that doesn’t mean I regret marrying you, I love calling you my husband.”

He smiled lovingly, staring into your eyes with his blinding blue irises. “You remember our wedding day?”

You chuckled. “How could I forget the day we got married, Satoru?”

It was a very intimate wedding, and considering Gojo had no family, not very many people were invited besides close friends and your family– the very few people that both you and Gojo handpicked by yourselves, sending out your invitations together.

It was a day you would never allow yourself to forget, or grow cavalier to. You stored that sweet memory deep in your soul, it was etched in your heart, locked away for safekeeping, only to be opened upon recollection.

Satoru fell into a pool of sweet memories, appreciating you with his eyes and hands. “It was the best day of my life. I don’t think you understand how happy I am to call you my wife.” He carefully adjusted himself, hovering above you.

You lay flat beneath him, your hands intrinsically reaching up to his nape, massaging his broad shoulders under your delicate fingers, your foot rubbing against his bare leg, tangled up in each other.

He smiled at your affection, leaning down to kiss at your jawline again. “What did you love most about that day?” Satoru questioned as he continued to leave a trail of kisses down your neck.

You hummed, closing your eyes as he focused his attention all on you and your body. “What I loved most about our wedding?” You reflected, to which he murmured in response, still kissing your neck with sweet sounds that parroted off the walls. “Hm, when I said I do~” You tease, kissing his cheek.

He chuckled, and his cheeks slightly reddened before he composed himself adeptly. “Wanna know my favoirte part of the wedding?”

You nodded.

“When we cut the cake together.” He shared with a blissful smile.

You laughed at his revelation. “Of course, you picked the cake out yourself, and you’re a fiend for sweets.”

“Well, yes,” he mumbled, stroking your long hair behind your ear, “but, that’s not why it was my favorite part. It was my favorite because I couldn’t help but just smile at you. Your cute hand over mine as we cut into the cake, it hit me then that I realized we were going to be together for the rest of our lives.”

You recalled that moment perfectly. “That moment was caught on camera, I remember that.” You grinned, remembering the photo of you and your husband cutting into the cake.

While your eyes were focused on the camera, smiling big, your husband had his sights set on you with an ebullient smile tugging on his lips, his beautiful blue eyes washed in adoration.

He kissed your neck once more. “Well, that’s my favorite moment. Besides the night we spent together after~” He winked, teasing you.

You laughed, blushing red at the thought of your wedding night.

He began to trace his lips over your collarbone, slow and sensual against your skin, prompting chills throughout your body. “Wanna recreate that night together, sweetheart?” Satoru entreated, his voice silky smooth.

You blushed. “N-now?” You whispered.

He chuckled. “Yeah. Now.” His hand caressed your side. “Is my little wife nervous?” Satoru teased you with a playful smirk tugging on his lips.

“Yes.” You blatantly reveal, to which he laughed at.

He kissed your forehead. “You’re so easily riled up, huh? Still getting nervous for your husband, hm?”

You had been together for seven years, married for two, and you still got so apprehensive at the thought of sharing intimate moments with Satoru. Which, he adored. To him, it meant that your love for him was humming as chirping birds, still burgeoning and festering just like how it once was when you two first began dating.

You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of his lips and tongue against your jawline, knowing exactly what to do to get your body warm, his hands trailing your curves, ravenous for more of you.

His hunger for you was insatiable, years could go by, and he would still thirst for your love.

You hummed in pleasure when he nipped at your skin.

“You like when I do that, don’t you, my love?” His voice was but a mere susurration that whisked against your hot flesh.

You nodded, tracing your arms over his biceps, grabbing onto his muscles.

He smirked, reaching up to your ear to kiss your lobe. “I love watching you melt under me, you’re so gorgeous, my wife.” He whispered in your ear, making you blush.

“Satoru.” You mumbled his name as though it were the call of a siren, completely addicted to your husband and the sweet words he never seemed to run out of.

It drove you insane.

“I’m here my love,” He chuckled, nipping at your earlobe. “I’m here.”

“Kiss me, Satoru.” You whispered, almost inaudibly, but he heard you loud and clear.

He didn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours like a strong magnet. It was slow and deliberate, the kinds of kisses you two loved to have, the ones you loved to have with your husband. The sweet sound your touching lips would make, resonating throughout your effervescent chest, making your heart tremble, beating in unison with Satoru’s.

You continued to trace your foot down his leg, while his hand traced down your hip, holding and kissing you as though it were the last time he would ever hold you and touch you again.

You buried your fingers in his white hair, feeling him melt into your hand, aware of just how weak he became whenever you touched his silky locks.

He pressed his tongue against your lower lip, wishing for more access, and you allowed him in, meeting as one, tangling together. Satoru licked at you, humming and moaning to himself, unable to get enough of you.

That’s when you heard the sound of buzzing.

You pressed your eyebrows together in difficulty, however, Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he continued to kiss you, his tongue exploring yours with traces of longing and desire, growing more and more hungry for you by the second– utterly impetuous he was.

The buzzing continued, and Satoru seemed to catch onto the sound, releasing your lips.

“Is that my phone?” He asked, wiping the side of his lip free of shared saliva from your wet kiss.

You pressed your lips together. “It’s not mine, I have my ringer on.”

He huffed, stretching his arm over your body to grab his phone from the nightstand.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

“You can answer it, Satoru.” You encouraged, sensing the confliction in his voice, tempted between you, his wife, and taking the call.

“Higher-ups.” He waved his phone, removing himself from your body to sit at his side of the bed, answering the call.

You sat up, planting your back against the headboard behind you, watching your husband as he took care of the unexpected phone call he received from management.

Or, the people he referred to as annoying and old and worthless.

He had ranted a plethora of times about these people to you.

You watched as he stroked at his hair, trying to focus on the phone call.

His expression was taut, focused, nodding every now and then.

“Now?” Satoru questioned, blinking a few times.

You perked up, tilting your head at the urgency that pooled through his voice.

“Right.” He nodded, lifting from the bed.

You felt your heart sink in utter disappointment, your heartbeat decreasing to a slow and deliberate pace.

You knew the moment he picked up these phone calls, he was either going to be on the call for quite a few long minutes, or he would be getting up to leave to tend to unexpected work that called for him.

This time, it seemed he would be tending to work.

You sat crisscrossed on your bed, watching as he began rummaging through your shared closet, keeping his phone in hand, humming periodically to the person on the other end of the phone.

He set out his work clothes above the corner of the bed, along with the blindfold he invariably wore with his uniform.

“Got it, I’ll be there.” He said one last time before he hung up, setting his phone down on the mattress beside his clothes.

He looked at you with a sympathetic glint in his eyes, almost as though it was his fault that he had to work.

“I’m sorry, my love, I know you were just talking about-”

You shook your head. “Satoru, don’t worry. It’s fine, I was just being overly clingy.” You lift from your side of the bed, tracing back to him. “Like I said, even before I married you, I was aware of how busy your work keeps you.”

His eyes flickered in admiration for his wife’s ability to respect his work and be so understanding and compliant for something he would be upset over if he were in your shoes.

You reached on the tips of your toes, kissing his lips. “Let’s get you changed?” You offer help.

He nodded eagerly, enjoying things best when you two could partake in the activity together.

You helped him dress, saving the blindfold for the last bits, relishing his blue eyes for as long as you possibly could.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be out,” Satoru informed, zipping up his dark blue uniform, “so I don’t wanna tell you to wait up, I’ll feel bad if you’re waiting all night, sweets.”

You blushed, grabbing his blindfold from the bed. “I’ll try to stay up, not like I sleep knowing you’re out on missions. I worry too much.”

He chuckled. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, wife, I’ll be okay.”

You smiled a small grin, praying that he truly would stay safe. Not that you didn’t have any confidence in Satoru’s strong abilities, but you still worried for his well-being, as his wife, you simply could not turn that switch off no matter how strong and capable he was of taking care of himself and others.

You held up his blindfold. “Ready?” You asked, nudging it toward him.

He leaned over with a teasing smile. “Put it on me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head before carefully stretching the piece of fabric, slipping it over his hair, and carefully placing it over his eyes. His hair naturally spiked upwards as he adjusted it, moving his hair away that got caught in the blindfold.

You smiled, kissing his nose. “Perfect and ready for work.” You muttered, admiring the man who was your loving and hardworking husband.

He grinned, his white canines sharp. “How does your husband look?”

“Sexy.” You teased, placing your hands over his broad chest.

He chuckled, wrapping his hands over your waist before he dramatically tilted you to the side and began pelting you with silly kisses, enunciating the mwah sound as he attacked you.

You gripped onto his shoulders, holding onto him, falling into a pool of laughter at his farcical actions that always had your heart fluttering.

It was those moments that made it hard for you to send him off to work.

You lay awake in bed, waiting on the return of your husband, unable to fall asleep when you were fully aware of the danger he was presumably getting himself into. It was practically torture in its most raw and detrimental form.

You turned in your covers, restless, the drafts from the open windows made you shiver, curling up to gather your warmth, wishing Satoru was there to hold you, and share his neverending series of warmth that you cherished so much.

You sighed, feeling your exhaustion take its toll on you, closing your eyes to sleep away your persistent worrying.

It had only felt like minutes had passed before you felt something caress the small of your back, rubbing and comforting you with slow circles.

Carefully, you opened your eyes, meeting with your husband, Satoru, who sat right at your side, watching you sleep, his hand caressing your body. His blindfold was removed, and slung over the nightstand, but he still donned his dark blue uniform.

He smiled sweetly when he saw you had finally woken up. “Sleepy girl~ I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to admire you.” Satoru hummed, outlining your figure with his hand.

You couldn’t help but smile, all your exhaustion fleeing your body as you got up from bed to embrace him.

He chuckled. “Did my lovely wife miss me?” Satoru asked, embracing you tight against his chest.

You laid your head against his shoulder, inhaling his musky pheromones that always drove you so wild. “I miss you always. I’m happy you’re home again. How was everything?” Something you invariably asked him whenever he got back home from doing anything work-related.

He shrugged. “The same stuff all the time. Exhausting, but I’m here now with my love, so I have no more room for complaining.” Satoru said, kissing the side of your head. “I have to shower though, so I’m gonna have to leave you again for a few more minutes.” He said, bracing himself for your disappointment.

You pulled yourself from his hold, frowning at him. “Can’t you save it for tomorrow morning, love?”

He laughed at your question. “Tomorrow morning? Well, I hardly break a sweat on these missions sometimes, but are you seriously gonna want me to leave the bed tomorrow morning to shower? I doubt that.” Satoru guffawed, teasing your head with his nestling hand, finding your clinginess to be quite adorable.

“Can we shower together?” You prompted, hope glistening in your eyes.

“You wanna shower together, love?” Satoru asked, tilting his head, wearing an amused grin on his soft lips. “You don’t think you can wait at least ten minutes for me to finish?”

“I can… but I just want to help you get clean.” You expressed, partly lying.

Waiting those five long hours for your husband to return from work had been intense, and for some reason, you were missing him a little bit extra that particular night, unable to get enough of him.

He nodded, wearing a charming smile. “Who am I to deny my loving and clingy wife?” He nestled in your cheek, kissing you. “Come, let's go clean up, sweets.” He grabbed onto your hand, leading you into your shared bathroom to clean each other up.

You followed along, your heart fluttering in your chest, unable to conceal your excitement while your husband shut the door behind you two.

Once he turned over, he approached you with his hungry blue eyes, unzipping the blue jacket that was part of his uniform, unveiling a compression shirt that he had been wearing beneath his uniform.

The shirt embraced the swell of his muscular chest magnificently, his large biceps flexing as he pulled the uniform off his arms one by one, keeping his eyes on you in the process, his anticipation was tangible in the thickening air.

He chuckled, reeling you into him. “My eyes are up here you little minx~” Satoru teased you for gawking at his ostentatious muscles, loving your overt desire for his meretricious body.

You placed your hands against his distended chest, gently running them up and down his broad shoulders. “I can’t help it.” You murmured before stretching over to his lips.

He hummed at your sudden kiss, pressing his hands against the small of your back to keep you in place, savoring how your lips felt against his soft ones. Your longing for your husband was palpable as you kissed him, the pace was a bit quicker compared to your shared kisses before he had left for work. You had been waiting hours for him, and taking it slow was something you were way past, longing for him and his kisses.

Satoru didn’t question it, matching your pace, licking at your bottom lip in an attempt to get you to open up for him, wanting to explore you with a more in-depth desire now that he had you to himself with no chance of work ever reaching out to him again for that night.

You released him before giving him that opportunity. “We’re getting sidetracked, Satoru, we should be showering, not kissing.”

He groaned, “We can do both, can’t we?” He huffed, watching as you opened the shower door to switch on the water.

You closed the door, turning to him. “You’ll help me undress?” You asked with a saccharine smile on your lips.

He nodded, eager, practically transporting to you to get the job done, lifting at the hem of your shirt, throwing it over your head. You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness, tearing away at his clothes as he did the same to you, taking the time to undress one another before stepping inside the shower together.

You shared a few more kisses with Satoru, allowing your skin to gather up the warm water that pelted your two bodies, softening your tense shoulders, simply basking in the affectionate sentiment your husband brought upon your figure with his attentive hands and lips.

He gently kissed your neck, keeping his hands at your elbows, standing chest-to-chest. The feeling of your hardening nipples against his smooth skin driving damn near insanity as he left open-mouth kisses against your hot flesh, getting quiet hums and moans of pleasure out of your mouth, which only further aroused him more than he already was.

He licked at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, down the side of your neck, earning a shiver from you, squeezing against his biceps as he gave you the attention you had been craving, growing more and more antsy by the minute.

He chuckled against your skin. “You like when I do that huh?” He teased you, licking at your skin once more.

You hummed, nodding your head, unable to reply. The thick fog of the tempered water flustered you tenfold, your brain nebulous and powerless against Satoru’s inebriating touch and kisses.

You then pulled back from his close vicinity, grabbing his shampoo bottle to get back on track. “Want me to wash your hair for you?” You offered.

That smile on his lips never diminished, his eyes sparkling in awe at your question. “You know I’d never say no to that.” He chuckled, watching as you squeezed out a generous amount of shampoo in the palm of your hand.

You rubbed it in slightly to get it foamy before you began to work it through your husband's white and wet hair, massaging his scalp as you lathered him, cherishing his closed eyes, his head leaned over, melting in your simple touch.

You loved the sight of him completely weak to your touch, listening to the way he would purr lovingly all due to your attention.

The way he trusted you– it was something you didn't think you would ever get tired of. You wouldn't. Something you would never see yourself disregarding it. Sure, he was your husband, but knowing he trusted you beyond any sort of words truly brought ineffable pleasure to your fluttering heart.

Once you were done scrubbing his hair, you brought him closer to the shower head, running your fingers through his hair to wash out all the suds. The woodsy smell of his shampoo permeated that shower, mingling in with the steam, savoring the delicious scent that resonated perfectly with Satoru.

He opened his eyes, wiping his face free of water. “It’s your turn, right?” He asked, grabbing your shampoo bottle. “Turn around for me, love.” He instructed, opening up your shampoo bottle.

You didn’t protest, following his directions, showing him your long damp hair that clung to your wet back.

He pressed his body closer to yours, shivering slightly when you felt his hardening self against the side of your hip. Blush tainted your cheeks, and you stood in silence as Satoru began to wash your hair, scrubbing and massaging you.

He washed your hair with one hand, while his other hand followed down the arch of your waist, trailing his long fingers over toward your belly button, tracing it with his middle and ring finger.

Your face was hot, imperceptibly opening your neck when you felt his lips kiss at your shoulder blades, assailing you with all the love and affection he had for the night.

His gentle touch brought you to your very own Arcadian, a paradise sufficed with vehement love. One that gently plucked at the chords of your heart, overtly singing a tune that described your bliss and lascivious thrill.

Carefully he moved your head under the showerhead, running his long fingers through your hair.

You nearly felt yourself drifting off in a reverie, closing your eyes, swayed by the warm water that caressed your head and body.

He chuckled, observant of the exhaustion in your heavy eyelids. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, baby. We still need to wash our bodies, hm?”

You opened your eyes, smiling at his comment.

You got hold of his loofah, mixing in his musky body wash to clean his body.

You scrubbed at his chest, first, receiving a content sigh from your purring Satoru, responsive to any little touch you planted on his large body.

You giggled. “Feels good?” You whispered, scrubbing at his shoulders and arms.

“So good.” He muttered, watching you work against his body. “I love the way you touch me, sweetheart.”

You laughed once more. “I’m just cleaning you, Satoru, it’s nothing special.”

He shook his head, still watching you clean his body. “No, that’s where you’re wrong, sexy. Every little thing about you is so special.”

You blushed, never quite used to the way your husband would openly flirt with you, and his sweet nicknames that still got your heart racing.

You pressed your chest against his body, reaching over to scrub at his back, wanting another excuse to get closer to him.

He instantly snaked his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him, unable to resist you, staring at your breasts that were smooshed against his stern body.

You directed him under the water, letting all the suds fall off his figure.

He grabbed your loofah off the shower rack next, tending to your cleanliness.

He gently scrubbed your stomach first, squeezing the loofah to get your body extra sudsy, hooking his arm over your hips while scrubbing the rest of your body.

Your legs, your breasts, your thighs, your shoulder blades. He cleaned just about every inch of your body.

“You look so sexy like this, all clean and soapy~” He muttered while cleaning you, loving to tease you.

He turned you over, your back facing him to direct you toward the shower head, rinsing the soap off your body. You laid your back against his chest, allowing the water to rinse the soap off your body while Satoru had his arms wrapped over your figure, keeping one hand over the side of your thigh while the other fondled against your breast, outlining your areola with his long fingers, squeezing your hardened buds between his slim fingers.

You moaned at his dexterous hands, laying your head back against his shoulder, enjoying his efforts and attention to get your body warm and hungry for him again.

His other hand trailed down toward your heat that had been aching for his attention all night, pulsing each time his hands trailed against the skin on your bones.

He toyed with your opening for fun, teasing you, watching the way you melted against his body under the hot water, your chest rising and falling, your nipples hard against his hands as he got himself full off you.

“Satoru,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He looked down at you with his blue eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What is it love?” He asked before he began circling his fingers against your pulsing clit.

You huffed, biting your lower lip, already so worked up.

“You like when I play with your clit huh?” He enticed you further, running slow circles around you.

You sighed, nodding your head, keeping yourself adhered to his body.

He laughed at your willingness to admit such naughty things to him before he released you. “Why don't we get out of here, huh?” He proposed, turning off the running water.

You disguised your utter disappointment, a tense knot forming in your gut while you continued to pulse, aching for him in ways you had been craving him all day.

The both of you exited the shower, drying yourselves off before leaving that hot bathroom.

Your cheeks were flushed, digging through your drawers to find your clothes for the night before sitting on your side of the bed, preparing to dress yourself.

That was until Satoru towered above you, his towel draped lazily over his torso, that brawny v-line teasing you, glistening under the iridescent moonlight that peeked through your window. The white hairs of his happy trail made your heart twirl in excitement.

“You’re gonna get changed?” Satoru asked, watching you set out your panties and a bra.

You laughed at his silly question, “yes?”

“Why?” Satoru tilted his head, his voice expressing his genuine curiosity. “Then I’ll just have to undress you again when I fuck you.”

Your eyes widened at his crass words, your cheeks tainted in a hot blush once more, flustered.

You kept yourself composed, releasing the strong grip you had on your towel. “When you fuck me?” You parroted, caught off-guard.

He smirked. “I was thinking about you all day, sexy, you think I was just gonna let you brush up against my cock in that shower and get away with it?”

You wore an impish grin, lying back in your bed. “I can’t help that he wants me.” You refer to your husband's dick, carefully opening up your towel, and revealing your naked body to your husband who watched you with parted lips. “Besides, I know you secretly like it when I tease you, cause you’re such a naughty boy.”

Satoru was lost in the artwork that was your body, his hungry blue eyes feasting upon your figure as a famished animal would, his cheeks imperceptibly tinted a bright pink for a quick moment at the name you gave him.

“Naughty boy, huh?” He asked, his hands on the fold that kept his towel together over his waist. “You haven’t seen naughty yet, baby.”

You enjoy the dirty talk, bending your right knee into the air, opening up your legs slightly, and showing yourself off to Satoru who huffed at the sight. “I haven’t? So then… come show me.”

Satoru took that head-on, as a challenge, hovering above you, the towel still wrapped over his waist.

“You’re such a damn tease, you know that?” He muttered, a smirk on his lips as he drank you whole with his blue eyes. “Like I wouldn’t fuck your pussy into next week.”

You lifted your foot, rubbing it against the hem of his towel. “Fuck me, Satoru~ I’ve been thinking about your cock all day.” You made your voice extra whiney, caressing his large pecs with your peckish hands.

He dragged his lips down your chest, circling your hard nipples with his teasing lips. “Thinking about my cock all day?” He repeated, licking your nipple with his warm tongue, making you whimper. “Who knew my innocent wife could be so crass? So dirty.” He muttered against your skin before he kissed your nipple, taking it in his mouth, and sucking on it.

You moaned at the sensations he brought upon your body, placing your hands against his shoulders, squeezing him, already so antsy with how much he had been making you wait, teasing you.

If you were a tease, then what did that make him?

He focused on your chest and breasts, kissing your body, his dick poking at your leg through the towel, making you extremely restless.

“S-Satoru, please.” You muttered, reaching your hand down, and tugging at his towel.

He chuckled against your breasts, second waves of vibrations throughout your body, causing you to shiver in reply. “Someone is eager~”

You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care to beg, and you definitely didn’t care if you appeared desperate. This man was your husband, and you had been teased and edged by the mere thought of him all day when he had promised you his time.

“I’ll give my wife what she wants, okay?” He settled, reaching his hand down his towel, making you hum in anticipation. “Since you’ve waited long enough.”

With that, he finally removed the towel from his bottom half, his dick jerking forward, slapping against his abdomen, making him grunt in response. Precome had already gathered on his tip, he hadn’t anticipated himself to be so turned on, the shower he had with you was enough to bring him to his edge.

You marveled at his size, never getting quite used to how big he was. “And I’m the eager one, huh?” You teased, running your hand down his chiseled muscles. “Looks like you’ve been tormenting yourself just trying to keep him contained.” You reached low enough to grab his dick, gently squeezing him.

He groaned at your movements, dropping his head in your chest. “Y-You don’t know how fucking sexy you looked when we showered together. How sexy you look right now. I could just fuck you senseless right now, and I wouldn’t stop, even when you’re whining and begging me to stop.”

His words had you chewing your lower lip, the knot in your gut tightening.

You released him, bringing both your hands up to his cheeks. “Satoru. I need you.” You voiced your desires, unable to wait anymore, you could practically feel yourself spilling over the towel that still lay under you, soaked.

Satoru shushed you, kissing your neck and cheeks. “I’ll give you what you want, okay?”

You hum, nodding in excitement, taking his kisses while you feel him position himself at your entrance, distracting you with his moving lips.

He spread you open himself, his hands pushing your thighs apart, prepping you for him. You worked with him, opening up, slightly adjusting your hips.

“That’s it, baby, open up for me, okay?” Satoru praised, something you loved when you two had sex.

You moaned when you felt his tip slip against your folds, slightly tensing up.

He kissed your forehead. “Relax baby, okay? For me. You’re okay, you always take me like such a good girl.”

You moaned in reply, keeping your grip on his shoulders, your eyes open, never wanting to miss a moment of such a blissful moment with your caring husband.

You relaxed your shoulders, and that’s when he pushed part of his dick inside your wet self, slipping inside you so easily when you were already so wet and turned on for him.

You gasped, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders. “S-Satoru, I-I need all of you in me.” You requested, knowing he wasn’t fully inside yet.

Satoru hummed, his eyebrows pressed together, focused on pleasuring you and giving you what you wanted most. He followed your orders without a second thought, fully entering you, the sensations of your tight walls against his tumescent dick always left his brain clouded. It was always him who needed time to adjust, focused on not releasing his load so fast with how your walls contracted against him.

It also allowed you to adjust, too. It had been a while since the two of you had sex. With how busy Satoru had been, it had nearly been three weeks, which was quite a while considering how eager and ravenous the both of you constantly were for each other daily.

He kissed your lips, then your cheeks and jaw, smothering you while he remained stagnant inside you, simply taking in this moment, the moment he loved most. After a few lingering kisses that left your skin hot, he began stroking himself against your walls, slow and gentle at first.

You wrapped your arms over his nape, tangling your fingers in his hair, sharing your breaths, inhaling one another, keeping your eyes on his.

That glossy look in his blue eyes, the look you’ve memorized to be a look of pure love and desire. There was never any hint of disrespect in his eyes, admiring you, and loving you thoroughly with all his heart, cherishing every moment of lovemaking with you– his wife.

His cheeks were red, thrusting into you with passion, his voice brittle against his pace as he spoke. “Y-You look so gorgeous whenever you're full with my dick. I-I don’t think I could ever get used to it.” He lowered toward your ear, kissing your soft lobe. “It’s- It’s been so long since we last had sex, I don’t know how I’ll keep up today.” He chuckled, removing himself from your ear.

You mumbled nonsense under your breath, practically inebriated, gasping quietly when you felt him pick up the pace just a little bit.

Satrou watched as your breasts would bounce with the pace he set, looking back and forth between your boobs and your trusting eyes. “You’re okay, love? Y-you’re not saying much.”

You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been, simply moaning and sighing under his muscular body, occasionally mumbling something under your breath, scratching your nails over his back, watching the way his expression would wince at your scratches, yet he allowed you to, not stopping you from it.

“I-I’m just focusing on not finishing so fast.” You revealed to your husband with blush-stained cheeks, to which he laughed at your revelation. “It’s been so long, Satoru.”

He agreed, humming, caressing your wet hair behind your ear as he continued to thrust inside your walls, hitting every right spot, the knot in your gut coming undone each time he pounded in you with such passion and force. “Oh, baby I know it’s been too long. I miss the way your pussy feels against my cock, the way your walls stretch against me.” He began describing, earning pleasured moans from you, his gruff and unsteady voice was enough to make your finish.

You rolled your head back, shutting your eyes.

Satoru grabbed your leg, clutching it over his torso. “No, baby, keep your eyes on me.” He instructed.

You looked up at your husband through blurry eyes, wrapping your other leg around his torso, your lips falling open as he thrusts his twitching dick inside you.

“Oh, Satoru.” You mumbled his name, unable to stop words from flooding your open mouth, being fucked senseless, beyond any coherent words.

Satoru chuckled, keeping his eyes on you. “I’m right here sexy.” He reassured.

You listened to the sweet sounds your touching skin would make, the noises reflecting and bouncing off the walls, along with your breathy moans and whines and the groans that fled Satoru’s sensual lips, watching how dizzy and drunk you were off his pounding and restless cock.

“F-Faster, please.” You requested, feeling the tension in your gut coming to relief with just a little bit more pushing. “I-I want to come all over your dick.”

“You want me to go faster?” Satoru repeated incredulously, laughing. “Alright, my wife.” He heeded, moving one of your legs off his torso and onto his shoulder, readjusting himself so that he had a better angle that granted him more speed, just for you.

You moaned at the stretch it caused, letting your leg dangle off his shoulder, your foot moving in the air against his fast thrusts.

You felt yourself coming to your edge, the knot in your gut unraveling quickly. You rolled your foot in the air, curling and pointing your toes, gripping the sheets with your hands as you shut your eyes, focused on your rising climax.

Satoru knew that look on your face. “Ooh, there it is, baby, come all over this hard cock, be such a good girl, and come for your husband.” He cooed, hitting your g-spot over and over again with his aching tip.

You moaned in reply, gasping and whining beneath him. “Ah, ah~” You cried against his powerful thrusts. “S-Satoruuu.” You moaned his name with hot desire lacing your tongue, your heartbeat hammering against your chest, nearly breaking out of your heated body.

Satoru groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear, this cock has you senseless doesn’t it? Can’t even form words can you?”

You hummed, taking a few more last hot breaths before you felt your body tremble, your climax hitting you like waves of a tempestuous storm on a salty ocean shore, shuddering and gasping, as you released your sacred juices onto your husband's throbbing cock.

Satoru moaned at the warmth enveloping his dick, the sight of your reaching your edge was just enough to bring him to his own, still fucking you, speeding up his pace to catch up with you.

You were unable to form words, unable to form thoughts, overstimulated as Satoru only pounded into you with more force after your reached climax, pain, and pleasure stunting through the core of your flushed body as he used your limp body for his finish, throwing your other leg over his shoulder now, giving him more access to fuck you harder.

You let him, whining and gasping beneath him, your breath caught in your tight throat as you listened to him curse under his breath, feeling the way his cock would spasm inside you, granting more moans out of you as he reached his own pleasure.

He finished with a loud groan, hovering over your body as he stopped his set pace, releasing his warm fluids inside you, dressing and coating you with his love and warmth, breathing out shaky breaths, his body trembling above you.

You adored the way his come would wash over your womb, how warm it was, how full he would get you, practically spilling out your wet cunt.

With meticulous hands, he set your legs down, huffing as he pulled himself out of you, his dick wet, leaving a string of come and shared fluids as he pulled himself out of your distended entrance.

Satoru collapsed at your side, not wasting a second to bring you into him, smothering you with his love and affection, not at all tired of having you attached by his hip despite spending passionate minutes inside your body.

You embraced him, panting against his chest, still slightly trembling as you recovered from your impactful climax.

He stroked your hair, kissing your sweating head with his pure lips. “You’re okay, my love?” He whispered delicately, his voice laced with purity and concern.

You nodded, gripping onto his shoulders. “I-I’m okay.”

He sighed in relief. “Good, I was afraid I lost you there.” He expressed with a chuckle.

“You did.” You replied, laughing.

He ran his fingers through your damp hair. “But, you’re okay, sweetheart. Aren’t you? You were so good.”

You blushed at his praises, nuzzling in his chest.

Sex was good.

No, it was always amazing with Satoru.

But, Satoru’s aftercare was an arcadian in itself, always making sure you felt so loved and so appreciated.

“I love you.” He whispered in your ear, planting more kisses on your forehead with his wet lips.

You hummed, holding him tightly against your naked body. “I love you, Satoru.”

#gojo #jjk gojo #jjk #jjkxyou #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jjk fic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader

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wondrluv · 9 months ago

Text

୨୧ 603 ; lh43

➪ summary: luke's main goal is to make sure y/n is taken care of, however it's hard for him to do it 603 miles away

➪ warnings: reader overworks herself, school, stress

➪ word count: 2.5k

➪ emma's notes: i’ve been in a like mood so i decided to get this one out tonight!! ill post a connor blurb tomorrow morning/afternoon and a nico fic tomorrow. more of a schedule release tomorrow probably for the next two weeks

She expected this to happen, the pounding in her head, the 20 tabs open on her computer, the dozens of resource articles and research strewn about in her room, the five packets of review guides sitting in a stack on her desk, the half drank cup of coffee, and the tears springing in her eyes. The earbuds in her ears played nothing and the sensation began to irritate her, practically ripping them from her ears and throwing them across the room to somewhere she wouldn’t be able to find again.

She could hear voices in the living room, just outside her closed bedroom door. They were laughing about something, what it was she had no idea. Her three roommates all had presentations tomorrow and that was it, no more studying, no more writing, they were done. She, however, still had three papers to write and two exams to take. She had regretted her decision to take this many classes this semester but she was preparing herself for her future.

She had gone to stand up, feeling dizzy immediately as her feet planted flat on the floor. She held a hand to the wall, bracing herself from toppling over. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurry sight of tears, dehydration, and lack of nutrition. She knew people would be worried about her if they were to see her like this, her hair matted and pulled into a bun as best as she could, and mascara dried on her face that highlighted the dark circles and bags under her eyes. She was wearing Luke’s sweatshirt, the Devils logo plastered over it in the center, mocking her, reminding her that her boyfriend was 603 miles away from her.

At the thought, she allowed herself to tear up more, letting tear after tear fall. There wasn’t much she could do, he was in the middle of a game right now. When she realized he had a game, she turned it on and watched with a soft smile whenever he would show up on the TV. Despite knowing the fact that he would not answer his phone, she called him, hoping to just hear his voice through his voicemail.

When his voice reached her ears, she could feel some of the tension release from her body. However, the feeling was short-lived as the beep from the end of his voicemail was heard. She didn’t leave a message, she just hung up and watched the remainder of the second period. When the horn blarred in the arena and through the tv speakers, she shut off the screen and returned to work, making her head hurt more.

She didn’t notice the multiple attempts Luke had made to call her, her phone having died 20 minutes prior when she was writing her essay. She had put her headphones on, canceling most noise from the apartment. She had been ripping off post-it notes after post-it notes, scrambling to write down as many ideas as her brain could process.

Meanwhile, Luke had been minorly, no majorly, freaking out. She would never call him if he was at a game, not even if it was super important. He could feel himself start to sweat again as he rushed to put his suit jacket on, wiggling his feet into his shoes. He had gone home by himself, not feeling the need to celebrate when his girl could be suffocating 603 miles away from him.

Ever since they’ve known each other, Luke has known about y/n’s tendencies to throw herself into her school work. He remembers the first time he saw her during exam season. It was the end of their freshman fall term, they had been dating for four months at the time. They had just gotten back from their games in Ohio, he was exhausted from the trip and their 6-1 loss following their win the previous day. All he had wanted to do was go over to her dorm and lay in bed with her.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer but nothing came. He felt saddened and knocked again. He received the same answer, none. He turned around and slid down the wood door, hitting the ground with a thud. He put his hands on his head as he waited, kicking his bag to the side. It was only then he heard the footsteps come rushing down the hallway and looked up to see her. She had her backpack that looked as if it weighed 10 pounds, she was clutching five books in her arms and a coffee cup rested on top of them. She had been mumbling when she noticed him and her eyes lit up, “Hi!”

“Hi pretty girl, whatcha doing?”

“Studying.”

He looked at the way her eyes were hidden by the circles underneath them and frowned. He reached out to grab the books from her grasp and she gratefully accepted the offer, going straight to dig the keys out of her bag, “How were the games? Did you guys win?”

He felt heartbroken and confused, she always watched his games when they went away. She would always be the one to point out his goal or an assist that he got, sometimes she even pointed out if Dylan, Mackie, Ethan, or even Owen got a goal. He watched as she pushed the door open, removing her hand from her side to run it through her hair, “You didn’t watch?”

She turned to him, dropping her bag on the ground and reaching out for her books, “No, I was studying. Sorry, Lu.”

Studying? At that time? He did nothing but let her take the books, watching as she started to clean up her dorm. It was only then that he had noticed the state her dorm was in. There were empty boxes scattering the floor, paper plates and bowls on any surface possible, and some of her clothes were mixed in with her roommate’s, it was a mess, to say the least. He made no effort to say anything about it, though.

She cleaned as much as she could in a matter of five minutes, looking at him with a small smile on her face, “I’m sorry I didn’t watch. I was going to watch the highlights when I got back tonight.”

“Back from?”

“Library. I think I’m starting to become a regular for everyone who works there.”

The thought of her being a regular was somewhat concerning to him, “How often have you been going?”

His voice was a mixture of stern and worried, his eyes somewhat squinted in a glare. She looked as if she had committed a crime at the tone of his voice, “Every day… from the time class was over until they closed.”

His eyes widened, “Jesus y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to study. I need to do well.”

“I understand that but you can’t work yourself to the brink of death.” He grabbed the coffee out of her hand and emptied it into the sink, getting rid of the cup afterward.

She whined at the motion, watching him in horror as if he just hit a bird with his car. He walked back over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, “Tomorrow you are not going to touch a single book, I won’t even let you touch your computer.”

“But-”

“Nuh-uh, nope. No computer, no books, no papers, no anything school-related. We are going to stay in your bed and watch movies all day and eat properly.”

“I eat properly!” She exclaimed in offense.

He gave her a look that said all the different, “Sure. Now I can only hope you still have some of my clothes here somewhere because I do not want to talk to my dorm right now.”

She pointed in embarrassment to one of her drawers, “In there.”

He kissed her forehead and grabbed the clothes before heading for the bathroom, “I’ll be back and I better not see you do any work when I get back.”

She nodded but as soon as he left she ran to her backpack and grabbed her computer. She rushed to finish the last two paragraphs of her essay before he got back but luck was not on her side as she was halfway through her last paragraph and the doorknob turned. She had been so focused on writing that she didn’t care that he entered, “Just let me finish my last paragraph.”

He sighed, dropping his clothes into her laundry basket. He walked back to her bed and looked at her, “Last paragraph?”

“Mhm.” She nodded and scooted over so Luke could sit next to her, “Fine. I don’t want you to lose your train of thought.”

She beamed up at him and kissed his cheek before returning to her work.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

Ever since then, he had been careful with how much he left her alone in exam season. He always called on road trips, always went to the library with her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself, always made sure she was eating properly and always made sure that she was okay. But now being 603 miles it was hard to do that for her.

Luke was packing a bag as fast as he could, looking at his laptop for the earliest flight out of there which wasn’t until early the next morning, leaving at 7 and not arriving until 9. Then he would have to wait to get a car and do a 30-minute drive to Ann Arbor. He groaned at the time and went to throw something, at that point he could drive there and be there before getting a plane but he was in no state to drive.

He continued to try and call her for 30 minutes, on the brink of giving up at that point. Her phone was still dead and she had yet to realize it. She had music playing through her earbuds attached to her computer, typing about something that she considered stupid and unnecessary. She only took breaks to take a sip of coffee or to groan and throw her head back in exhaustion and frustration.

Luke threw his phone on the bed, running his hands down his face, falling asleep not even five minutes later. Y/n was the same way, she closed her laptop as she finished her last sentence, finally allowing herself to take a break. She got up to go make a burrito in the kitchen, waving to her friends who were also still awake at the time.

She went to turn her phone on and that was when she realized the lack of battery it had. She shrugged it off and put it down on her nightstand before walking back out to eat and finish watching the movie with her roommates.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

She didn’t go to bed until almost three in the morning despite finishing the movie four hours ago. Once they finished, she looked at the piles of paper and study guides she still had to do and sighed. Deciding that her first class wasn’t until noon, she could easily get done with one or two study guides or an essay in three.

She curled up on her bed when she was done and wrapped the blankets around her tightly. When she woke up and went to look at her phone and saw a tweet from Amanda from an hour ago, “Luke is not at morning practice due to personal reasons. Should expect him back for Saturday’s game in Columbus.”

She immediately woke up at the fact, looking back at her other notifications. There must’ve been at least a dozen missed calls from Luke and 15 text messages. She could only think about the worst, if he had gotten hurt but just didn’t want to tell someone, if he had been so drunk that he couldn’t think straight, if he had a panic attack last night. Her thoughts raced but halted when there was a knock on the door.

She went out to the living room, still clad in her sweats from the previous night. Her friends must’ve either already left or were still sleeping. She walked to the door, peeking through the peephole and gasping. She all but ripped the door open, “Lukey?”

He smiled when he saw her, immediately feeling better. Her eyes were still the same from the first time he had experienced her like this and he knew there would probably be a coffee pot brewing in the next few minutes, but he was here now and that was a wave of relief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls and I know you were studying last night so you probably wouldn’t have answered them anyway. But when I saw you called during the game I got worried because you never call. And I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you weren’t overworking yourself but I can tell that you are.”

She frowned at his words but also felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him flying out just because he wanted to ensure she was okay. She stepped aside to let him in and then led him to her bedroom. It was cleaner than what he had witnessed in the past years.

“You can’t just fly out every time you think I’m overworking myself, Luke.”

“I know but I wasn’t thinking. I was worried, really worried.” He held her hand, playing with her fingers as a form of comfort, “How long were you up to last night?”

She hesitated before responding, “3…”

He only sighed and tugged her closer to the bed so they could lay down, “Luke I have class in two hours.”

“I know but just for a little bit, and then I’ll take you to class.”

“You still know you’re way around campus?”

“Did I ever know my way around campus?”

She shook her head and laughed, “No.”

He smiled at her laugh, “You do realize I’m only going to be allowing you to rest while I’m here right?”

“But I have one more essay to finish.”

He glared at her, “Fine, but after that, you are going to be right here, in my arms, and not thinking about school at all.”

“Deal.” He kissed her before allowing her to get up and get ready for class. They both walked on campus to her class with the same thought, grateful that Luke had come to see her. Even with being 603 miles away from each other, they would do anything to be there for one another.

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 7 months ago

Text

Enemies (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Y/N managed to avoid Rafe all this time but suddenly at a party they end up in the same room.

Word Count:1,533

Author’s note: I will be posting parts of this throughout the season. I’ve watched the first 3 episodes. Send in Requests

This entire time Y/N managed to avoid Rafe Cameron. Even at all the parties and fights, she had never spoken a word to him. Sarah had nothing good to say about her brother. Why would she? He tried to kill her and take everything from her.

Y/N never missed the way Sarah would glare at the back of his head anytime she saw him. The stories she had heard about Rafe from anyone else were just as bad. Not all Kooks were bad but it was enough to make Y/N stay by the pogues side.

But she knew that eventually she would come face to face with him and that there would be blood. Bad blood. Y/N stared at him as he walked into the room that she had planted herself in. Why was she at this party, anyway? She hated them but even though she was a pogue, she had kook cousins that would invite her to the parties and she would just drink the awful liquor and sit in her thoughts.

He noticed her right away and she had her scantily clad clothes to thank for that and the way she stared at him. He knew her but not by name. He recognized her to be a pogue and to hang out with Sarah, Kie and all the others. What was she doing here? And why was she staring at him like that? He could see the fear in her eyes and hatred. A tiny smirk made its way onto his face.

The glare in her eyes didn’t go away as he sat in front of her. “I know you.” He stated and she took a sip of her drink. “Most likely.” She said and realized that those were the first words she had ever spoken to him. Most likely. “You’re friends with my sister.” That made her smirk and she realized that he knew exactly who she was. “I know all about you, Rafe.” “I can tell by the fear in your eyes.” The ego that this man had amazed her. “Why are you here anyway?” “I have cousins that are kooks and I like to drink so.” He watched as she down the rest of her drink.

Some of it was left on her lips and he almost dared himself to lean forward and lick it off. Sarah would be pissed if she found out that her brother fucked her best friend. Sarah would expect that from Rafe, not from Y/N. She got up from her spot and went to leave. “What’s your name?” He asked her and she turned towards him. “You know me but don’t know my name?” She asked, no playfulness in her voice. “You were the one that managed to avoid me all these years.” He stated a fact and Y/N looked down and then back up at him. “There’s a reason for that, Rafe.” She said and walked out of the door and out of the party while he stared at her, wondering.

Y/N didn’t tell Sarah about what had happened. But it didn’t leave her mind. Why the hell was Rafe Cameron wanting to know anything about her? Her cousins were throwing another party and there she stood pouring her second drink.

She looked around the party and noticed so many drunk kooks laughing or dancing. She only ever felt that way when she was with the pogues. With Sarah. Rafe watched her as she drank from the cup and yet again had liquor wet on her lips.

Topper was saying something to him but he wasn’t paying any attention as he stared at Y/N. Topper stopped talking and followed Rafe’s eyes and saw Y/N. Why was Rafe staring at Y/N? “Why are you staring at Y/N?” That question caught him by surprise. So that was her name. “Why is she here?” Rafe asked his friend, not taking his eyes off her. “Her cousins are kooks and they invite her. She never talks to them or anything. She just drinks.” She looked around and spotted Rafe, who’s eyes were already on her.

She gave him a weird look and turned away from him. Rafe almost didn’t care about the others at the party and went up to her but waited until she was leaving to do so. She had enough of the kook scene and went to leave not realizing Rafe was following her. “Y/N.” She heard as she was walking outside the party. She turned towards the voice and saw that it was Rafe. She fought to roll her eyes at the man. “So how’d you find that out?” She asked. “Topper.” He asked Topper what her name was? What was going on?

She turned away and kept walking. He followed her. “Do you need a ride?” He asked and her eyes widened at his question. She turned towards him waiting for the laugh and the walk away but it never came. He waited for her answer. “You wanna give me a ride?” She asked, this time amusement laced in her voice. “You must really think I’m a monster.” She wanted to laugh at him.

He said that like he hasn’t done messed up things for her to think so. “You want the pogues and your sister to see that?” “I would drop you off close by, not right up to the house.” She chuckled and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think i’ll pass.” She said and turned and continued walking. “Okay well I’m gonna follow you to make sure you make it back.” She turned towards him, fast. “Ok what’s with you? Why are you trying to be nice to me? What do you want?” She asked him. He didn’t know what to say.

He wanted to tell her the truth that he couldn’t stop thinking about her and he wanted to be near her. “We are on two different sides, Rafe.” She states and begins walking again. Rafe got on his motorcycle and followed her. She sighed as he rode slowly to match her walking.

He watched as she looked down at the ground, refusing to look at him. She let out a sigh of relief as they got closer to her home and he drove away. She tried to forget what happened but couldn’t as she tossed and turned in her bed. Sleep did not come easy for her as the enemy was on her mind.

Y/N had to walk away from JJ as she found out that he bet on himself to win extra money but he lost and was mad at John B for also not winning. She thought it was crazy of him to use the last piece of gold they had on that.

Rafe saw her walk away from the group and followed her when it wouldn’t be evident that he was following her to the pogues. “He had no chance.” Rafe said and she turned towards him and raised her eyebrows. She ignored him and kept walking. They walked a long way before she finally spoke up.

“You come to rub your winning in my face?” “Topper won. Not me.” She chuckled, “What’s the difference?” “You really like walking.” He said, ignoring her question. She nodded, She really did. It was her way to escape from reality and all the bad things going on in her life. And how pissed off at JJ she was. “How’s that little store of yours going?” He asked. “Like you care.” “I asked, didn’t I?” She sighed, “Good. How’s being a rich asshole going for ya?” He laughed at her question. “Good.” He said and he saw a faint smile on her lips. “Did I just see you smile?” He asked, teasing her.

She looked over at him with a straight face. “Shouldn’t you get back to your friends?” He shrugged. “You don’t want to be seen with a pogue. It might ruin your reputation.” She said. “Seems like you being seen with me might ruin your reputation even more. And are you worried about my reputation?” He asked. She rolled her eyes. “No but I’m worried for mine.” Was that a joke? He smiled at her as she shook her head.

He walked with her until she stopped. They were at a restaurant now and her stomach was growling. “Alright Rafe. Bye.” She said and walked into the restaurant. “Hey, what if I’m hungry too?” She rolled her eyes at him. “This is pogue food. You wouldn’t like it.” She said and got a table for one.

He stared at her as she sat at the table and opened the menu. Being angry at JJ really made her hungry. Rafe looked around the place and noticed that it wasn’t a classy place but definitely one for a pogue. He watched as a Y/N smiled at the waitress as she ordered. “Excuse me, Sir?” He turned towards the voice. “Would you like a table?” He looked back at Y/N who was drinking her drink and waiting for her food. “No.” He said and walked out of the restaurant. He would find a way to get her to break her walls down. It would just take time.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #outer banks #obx season 4 #drew starkey #jj maybank #john b routledge #sarah cameron #pope heyward #outer banks x reader #rudy pankow #chase stokes #rafe obx

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sometimes-i-write-good · 28 days ago

Text

Handling It

Top Gun: Maverick - Fanboy x f!reader [no use of y/n]

7.2k | Fanboy couldn’t remember the last time he punched someone square in the face. Today seemed as good a day as any. He’d forgotten the way pain blossomed behind his knuckles and webbed its way up his arm. Assault and battery charges were the last thing on his mind. Honestly the only thing on his mind when he threw that punch was you.

===

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

CW: Mentions of Abuse and Stalking, Breaking of Restraining Order, one-sided bar fight, insults and confrontation by a past abuser (there is no mentions or illusions to physical abuse, but please handle anything to do with emotional/mental abuse, stalking, and breaking of restraining orders with care. If this story isn’t for you, that’s okay. Just be safe <3)

Author’s Note: I’m a sucker for the ‘who did this to you’ style fics or any kind of ‘you came? you called’ - also, sorry to any Brent’s who caught a stray today. || cross-posted on ao3

===

“I can’t name just one thing.”

Mickey laughed over the lip of his beer bottle. A quick sip to, hopefully, mask the pink gracing his cheeks, even though he knew the effort was futile at best. “You know that.”

Reuben wouldn’t listen. He never did. It was one of the many qualities that made him such a great friend at times, and such a frustrating one tonight. “One thing you like about her,” Payback pushed for an answer. “It’s not that difficult of a question, Mick.”

But it was.

They went through this once a week. Minimum. He and Payback skirted off base early - easier to secure a spot at the bar before the crowds rolled in - all to sip a few beers and lament over the fact that they both missed the clause in their kickass fighter pilot careers where it stated relationships wouldn’t fall into their laps. If anything, their chances at love were as out of reach as the horizon in front of them. They could speed towards it all they wanted. The line would still always be there, a hair’s breadth away.

Reuben often started. Making sure to take his time in overanalyzing every interaction he had that week with the woman who worked in the control tower. Fanboy could agree she had the voice of an angel. Payback’s infatuation was completely warranted. Even before they found out she also looked like an angel, Mickey could tell she was a good fit for his wingman. Reuben would flirt relentlessly and she, ever professional, would instruct them with a smile in her voice. Occasionally she’d joke around, but not enough for a week by week breakdown. Her clearing them for landing wasn’t the easiest thing to warp into a ‘dude, she likes you. You should totally ask her out.’

Creating a conversation around you took no effort for Fanboy at all.

“She’s like no one else I’ve ever met, Reuben.” Once Mickey got started, he couldn’t stop. His callsign hadn’t exactly spawned into existence because of his cool, detached, and nonchalant approach towards anything he remotely liked.

“I know what you mean,” Payback said.

He motioned to the bartender for another beer. Mav and Penny had a date tonight. Precisely why he and Mickey were sitting belly up to the bar so early on a Thursday afternoon. No eavesdropping from Penny. She was known for meddling if any of her regulars were remotely interested in each other.

“Day,” Payback sighed, “she has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. You know what she did last week?”

Fanboy arched a brow. He did know what she did last week. The past few months of being stationed here sat in his mind, carefully cataloged away. From the batting eyelashes to the extremely obvious attempts to get Reuben to ask her out on a date. Mickey knew Day’s entire day all thanks to Payback’s crush. At this point, he felt like he knew her well enough to consider her a friend despite having never held a conversation with her.

Payback could easily do the same. There was one memory in particular Fanboy would break down again and again - Reuben truly had the patience of a saint.

“Does your mother call you Garcia?” You asked the first time he took you out for drinks.

The rest of the Dagger Squad milled about the bar. You all had shown up together, along with some of your fellow TOPGUN instructors, but somehow Mickey paid for everyone’s drinks that night. The two of you ended up tucked away in a booth by yourselves. He couldn’t help but to think of it as a date.

“No, she doesn’t.” He remembered how to form words somewhere between watching you polish off your drink and feeling you lean in closer to show your interest.

“Does she call you Fanboy?” A sheepish grin and a small shake of his head. “So what does she call you?”

He leaned closer to you, stopping just before your noses could touch. “She calls me Miguel.”

You tested the word out for yourself. Reuben swears that was the moment Mickey fell in love, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. Fanboy melted when he heard his name on your lips. This shift in power felt dangerous. At any point you could have this man in a puddle at your feet, willing to do anything for you. Yet, Mickey felt nothing but trust. You had never been one to abuse power - unless, of course, it was to give Hangman shit or get Payback back for something.

“But I can call you Mickey?” You smiled one of the most stunning smiles Fanboy ever saw out of you. How could he say no?

And that’s how you wormed your way into a first name basis. On top of becoming a featured subject for their Friday debriefs. If Payback took a shot every time Fanboy asked “Do you think her asking to call me Mickey was her way of hitting on me?” he’d have alcohol poisoning.

“Mickey!”

His head snapped towards the sound of your voice like a moth to a flame. Icarus to the sun. Maverick to bad decisions. Hangman to asshole comments. Thousands of similes all as timeless as the way his heart ached in your presence. A romance for the ages.

He only wished it could get off the ground.

Reuben slapped him on the shoulder. He passed Fanboy a tequila shot saying, “You need to make a move tonight.”

You moved towards the pair, splitting off from your friends. Surely that was something Mickey could overanalyze later tonight.

“Yeah,” he answered absentmindedly. “Sounds good.”

“Hi, Reuben.” You saddled up to the bar. Payback crushed you in a hug, and Mickey couldn’t ignore the jealousy flickering about in his chest. When would he build up the courage to greet you with a hug? Why couldn’t he approach anything that had to do with you with the same surefire confidence he could impart towards flying?

You squirmed in Payback’s grip. “Too tight,” you playfully choked out. “I’m dyin’ here.”

Payback released you, taking care to carefully shove you closer to Mickey, and laughed. “Good to see you too, Einstein.”

Both you and Mickey shot him a look. You’d been through your fair share of shitty callsigns. Mouth, which finally got axed after filing enough harassment claims, started because you’d mouthed off to your superior once during Plebe Summer and had your whole squad in the doghouse for two months. It took another two months for the disdain to finally drop off whenever someone called you. By then, though, people had been shifted around, and most at The Academy (those with extreme insecurity) didn’t appreciate having a woman attempting to be a future TOPGUN flier.

Needless to say, Mouth in the hands of young men with sexism at the forefront of their minds quickly became a problem. So the remainder of your time at The Academy, and sometime after, marked you as IKEA. I Know Everything Anyway. Not nearly as cool as Maverick, Slider, or Iceman, but you’d rather be known for your brain than your hotheadedness. Talking over everyone simply had to happen in class. Otherwise you weren’t going to be heard at all.

Einstein came later; from Iceman himself. He came to personally congratulate you on your perfect score. “You’re a regular Einstein, aren’t you?” He’d said, and it stuck. Sometimes spoken in awe, sometimes with disgust, but mostly in a playful manner like Payback always managed.

“Watch yourself, Payback.” You plucked the shot from Mickey’s fingertips. It was gone in a flash. “Can I have another round, please?” You asked the bartender, then turned towards Fanboy with a grin. “You’re having one with me, right? And one more, probably, to make things even.”

The one thing Reuben asked about earlier came to mind. Your refusal to take shit. That would have to be his favorite thing (in this moment because Fanboy knew he truly couldn’t choose a single aspect) about you.

“What’re you starin’ at?” How you tilted your head to scrutinize him reminded Mickey of his childhood dog. A stray his mother swore up and down would never come in the house, only to end up sleeping in bed with her each night. Kind of like you - except you snuck your way into his heart rather than his bed. “Are you okay?”

Mickey could feel the heat radiating off his face. In comparing you to his childhood dog, he had gotten the image of you in his bed stuck in his mind. What a dream, and not even in the typical horny way people used the term ‘in bed.’ Fanboy’s fantasy consisted of being able to hold you, talk to you for hours in the early hours of the morning, and revel in the knowledge that out of anyone in the world you could choose, you chose him. Anything more that came with a domestic love like that would be a bonus.

Of course, you weren’t a mind reader. Thank god for that. No stumbling apology would ever be enough to save Mickey from the embarrassment of daydreaming about you while you were next to him. This crush steadily reached towards schoolgirl doodling your joint married name in a notebook levels of delusion. Whoever said be friends with your crush never mentioned the crushing anxiety of ruining that friendship with any given misstep. When did Mickey know it was safe to take the next step?

“Hmmm?” The tips of his ears grew hot as you stared. Somehow he managed to grasp every chance to make a fool of himself around you. “Yeah,” he breathed, acutely aware of Payback’s smirk off to the side, “I’m fine.”

“Are you doing a tequila shot?”

“I don’t know about Mick here-” Reuben brought a hand down on Mickey’s shoulder- “but I will definitely be having one.” He turned his attention to the bartender pouring the shots. “Lime and salt too, please.”

Your eyebrows practically shot to your forehead. “You can’t handle a tequila shot? I would not have guessed that about you, Payback.”

If only she knew how Reuben truly partied. Fanboy knew him longest out of anyone on The Dagger Squad; they'd been a pair for most of his career.

Payback brought a hand to his chest. He gasped dramatically and Mickey rolled his eyes. “We call him Payback because of all the shots I paid for that he promised to pay me back for.”

“I did pay you back!”

“When?”

“How many times have I saved your life?”

You laughed, doing nothing for the heat still trapped in Mickey’s cheeks. “Isn’t that your job?”

“I could be shit at my job.” Payback shrugged. He shifted his position to reach for the salt on the table. All the confidence of a man who didn’t own this tab - Mickey, unfortunately, would be paying for more of the squad’s drinks tonight. “The lime and salt,” he explained, “are a part of the experience. There’s a comradery to a ritual done together. After this, we’re bonded for life.”

Long ago Fanboy used to be envious of the way people flocked to Payback. This simple act transformed into a performance. Storytelling was an art, and Reuben perfected it. He even had you succumbing to the supposed weakness of using a chaser.

To not stare you down while you licked your hand, Fanboy busied himself with the salt. However, his eyes flickered to you for the briefest of seconds. Right as he dragged his tongue over the fleshy part between his thumb and wrist. The want must have been apparent. He had always been the type to wear his emotions on his face.

But you weren’t. So when your eyes widened, Mickey paused. A horrible thing to do considering his current position. Your chest stilled for a second, eyes trained on him, and time stopped entirely. The knowledge that you might just want him too sent Fanboy crashing back to reality. He salted his hand with as steady a hand he could manage.

“A toast!” You cleared your throat, eyes darting around before settling pointedly not on Fanyboy. He could see your desperation for control. “Payback?”

Payback lifted his shot glass. The two of you followed suit. “May it always be the other guy who says 'This drink's on me.’”

Between Fanboy’s annoyance and your giggle Reuben licked the salt, threw back the shot, and grabbed a lime wedge to bite down on. He grinned around the peel. “I win.”

The competitive nature of fighter pilots took over. Mickey completed the sequence with ease. His bank account wouldn’t appreciate the smooth taste of the liquor but nearly dying those few months ago made him realize two things. One, he really didn’t want to spend all his time pining over you - he’d rather be with you. Two, he was getting too old for cheap liquor.

“That’s really- hey!” You felt around blindly on the counter. “Mickey, that's so not fair.”

He brandished your lime slice. “You’re supposed to do the shot, then complain about Payback. Everyone knows this.”

You stuck your bottom lip out in an overdramatic pout. “I wanted that.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sure, Fanboy may have deepened his voice slightly. He might have seized the opportunity to slide forward, closer to you. What was he supposed to do? Ignore your blatant attempts at flirting because someone else was standing right there? He’d been doing that for the entire time he’d known you. At some point the third wheel needed to read the room.

Placing the lime wedge between your lips helped Payback do precisely that. His gaze flicked back and forth between Fanboy and his thumb gently pushing the fruit to your mouth. “I, uh,” Reuben fumbled for words, “I’ll go over there.”

No one acknowledged his departure. Fanboy kept his eyes locked on yours. After all, you were the whole reason he was at the bar in the first place. You pulled the lime into your mouth, and he let his thumb linger on your bottom lip for a moment before leaning back on the bar stool.

“Done pouting?”

You popped the lime out of your mouth. “I wasn’t pouting.”

Being a gentleman became so much harder when you ran your tongue over your lips to lick up all the juice. The movement killed Fanboy’s ability to speak entirely. Your smirk confirmed what he already knew. You were well aware of his weaknesses.

“So, Mickey…”

Like the sound of his name falling from those very lips.

It had been a while since the two of you talked about something other than work. Hell, Fanboy couldn’t remember the last time you and him were one on one. A lie. Payback debriefed that last one on one conversation with Mickey a few days ago. He couldn’t help it. Every day you were gentle on his mind.

“What have you been fanboying over recently?” You toyed with the citrus peel. Focused intently on pushing the thing around the counter. “Anything interesting?”

“You mean other than you?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. His eyes locked on yours. Widening by the second with embarrassment. “I mean-”

A shy smile played on your lips. You looked pleased with yourself as you said, “Yeah, other than me. I try not to talk about myself too much. Don’t want to be Bagman Jr.”

Oh, Mickey could kiss you right now.

“Then what do you want to talk about?” He asked. Straightforward in the hopes of appearing more confident than he felt. Fanboy could face certain death, he could face Cyclone, and he could face Bob in poker. Your pretty face on the other hand almost always left him flustered.

You tapped a finger against your chin. Faking a deep concentration to pull a smile out of Mickey. “What was that TV show you’ve been dying to get everyone to watch, again?”

He instantly perked up. “You sure you want to open that door?”

“You’re right. Let’s have one more shot first,” you teased. Your hand rested on Mickey’s forearm. He tried hard not to stare at the headliner for flirty behavior and focused on your beautiful smile instead. The whole time his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. “I’m sure, Mickey. I like listening to you talk.”

And, damn, did Mickey talk. Somewhere in the midst of laughter, finding excuses to touch one another, and conversation the two limes turned into seven. The liquor worked any and all tension from Mickey. Tipsy - maybe leaning more on drunk - confidence coursed through him. Any flirty freudian slips he took in stride.

Tequila made a new man out of Fanboy. A closer version of himself, might be a better way to look at it. How he normally attempted to pick women up at bars. You weren’t any woman. Precisely why so many shots were necessary in the first place.

“Is it Thursday today?” You slurred your words together ever so slightly. The drinks brought a warmth to your cheeks that hadn’t been there earlier. Fanboy resisted the urge to reach out. Scared the slightest touch would shatter the illusion. “Thursday is darts day.”

“Thursday is karaoke day,” Mickey corrected, his sentence also fuzzy around the edges. “ ‘s why Coyote’s not here.”

He focused on the concentrated furrow between your brow. An expression that only ever came out when you were drinking. Sober you calculated everything immediately. A beer or two in a loading screen appeared while you clicked the pieces into place. “But Bob’s here.”

Bob and Javy often skipped Thursday’s at The Hard Deck. Karaoke was bad enough with sober people who couldn’t sing. Adding drunkenness to the equation ended in certain disaster. Case in point - Javy “Coyote” Machado almost became Javy “Wolf” Machado because of all the drunken howling he did onstage instead of singing.

He hadn’t shown his face at karaoke since.

“Bob is here at Phoenix’s request.” That request being he lost a bet, but semantics were lost on the squad. “My guess is she gets him to sing ‘Sweet Caroline.’”

“All that attention on him? He’d melt.”

Fanboy shook his head. Bob was shy, sure, but he could handle the spotlight with enough time to prepare. “No, but Rooster is absolutely going to take the next three slots after to prove he’s the better singer.”

You laughed, and Fanboy could have sworn you used that as an excuse to lean in close and squeeze his bicep. “Oh, I’m telling him you said that.” You swung around in your stool, using Mickey’s arm to stabilize yourself, and searched for Rooster in the sea of people.

In your time surveying the crowd, Fanboy traced the rim of his empty shot glass and reveled in being your rock. Could this be your future together? Inside jokes over drinks. Innocent touches with serious potential to transform into something more.

Tonight everything became clear. All questions would be answered - good or bad - Mickey decided. You were the brains. IKEA. You could tell him if you knew your feelings for him. If this pipedream had potential or would swirl down the drain.

Nails pricking skin pulled Fanboy from his thoughts. Your grip went stiff along with the rest of your body. Any traces of a buzz disappeared entirely in this strange rigid poster. He carefully pried your hand off him. “What is it?”

“Brent.” Your voice escaped you in a panicked whisper.

The name registered with Mickey briefly after wracking his tequila soaked brain for a moment longer than necessary. A few weeks ago, during downtime between practice hops, everyone traded stories about the worst ex they had. Payback shared his egregious tale about a girl he dated in high school stealing his dog when he didn’t ask her to prom, Phoenix told everyone how her blind date ended up storming into the kitchen of the restaurant they were at to cook his own meal, and Mickey gave the pared down version of his longest relationship ending when she moved halfway across the country to reunite with her… other boyfriend.

No one had anything nice to say. Except for you.

Your most recent ex, it seemed, had boundary issues that couldn’t be solved in a relationship with someone in the military. The constant reminders and communication simply weren’t compatible with where you were at in your career. Always moving around from base to base, fully prepared to be whisked away on a secret mission without a word of warning, didn’t bode well for the two of you. So, you split.

Everyone - Hangman - blatantly accused you of still having feelings for this man. Mickey couldn’t help but lean forward with interest, waiting for your answer. He prepared himself for crushing disappointment. You simply dismissed the notion with a gentle, “He’s not bad people. I wish him nothing but the best, and I hope that best for him is far, far away from me.”

But your body language conveyed the opposite. You stood, swaying on your feet, and shook your head. Mickey was immediately off the barstool. Buzz be damned. He let himself assume the worst and boost some adrenaline into his system. Overpowering the effects of the alcohol with stress always pulled Mickey’s mind back together. He called a constant state of anxiety home. Fight or flight was where he performed best. Fanboy had medals to prove it.

“Einstein? Are you okay?”

One arm wrapped around your waist. The look of shock on your face had Fanboy scared your legs would give out from beneath you at any given moment. His earlier thought of being your rock solidified in this storm. He wanted to be your constant, a source of comfort.

If only he knew how to help you.

For a second you didn’t answer him. Your eyes were locked on the man who had just passed through the threshold of The Hard Deck. Then you nodded. “Yeah.” You sounded far away. “Everything’s fine.”

Fanboy followed your gaze. He wanted to know exactly which man you side-eyed.

Smaller and skinnier than a lot of the men in the bar, expected from someone who wasn’t training with the Navy seven days a week. He appeared unassuming. Still, you knuckles were turning white from where you were gripping the counter. Unassuming didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of harm.

“What do you need from me?” He asked.

You swallowed, and your eyes finally met his. Mickey could have cried. You looked… small. The feared Naval aviator he knew so well had been replaced with someone else. Someone hurt, clearly because fear wasn’t an emotion you willingly showed. In all of a few seconds you’d become human.

“Einstein,” he repeated in a slow, gentle voice. “What do you need from me?”

“I have a restraining order on that man.” Shame, which Fanboy couldn’t comprehend why, lit your eyes. You turned back towards the bar. Eyes trained on the pile of lime peels. “For stalking.”

Boundary issues seemed like a serious downplay.

Mickey slid behind you to shield you from view of anyone approaching. He brought an arm around to rest against the bar. To anyone else, this would look flirty, but really Fanboy wanted to give you the ability to whisper to him without anyone else overhearing. “We should get you out of here.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know where he is.” The way your voice broke, broke Mickey’s heart. What did he do to you? “I don’t want to move if I don’t know where he is.”

“Okay.” Mickey nodded. “If I tell you where he’s at, then we’ll figure out if we’re using the back door or the front door.”

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, searching your face for any sign that you heard him. Gears turned behind your eyes. Emotions clicked away, compartmentalized to deal with later. You were using your training. Adrenaline killed if not dealt with effectively.

“You okay?” He whispered.

“I don’t want you to look away.” Selfishly, Mickey nodded. He didn’t want to look away until he felt confident he wasn’t leaving you to drift about in your anxiety alone. “I have to… to get myself under control.”

The bartender passed by without a glance in their direction. Conversation around them continued loudly. As far as Mickey could tell, no one paid you two any mind at all.

“You’re doing a great job.”

You closed your eyes. “Thank you, Mickey.” When you opened your eyes, any trace of fear vanished. Einstein, the Navy’s top aviator, would do what everyone else on a particularly traumatic mission did - deal with the emotional shit later, and eliminate the threat now. “Ready to go?”

Right now? He shouldn’t be shocked. When you were in action, you didn’t hesitate.

Mickey nodded. Now was as good a time as any. He held out a hand and helped you step around the barstool. You clung to him, the only impression that Brent’s appearance still had you rattled. It didn’t seem like a good time for Fanboy to peel himself away from you. Having a hand on you might be smart anyway. You wouldn’t get separated as you made your way through the crowd.

“There you are.”

Brent stood an uncomfortably close foot away. His teeth weren’t sharpened fangs, but his smile cut Mickey to the core regardless. This was worse case scenario - coffin corner. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, but my calls go straight to voicemail.”

Hands still clasped, the two of you turned to face him. You stared straight past him, right over his shoulder. Only when it became clear you couldn’t pass by without him being able to lay a hand on you did you acknowledge him. “Brent.”

The grin grew. Mickey straightened to full height. He wished he had the intimidating extra few inches most of the others on Dagger Squad had. Brent’s eyes slid Mickey’s way, down to your enjoined hands, but snapped back up to Einstein quick. Like you’d vanish given the slightest opportunity.

“Please move.” Your voice gave no room for further conversation but Brent made an attempt anyway.

“Went by your place, but your windows were dark.”

A pit of unease grew in Mickey’s stomach. Einstein had been going through this all on her own. None of them knew the baggage she carried. Some squad they were. He glanced your way, but you had the same blank look on your face.

Brent barreled on. “Key didn’t work in the lock. The one you kept under that stupid garden decoration was gone.” His eyes bore into your face. Too aggressive to be considered making eye contact. Fanboy had only ever seen a power display like this in interrogation training. “Did you move or something?”

You lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “If you’d like to contact me, you’ll have to do so through my lawyer.”

The mere implication Brent was breaking his restraining order changed the set of his jaw. Muscles feathered and he pressed his lips together. “But,” he said around a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I’m here now. Look. This is the last time, I swear. I just need closure.”

“If you’d like to contact me, you’ll have to do so through my lawyer.” You gripped Mickey’s hand a bit tighter and moved to step around Brent, but he sidestepped in your way. “Please move.”

“It’s a public bar, darling. I can stand wherever I fucking please.” All attempts at playing nice slowly started to drip away. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

Darling. Mickey’s stomach rolled. He felt your hand jerk backwards but neither of you could back up without the bar digging into your back. Brent seemed well aware of such a fact. He took a lazy step forward. “Whenever you want to ditch this one-” he spoke about Fanboy without sparing him a glance- “I’d like to talk to you.”

Enough was enough. Fanboy stepped forward with intent. What exactly said intent was he would figure out halfway through the confrontation. He wasn’t exactly known for his foresight in his personal life. The only thing that stopped him was you tugging him back.

With one small squeeze, you removed your hand from Mickey’s.

“You can talk to my fucking lawyer.” You used the same sickly sweet voice Fanboy heard you use on higher up’s that refused to take you seriously. “Until then, you need to move. Now.”

“Can we just talk outside?” Brent asked. He reached out to grab for your arm, but you dodged his advances.

“Please, do not touch me.” Your words were firm and flat. “I don’t want you touching me.”

“You owe me the courtesy of a conversation.”

Mickey never wanted to white knight on your behalf, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to let this douchebag get anywhere near leaving his sight with you let alone get all the way to the front doors. He could handle you being mad at him for fighting a battle for you. He couldn’t handle what would happen if you took on a fight like this by yourself when you didn’t have to.

“Can we talk outside? Or are you going to keep letting your friends gaslight you into thinking I’m always the bad guy?”

When you failed to answer, Brent rephrased his question. It seemed your lack of emotional response wormed its way under his skin in a way he couldn’t hide.

“Can you stop being such a bitch and answer me?” He asked, reaching out once again to put his hands on you. A mistake.

Everyone in the bar fell silent at the dull ‘thack’ of your fist connecting with Brent’s cheek. Somewhere in the wide arsenal of cinema there was a scene just like this that ends in an all out brawl. Here Brent’s head snapped to the side thanks to the sheer force you packed in a single punch. He blinked in disbelief.

Mickey, on the other hand, saw the first forming a while ago. He wasn’t one for violence, but watching you remind everyone you weren’t one to take shit always made his mouth water. And watching you throw a punch may just be the hottest thing he’d seen all week.

Excusing, of course, the fact that your creep of an ex boyfriend still stood there in front of you with a dumbfounded look on his face like he had no clue what he could have done to deserve that.

You cleared your throat. “I asked you not to touch me, please.”

Fanboy grew tired of the niceties. The second you looked towards him for help, he was telling Brent to fuck off and he wouldn’t give him any choice but to listen.

Payback paced behind Brent. He inched close enough to catch Fanboy’s eye. Mickey and Reuben could always reasonably assume the other’s thoughts without words. Half the time they only talked because they liked to hear themselves speak. One look from Fanboy said everything, though. His wingman was headed out the front door on the phone with the cops in an instant.

All Fanboy had to do was keep things from escalating.

Brent straightened, eyes shifting around to all the Navy’s finest, and brought a hand up to where you punched him. For a second, Mickey foolishly thought he would swallow his pride. Brent looked ready to tuck his tail, turn on his heel, and run out of the Hard Deck.

No one said anything while they waited for Brent to respond. If he left, no one would bother him too badly. If he didn’t take the warning punch seriously, Mickey could almost bring himself to pity the poor fool. Almost, but not really.

Creepy smile devoid of emotion in place, Brent reached out politely once again and, this time, caught ahold of you. “I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

At the sight of Brent gripping your arm, the sound of your first name falling from his lips, Fanboy’s self-control snapped. This thin string holding himself together split.

His fist flew up faster than he could process. Brent’s teeth clacked as his jaw came together. Fanboy clipped your ex’s chin in the perfect uppercut, and he dropped straight to the floor.

Unconscious.

You, who talked so highly of this ex those few weeks ago that Fanboy convinced himself you were still in love with him, turned to Mickey with panic written across your features.

“You punched him!” You shouted to Mickey, eyes flickering between your ex on the floor and Fanboy. The angle wasn’t the slightest bit flattering for the poor guy.

Fanboy couldn’t remember the last time he punched someone square in the face. He’d forgotten the way pain blossomed behind his knuckles and webbed its way up his arm. Assault and battery charges were the last thing on his mind. Honestly the only thing on his mind when he threw that punch was you.

“You punched him first.” Mickey shrugged. He shook his hand out in a gesture he hoped passed as nonchalant. Pain lingered, though, and he couldn’t help but grimace when he flexed his fingers.

“I had a reason.”

“So did I.” You crossed your arms and arched a brow. Mickey sighed and stepped over Brent’s unconscious body. “He didn’t respect you clearly stating you didn’t want to be touched.”

“I was handling it.”

“I know,” he said, and shrugged. “I just handled it with you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but, when your gaze moved from Brent to Fanboy one more time, he could see gratefulness. “I have to call my lawyer.”

—

Those bright red knuckles of yours had yet to fade. From the sound of it, Mickey could guess you’d hit his cheek bone and would be sporting some nasty bruises for a while. He didn’t bother to look at his own hand. It throbbed to an annoying degree. The chances of his knuckle being split was exceptionally high, but your well being in the moment mattered far more.

Neither of you wanted ice for your hands. Fanboy hoped it would make him look tough. You had been more preoccupied with leaving a voicemail explaining Brent had broken his restraining order and the police had been called and “to please call me back as soon as humanly possible.”

Then you both collapsed in a booth in the furthest corner possible of the Hard Deck because you wanted to see when the cops walked through the door rather than tuck yourself in the back. Fanboy refused to stray far. You hadn’t asked him to leave, which he took as a good sign. At least you weren’t too mad at him for stepping in.

“That’s one hell of a right hook you’ve got there.”

He hoped to ease the tension with a teasing joke. In classic Fanboy fashion, he misread the timing.

“My lawyer is not going to like this one bit.” You dragged a hand over your face. The one with the angry knuckles. “She told me, ‘If he breaks his restraining order, you can’t just punch him. As much as he might deserve it.’”

Mickey smothered a grin. He wanted to throw out a joke about you being the only one to find a lawyer who talks like Bob, but instead he motioned for your hand.

“Here.” A towel of half-melted ice sat next to him, waiting for the opportune moment for Mickey to refuse to let you suffer any longer. You extended your hand across the table for him to grab. He set the ice down gently, muttering a soft “sorry” at your hiss of pain. “You handled yourself pretty well out there.”

You made no move to take the ice pack or your hand away from Mickey. So he sat there, icing your hand, and watched you wrestle with your reaction. Fear, anger, grief, aggravation. They all shuffled over your features like Payback trying to pick a song from the jukebox.

Eventually, you settled on a classic. Humor as deflection. “I think I’d feel better if my punch was a one and done.”

He lifted the makeshift ice pack and made a show of inspecting your knuckles. “I’d say you packed a pretty good punch.”

That same shy, flirty smile from earlier came back. “Thanks, Mickey.”

“Of course.” Any attempt to appear cool shattered the second he saw the gratefulness in your eyes. “I hope I didn’t overstep. I’m not really up to date on the laws surrounding restraining orders or stalker exes.”

You shook your head with a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t think you would be. You don’t strike me as someone who would ever turn out like Brent.”

“If I do, you have full permission to punch me. Whether your lawyer advises it or not,” he teased, and relief flooded him when you laughed.

“It isn’t self-defense to punch someone violating their restraining order. No matter how scared I was seeing how he found me.”

The tone in the booth shifted towards seriousness. Any trace of a smile on your face vanished, and you curled your fingers around Mickey’s hand. “I used to live out in Texas. Stationed there so often, I rented out an apartment because living on base didn’t feel permanent. I wanted a place to call my own.”

Mickey glanced out towards the bar full of the Navy’s best. Payback stood watch over Brent, who had finally come to and was arguing with the wall that was Rooster, Hangman, and Bob.

“He followed you from Texas?” He asked.

You nodded. Whatever you attempted to say got lost in the tears welling up behind your eyes. “Sorry.” You swallowed and blinked rapidly to clear the emotion from your face. “I saw him around town a few times, but this was the first time I felt like he actually knew where I was. Like it was more than a coincidence. When he talked about coming around to my place… there’s this part of me that can’t tell if he was talking about back in Texas or where I live now. It’s terrifying.”

Fanboy hoped the cops would hurry up. The sooner Brent could get out of here, the better. One punch suddenly didn’t feel like enough, and if Mickey threw another he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.

“And there’s a good chance I’ll be charged for assault.” Your laughter was ice cold. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know better- god, I’m so fucking stupid.”

Mickey squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him, and shook his head. “You are not stupid. He put his hands on you.”

“That’s not self-defense either,” you sighed. “He wasn’t attacking. The cameras are going to show him reaching out with a smile and he’ll, at most, get a slap on his wrist. I’m screwed.”

“He was attacking.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? He wasn’t attacking.”

“He. Was. Attacking.” Fanboy emphasized every word, then gestured to the bar you were in. “There’s at least 20 people I can count who will give that same story without needing to be asked. I’m sure Phoenix and Bob are already out there waiting for the cops so they can be the first to let them know what he did.”

You turned to look at the crowd of people, mouth quirking up into a smile when you spotted the rest of the squad keeping Brent on the other side of The Hard Deck. Fanboy watched your gaze lock onto the camera capturing the man acting like a saint for the sake of the security camera in the corner of the room.

The smile faltered. “You really think so?”

“You’re one of us, Einstein. We don’t care what base you’re coming in from. You’re assigned to our squad and we take care of our own.”

Mickey moved the ice pack and released your hand back to you. “Don’t worry about the security cam footage, either. The cops tend to take our word at face value. Plus, Penny’s got a good reputation for not calling unless it’s warranted. There hasn’t been a single bar fight she hasn’t sorted out herself..”

“That feels…”

“Like how Maverick would handle something?” He supplied.

You nodded with a laugh. “Exactly.” Your eyes traveled over Mickey’s face. “I appreciate you handling things with me today. I’ve been dealing with this on my own for a few years now. I forgot what it’s like to know someone has my back on the ground instead of only in the sky.”

“I’ve always got your back, Einstein. Ground, sky, and all areas in between.”

The opening practically presented itself to him in the way you smiled at him.

“Look, I know this might not be the best time or anything…” Mickey trailed off. He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his nerves at bay. What kind of moron decided to ask someone out immediately after an incident like this? “But, after all the statements are taken, would you, maybe, want to take a walk along the beach with me? Just get out of here, get your mind off everything?”

You sat up straighter in the booth. For once, Fanboy wished he wasn’t alone with you. If Payback were here, he could confirm if your eyes actually lit up at the proposition or if Mickey’s wishful thinking clouded his mind again.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Mickey?” You asked. His name passing over your lips, over the teasing smile spreading across your face, rendered him speechless.

He cringed. “I’m an idiot, right?” Nervous laughter escaped him. “I mean, I planned on asking you out tonight anyway. If that changes anything. I don’t want you to think I’m, like, stepping in to take advantage of a bad situation. You can tell me no, Einstein. I know it’s been a… I mean, the past hour has been a lot.

“But I don’t want you to be alone while you’re dealing with all of this.” He turned in his seat to glance around for Phoenix. “Should we call Nat over here? Would you rather talk to her? I’m serious, this doesn’t have to be a date. I didn’t mean to overstep… What? Why are you laughing at me?”

You sat across the seat, hand smothering the giggles slipping through your smile. “Am I rambling again?” He asked, and you nodded. “Sorry. I’m usually better at dealing with emotional situations like this.”

“I’d say you knocked it out of the park today,” you joked. Fanboy could only groan at the pun.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit. Mickey hoped the flush on his face appeared to be alcohol induced rather than his lapse of judgement. Your phone sat between them, screen still black while you waited for your lawyer to get the voicemail and call you back.

“It took you long enough.”

He tilted his head. Much like how you did when you first walked in today. “What?”

“Asking me out,” you clarified, “that took you a while.”

“Is that a yes?”

You threw your head back and laughed in a way Fanboy never heard you laugh before. A mix of elation and pure joy. Maybe the sound of your voice saying his name could be his second favorite sound. That laugh needed to be bottled away in his memories forever. “Yes,” you said. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“I really like you,” he said, then, after a moment’s consideration, he tacked your first name at the end of the sentence. It only felt fitting.

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anancientlegacy · 4 months ago

Text

you'll never guess -- s. sallow

Pairing: sebastian sallow x reader

Genre: fluff, some angst with reader's father, but that's all

Note: I use “MC” to refer to the reader, but I also explain why in the fic itself! This is still in fifth year even before the player meets Anne, so they don’t do anything crazy. Merely mentions of kissing. Sassy Sebastian and sassier Imelda.

Trope: Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating.

Word count: 2.2k

Crossposted to ao3!

“Hey, Garreth, Ominis, the lot of you that have only grown up in the wizarding world, I’ve got a question.”

It’s the first words you’ve spoken to everyone around you, your entire friend group sprawled or stretched out on one side of the summoner’s court. All of you have been watching Samantha and Leander make a go of it, over and over and over again — you don’t always have positive things to say about Prewett, but you can’t help but acknowledge his tenacity. Samantha’s final Accio resounds all around you, cutting through the air as she pulls her ball in for another 50 points, blowing her opponent out of the water despite having won the game by her second ball.

“You can say purebloods, MC, it won’t hurt any feelings.” You know Leander doesn’t mean anything by this — you’ve heard Zenobia call him a “no-talent moonmind” in passing — but you can feel Ominis bristle beside you at the mere implication of an impending blood status discussion. You’re quick to shake your head, muttering a ‘no, not exactly what I meant’ while rummaging through your newly-sewn bag (one made up entirely of garments you’d found no use for, because really, what use is a fedora to anyone) for something. Professor Weasley had helpfully enchanted it to be almost endlessly deep, but you find yourself cursing this now. The fact that everyone pauses to watch you is not lost on you at all, and you can’t help but feel some sort of embarrassment.

“All I was asking, well, really, all I’m curious about, is what wizarding world courtship is like. Do you have calling hours, or daily tea, or anything of the sort? Ah, here it is.” You brandish a marriage manual with much gusto, having received it in the mail from your otherwise heavily detached father a few days ago. You’d offhandedly mentioned accompanying Sebastian to the Three Broomsticks to him in a letter, mostly assuming he wouldn’t read it — too busy with overseeing shoddy police work in Whitechapel, and ignoring the realities of magic and whatnot — but he had, to your surprise, replied. The first response all term.

My daughter,

Do not allow yourself to be charmed by young men with no prospects. Surely I raised you better than this. I have given this infernal creature a young ladies’ guide for you to peruse. Certainly letter vi. There are girls dropping like flies here, and I would greatly dislike to find you in a similar situation.

Read it and report back. If you can send regular post rather than an owl I’d rather you that. Can’t have the neighbours asking too many questions.

You’d left the letter upstairs under your bed to gather dust, not even bothering to take it with you to the room of requirement. The idea of Sebastian having no prospects is practically laughable to you, considering he’s one of the brightest wizards in your year… even if he is, simultaneously, one of the most troublesome. Your father has been pretending as if magic is pointless at best and a silly trick at worst ever since your magical mother left him with a toddler.

You dislike him, but you suppose you’d despise her if you knew her.

Summoner’s court is all but entirely forgotten as even Samantha steps down to join the other fifth years as they fully form a gaggle around you. Amit, to everyone’s surprise, grabs the manual right out of your hands, his nosiness — which he would and does tell you is simply Ravenclaw curiosity, despite you being in the same house — overcoming all societal norms. Poppy, ever one for any sort of gossip, reads the title aloud: “Letters to Young Ladies on their Entrance into the World, to which are added sketches from real life… quite a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“Are you asking if we have these preposterous things?” For once, you can agree with Prewett’s assessment of something. Judging by the slow, rising murmur of consensus around you, everyone else is surprised by themselves for the very same reason.

“I’ve never seen something like that in my life.” Garreth tacks on to his housemate, and Ominis, never one to miss a prompting, says a swift “me neither” that brings forth a laugh from you and uneasy chuckles from those that don’t know him as well.

“My father told me to read the sixth letter about unequal marriages because I went on a date, something that seemed to single handedly convince him that my destiny is to become another Whitechapel murder victim, as if those poor girls were the reasons for their untimely demises.” You’re prattling on, you know this, but the insult of receiving the book in the first place still smarts. Natty places a hand on your shoulder, one of the few to know the true extent of your parental issues.

“That’s sort of hilarious, isn’t it?” Imelda pops up out of nowhere, sly as always, and you surmise her arduous, somewhat pointless three-hour self-inflicted flying practice must be over for the day. There really is quite a crowd gathering around you — in fact, there’s basically only one person missing.

“Hold on.” It’s Leander this time, eyes squinting as if he’s having a difficult time puzzling something out. “A date? Who’d you go on a date with?”

“She was never going to say yes to you, mate, give it up.” Imelda is quick to start fires that she knows she won’t put out herself, and the case of Prewett pursuing you, something both you and him like to pretend doesn’t exist for very different reasons, is one such thing.

“Come off it, screw off.” He fires back, the best he can come up with as everyone watches, and you so badly want to laugh but settle for turning away and taking the manual back from Amit and Poppy. As long as they’re occupied, nobody will think to follow up —

“Honestly, MC, I want to know too.” Natty breaks your overly-optimistic train of thought, and the glance you send her way is withering. You and Sebastian are still feeling things out, after all: Not too casual, not too serious. Perhaps this is the best time to let everyone know.

“Well…” You draw the word out, pulling it out into several syllables. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to tell you all without him being here. He should get a say in the reveal, too.”

The resulting group groan is pure cacophony. Poppy dreamily wonders aloud if it’s an older man, while Imelda scrunches up her face as she relays the idea of it being someone younger. Amit whines about never being in on the secret, and you suspect Natty is gearing up to silently jinx you. Even Ominis breaks his kind aloofness by shoving your shoulder in a way that makes you wonder if he really can’t see anything at all, and Garreth furrows his brows, surely wondering if he can slip veritaserum into your drink at supper. Samantha, one of your roommates, murmurs something about putting a hex on your pillow tonight.

“I see.” Leander says, too smug for your liking. “MC won’t tell us who because she isn’t actually dating anyone.”

“That’s worse for you, you git,” Imelda snaps. “Means she dislikes you so much she’ll lie about a boyfriend.”

“Goodness!” You speak again, finally incensed by everything that’s happening. Prewett never fails to put you in some sort of mood. You don’t really have room for one more secret as it is, what with everything Professor Fig and the Keepers have entrust to you, and Ranrok’s brewing rebellion. “If you really must know, really and truly, it’s Sebastian. Happy?”

Silence. Sudden and significant silence.

“Sallow?!” For once, Leander and Imelda are on the same page, their voices surprisingly harmonious together as they break the sound barrier. Garreth and Ominis both look unsurprised, though they may just be stoicists at this point. Even Poppy, who’s literally seen the two of you out at Hogsmeade together, seems taken aback.

“What have I done now?”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“My dad sent me a ladies’ manual about propriety and sorts because I told him I’d gone on a date, and this lot couldn’t handle me not saying who with.” Your shoulders untense themselves naturally,as he walks up beside you, and you swipe a spot of grease off of his nose with an index finger before wiping it back on his own robe.

“How was detention? Midday is a terrible time to serve one.”

“Sharp just had me manually cleaning cauldrons, it wasn’t the absolute worst. Incorrectly prepared Ashwinder eggs smell positively noxious, though.”

“Serves you right, frankly –”

“You’ve got to be fooling us.” It’s Amit this time, eyes wide as saucers as he interrupts you. “The two of you bicker constantly.”

“More than.” Ominis supplies, and you stick your tongue out at him, eliciting an “I felt that!” from your decreasingly dear friend.

“They fight like brother and sister.” Leander seems to be holding on to his belief in the idea that your budding relationship is merely a ruse. “Worse — they’re completely opposite each other. MC is witty and charming, and Sallow is, well… Sallow.”

“I think they’re good for each other.” Garreth shrugs. “She’s a bit of a kleptomaniac and he’s somewhat addicted to getting caught doing stupid things.”

“MC is -” Leander tries one more time at pulling something over Sebastian, or you, or both of you, but your sort-of-boyfriend decides he’s had enough and doesn’t let him finish.

“The whole lot of you only call her MC because of me, you know. I doubt you even know that it starts for ‘my charge,’ because I was put in charge of her when she first went to Hogsmeade.

“Where a troll attacked her?”

“Opposites can attract!” Poppy, ever the believer in love, chimes in before you can defend Sebastian from Leander’s latest barb. “And friends fall in love all the time. They’re both quite lovely to us and to each other when you aren’t around.” Her sweet tone is even more devastating as she aims her cutting words at Prewett.

“It’s just been a few dates.” You interject, reeling from how quickly everyone is quipping at each other, cheeks heating up at the idea of love. The school year has really only just begun — you and Sebastian just happen to get along.

“Well, a few official dates.” Sebastian knocks your shoulder with his bicep, and you look up at his teasing smile knowing full and well that it’ll just warm your face further. “Ask me why I had detention.” Your cheeks cannot physically get any hotter, and you stop yourself from self-incriminatingly scowling at Sebastian. The story is embarrassing for him but you know he doesn’t care because it’s sure to embarrass you, too. His words are aimed at Prewett because he really wants to twist the knife, but he has everyone else’s rapt attention too. The two boys engage in a bit of a staring match, reminiscent of your very first Defense Against the Dark Arts class when you’d walked in on them, both aggravated, dueling each other.

“Why?” Leander spits out, curiosity finally getting the best of him.

“Sharp heard some, er, snogging noises in his private potions store at night. We’d gone in to nab some fluxweed but realized that we rarely get time to just be alone together. This one was smart enough to disillusion herself the moment we heard the door unlock, but I was so taken aback that I couldn’t do the same in time. He walked in and I, unable to think of anything else, told him that I’d found myself increasingly attracted to leaping toadstools. Of course, he assumed I was fulfilling some sort of bet, but I ended up with detention and she got off scot free.”

“Go on, tell them the details of my astrological chart too, won’t you.” You hiss, but Sebastian only laughs, reaching an arm out to toss over your shoulder and pull you in. “And it wasn’t snogging exactly. We were just… lightly kissing. Very chastely, I might add.” You know nobody believes you even as you’re telling the truth — Sebastian is more respectful than he lets on.

“Chaste kissing?” Garreth whistles as Ominis says this, and you prepare yourself for sarcasm from the latter. “Maybe your father was right to send you a marriage manual.”

Now it’s Sebastian’s turn to become beet red.

“M-marriage manual? I thought it was just a thing for young ladies to read. Your father sent you a what?”

Before you can say anything in response, Imelda breaks her uncharacteristic silence to begin humming a tune popularly played at wedding ceremonies, and you forget everything in the moment as you lunge at her. She calls her broom to her with ease before jumping on and, before you can think, you do the same, leaving your bag and the manual on the grass to chase after your friend.

All Sebastian can do is gaze up at you hopelessly and totally smitten as he, still red-faced, gathers your things up and closes your bag. Perhaps it’s time for another Three Broomsticks date. By the looks of it, you and Imelda are on your way there via air travel anyways.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts #harry potter #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x mc #slytherin #ravenclaw

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watermelonlovershigh · 7 months ago

Note

i went through your masterlist and i saw you wrote about the reader being insecure about having an outie (literally thank you for even writing about it !! i’ve never seen anyone write about that insecurity before) and i was wondering if you could write about the reader not letting harry go down on her bc she’s insecure about her outtie and harry doesn’t know about her insecurity until he questions why he can’t eat her out and he’s all loving to her afterwards ☺️

"Can I taste you?" /SMUT/

AN: i loved this ask as soon as i seen it because a perfect scenario of how i wanted this to go came to me. and thank you. outies are the most common for women to have. but all vaginas are beautiful. i hope you enjoy and remember to send your feedback to let me know how i've done. thanks for reading. xoxo ps. i debated on posting this today or not after the events that happened two days ago, but i hope by posting this it can distract some of your minds from the devastation of recent tragedies.

This story contains: mentions of a verbally abusive ex, body insecurities, comfort, smut (female receiving oral sex), fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - au!harry - dating for three months }

word count- 2,512

You have major insecurities about how your body looks due to an ex boyfriend, so when your current boyfriend Harry asks if he can taste you for the first time, your reaction forces him to give you comforting words to easy your worries.

Over the course of three months, you and Harry have been dating and it's been an incredible experience. Normally, you spend your time at each other's homes, watching films or playing board games. But recently, Harry has been putting more effort into making your time together special. Therefore, when Friday comes, he wanted to take you out for a pleasant dinner instead of remaining indoors throughout the evening.

It's worthy to note that your relationship was initiated by mutual friends. Tina, a friend from your college years, and Carter, who works with Harry, were neighbors growing up. Upon discovering they both had a single friend from their separate lives, they took the initiative to set the two of you up. Although you felt quite anxious about the blind date, you now have no regrets, as it's introduced you to the wonderful person that Harry was.

Another important detail regarding your relationship is that the most intimate you've gotten is making out. You informed Harry on your first date that you wanted to take things slow, and he's respected that boundary. Your first kiss was shared approximately five dates in, and you didn't engage in making out until the sixth date. Although you very much desire going further with your sexy boyfriend, your fear of intimacy is getting in the way, which stems from some very hurtful things your verbally abusive ex once said to you. It's brought your confidence way down and the idea of having sex ever again terrifies you.

Your dinner date was delightful. Harry brought you to an Italian restaurant situated in downtown London, where you had great conversations and delicious pasta. After your meal, Harry invited you back to his place, and you found it hard to say no. You appreciated the warmth and coziness of his charming house. Unlike the standard apartment or house of many millennial guys, Harry's home had the inviting essence of a grandparent's house, specifically the ones that were smoke-free.

As you arrived back to his house, both of you made your way to his couch, where the atmosphere began to shift drastically. During the car journey, it was clear that Harry was restless, his hand lingering on your thigh as he navigated the road. Yet, this version of Harry is unlike any you've previously seen. He kisses you with an intensity that's almost primal, and you find yourself responding eagerly. His large hands gently holds your jaw as your mouths align, and your tongues dance together.

With a brief pause from your lips, Harry begins trailing kisses down your jaw until he reaches your neck. Although he hadn't ventured this far before, the pleasure was so intense that you don't think to stop him. However, your response to his soft inquiry against your warm skin—"Can I taste you? Hhm? I really wanna taste you."—caused your entire body to freeze. This reaction leads Harry to withdraw his lips, concerned that he was progressing too quickly for your comfort tonight.

"Shit, m'sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Forget I said anythin'. Can just keep kissin' if you'd like. Or not. We can cuddle if you're more comfortable with that. Whatever you want." Nervous Harry tends to ramble a lot, you've come to learn.

The sight of Harry's distress concerning your potential rejection of his suggestion evokes a feeling of sadness within you. You want Harry to, have a taste, as he puts it. You're certain of his talents in that department. Yet, the notion of him seeing you entirely fills you with anxiety. "Um, no, it's not that I don't want you to. It's just um... well..."

"What is it, Y/n? You can tell me. I'd never judge you?" Harry speaks softly, wanting you to know he'd never judge you for your reasoning, nor would he push you to do anything you didn't want to do. It was a mere suggestion on his part from being in the heat of the moment.

With a deep breath, you decide to share, "Um, my ex, the one I've mentioned before...... Well, anytime we'd get intimate, having sex or other things, he would constantly criticize my body. He would highlight specific areas that he found unappealing, often saying how I didn't look like his past partners. He even suggested that I get surgery to resemble the women he viewed in porn." It's now apparent that his addiction to pornography significantly influenced his views, causing him to adopt an unrealistic standard of beauty for women to have.

Shocked, Harry exclaims with anger bubbling in his chest, "I can't believe he would say such things to you. M'sorry. I want you to know that I would never think or express those words to you. Every body is uniquely different, and that's what makes us who we are. When you're ready for us to be fully intimate with one another, please remember that your appearance will never concern me."

His warm words have a profound effect on your heart. Although the remarks from your ex continue to echo in your thoughts, the notion of Harry eating you out becomes increasingly enticing. Dismissing your anxieties, you respond with certainty, "We can... I mean, you can if that's what you want to do. I trust you, Harry. It’s not that I was ever against the idea of you eating me out or us eventually having sex. Just um, my ex's criticisms left me feeling insecure about how you would view my body. But after sharing what I did, I feel better about it and trust you enough to go there with you."

Harry looks directly in your eyes before confirming, "You sure? I don't have to if you think it's too much tonight. We can always wait until you feel more comfortable."

"I'm sure, Harry." If he keeps stalling and looking for your reassurance, it may lead to you overthinking the situation and reconsider your permission. The quicker he begins, the better. Harry leans in to place a final kiss on your lips before he slowly kneels down in front of you. With a measured pace, he starts kissing up your jean covered legs, moving from your knees to your upper thighs. When you felt his fingers exploring your empty belt loops, you gave a nod, giving him the go-ahead to slide the fabric down.

After your jeans have been entirely taken off and carelessly thrown onto the living room floor for later attention, Harry looks down and notices a wet patch on the front of your underwear. A smile forms on his face, pleased to see that you've become so aroused just from kissing. He wonders how you've manage to stay so composed during your past make out sessions when things didn't progress further like they are tonight. He's knows for himself personally, he often had to sneak away to the bathroom to relieve himself after your dates when lengthy kissing sessions were involved.

In a display of bravery, instead of waiting for Harry to ask if he could pull down your panties, you raise your hips from the couch and start removing them yourself. You consciously avoid looking down, fearful of his reaction, and keep your eyes fixated on the ceiling. When Harry catches sight of the lower half of your exposed body, he appears bewildered, unable to identify any imperfections that your previous partner could have mentioned. You look completely normal in his eyes.

In the past, Harry has slept with several women and with each one, has appreciated their bodies as they were. To him, as a grown ass man, pussy is pussy, regardless if the women was clean shaven or rocking a bush. Whether her lower lips were petite or more pronounced, he found all variations to be perfectly normal and enjoyable. (As long as they were clean, hygiene wise, of course.) Just like he's aware no two dicks look the same either.

"Y/n, look at me."

You cast a hesitant glance downward, where you notice a gentle smile on Harry's face, making his dimples pop out more prominently. He extends his hands to grasp yours, which are resting at your sides, and speaks in a soothing tone, "Do you know what I see, Y/n? Hm? I see a perfectly normal vagina. It appears entirely typical. In my past experiences with various women, I can honestly say that many of them resembled yours. I believe what yours looks like is quite common, at least based on what I've seen in person. What is often seen in porn is largely artificial. Many of those women undergo surgeries to achieve those Barbie lookin' genitals. So do not allow anyone to convince you that this *gestures towards your pussy with his hands* is anythin' but natural, normal."

His sincere compliments nearly bring you to the brink of tears. Where has Harry been all your life? He's always so kind and nurturing. His personality is completely different from any man you have ever dated or had a fling with. He seems to be the epitome of perfection, and you're starting to think that you might be in love with him, even after just three months of dating.

Just before he starts, Harry asks a final question. "One last question before I begin. Did your ex at least manage to make you come when he ate you out?" He's eager to know this information to ensure that he can provide an exceptional performance, aiming for you to come hard from just his tongue alone.

Shaking your head, you respond embarrassedly, "No, um, he typically only spent a few minutes down there, and it was never long enough for me to reach an orgasm." It perplexed him how any man, apart from a gay man of course, could limit themselves to just a few minutes of giving oral pleasure to a female, when he personally could easily immerse himself in a woman's pussy for an eternity. Engaging in such acts may very well be his greatest passion.

"We'll have to change that, won't we." Harry speaks seductively right over your damp pussy, his hot breath bringing chills up your spine, and moving one of his hands out of your grasp to rest on your pubic bone. Maintaining eye contact, you observe as Harry leans in and traces a broad line from the hole in which your dripping from, up to your clitoris. He then proceeds to circle his tongue languidly around your clit while his thumb holds back the hood for more exposure, prompting you to arch your body against the couch in pleasure. The sensation his tongue is giving you is far more pleasurable than any experience you had with your previous partner(s).

With one hand still intertwined with yours, which remains at your side, Harry stays persistent in licking, sucking, and almost devouring your entire pussy as if he hasn't eaten all day. He eats you like a starved man. Eventually, he lets go of your other hand and splays it out on your bare thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him. You find it increasingly difficult to keep your legs from closing as he concentrates on your throbbing clit.

Harry realizes now that your hands are no longer in his, they seem to be longing for something to hold again. Momentarily withdrawing from your slick cunt, he instructs, "Put your hands in my hair. I don't mind. Pull and tug as you please; it won't hurt me, promise." With a hint of hesitation, you comply. You lace your fingers through his brown curls and as soon as his mouth returns to your clit, you can't help but tug on his hair, drawing him impossibly closer to your core.

He carries on for another three minutes, making your sensitivity levels escalate and your body grow warmer. With one final, firm tug on his hair, you cry out, "Oh my God! Mhm, fuck! I'm gonna come, Har......Harryy!" At that moment, an overwhelming sensation washes over you. As Harry continues to flick his tongue over your pulsating clit, you hold his head tightly against you, not caring whether he can breath or not in the moment. As the intense orgasm envelopes you, your mind becomes completely empty of any worries or thoughts.

Slowly, the intensity of your high starts to subside, leaving you breathless on Harry's couch as he gradually removes his mouth from your sensitive pussy. While your eyes focus their gaze on the ceiling, you felt the soft caresses of Harry's thumbs tracing circles on your bare thighs, which finally compels you to look down. The first thing you notice is his face covered in a glossy substance from having been nestled between your legs, and then a smile that was unmistakably joyful.

You're completely lost for words. That may have been a stronger orgasm then you've ever given yourself. "So...." Harry begins nervously, "how was that?"

"Um.... wow, that was.....just wow."

Harry finds amusement in how he's rendered you at a loss of words. "Made you speechless, have I?" he teased. You nod in agreement, prompting him to continue. "See, I promised you there was nothin' to fear. Your pussy is as beautiful as it is tasty. You should never feel self-conscious with me; I'd never pass judgment on you for somethin' out of your control." His honesty touches your heart. He consistently proves himself to be a true gentleman, elevating your standards for men to a very high level. You really hope this relationship lasts, because you believe it'll be difficult to find someone as perfect as Harry ever again.

-------------------------------

Harry assisted you in cleaning up and asked if you'd like to stay the night. You had spent nights together in the past, alternating between each other's homes, but those times generally involved sharing a bed without cuddling, as Harry was uncertain about your comfort with such closeness. However tonight, after he'd seen you half naked with his face between your legs, your comfort level had clearly advanced beyond what it had been previously.

After both of you got into bed, you remained on your individual sides until you felt bold enough to initiate cuddling with your boyfriend. You realized that Harry was being cautious still, so you decided to move closer, laying your head on his chest and draping your left arm over his waist. "Is this alright?" you quietly asked in the dark room.

Harry quickly loosed his stiff body up and wrapped his arms around you, so he could hold you close. Whispering back, Harry replied, "Definitely alright. I love cuddles." Now that you know Harry loved cuddles, you'll have to give him cuddles more often.

Soon sleep found you both and the house became quiet. The only sounds that could be heard was your soft breathing and the rustling of trees outside. After tonight, you feel way more confident to go further with Harry. Matter of fact, you hope you can go further with him really soon. Just the thought of that brings excitement to you, and certain parts of your body.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fan fiction #boyfriendrry #boyfriend!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles angst #angst #harry styles fluff #fluff #fic request #request #requested

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myokk · 1 month ago

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✨ELOISE APOLLONIA BABBIT✨

My sweet and entirely too introspective girl🥹

She was born the second child of Oberon Babbit and Elladora Black in 1874. Her older brother, Leonard, has been prepared from birth to inherit everything and carry on the family name. (I love Leo so so so much too♥️). The Babbits are one of the oldest, most powerful wizarding families and quite reclusive, being able to trace their lineage back to pre-Roman times. If the Babbits had been around in the 1930s when the Sacred 28 list was created, they DEFINITELY would have been on it.

Her relationship with her mother is quite complicated. I made a huge post (for myself and @elliecutte 😭♥️) about Elladora, which I think shows her loneliness and loss of control. She put too many expectations on her daughter - the women of the Black family are known for being exceptionally powerful (& unstable😶) and was unable to handle the shame of having given birth to a squib.

As Eloise got older and older, without any sign of magic whatsoever, she was slowly isolated until the day came and went when she SHOULD have received her letter to Hogwarts. When it never arrived, she was burned off of the family tree and made like she never existed à la her great-nephew Sirius. HOWEVER…for reasons I haven’t explained yet in my fic (so I don’t want to spoil too much🤐) her parents decided to take advantage of her situation and enrolled her in a muggle boarding school and pulled strings to betroth her to a prominent muggle landowner to take advantage of connections and make it so that her life wasn’t a complete waste.

Eloise HATED living with the muggles. When she arrived at the school, she was clearly from an important family, and yet none of the girls had ever heard of her. She didn’t know who the Queen was, she didn’t know the basics of etiquette that had been drilled into them from birth, etc. the only enjoyment she got from that time was learning to play the piano and learning about muggle literature♥️ she especially loves Satie’s gnosiennes and Chopin, and reads anything she can get her hands on.

Her parents were actually FURIOUS when she was accepted to Hogwarts at the age of 16. They were counting on exploiting her future connection with her muggle betrothed’s family/wealth, and they lost their chance. Now, they’re trying to take advantage of her in other ways, working to prepare her for the life she had always been denied before.

My girl is STRESSED THE FUCK OUT !!!!!!!!! She hates herself so much for how badly she wants her parents approval; they threw her aside without a second thought, so why in the world is she bending over backwards and going along with all of their demands, hoping for a tiny scrap of affection?????????😔😔😔

She has a LOT of growth, character development, maybe not always for the best. She is imperfect and fallible and just a teenage girl with too many emotions roiling around inside of her to know what to do with.

My fic includes a lot of horror, blood rituals, sacrifice, magical theory, mythological references, lots of romance & slowburn, making all the wrong decisions, arranged marriage to the wrong person, complicated family dynamics and conflicting emotions that are all existing simultaneously & a very sweet girl who is going THROUGH IT😔🙏 my masterlist links to all of my Eloise posts, my fic, PLUS she is the unnamed MC in my two oneshots, clumsy and note-taking🫶

Thank you so much @bookie-bookdust for starting this & for tagging me🫶🫶🫶

The MCs of this fandom are just all so very amazing and creative, and I genuinely love seeing every post I come across during my morning coffee scroll♥️ lately I’ve been more of a silent lurker (all of my likes come from my main blog @oerflink), but hopefully I can be more active again 🤞 If you see this and haven’t done an introduction post yet for your own, PLEASE DO !!!!!!

#sorry this is so stream-of-consciousness #if you read this we are getting married or at least you get a kiss and a hug I’m sorry I don’t make the rule #other small things I didn’t add bc it was just getting too long I yapped too much #are things like the wood for her wand and Bellatrix’s wand came from the same tree #unfortunately she shares a lot of similarities with her mother Bellatrix Narcissa andromeda etc I just genuinely love #the women of the Black family so much they’re fascinating to me #hogwarts legacy #hphl #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #eloise babbit #hogwarts legacy fandom

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utilitycaster · 19 days ago

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I’ve noticed that a common theme in post-canon discussion of Bells Hells, when it is not focused on plotless fluff, is the idea that they are pursued by religious forces. This idea is generally talked about as a positive development, despite it being in direct conflict with so many of the “you just don’t understand their story THEY’VE HAD A HARD LIFE AND DESERVE SOFT BLANDNESS FOREVER” defenses of the finale and characters. It is my belief that this is not unlike the point I made about Fjord’s southern accent being largely ignored, and indeed is part of an overarching trend of Campaign 3’s most unpleasant fans: a desire by largely middle-class culturally Christian white people to experience, as if they were tourists, what they imagine to be the moral rightness of being an oppressed religious or racial minority, without the pesky realities of having to sometimes receive a message from local or religious authorities that someone has graffitied swastikas on your dedicated gathering places.*

The fact is with the exception of Hearthdell, which, again, Bells Hells notably never brought up at all in their conversations with Vasselheim (indeed, they were far more visibly annoyed at Vasselheim for asking the champion of a Betrayer god to wait outside and for daring to be out of sorts after Bells Hells disregarded that which they had implicitly agreed to during the Accord and showed up with Predathos instead), any form of religious persecution in Campaign 3 was almost entirely absent, despite it being a background element and noted sidequest motivator in Campaign 2. The Accord included Luxon and eidolon worshipers - the former of whom were indeed validated in their worship by Campaign 3’s ending, despite the Dynasty being far more successful as an imperialist and expansionist theocracy than Vasselheim (and despite the seething hatred many of these fans hold for Essek, whose actions, while undeniably harmful, were also the choices of someone acting against they Dynasty’s religious and political hegemony). Bells Hells’ grievances against the gods were both primarily individual and internal (why didn’t they answer me) just as their grievances against Vasselheim are ultimately individual rather than motivated by a sense of justice (why aren’t they letting in my friend’s friend? Why are these people not happy and nice to me after we’ve unexpectedly turned their entire lives upside down?); meanwhile, their choice to…entrust the Raven Queen, a god, entirely, and support catatheosis is defended as these same fans as kind (after months if not years of claiming the gods were colonizers deserving of death but to admit that was the discourse for that would mean Imogen’s nat 20 was not a good thing, and of course we can never have that). Now, this is perhaps the most glaring flaw of Bells Hells and Campaign 3; in attempting to do the “right” or “kind” thing they only ever seemed capable of focusing on one or two groups of people at most rather than what was best for Exandria and Ruidus at large, and frequently one of those groups was “themselves.”

This isn’t to say that persecution by religious groups is not a potential consequence - after all, from their perspective, Bells Hells effectively promised to the leaders of the world to keep Predathos sealed and then instead chose to give the gods an ultimatum between mortal life vs. exile or slow and agonizing death, with no warning nor consideration for the many people of Exandria who follow the gods. (The gods removing themselves from Exandria, or fighting back against the betrayers, incidentally, in Divergence, was criticized by these same people as being cruel; as I’ve said before there is no condition by which the gods are ever acceptable to these fans, which of course renders critique is worthless; there is no valuable input to be had from someone who is so hateful as to think your mere existence is a blight). I do not find this to be an issue narratively. I do however find that, as mentioned in my opening paragraph, it is all but rendered meaningless by the whining defense of how Imogen and Laudna’s story is specifically good because after so much hardship, they can rest, given that this implies they do not receive the Noble Rest of the Uncriticizable. And, as this entire post thus far outlines, the lack of consensus (and indeed contradictory positions) and constant goalpost shifting regarding the Only Valid Metrics By Which To Judge Bells Hells And Campaign 3 only further the allegations that this was a narrative and thematic mess that fails to hold up to any scrutiny.

But what is most troublesome, to me, is that tourism aspect to which I alluded. This enjoyment of Bells Hells as being pursued by religious forces is coming extensively from fans who have dismissed and even outright laughed at discussions of real-world religious discrimination. From quite early on, when I and other Jewish fans noted that the arguments in favor of exterminating the gods sounded highly reminiscent of antisemitic canards, we were called overly sensitive, hysterical, and stupid. More recently, when someone made a comment about the traumatic nature of Bells Hells threatening the forces of Vasselheim - who had outfitted them, made it possible for them to reach the Bloody Bridge, and came to meet them and escort them safely from Ruidus - as reminiscent of their family’s experience with colonizing Christian missionaries. One of Bells Hells louder defenders (and one of the voices in favor of the gods being colonizers) outright scoffed at this, made remarks deeply ignorant of non-Western religion (specifically Buddhism), and mocked someone’s generational trauma. And now, unsurprisingly, they are at the forefront of delighting in how Bells Hells are on the run from the forces of Vasselheim. When people talk about religious persecution in a way that fails to validate Bells Hells, bigotry is fair game; how dare we claim oppression when we are the oppressors in their eyes (people who don’t like Bells Hells).

I would also add: I think a far more compelling narrative of Bells Hells as people experiencing oppression would be that of disability. Ashton is canonically someone who experiences chronic pain. Imogen’s abilities map far better to mental illness or a severe processing disorder than, as someone earlier said, queerness in a small town. Chetney and FCG’s potential to lose control due to lycanthropy or Aeorian programming and even Laudna’s strange and offputting appearance (if largely an informed trait within the narrative) all line up with various chronic illness and disability narratives. However, while this is at times discussed in the fandom, I think the focus on religious persecution is because the disability narrative requires we consider that Bells Hells are in fact at times difficult to interact with, invasive in their behavior, or even violent and threatening due to these traits. This is not in my opinion a bad way to engage! But that frames them as people capable of causing problems and doing harm, rather than, again, the innocent and persecuted, and so they look to the religious persecution narrative instead.** I would also note that when I previously called out the religious discrimination and bigotry actually perpetuated by these fans, I was called all sorts of ableist things mostly relating to assumptions regarding my mental health; people I have quite literally never interacted with are still, over two months later, making these claims on Twitter (in the service of circling the wagons around their bigoted mutual, because, well, birds of a feather).

So what is the fate of Bells Hells, after the end of the campaign? Is Laudna’s story that of remaining on the run, or does she get her “idyllic happy ending cabin in the woods growing old with her lovely wife and crafts and being left the fuck alone”, as someone incapable of leaving people the fuck alone once put it? I don’t know, and frankly, as she is neither real nor interesting, I don’t particularly care, but here’s what I do know. Her fans are the sort of people who delight in laughing at those whom they see strange or simply deviating from a norm they’ve set; who are all too willing to call people crazy. They must engage in this tourism of religious persecution because, deep down, they are far closer to their own demonized idea of the people of Gelvaan or Vasselheim than Bells Hells. Were a Laudna analogue to exist in real life I have little doubt they'd come into her hut and drive her out; we already know they’d laugh at the people of Hearthdell.

*I would be remiss if I did not note that many of these fans are queer, and hate crimes against queer people are very real. I think one factor here is that the vast majority of the Tumblr fandom identifies as queer as do most of the Mighty Nein and several of Vox Machina, so this fails to make Bells Hells or their fans the most poor, perfect, unique, and special little lambs; the fact that homophobia and transphobia in Exandria do not exist as forms of systemic oppression in any capacity; and the fact that again, they don’t want to explore something that actually could threaten them in real life.

** This may also be subject to the same issue as my previous note, namely, some of these people are disabled themselves and don’t want to engage with oppression they actual experience, instead gawking and appropriating that of others even as they insult it.

#cr discourse #long post

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spnx67 · 16 days ago

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𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒚 - 𝒔.𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

❥ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 - you and sam have always had this unexplainable chemistry between each other, but ever since he came back from the cage he’s been acting weird.

❥ sam winchester x fem!reader, NSFW

❥ features: soulless sam, smut with some plot, s5 finale recap, heated moments, dom sam, unprotected sex, reader being shorter than sam, pet names, swearing, rough sex, kinks?, overstimulation, sam kinda manipulating you, cold ending.

❥ word count: 2,312

❥ a/n: i need people to put in my tag list so pls if u wanna be in it lmk! i haven’t posted in a while and i thought of this idea so yay. i fear as though i need to write a smut where reader and sam are actually dating cos so far all i’ve wrote is the opposite 💔 BUT ENJOY!

❥ masterlink

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Sam was never just a friend, you had this chemistry with eachother. Light flirting and teasing that never went anywhere, the extra mile you would both go to make sure the other was okay. You’d always get asked if you two were dating and every time you’d both just laugh and shake your head, he made you happy. Truly happy.

At least that’s how it was for you, you didn’t know how Sam felt.

It came down to the big finale, Lucifer using Sam as his vessel and Michael using Adam as his. You watched the entire scene happen from a distance: Castiel managing to buy some time with Micheal, Lucifer beating Dean to a pulp, Sam managing to gain control for long enough to jump into the cage and bringing Michael along with him.

And that was it. Sam was gone. You were heartbroken, truly. You thought you’d never see him again, never be able to tell you how you felt about him. You had honestly just sat and wallowed for weeks.

But then there was a knock at your door. It was Sam. It couldn’t be. He was in hell. You saw it.

But no, it really was him.

Except, not really.

Sam had been acting weird ever since he got back. Sleeping with random women, ruthless in hunting, cold and barely sleeping yet didn’t seem tired. But then again, he’d just been to hell so you didn’t except sunshine and rainbows shooting out his ass.

But it didn’t make it any less painful. You’d walked in on him so many times with different women each time, he’d been cold towards you and kinda mean. Going right for what would hurt you. But nonetheless you were patient. Just because he changed didn’t mean you had to.

You had just been interviewing some victs on the case you and Sam are working on, walking back to yours and Sam’s shared motel room. However just before you were about to open the door you could hear moaning and sheets rustling. It made you feel sick, he was with yet another woman. You didn’t exactly want that woman to be you, you just wanted him to stop fucking every woman in sight. So you say on a chair in the hallway, waiting until you could go back in.

Some time later the woman came out, she looked a little disheveled. You waited until she left before getting up and walking in, Sam had just pulled his shirt over his head. He saw you and smirked.

“Hey.” that tone. You couldn’t put a name to it, it was almost sultry yet had no emotion behind it. It was like it wasn’t the real Sam speaking.

You gave a polite nod, extending your arm to hand him some files you had in your hands.

“I interviewed the victs.” you tried to say as casually as you could. But you honestly thought you could be crying and Sam still wouldn’t blink an eyelid.

He took it from you and began reading your notes. Meanwhile your eyes scanned the room, seeing the sheets messy and the way the room still smelt of after-sex. It broke your heart. You turned around and went to the table and began checking your guns to distract yourself, trying to fight back the tears that threatened your eyes.

Sam didn’t have a soul, ofcourse you didn’t know, neither did Sam really. All he knew was he felt better than he ever did. But he still cared for you, not about you, but for you. In the sense of he’d patch you up after a hunt, make sure you weren’t in danger. But all of that was more of routine rather than the honest affection he once had for you.

“These are good, you found anything else out?” he asked as he put the files on the bedside table, waiting for your reply.

You shook your head. “Nope, everything’s there.”

Despite him not having a soul he wasn’t an idiot, he knew every emotion that was coming from you. It was just the case of whether he cared enough to actually deal with it. He approached you, you were facing away still.

“Smart girl like you… and that’s all you found?” his tone was almost condescending, but also questioning. Usually you’d find 10 times more information than you had done.

You froze as you felt his chest lightly brush against your back. Nodding. “Yep.” it was obvious you weren’t actually doing anything, you just kept looking at the guns.

He reached out, placing his hand over yours and moving your hand down to put the gun on the table. His touch wasn’t affectionate and warm like it once was, it was bitter.

“You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

You didn’t know how to react right now, what to say, what to do. None of it. He confused the hell out of you.

“Yeah…” your voice sounding more strained than you’d have liked.

He smirked at the strain in your voice and how tensed you were, he put a hand on your shoulder, slowly moving it down to your elbow and then back up. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to close your eyes for a moment to compose yourself.

“Talk to me…” he said quietly, but his tone wasn’t comforting. It was slightly disturbing.

You hesitated for a moment before finally telling him.

“You were with another woman… again…” you sounded kinda sheepish, you knew you had no place to speak on Sam’s sex life. You weren’t dating, you never had.

He hummed in response, continuing his light movement up and down your arm.

“That bother you, sweetheart?”

“A little…”

He smirked again. Loving the fact he was getting under your skin. He stepped a little closer, causing your thighs to hit the table and his chest press against your chest a little more.

“And whys that?” his quietness along with his touch was driving you insane, creating a heat in your stomach. You hesitated before speaking, your tone had lowered a little to match with his volume.

“Because I… i thought we had something.” you felt like a fool for believing that.

“We do.” he replied simply. You furrowed your eyebrows at that. You went to turn around to face him but he stopped you, placing his free hand on your waist.

“No.. it.” he paused. “It’s easier when i can’t see you…” there was that tone again, that slightly condescending, mocking tone which was also cold as fuck. You were quiet so he could speak.

He lightly ran his thumb across your waist, but again, the touch wasn’t comfort or affection. It was routine. Familiarity of how he knew he once was. He leaned in a little closer, his cheek grazing against the top of your head.

“God… of course we have something.” he paused. “No matter how many women i find myself in bed with… sigh… it’s always you who i’m picturing.”

You were in complete shock. You had wanted this for a while now, but it didn’t feel right. Because this didn’t feel like your Sammy.

He continued, tilting his head so his lips were closer to your ear.

“You’re my favourite toy baby…” he put a small kiss where your ear connected to your head. “I can always come to you…”

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat. It was starting to get too much, his hands on you, the kiss, his voice.

“Sam I-“ he cut you off.

“Shh… no need to speak. I know what you want.” he was whispering in your ear now, so sensually you felt like you were gonna melt. “I can make you feel so good sweetheart… so good that you’re feeling me for days afterwards.”

He placed another kiss in the same place.

“Only if you let me.” his voice was smooth, gruff. Yet still quiet and gentle. But it was all a show, all a show to get you in bed. A part of you knew that, and a part of you didn’t care.

“I don’t… Sam I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” your voice and the way you were leaning into his touch was completely betraying your words. He chuckled lowly, the hand that was on your arm slid up to your neck. Gripping it with just enough force to make you look up at him.

“You sure about that?”

You were looking at him upside down, his eyes piercing through you. Your breathing getting more laboured by the second.

Fuck.

You shook your head.

A soft and hushed“Please…” escaped your mouth, you needed Sam. Badly.

He smirked before spinning you around and gripping your waist with both hands, his face so close to yours his nose was grazing against yours. He looked into your eyes, he could see how hungry you were for him but he could also see the slight hesitation. He sighed softly, moving one hand up to cup the side of your head.

“What’s the matter, honey? Scared..?”

You looked up at him, your eyes glowing with need. But there was also a small, barely even noticeable pout there. You shook your head.

“This… you don’t feel like the real you,” you paused. “You’re different.”

He nodded, he didn’t have the capability to get angry at you for saying that since he didn’t have a soul.

“You still wanna get fucked by me though… don’t you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him if you tried. You nodded, causing him to smirk.

“And I will… my pretty girl.”

He then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he began to kiss you. There was nothing behind the kiss though, only a mission. And that mission was to fuck you. Not to make love.

He threw you down on the bed and began taking his clothes off. You lay there still for a moment until beginning to take your own clothes off, breathlessly. Once you’d both taken all your clothes off you let your eyes trail down his body, god he was huge. He took his dick in his hand and moved it across his length a few times before pushing your legs up until your knees hit your shoulders and hovering over you.

He began kissing you again, shoving his tongue down your throat causing you to moan. He was about to push inside you until you stopped him.

“Condom?” you said breathlessly, you’d noticed just in time he hadn’t put one on.

He smirked and chuckled lowly, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“Thought you wanted the real me?”

You could’ve sworn your brain short circuited at that. You turned your head and joined your lips together. And then finally, he pushed inside your wet hole until his hips touched yours.

You arched your back and your eyes rolled back, moaning and gasping as he pushed inside.

“Oh my- fuckk!” you moaned out incoherently.

He groaned in your ear, you were so tight and wet for him. He began thrusting in you, going as deep as he possibly could.

You were already a mess, moaning his name like a fucking prayer. Your nails dug into his back so hard you were sure you’d make him bleed.

The pain added to the pleasure for him, he began going harder but keeping the same pace he always had done. He knew what he was doing, he knew how to please a woman. And that what you were, just another woman to please.

“You feel so good… fuck-“ he groaned into your ear, he wasn’t lying. You did feel insane to him. Your mouth was opened from moaning so he took the chance to stick two of his fingers in your mouth, swirling them around and causing you to gag a little. He then slid his hand down to your throbbing clit and began rubbing you in circles which made you clench around him.

It felt too good, you couldn’t even speak, couldn’t think straight. He was gonna make you cum. He looked down at you, seeing your sex face made him wanna fuck you even harder.

“Cmon.. cmon cum for me baby… i know you want to i can feel it.”

You followed his exact order, biting down on his shoulder as you finally came. He pulled out just in time before unloading on your stomach. Like stated, he wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t wanna have a pregnancy on his hands.

You were absolutely spent, you could still feel him. He’d left an indent inside you forever. You pushed yourself you a little so you were sat up, running two of your fingers across your stomach where his cum was before sucking on them same fingers, your eyes not daring to leave his.

He looked down at you, he smirked. It was odd. You were almost positive that would’ve turned him on enough for a second round. But it didn’t, he took your chin between his fingers and leaned in.

“Don’t be such a slut.” he said in a bitter whisper, putting his clothes back on.

Those words must’ve rang in your head a million times. You felt ashamed, embarrassed, disgusted. You’d just had sex with Sam knowing there was this coldness about him. You grabbed the sheets and wiped his load off you before putting your clothes back on, on the verge of tears.

Once you’d both put your clothes back on he went over to his laptop and sat at the table, he looked over at you, you were still sat on the edge of the bed. Looking slightly shell shocked.

“You just gonna sit there all day or you gonna help me?” he said coldly.

You hated him for this. He’d tricked you well into believing he actually gave a fuck. But he didn’t, to him you were just another toy. Which was very obvious now.

You stood and walked to sit facing him, looking through some books.

Pretending like nothing happened.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

i love soulless sam lowkey.

#sam winchester #sam winchester smut #soulless sam #sam x fem!reader #sam x reader #sam winchester oneshot #supernatural #jared padalecki #spnx67

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lily-fics-11 · 10 months ago

Text

I Can See You: Chapter 3 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission.

Chapter 3

The more Ellie flirts with you, the more you see her with other girls, and you aren’t sure why. She gets jealous when other girls give you attention and starts to show that she wants you all to herself.

Word count: 4.1k

CW: No use of y/n, profanities, a little bit of angst, sexual tension, *Ellie and reader are both 18*

You aren’t quite sure the cause, but there is a positive correlation between how much Ellie Williams flirts with you and how much she is getting with other girls.

You knew that Ellie has… engaged in many connections, even seen it here and there. But it just doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s just how much she is on your mind, but it feels like everywhere you look Ellie is with a different girl. Up against a locker, in the library before tutoring, and you even saw her worn out converse along with a pair of designer boots under a bathroom stall.

The Monday after the game and private lacrosse lessons she is raring to go. She sits down with a mischievous look in her eyes. “We are finally on an even playing field, tutor girl.”

“Because I adequately played lacrosse in gym today?” You chuckle.

“Yes, we are helping each other pass our classes,” she points out as if it’s completely obvious.

“True,” is the reply you give without thinking. You truly appreciate Ellie’s help. You don’t know that you could have done it without her. But in one class. You’ve put a lot of effort, more than you have with anyone else, into assisting her with four different classes. It is interesting stuff, but definitely not as fun as lacrosse is for her. It’s not a competition by any means, you signed up for this. There is just a bit of resentment.

“Hey come on, I saved your GPA.” Ellie is playful, however there is a sliver of disappointment.

“It’s true,” you smile but she doesn’t look convinced.

“I can’t deny that you are probably the only tutor in this school that can put up with all my bullshit. You are gay, and I’m me. But, I’m the only girl on the lacrosse team that you know.” Ellie seems pleased with herself, as if she just won an argument.

“You aren’t the only girl on the lacrosse team that is gay, and I’m me.” You are impressed by how smooth that was.

Ellie’s eyes widen in fear. Noted. “Please tell me it’s Robin.”

“She has a girlfriend,” you remind her and she looks frustrated.

“Josie?” She tries with minimal hope.

“Ellie, she's a freshman!” You scoff at her.

Ellie crosses her arms with narrow eyes. “So it must be Anderson.”

“I’ve only ever had a few conversations with her, but our parking spots are next to each other. I see the way she looks at me, and every once in a while she will give me a compliment. Abby’s never made a move though.”

“Well that’s lovely.” Ellie spats.

“Are you jealous, Williams?” You tease, she is uncharacteristically peeved that another girl is giving you attention.

Ellie forces a laugh. “Pft. No. Of course not. Anderson and I just don’t get along.”

“What did you do to her?” You ask, assuming Ellie’s air of superiority is frowned upon by her teammates. No matter how good she is, huge egos aren’t good in that kind of environment.

Ellie slams her hands down and defends herself as if she is a criminal on trial. “I didn’t do anything! She started it!”

You let out a long breath in defeat. “Never mind, I don’t need to know.”

Ellie breaks eye contact and mumbles. “I wouldn’t want you to get involved with someone like that.”

Your lips curl into somewhat of a snarl. “So you care about my feelings? I thought I was just a girl to flirt with when no one is looking.”

Fear settles into her green eyes. “Of course not. How could I ignore our chemistry?” Ellie’s pun falters to near silence, she realized this is not the right time.

“Speaking of chemistry, I want to go over kinetic and potential energy first.” You are trying to forget that interaction happened.

She nods. “I think I have a good understanding of energy.”

“That’s great Ellie. Why don't you tell me, in your own words, what kinetic and potential energy are. Thinking of it in your own words will help you remember it.”

“Well potential energy is what’s happening between us right now. The ‘will they, won’t they’. We make eye contact all the time because we are always looking at each other. You can’t pretend like you don’t want to kiss me. Looking at my lips when I talk, leaning in close to show me how to do things. Potential energy is everything we could be if we gave into our desire.

And kinetic energy? That’s what we felt when we kissed. Getting close to each other, loving it, craving it. We both knew it wasn’t necessary to play lacrosse like that, but we did it anyway. We long to have more of each other. Having you close felt like an atomic collision.”

Your face is burning hot and you struggle to find words when she’s giving you fuck me eyes. “I would like to remind you that this is supposed to be strictly business, although that is a pretty spot on analogy.”

Ellie is so cocky, so pleased with herself. It’s infuriatingly sexy. “When I take this test I’ll be thinking about you regardless, now I have a more appropriate reason to.”

“I'm like your academic muse.” You laugh nervously, wishing you hadn’t said that.

Ellie’s eyes light up. “The most powerful optical 3D spectrograph for astrophysics known to man?”

She is such a fucking nerd and it makes you smile. Even temporarily forget all the bull shit. “It’s someone who inspires an artist.”

“Well I do like measuring the wavelength of the vibes you radiate.” She licks her lips waiting for your reaction.

“That’s actually pretty good,” you chuckle.

Ellie runs a hand through her hair.“The don’t call me the rizzler for nothing.”

You giggle at how ridiculous this girl secretly is. “I would say space nerd but whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“You can call me space nerd, as long as you don’t say it in front of anyone else. You should make it my contact name in your phone, in case someone sees your notifications.”

You roll your eyes and agree to it. You hate that sometimes she charms you to the point of forgetting about the reality of your situation. Gives you hope just to take it away.

“While I do that look at questions 5, 6, 7, and 8” you mumble. Ellie can tell you aren’t happy with her and doesn’t push her luck, doesn’t even ask any questions the rest of the period.

However, she puts her hand on your arm to get your attention when you start to leave the library. “I have another home game tomorrow.”

You sigh. “That is going to take time away from studying.”

“Oh, I, uh, yeah,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously.

You give her a half hearted smile. “Good luck though.”

Ellie senses that you are wary of her so she is blushing and hesitant. “The last game was the best season opener I’ve ever played. You should come to this one too, just in case you are my good luck charm.”

“I uh… I’m not sure if I can make it,” you tell her. Any hope she had falls off her face.

Seeing her like that tugs at your heart much more than you would like it to. “But I’ll do my best.” Her face lights back up and she hits you with a smolder that would give Flynn Rider a run for his money.

During lunch the next day you get some homework done so that you can go to Ellie’s game.

When you open your locker at the end of the day a piece of paper falls out. Unfolding the note it says “I hope you can fit me into your busy schedule -E”. Even if she hadn’t signed it you would have recognized her handwriting.

There had been a confusing math problem you got stuck on so you took a seat right before the team went onto the field. You sit alone, in the same spot as last time, so Ellie can easily see that you are there. For the sake of good luck, of course.

Ellie looks up at you once she’s in position and smirks. She moves her hands on her stick to the weird way you had held it the other day, before quickly switching back.

Abby Anderson looks good as usual, fighting for the ball when the whistle is blown, but Ellie’s words are in the back of your mind.

The team that they are playing today is much better than the last one. They keep control of the ball a lot more and have a faster goalie. After Ellie takes a few shots you notice that the goalie has a certain strategy. You don’t know lacrosse but you do know how to recognize a pattern. Ellie notices it too, and takes full advantage of it, scoring right away and repeating the move.

Ellie, and Abby, though not as much, lead the team to victory. Now that you are aware of it there are moments where you notice tension between them.

You time your exit to cross paths with Ellie, so you can see her before you leave. Not that you would say anything to her with other people around. Unfortunately, her attention gets captured by one of the prettiest girls in school. The girl twirls her hair flirtatiously and puts her hand on Ellie’s arm. Most of the team is walking back to the locker while you walk to your car. You hear footsteps close to you and a somewhat familiar voice calls your name.

Abby Anderson is walking next to you.

“You plan on coming to every game this season?” She asks.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably just until the lacrosse unit is over in gym, I’ve been studying.”

“Well I look forward to seeing you in the stands. Maybe you will find a reason to keep coming.”

You give her a polite smile, unsure of what to do.

“See ya around,” she says and then jogs to catch up to some of her teammates.

Moments later you receive a text from Space Nerd🚀🤓: I’ll be keeping an eye on her

Ellie hard core flirts at your next tutoring session. It's weird, but so is she.

One would think she hit the lottery when talking about how you were at her game. When she thanked you for coming she emphasized that it was her game. Assuring herself you were there for her and not Abby, though she didn’t actually say that. “I really think you are my good luck charm, looks like you are stuck coming to the rest of the games this season.”

“I wasn’t at the away game,” you remind her and she frowns. “Fine, every home game.”

“I really am responsible for the fate of the entire lacrosse team,” you chuckle. “I’ll try and get to all of your home games.”

Ellie’s jaw drops.“You will?”

“Yeah. You’ve been working hard. I’m proud of you. Besides, I'm not helping you get your grades up just to ruin it with your superstition.”

Working on her calculus is tedious, which only increases her impulse to create distractions.

“It’s getting hard to differentiate,” she tells you between problems.

“I know it’s hard, but you've already improved so much. I know you’ve got this.”

Ellie brushes a piece of hair off of her face. “Differentiate between whether or not you really want to keep things professional. You say you want to, but that look in your eyes tells me otherwise.”

You roll your eyes but Ellie is not easily deterred. “If we integrate ourselves, there is an array of possibilities. The limit goes to infinity.”

“The only reason I put up with your flirting is because it weirdly helps me know how much you’ve been paying attention.”

Ellie leans in closer and whispers “you can try and lie to me all you want, but you have a tell.”

You don’t back away from her, you match her energy, though the hair on the back of your neck stands up. “A tell? I don’t have a tell,” you scoff. “But if I did have one, what would it be?”

Ellie licks her lips and then looks at yours when she asks “what’s the fun in telling you?”

“Just remember that with great power comes great responsibility.”

Ellie looks like she’s about to jump out of her seat with that reference to her favorite superhero. “That makes me want to call you the Uncle Ben to my Spider Man, but that would make trying to kiss you really weird.”

As an athlete, Ellie does know how to get down to business. She had her chem test and got a B, but she has tests in all 3 of the other classes you are helping her with over the next week as well. She keeps herself in check, meaning minimal antics instead of as much as she can get away with.

You prepare her for all the essay topics she might get about The Great Gatsby, go over every single Spanish vocab word and conjugation as many times as possible, and practice the types of integrals she has the most trouble with.

Ellie reports back that she feels like she did well. You check in with her Sunday night, she tells you she did good and then doesn’t answer when you ask about specifics.

Humble is not a word to describe Ellie Williams, so you find it a little odd. That is until you get an email from the guidance counselor, informing you that Ellie has met the requirements she needed to. You have been assigned another student, a softball player that has been slacking this season.

You immediately text Ellie: Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t need tutoring anymore?

She responds immediately: I was hoping you wouldn’t find out and you would keep tutoring me

You shake your head in frustration and text her: Call me!

Seconds later your phone is ringing with a FaceTime call.

Ellie is holding her phone at a weird angle, like a dad that doesn’t know how to use a phone properly. She looks guilty as hell.

“Hey tutor girl.” Her smile is forced, and her freckles are accompanied by a bright flush.

“Did you really think they weren’t going to tell me?” You ask her this with a small smile. Seeing her all frazzled is pretty adorable. Ellie is undoubtedly hot, but seeing her be cute melts your heart.

Ellie bites her lip for a moment while she thinks.“I guess I didn’t really think that through. But would you be able to keep tutoring me?”

“Ellie you are very smart, all you needed to do was learn how to study and you’ve done that. Besides, they already gave me someone else to tutor.” Losing your time with Ellie was always inevitable. She no longer has a reason to see you, you aren't sure where all this is coming from.

Ellie’s nose scrunches and her eyebrows furrow. “I can’t believe that you would- that they would- who even is it?”

“Elise Knolls,” you tell her calmly.

“She’s gay!” Ellie yells like she had said this girl is a murderer.

“Uh yeah, why does that matter?” Ellie has never truly wanted you, she wanted to kiss her tutor. But maybe that’s not the case?

A fire burns in her bright eyes. “Because- because you might start going out with- out to her softball games instead of my lacrosse games!” Is she really, you use this word with great haste, jealous?

You do your best to contain yourself. You want to laugh more than anything else, and tell her I told you so. “Ellie I will still try and come to as many of your games as I can.”

She looks like a little kid on Christmas. “For real?”

A smile that you don’t mind showing spreads across your face. “Yes. I promise.”

Ellie’s excitement starts to slide away after briefly living in the moment. “I still won’t actually see you. For tutoring. I think I still need it. I don’t want to lose… my momentum.”

“You have practice or a game after school everyday,” you remind her.

“Well my team has the first practice some days, but the guys team does on the other days” she explains, much more serious than she usually is.

You sigh. “I have my own work to get done.”

Ellie looks desperate at this point. “Well can we work together? I’ll only ask questions when I need to.” She is all but begging.

The idea is good, but only in theory. “You are prone to creating distractions.”

“I will tone it down.” Ellie promises. “I don’t want to lose this opportunity to spend time with you. So that you can help me with school, of course.”

This is something you really want to make work. You don’t want to lose Ellie either. She is the best pain in the ass you’ve ever had. “We can try it. If I can get as much work done as I need to, we will continue. If you can’t keep your dinosaur rants and space explanations to a minimum we won’t.”

Ellie is giddy to the point where she might giggle. “Tutor girl, you are the best, thank you. You won’t regret this.”

“If I do, we won't keep doing it,” you emphasize.

“I promise. Thank you.” Her expression changes though. “I do have to ask, about this Elise girl, how do you feel about… tutoring her?” Ellie’s low voice and serious tone make your heart race. It’s hot as hell.

“I know her, don’t really know anything about her grades though. We’ve never really been in any classes together.” You explain.

“Then how do you know her?” She continues to interrogate.

“We frequent some of the same social events.”

“Do you mean parties?” You nod. “You go to parties?” She is in genuine shock.

You roll your eyes but smile through it. “Yeah, there are parties besides the ones thrown by the 1%.”

Ellie switches back into detective mode. “So do you guys like, hang out at these parties?” You give her another nod.

“When I say hang out, are you picking up what I’m putting down?” Her eyes are wide with anticipation.

Ellie is going to keep pushing until she gets the information she wants. She's nothing if not persistent. “We’ve hooked up…” her face contorts as if she ate something sour. You mumble “quite a few times.”

“Oh.” If her eyes weren’t already so green they would be now. The jealousy has taken over.

Not the best note to end this call on, but you really need to review topics for a tutoring session tomorrow. “How about you text me what your schedule looks like this week and we figure things out from there.”

“I can do that.”

“Bye Space Nerd.”

“Bye tutor girl.”

Monday morning when you get to your locker there is a rose tucked into one of the holes. Weird. Upon opening it you find a note that says ‘thank you again -E.”

Walking to your homeroom you overhear the girl that had been flirting with Ellie after her game the other day talking to one of her friends.

“Ellie hardly even paid any attention to me on Saturday. I wanted to take her upstairs but she wasn’t interested. I didn’t see her go upstairs with any girls, I don’t know what her deal is.”

After school you meet Ellie in the library. She is there first, in the back corner, even though it is empty.

There is something different about her today, but you can’t identify it immediately. Her hair is the same, she is wearing jeans, a flannel, and converse like she normally does. Looking past her physical appearance, there has been a change in her disposition.

Ellie is confident as always, but lacks her typical cockiness. She already has her things ready to get started on her work, and is waiting for you with a smile. And not just a polite ‘thank you for doing this for me’ smile. More so an ‘enchanted by your presence’ smile. This may lead to cardiac arrest.

Ellie takes a moment to look into your eyes, searching for something unbeknownst to you. “Tutor girl, I’m glad you could make it.”

“I told you I would be here,” you remind her teasingly.

She picks up a pencil and starts fidgeting with it. “Yeah, but I’m still not sure why you agreed to this. I’m a headache, why would you deal with me more than you have to?”

“Well you are a pain in the ass,” a gorgeous one, you think to yourself. “But you’ve grown on me. And I didn’t want to stop seeing you… continue to do.”

“I will help you with your work if you ever need it. Not sure how, but I will do my best.” This offer makes you believe she is eager to please you. This brings as much shock as it does a growing desire in the pit of your stomach. There are a lot of ways she could please you…

“Thank you space nerd, that’s very sweet.”

Ellie looks at you with starry eyes and as much as you want to live in that moment you know that you shouldn’t. “I have a lot of work to do, we should get started.” You were her tutor, you helped her do what she loves the most, playing lacrosse. This mild infatuation isn’t coming from anywhere but her appreciation for you. It’ll pass. You can’t forget that.

Ellie starts reading Lord of the Flies while you highlight and make notes in a textbook.

You had started about 90 degrees, or pi/2 radians, away from each other around the circular table. However, when she asks her first question you notice that she is closer to you. You assume that is because it would be easier for you to see the quote she is referring to.

That is until you switch from reading to doing physics, and she is even closer than before. You side eye her and she just smiles innocently.

It’s not long until her arm is brushing up against yours and she moves her knee so that it is leaning into your leg.

You roll your eyes. “Can I help you?”

“No thank you,” she says, not even looking up from her book.

“Then what are you doing?”

“Just getting cozy.”

You put your pencil down. “I wouldn’t call this professional.”

Ellie’s naive facade is replaced by a smirk. “You said no distractions, you didn’t say anything about keeping it professional.”

“As long as you can keep getting your work done,” you warn her and she nods.

“One question though.” She leans over, chest pressing against your arm, to point to an equation on your paper.

“Did you write that E there for Ellie?” She looks at you with great suspense.

“This is distracting,” you chastise her.

“Fine. What does E stand for?” Ellie asks this with what seems to be genuine curiosity.

You are happy to explain since she isn’t doing it to push your buttons. “Well it’s the Greek letter epsilon, not E. Denotes permittivity.”

Ellie continues to look over everything on your paper. “What is permittivity?”

“The resistance to electric field formation.”

That earns a laugh. “Fun.”

“Extremely pleasurable.” At the word pleasurable her eyes wander over you, hungrily taking in every inch. She sees you looking back at her the same way and licks her lips before agreeing not to distract you anymore.

You get back to work but she doesn’t, you can see her watching you out of the corner of your eye. You choose to ignore this, you are no longer responsible for micromanaging her. You finish up your physics and ask Ellie when she needs to leave. She's got about 15 minutes.

“Well I don’t want to get started on anything new right now. Do you have any questions before we finish up?” You ask this expecting her to say no and be done. She hasn’t read anything since you last checked in.

“Yes,” she declares with a devilish smile. She leans in, and you feel her warm breath on your ear when she whispers “what would you do if I went to touch you now?”

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything, @mikellie, @lamolaine, @0pheli4, @soupycloud, @radioheadfan699, @callmelola111, @hysteriawillnotsuccumb, @normalthing111

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