#THE NAIL BITING LIKE WHEN SHE WAS A TEENAGER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inmaki · 11 months ago

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number one sorcerer (and virgin) .

synopsis: req! in which your boyfriend — notorious for boasting about how good he is in bed — turns out to be all bark and no bite (until you give him some guidance, at least).

pairing: virgin!switch!gojo x f!reader

wc: est. 6k?

incl: unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of dirty talk, a bit of teaching gojo, petnames, manhandling, size kink, clit play, praise kink, edging (himself), teasing, mocking, fingering, oral (f + slight m), cum swallowing

a/n: ty for awakening smtn in me anon it was nice to be writing a full fic again!! hope im not too rusty,, this is straight up filth tho so mdni

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn’t just good at sex.

no, according to himself, he was some kind of sex god — to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with angelic white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he’s done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you’d gotten together — going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn’t blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn’t initiated anything; y’know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

“bro, it’d be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!” flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

“everything’d be fine if you didn’t pretend to be some incubus that makes girls cum with a snap of his finger,” geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he’s resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. “that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. “how’m i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn’t trust me anymore?”

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “you know y/n isn’t like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow,” he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she’ll be begging for you in no time.”

as usual, geto knows him too well, because those last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. “ya think so?”

“hell yeah, man.” the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a confident gleam in both of their eyes.

only a couple days later, satoru discovers that going with the flow isn’t as easy as suguru advised. with your plush lips sucking his bottom one through occasional moans, along with a delicate pair of nails scratching perfectly at his undercut, he already felt himself getting breathless and aroused like a teenager.

perhaps you’ve put him under a spell; how is it that he lasts through prolonged battles while barely breaking a sweat, but having your cute hand move to rub up on his abs and pecs send his nerves into overdrive? it wasn’t like making out wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, this time it just felt so passionate with the way your hips moved to straddle his, tongue practically begging for entrance while the movie on screen was left long forgotten.

gojo can’t help but groan as your muscle explores his mouth, core ever so smoothly grinding on his bulge and igniting heat through his entire body. even as you pull away to take a breath, his grip on your waist remains stable as if you’d disappear at any moment— growing even tighter with the way you bore into his eyes hungrily. “satoru..”

your unusually seductive voice makes him audibly gulp. “y— yeah?” he whispers, glancing to the hand thats now moving down over his grey sweats. shit, this was too much, was he dreaming? he should do something, pinch himself before—

“touch me, please?” as you voice your request, you squeeze his dick so nicely that satoru swears he nearly explodes in his boxers.

he swallows, words getting lost in his throat. “i— i uh...”

for the first time in history, satoru has been rendered speechless, and you visibly panic at this realization. yet when you try to carefully maneuver off his lap and give him space, the clutch on your waist intensifies. “what— are you okay? what’s wrong?” you murmur, brows creasing with concern.

though you never brought it up, satoru’s worry about your confusion was correct; you’d been expecting him to jump your bones a week into your relationship, but seeing how he never forced anything and remained respectful was cute.. at first. after a month of rejection and being pushed away whenever things got too heated, insecurities were bound to start brewing inside you.

he better have a damn good explanation.

“i’m fine,” he reassures, “it’s just— i should probably tell you something..” refusing to meet your eyes, the sorcerer resorts to drawing shapes against the skin under your t-shirt. in other situations, this would feel soothing, relaxing even — but currently, his lacking and lingering touch made you want to rip the hairs off your head.

all you wanted was to finally get a taste of your steaming hot boyfriend. what could he possibly need to say right now? you ponder, hasn’t he been dying to finally show off how amazing he is in bed?

“yes..?”

“it’s actually a funny story, ahaha..” he stalls, chuckling nervously as you turn his jaw to make eye contact. a feeling of impatience and neediness pulls through you, but you contain yourself with a deep breath.

“spit it out, satoru.”

there was no going back now, right? “so.. i’ve uh— i’ve never actually done this before.”

you blink.

“you’re a virgin?”

it was difficult to believe your own words; it sounded wrong no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it. satoru being inexperienced? the satoru with a rock hard 6 pack? the satoru with biceps that bulge out of his shirts and a face sharp enough to be sculpted by aphrodite herself? your satoru?

it sounded ridiculous, but the ugly pout rising across his lips tells you that it wasn’t a prank after all. “hey, don’t call me that, now it sounds way worse!”

a sigh escapes your lips, arms folded across your chest. “so all those never have i ever games and stories you told about one night stands were— mph!" before you know it, a large hand is covering your mouth.

“listen, how about we talk about this after having some fun?” a surprisingly determined gleam shines in your boyfriend’s icy blue eyes, making your thighs clench together in excitement.

who were you to say no to that?

—

next thing you know, pillows support your back as a shirtless satoru lies directly in front of your clothed crotch, hot breath making you wiggle around impatiently.

“jus— just take it off me, toru. so damn slow—“

“baby,” he scolds, looking genuinely upset, “this is my first time seeing a pussy in real life and you’re ruining it with your lack of patience.”

you can only roll your eyes and groan, head flopping back against the cushions in boredom. there was no way to predict how satoru’s first time would go, but you never expected it’d be this agonizing on your end — nor that he’d be so bossy.

though luckily, after another deep breath, your panties are gently tugged down your legs, and satoru can only inhale as he watches your poor hole clench around nothing. it only made sense that after all that dry humping and making out that your neediness increased, and it didn’t help that you could clearly see the way satoru was not only rock hard, but much bigger than average through his grey sweats.

“ooh.. oh shit..” like the invasive pervert he is, satoru moves even closer to the point where your thighs rest on his muscular shoulders before taking two fingers to spread your lips apart. this way, he has a clear view of the place that needs him most, and it makes a furious blush blossom on your cheeks.

“s— satoru.. what are you doing?” now you felt like the virgin, desperately attempting to shut your legs with no avail. damn this big idiot and his strength.

suddenly, his piercing eyes snap up to you, a feral look in his gaze. “shit, how’m i gonna fit in this little hole?”

you can’t deny the way his dirty words does something to you — not that you’d ever admit it. “that’s why you gotta prep me, toru. y’know..” you gulp, “fingering, or like.. eating me out.”

in response, you get a cheshire grin. “sounds fun. show me how you do it, sweets.”

“w-what?”

satoru leans back, attemping to hold in a mischievous smile. “how else am i gonna learn?”

even masturbating alone makes you flush in slight embarassment, so doing it in front of someone else — your cheeky, shamleess boyfriend no less — had you drowning in nerves. the bigger problem was that his words held a strong point; you’re supposed to be teaching him for his first time and ensuring it’s as enjoyable as possible.

these reminders make you mumble out a gentle fine, breath stuttering as you spread your legs further for the man in front of you.

satoru is now resting his weight on the palms of his hands, looking laid back and relaxed, but evidently still focused at the way your fingers move to unclasp your bra with skill. “damn..” as your tits are freed, he finds himself needing to adjust his sweatpants and nearly letting out a pathetic noise you would definitely tease him for.

you gulp, trying to ignore his blatant gawking. “it’s good to.. y’know, tease a bit before getting straight to it. makes it feel better — for me, at least,” you explain while massaging your chest, hiding surprise at the way he sternly nods in understanding.

now that you think about it, something tells you this is the most focused satoru has ever been in a learning environment.

after a bit more pinching and fondling, your hands slide down to your stomach and thighs, trying to get your breathing to relax. having gojo watch you do something so private was.. surreal, but you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet before, if that meant anything.

once you finally move down to your most intimate part, satoru takes a deep breath. he watches as you use your fingers to reveal a small bundle of nerves, pulsing and desperate for attention. “this is the clit, toru. s’very important.”

his eyes light up. “oh, i know that one!” he announces proudly, “i remember suguru saying i have to.. uh, worship it or something.”

you snicker at the thought of geto giving out sex pointers. “mhm, sometimes penetration isn’t enough, so you need to give it attention or i can’t really finish.”

gently, you start massaging the bud in circles, humming at the feeling of finally getting some type of relief. you move down to your hole to collect some of your wetness before bringing it back up, letting out a moan in satisfaction.

the way satoru licks his lips as you finally plunge a finger into your wetness has you shivering, but you remind yourself that for now, this was simply a demonstration and that you’d get a taste of him later.

after adding another, you attempt to reach your sweet spot by curling upwards, but it seems that even your hopelessly inexperienced boyfriend could tell that it was getting nowhere.

“aw,” he pouts teasingly, “lil’ fingers can’t reach anything, huh?”

“shut— shut up, satoru.”

before you know it, he’s moved onto his stomach again, face to face with your pussy and gripping your now soaked fingers. “you use these pathetic things when y’masturbate, huh? imagining my dick while having such tiny fingers up your cunt? kinda offended, babe..”

you feel your tummy flip, where did he learn to talk like that?

“do you have to be so vulg—“ you’re cut off by a choking gasp as a warm, wet muscle licks a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit.

“thanks for the lesson. ‘think i got it from here,” is all satoru says before he’s diving in, slurping up as much of your essence as possible before latching his plush lips right onto your poor little clit.

you can’t help but wiggle around at the jump in stimulation, but that only lasts about five seconds before a muscular arm presses you firmly against the mattress, rendering you trapped and unable to escape to his ministrations.

“hey, slow down!” your words are coincidentally yelped out right as he wiggles a much bigger finger into you. it explores your insides eagerly, caressing and feeling up what satoru believes will be his new favourite place.

“wow..” sluuurp, “so warm n’ soft in here..” he happily mumbles against your pussy. the vibrations of his now deeper voice shoot through you like electricity, eliciting another choked whine from your throat.

it felt like he was just toying with you; looking way too content drinking up everything you offered, fluid rushing down his chin and nose pushed firmly against your pelvis to inhale your scent.

suddenly, he’s jabbing his fingertip right into that pocket of sunshine that makes your eyes roll back, a loud whimper leaving your throat before you could stop it. “satoru, right there!” he swiftly seperates from your clit just to mumble out a here? in confirmation, prodding your sweet spot over and over in record breaking speed.

when you nod, he grins smugly, now adding another finger to stretch you further. “mmmph, this is pretty fun. could lie here all night.”

luckily, you barely process his words, much too busy enjoying the best finger-fuck of your life — and this was only his first time, you remember, what will the bastard do to you once he’s got some practice in?

a shaking hand tumbles into his snowy locks, attempting to pull him back weakly. “wait, m’gonna cum, toru—“

gojo growls almost animalistically, tugging your hand back onto the sheets. “then fuckin’ do it,” he demands. “c’mon, i’ve earned it, right?” then, he sucks even harder, fingers slamming and curling and making the loudest squelch you’ve ever heard.

“see?” he continues, “lil’ cunt wants to cum so bad for me. knows who 'er owner is already.” his filthy words definitely take part in the way your orgasm hits like a train, body shaking and toes curling as you let the feeling of bliss take over you. you flinch at how swiftly his tongue licks up everything you give him, the fingers in his hair tugging harder in overstimulation.

“toruuuuu..”

he simpers, tasting his cum-covered lips. “yeeees?”

“this— this is your first time, i should be making you feel good.”

slowly but surely, your eyes reopen, meeting your boyfriend’s relaxed gaze as he rubs your thigh affectionately. “dunno what you’re talking about, i felt pretty good just now.” when you only pout further, he snickers, pushing some of his bangs back smoothly. “c’mon, there’s lots of time for you to get me off later. m’ too excited for the main event..”

at last, he reaches for his sweatpants, more than excited to tug them down and finally give his aching cock some freedom. satoru doesn’t think he’s ever had a more painful boner in his life, but it was all worth seeing you release all over his tongue and fingers.

right as he finishes untying the knot, pale fingers drifting up to the waistband, you’re smacking him away to make room for your own hands. he watches with an open mouth as you pull his boxers down along with his pants, leaky, hard cock springing free and nearly hitting you in the face.

shit, of course his dick is perfect too. with a bit of white hair at the base, bulging veins adorned the entirety of his massive length, and the tip — shit, the tip was even bigger than the rest, mushroom shaped and angry red. his balls looked equally agitated and full — the epitome of breeder balls, and you gulped at the thought of him filling you up with everything they had.

now his question from earlier made sense, and he seems to be enjoying the realization on your face from his spot kneeling on the bed. “like what’cha see?” he coos, one big hand lowering to relieve the aching in his balls.

“toru, i don’t know if you’ll even fit. why— why do you have to be so big?” it’s annoying, you want to say — but the white-haired man has already laid back and manhandled you onto his chiseled stomach, a yelp escaping you at his suddenness.

he’s smiling so hard at your little dilemma that it’s almost sick, hands resting behind his head cockily. “tell me more while you ride me, baby.”

after processing that all you’ve been doing is feeding his size kink and inflating his already massive ego, you frown. “i’m serious, toru!”

“what!? i’m serious too!” the man defends with fake innocence, blue eyes shining in glee. “you’re the expert here, remember? ‘supposed to be teaching me how it’s done.”

all you do is grumble whilst moving down to sit between the sorcerer’s thighs, lightly prepping him with your fist and a dribble of spit from your mouth that has the white-haired male biting his lip. “fuck..” satoru can’t recall how many times he’s masturbated to the mental image of this exact moment, but now that it was finally happening, he promised himself to savor it as much as possible.

when you move to finally straddle him, hole hovering just above his length, he begins bucking his hips up desperately. “hurryyy…”

“are you in heat or something?” you snort, giving him a dirty glare as if you weren’t about to let him inside you.

“for you? yeah.” satoru offers you a cheesy wink and grin that dissipates the second your warmth encloses his aching tip. his hands slowly move up to grip your waist, jaw clenching in an attempt to not slam you down to his balls right then.

“ngh… fuuuck, baby,” he groans as you ever so carefully move down another inch. “jesus.. you’re sooo damn tight. dunno’ how you’re even taking me..”

you squeeze your eyes shut in attempt to bare the discomfort for him, a slight crease growing between your brows. “satoru, fuck— hurts..” he immediately reopens his eyes in worry, searching for a way to take your pain away.

yes, he could already tell that he enjoyed being meaner with you in bed — but it’s never fun if you don’t feel good as well. though he luckily recalls your lesson from earlier, moving a soft thumb down to massage your clit in tight circles.

when you jolt and nearly faceplant into his neck, he only grins proudly, now using one veiny hand to help push you further onto him. “theeere we go.. aw, feel better?”

“mhm, feels full..” you mumble back, looking down to see that you — unbelievably — still had a couple inches to go.

satoru feels like he’s about to burst on the other hand, thriving in pure ecstasy at the feeling of your walls massaging him just perfectly. he can’t help but thrust up and force his last inches inside you, an echoing smack! of skin against skin singing through the room and eliciting a startled yelp from your throat.

“toru!” despite your scolding, you can’t deny the perfection in which his tip kissed your g-spot effortlessly. his hands felt ever so soothing, comfortingly running up and down as you sat impaled on his cock, wiggling around to get comfortable and ruining him in the process.

just as you start to adjust, you feel yourself being lifted up. “m’ sorry sweets..” gojo suddenly voices, “i can’t..”

“huh? what do you m—ah!” you’re flipped onto your back before you know it, knees resting on the shoulders of your boyfriend who has a gleam in his pupils that you’ve quite frankly never seen before; he looked feral.

satoru carefully pulls out until only his tip is encased in your warmth, and everything is calm for a moment. you both take a deep breath, and he smiles down at your already fucked-out face with pride. “satoru—“

then he’s pushing back in with all the strength his massive hips can produce, and you think if it weren’t for his hands wrapped around your thighs, you would’ve got pushed off the bed entirely. you unintentionally let out the loudest sound of the night, and this sets him off.

now he was getting brutal, bullying your cunt with hit after hit against the spot that has drool dripping down your cheek and eyes crossing. you can’t even stop the pathetic noises and symphonies of right there! that leave your lips, no matter how hot your cheeks flush in embarrassment. it felt as though every time his dick jabbed back in he was right up in your tummy, veins pulsing and ensuring your pussy is molded to the perfect sleeve for him.

“toru, shit— nghh, faster, please! feels s’good!”

“nghh, toru, faster! ahaha..” he mocks you — of course he does, but picks up the pace nonetheless — now holding your lower body up so that your knees dangle higher over his shoulders and each stroke is angled exactly where you want him. “so cute when you’re gettin’ stuffed full, baby.”

he leers as you send him the harshest expression you can manage, reaching down for your clit and giggling as you start squirming in an attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. this bastard is having way too much fun, you realize, moans being forced out of you almost tauntingly.

tonight you discover that satoru’s way of fucking is rather animalistic, frantic, thrilling, and with the sole purpose of making you both feel as good as possible. if you want him to go slow or make love to you, you’d probably have to ask beforehand — or perhaps tie him up so you could have your fun in peace.

if your insides weren’t being rearranged, you’d grin at the thought of your boyfriend restrained and at your mercy. another night, you promise yourself.

“tightest pussy ever f’my first time baby.. haah.. can’t believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.” for once, something praising comes out of his big mouth, breathes getting cut short every time you involuntarily squeeze him harder. he swears there’s no better feeling then what you were giving him right now, not even singlehandedly resurrecting himself using the reversed curse technique.

and while no injuries have ever left a scar on gojo satoru, he decides that the claw marks you’re ruthlessly digging into his back will stay as long as his body allows — why should he hide how good he’s made you feel despite being a virgin an hour prior?

maybe if he’s in the mood to brag, he’ll show them to suguru later.

“feels good toru, fuckin’ me so good,” you feel the way his whole body reacts to your praises, a deep growl melting from his lips as the sounds of skin slapping increasingly grows in volume.

“babyyy,” he pants, legs being held higher while he digs deeper into your guts, “m’gonna cum.. need you to cum with me.“ the twitching of his length inside you gave away the fact that gojo has practically been on the edge ever since he pushed into you — and while he knows it’s completely normal to cum prematurely on your first time, when has he ever not gone above expectations?

in a split second you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, veiny hands pushing you into a deep arch while your boyfriend gives his body a moment to relax, pinching his base (a rather perverted method he’s learned by edging himself while masturbating) between his thumb and pointer.

when you needily wiggle your hips in an attempt to find his cock again, he grins boyishly. “lookin’ for this?” he sings the words right before plunging his entire length back into you, abusing your g-spot while a lanky finger impressively finds the bud between your legs right away (a skill that most ‘experienced’ men you’ve previously been with fail to achieve), circling and pinching in a frantic attempt to make your orgasms arrive in sync.

“fucking hell.." you whine, the new angle making his tip bump against spots that have never been rubbed before. “can feel you so deep..”

“oh yeah?” his bicep pulls you up so your head rests on his broad shoulder, now victim to the filth being whispered directly into your ear. “m’ i doing good? fuckin’ this lil’ pussy nice and deep like she needs?”

when you nod, he beams like a maniac, seemingly encouraged to pound you even harder as his hips pick up the pace. “damn, ‘think i’m already a pro at this, huh?”

for the sake of your sanity, you ignore his bragging. “toru, don’t stop. i’m— i’m gonna..”

“you’re gonnaaa?” he derides, kissing the corner of your lip sweetly. “tell me, baby.”

“gonna cum for you, please.” satoru almost decides to fill you up at those words, but his self control is just a bit stronger. he feels the way your cunt is pulsing, body practically shaking as you get closer and closer to release, and he’s determined to help you reach it.

his thrusts get a bit sloppier, and you’re too busy basking in your own pleasure to see the eye-candy that is gojo biting his swollen lips, sweat dripping down his temples all the way to his solid abs, snowy bangs a tad bit moist against his forehead. he looked like the definition of temptation; straight out of a wet dream with stamina that seemingly never declined.

“me too, baby. c’mon, cum on this dick. s’all yours to ruin.”

you moan as you allow yourself to let go, toes curling and nails digging into his toned forearms ecstatically. “thaaat’s it, good girl.. ahah.. such a good girl f’me.” he talks you through it as if he’s done so a million times, both of you looking down to watch your release coat his dick and the crumpled sheets below.

at his praise, you squeeze him just a bit tighter, making his lips curl up in interest. “my girl likes being praised, huh? yeah.. doing so good makin’ a mess on me..”

he pulls out, carefully lowering you to the mattress before tugging on his dick in hopes of reaching his own peak. satoru forces himself to open his eyes just enough to admire the view of you fucked out below him, body shaking slightly as you recover from the intense waves of your orgasm.

“y/n,” he abruptly whines, patting your shoulder with a subtle urgency in his voice.

“..mhmm?”

“where can i cum? quick baby— please, i’ve been holding this for way too long—“ this has your body moving, eyes popping open as you swiftly bend down so your mouth hovers directly in front of him.

you replace his fist with yours as soft lips move to suckle harsly on his leaking tip, and now it’s gojo who has his eyes rolling back; whimpers flying out of his throat every time your tongue massages the delicate underside, sending visible shocks through his body. “fuck!” he can only curse and run his fingers through your hair for support while you pump him dry. “just like that, good.. haah.. good fuckin’ girl, shiiit.”

you’ve never seen your boyfriend — the strongest — look so pathetic and desperate, but it only spurs you on further, enjoying the way he continues to blabber about how pretty you are and how he’s gonna fill your mouth like he would your pussy. in response, you greedily hum around him, licking through his slit as if you were pleading the little hole to give you what you deserved.

and only moments later, satoru’s words become reality; though he attempts to keep revelling in the feeling of your warm lips and hands, his body stills in place instinctively, one last warning tumbling out of his throat as your mouth is flooded with rope after rope of bitterly sweet fluid.

it seems like your accusations about his breeder balls were correct, because once it starts it seemingly never ends; cum now overflowing from the corners of your lips as you struggle to swallow frequently enough to not choke on how much he deposits.

meanwhile, gojo feels like he is quite literally ascending, everything becoming unimportant next to you and the feeling of pleasure being forced through him like an overwhelming earthquake, pulse after pulse as you suck him for all he’s worth.

“thas’ right.. take every damn drop, baby.” when satoru looks down and earns a glimpse of the white fluid trickling down your chin, his dick twitches in your mouth. “god, you’re so sexy..”

once he was done, you both flop onto the bed in exhaustion, and while the vulnerable moment has utmost potential to become something cute and memorable, a certain blue-eyed bastard decides to open his mouth once again.

“what’re you huffin’ and puffin’ for?” he sasses, shamelessly eyeing the way your tits rose and fell with every breath you took. “all you did was lie there while i had a full body workout!”

you take a very deep breath. “i just let you put your dick inside me. shut the fuck up.”

at your reminder of what’d just occurred, he grins like an idiot. “you’re right, thank you.” they’re soft, but he ensures his words are as audible and genuine as he can make them.

satoru isn’t exactly the best with words, but he knows damn well that — despite all the bullshit he'd spouted at those parties — you’re the only person he wanted to have his first time with, and the fact that you allowed his wish to become reality is something he’ll forever be grateful for.

“i love you..” you soften. “even if you’re a pillow princess.” you stiffen again.

nothing could stay lovey-dovey with him for too long.

a fake cry is pulled from his lips as you rudely smack his shoulder. “i tried to ride you but you flipped me over after ten seconds!”

“it’s not my fault you're as slow as a fuckin' snail!”

somehow, you both make it to the washroom despite all the banter. just as you bend over in hopes of starting the shower up, a mean spank is delivered to your ass.

when you turn to meet the culprit, he only narrows his eyes at you playfully. “round two, m’lady?” it’s almost like his voice lowers on purpose, dirty words rumbling in his throat, knowing what it did to your body.

you do your best to send him a disappointed glance anyway. “day one of not being a virgin and you’re already the horniest man i know.”

after following you inside, his fluffy hair flattens from the steamy water before nudging you back, encasing you between him and the solid wall.

“i might be willing to overlook the fact that you know other horny men if you agree to some very loving, extremely intimate making out,” he requests with a smirk, sleek nose poking yours in a much gentler way than expected.

you still send him a distrusting raise of your brow. “only making out, huh?”

the dirty smirk he sends you is all you need to know, along with his hardened dick pressing against your thigh as he moves in to kiss you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

mlist! gojo showing off his back scratches! <- if you enjoy silly virgin gojo pls lmk in the reblogs, comments, or asks <3

tags: @gojoallmine @allofffmypeaches @haitaniholic @pandoraium

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dragibus-woso · 2 months ago

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Hot Mountains

TW : Smut, multiple partners, strap-on, alcohol, dirty talk. credits @cafekitsune

You smirk when Leila can't help but chuckle in the quiet of the dorm where you are. To celebrate Laia Codina's birthday you went to the mountain, renting a big house for all of you. It was after Christmas and before the first trainings of the year, it was a perfect timing to meet each other. Some of your friends weren't in Spain, but you still manage to have a great time.

And a great night.

Leila and you might be the only ones who were not sleeping, you all went to bed almost one hour before and you can hear some of them snoring. For their defense, alcohol was consumed without moderation tonight. Which wasn't usually the case, almost all of you being footballer.

Leila and you aren't sleeping, you flirted almost all night long, giggling together like horny teenagers. Your teammates weren't surprise to see you like this, it's always how you are acting together. It's very known by a lot of them that Leila and you have that sex friend's relationship. Sex without attachment is what you need right now.

And you are horny, Leila barely kept her hand for herself all night and the heath between your legs is more than persistent.

Leila leaning on you right now to suck at you neck isn't helping either.

"Leila" you half-whispers, half-moan under her lips.

"Fuck. I need you so bad."

She is straddling one of your legs and you can feel her heath through your pants.

"We can't do that here" you whisper, turning your head on your right.

Alexia is sleeping next to you while you are between her and Leila. Next to Leila is the wall, which is more convenient, but there is no way that Alexia catches you having sex.

"You just have to be silence."

Leila is smirking while looking at you. You didn't expect for her to slide her hand between your legs, but you know that she can feel your wetness like this. The squeak you let go can attest to the difficulty you have in remaining silent.

"You're so wet. I want to taste you again so bad"

You might die right now. Closing your eyes you try to calm down your excitement but it's impossible. Not with Leila like this on you, saying those kinds of things to you.

"Come on. I even take the strap" she whispers.

She knows how making you flinch. She prevents you from tightening your thighs together, holding them firmly apart with her hands.

"Ok" you finally say.

You don't see her happy smile when she gets up from the bed to rummage discreetly in her bag. Not more than a minute later, she's back with the little black bag you know so well. To have a better look at her, you have leaned on your elbows.

Putting the bag next to your head, Leila leans again on you, lying down on you.

"First, let me warm you up."

You don't have time to answer that you don't need to, actually. She kisses you hard, her body covering yours almost everywhere. You don't waste time before putting off her shirt, grabbing her chest with both of your hand. You know what she likes too.

She has her tongue in your mouth which prevent her for moaning too loud when you pinch her nipples, feeling them tighten under your fingers.

You feel her excitement becoming bigger when she sloppily sneaks her hand under your underwear, pinching at your clit. Your surprise explain why you grab her breast harder, but it makes her moan again.

You stop your movement to be sure that no one is up, but Leila doesn't. You feel her hips grind against you, her clit presses against your tight. Her breath is hot and short against your neck, and she bites you under her pleasure.

You take a big breath when she sticks her nails in your skin, her strokes being now quicker and harder. You then grab her ass to help her with her movements, her high-pitched cries making you wetter than ever.

Leila comes hard on your tight, biting you again in your neck to prevent any sound coming out of her mouth. You bite your lips too, not wanting to make any noise. When her orgasm is finish, Leila let herself go against you, before rolling on her back next to you.

"Fuck" she mumbles, passing a hand on her forehead to remove strands of hair stuck by sweat.

"You’re okay?" you smirk, looking at her while getting on your side.

"Yeah" she breaths. "I just feel like I hit a wall"

You don't say anything, stroking her naked body with your hand, letting her time to take her breath again. But when she opens her eyes, you can see how sleepy she is.

Doesn't sound good for your own release.

"I'm sorry, I just... I think the orgasm plus the alcohol isn't a good thing for me. Can we maybe continue that tomorrow at your flat?"

To be honest you were hopping to have something too tonight, but you aren't the kind of person pushing someone else for it. So, you try to swallow your deception and just nod, smiling softly.

"Yeah. No worry."

Leila smiles at you and closes her eyes. In like five seconds she's dead asleep next to you.

Closing your eyes in frustration, you let yourself fall on the mattress again. You don't have the choice but to fall asleep too. Except that your body is almost screaming for any kind of release.

You don’t have the choice.

Your eyes still closed, you let your hand slide along your stomach to go between your legs. You're so hot and wet here that it's almost embarrassing.

You were about to touch your clit when you feel a hand on your arm, making you open your eyes suddenly again. You are relieved that Leila seems to have suddenly find a second breath.

Except that the eyes in which you fall aren't the black eyes of Leila. Those eyes are hazel, even darken by desire. You never have seen such a look in Alexia’s eyes. Her breath is quick too and she doesn't have to say a world for you to understand that she probably heard everything.

"Let me help you?" she whispers seductively.

You nod and gulp, looking at her when she moves to place herself above you. Her movement makes the mattress move a little and something soft is suddenly against your temple. You turn your head to see the small black bag, where the strap is.

You look at Alexia again and you see her smirks at you. Again, she doesn't have to talk. You know she knows what's inside.

"Do you want me to help you with that?"

To be honest, you are so horny that you would probably have accept everything she would have propose to you. But the way she talks, the way she looks at you and the way her body is dominant, you might explode in a very short time.

Of course, you nod again. Do you want Alexia to fuck you with a strap-on? Hell yeah.

The blonde sits on your legs, grabbing the bag in one hand.

"Turn around."

She's taking the strap out of the bag when you oblige, laying on your front. You hear Alexia moving behind you, but something in you prevents you to look at her.

When you finally want to do it, you feel her hands on your hips, making you jump softly. You don't know if Alexia doesn't realize it or if she doesn't want to give it any importance. It doesn’t stop her from passing her thumbs under the elastic of your underwear anyway.

Her fingers are hot against your skin, but it makes you shiver anyway.

Alexia doesn't talk when she pulls down your underwear and pants at the same time, in a single fluid movement. She doesn't take them off completely, letting them somewhere in the middle of your tights.

"Spread those pretty legs of yours, will you?" she whispers seductively, leaning to have her lips next to your ear.

You can feel the strap between your cheeks when she leans again to lick your neck. Your pussy is pounding.

You do as she says, in the best way you can with your clothes still half on your thighs. You feel Alexia positioning herself behind you and the tip of the strap against your cunt. You weren't expecting of her to take you immediately with it, maybe to work with her fingers at first.

But you don't have time to say anything before she starts pushing in you and the situation is so exciting for you that you definitely are wet enough for it. Sure, you can still feel yourself being stretched around the strap and it does hurt a little. But she manages to bottom you out in the first try, hitting the right spot.

She then grabs your hips to put your ass a little higher in the air before getting out slowly of you. To try to breath better, you turn your face on the side, looking where Alexia was allegedly asleep several minutes before.

But she's definitely not asleep now, fully entering you again in one hard movement, almost making you scream in pleasure. You grab the sheets and bites the pillow while she rails you. Each movement faster and harder than the one before.

You feel her tights slapping against your ass at every trust and you get on your knees for her to have a best angle. You can hear how wet you are, if you aren't making any noise with your voice, your body is betraying you if someone else isn't asleep.

Alexia's fingers on your hips aren't smooth, they are grabbing you with strength and you are sure that you will have the marks of them on your skin tomorrow.

But you don't care, not with all the pleasure you are getting right now, not with the way she keeps hitting you right where you need.

Alexia grunts from time to time behind you and you know that the strap is stroking against her clit, giving her pleasure too.

The pressure in your belly is getting bigger and you know that the orgasm you were looking for is coming. She doesn’t stop at any time, her stamina pretty impressive for someone who drunks alcohol during the night.

"Ale-" you manage to whine between silent moans of pleasure.

"Hush. Come if you need it, but I won't stop until I'm coming too."

A few trusts later, you feel like your body just exploded. You are shaking hardly against the mattress, your face hidden in the pillow to mask the moans of pleasure you aren't able to restrain this time.

Alexia is still fucking you like no tomorrow through it. The only difference is that she now has put her hand next to your elbow on the mattress, pinning you even harder against it, trapping your body with hers. She’s everywhere on and in you.

All your body is on fire and her persistent movements aren't getting tired. When you turn your head to have a look at her, you can see that she's looking right at your face. She smirks at you when she sees you watching her, before giving you a particularly hard trust.

Another orgasm is already coming, different from the first. You can feel it becoming stronger and stronger and Alexia probably feels it with how much your walls are tightening against the strap, making harder for her to fuck you. Your body is shaken mercilessly by the hard moves of Alexia.

But she doesn't stop and before you are able to prevent her, you come again. This one is devastating. You silently scream in the pillow, feeling a new wave of wetness drip between your legs. Your body get rigid, your back arching and your hips moving faster under Alexia.

Your high last for a long time, your body shaking without you being able to control it. You feel like it last for an eternity and when you come back at yourself, Alexia is still pounding hard into you. The pleasure is almost too much, your body pleading for rest.

You turn your face to have a look at Alexia again and this time she's not looking at you. Her eyes are closed, and she puts so much force on and in your body that you can't move. The tiredness of your two orgasms might not help either.

Alexia's face makes you understand that she's close too, so you shut your eyes and take on you to let her come too. She groans when she does, pounding in you one last time so hard that you move a few centimeters on the mattress, your head hitting the headboard.

Alexia then makes circular movements with her hips to get rid of her orgasm, making you moan again in pleasure. You never felt this way. Your tights are wetter than ever, your body is wrecked but asking for more.

"Fuck, you're so hot. You want more Sweetheart?"

You can't talk so you just moan in answer, your hips moving by herself against the strap-on. You feel Alexia move beside you, the strap going deeper in you again.

"Look at you, meowing like a cat in heat" Alexia groans in your ear.

"Please" you moan back.

"Please what?"

"Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want with me, but I need to come again"

Alexia grabs your clitoris between two of her long, thick fingers and it's only her hand slamming against your mouth that prevent everyone to hear your screams of pleasure.

"Shut up"

She manages to keep you against her, one hand torturing quickly your clit while the other is still press against your mouth. She starts to pump into you again and it's only a matter of minutes before you come once again, unable to control the whimpers and moans coming from you.

Alexia let you some time before informing you that she will pull out. She doesn't have remove her hand from your mouth which was a good idea, because you can't help but whimper when you feel empty again.

You can't understand the different sounds around you, but when you open your eyes again, Alexia has put the strap back in its bag. She seems a little breathless too when she lies next to you, in her bed again.

She looks at the ceiling before looking at you with a smirk.

"Well, if your sexfriend let you unsatisfied again, you know where to find me."

#woso smut #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso one shot #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #alexia putellas smut

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gayandfairycore · 7 months ago

Text

But it’s better if you do

Summary: Being Jennifer checks human girl friend and being best friends with needy, instead of Jennifer finding needy when she freshly turns she finds you. You struggle to find the right time to confess your love for the demon girl, when People of devils kettle go missing you can’t bring yourself to care when the succubus’s lips are on yours.

Warnings: reader doesn’t really care about anyone but Jennifer, homoerotic gay friendships are my fav, Jennifer killing and eating boys normal succubus things, arson, a complicated relationship with Jennifer where she kisses reader w/o consent, stalking, breaking and entering, probably more but I’m not sure!

A/n: I love Jennifer check so much I’m only like 80% proud of this fic but man Jennifer is so hot & what else could I do aside from using a patd song!

✧༺༻∞

Melody lane, a shitty little jukebox club in the middle of devils kettle usually filled with drunk old men, crusty teenagers, and Jennifer’s flings.

But occasionally they had a half decent band playing. And okay alcohol when Jennifer actually managed to convince the bartender. the only way you’d ever hear any of them was when Jennifer managed to drag yourself and needy along with her to the club to watch as she seduced either a new fling, or an old one.

You never minded Jennifer dragging you to places, you liked the company, I fact youd jump when the girl invited you to one of hers and needys sleepovers, it was usually filled with sinful thoughts, movies you’d rented, and shroud gossip about your drab peers. To you Jennifer and needys were the most interesting people in devils kettle.

But there was something especially, special about Jennifer. from her sensual smile, to the way she’d bite her lip when you were near, the the taste of her lip gloss, and the nights her lips were on yours. You’d deal with the disappointment of going back to friends the next morning as long as you got to feel the girls cold hands on your body.

she was addictive. so addictive, you’d stay in a constant loop of the girls lips on yours as you shared a bed with each other, her touch delicate and light over the skin of your chest. It was the only time her words were ever gentle and not piercing alone with you was the only time she’d let her guard down.

But you loved her in public too, when she was mean and cold. you didn’t mind when she was mean to you, infact you liked her meanness, her spirit, her beauty, her love for fun, her piping hot gossip. You liked Jennifer not just for her banging body but for her soul.

The way her hands would rest on top of yours underneath the table in geography, the way her perfect nails would scratch against your back on your sleepovers.

You loved Jennifer, like you loved breathing.

the night melody lane burned down and the freaks from that band wanted a virgin and some how hypnotised Jennifer to join them in their creepy van needy had to hold you back from chasing after the girl, but from the sound of people’s bones breaking and the smell of their skin burning off when you three were briefly trapped in the club it left you in the wrong headspace. It left you unable to think straight.

the only thing repeating in your head over and over, “where’s jen? Why did I let her go with them? I should have done more.” Over and over again

But from the burning bodies, needys quiet sobs, and watching as your best friend get in a van with freaks all you wanted to do was go home, sit on your bed, and cry. Your ride home in Jennifer’s sea-bring left you itchy and uncomfortable. it felt wrong to sit in Jennifer’s car without her. But still you sat there with the aircon blasting because you couldn’t handle the heat You still felt the residual burn from the fire.

It felt wrong to be safe in a car with needy When Jennifer was probably suffering in the hands of emo guys from a shitty band out of state that decided to lay their seedy sights on devils kettle and take your best friend from you. It felt like one big cruel joke.

“Are you gonna be okay without me?” Needy asked resting her hands on the steering wheel pushing her glasses up against her face. Snapping you out of your thoughts

“Yeah yeah… I’ll be okay will you?” You asked your arms tightly wrapped around yourself the chill of the night air against your uncovered arms was welcomed.

The nerdy girl observed your face, not quite believing you’d be okay by the far off look in your eyes she wasn’t even sure she knew where you were. She was wrong. you knew exactly where you were but your head was out of it. Part of you still left with Jennifer in the van Still fighting needys grip still being held back in needys hold as you watched the girl you love be carted away with strange men.

“Yeah I’ve got chip.” Needy smiled awkwardly your voices quiet in the silence the small car light basking you two in warm orange. Watching eachother in awkward in silence, you were just grateful for your lives. And you’d talk about the effects of this eventually, but not tonight.

“Drive safe needy.” You smiled hand squeezing her shoulder tightly before unbuckling and getting out of the car. The walk to your door had been quick the buzzing silence and the illumination from the street lights left an eerie feeling to chill your bones. Or maybe it was the chill of the night air cooling your burning skin.

slotting your key into the hole and sliding the door open you’re met with your home drenched in darkness. The usual warmth and safety of your house felt unnerving.

The warm yellow lights from your ceiling and the sounds of the tv that sounded like childhood was gone only filled with aching silence. It was like even your home reflected your mood.

The only light was what came from your porch and needys headlights as she left down your street.

you wandered to the kitchen in the dead of night, the familiar creak of the floorboards and the buzz of your fridge calmed your racing thoughts, the only light source from the beeping green timer on the oven that stayed on no matter what you did. This was good.

This meant you were safe. You were home.

As you Pulled out a glass cup and filling it up with sink water, resting against the counter you downed your glass quickly the smooth liquid cooled the dryness in the back of your throat, the smoke from the fire coated your throat and making swallowing difficult.

You felt so sick, climbing the stairs to your bedroom and collapsing on your bed you flick your dated lamp on the warm light illuminating your room you finally let the tension from your body the sound of a creak made you crack your eyes open straining your ears to hear anything else after a few minutes of silence

it was probably nothing climbing under the plush comfy blankets of your bed you felt like a little kid again. safe under the blankets tucked in where nothing could touch you.

Despite your blanket force field you didn’t dare turn off the lights. You keep them on and let them light the room.

You were always terrified of the dark. The only darkness you liked was the back of your eyelids

So you shut your eyes tightly and tried to ignore the horrible stench of smoke littering your clothes and staining your sheets. It would be your mother’s problem in the morning.

✧༺༻∞

When you cracked your eyes open again you were met with the sight of your light turned off and your room shrouded in darkness, Odd.

The world outside your window was also silent no crickets, no cars, just nothing.

Sitting up on your bed your blanket clutched to your chest you strained your eyes to look through the darkness, to adjust to the dimly lit room as you blindly reached your hand for the lamp switch turning it on despite the click you’re only met with darkness.

So you tried again,

Click

Still darkness?

“Fuck sake” you muttered the age of the lamp clearly took its toll and of course it chose today of all days to die.

Pulling the cord to you you’re met with a jagged edge, not the plug pulled out from the Power Point under your bed. But a cord that’s been cut the edges fraying dangerously.

Panic swirls in your chest any semblance of tiredness in you disipates as you observe your room, straining your eyes demanding them to focus. Your heart racing you can’t help but imagine a horrid monster under your bed that’s going to grab your ankle the moment you hop down.

Letting out a quiet whimper at the thought you push yourself against the headboard you’re met with two options: brave getting off the bed, and making a run for the light switch Or…Jumping out the window from the second floor, and splat on the veranda. no.

You’ve got one option,

You’d have to brave the darkness.

Taking a shaky breath you push yourself from the safety of your bed you become alarmingly aware of every step, every sound, every creak. You can hear your breaths in the silent room but something in the back of your mind swears you heard the breathing of something that wasn’t you.

you wonder if you’re being pranked, “ok needy, chip. Not funny!” You call shakily into the darkness.

but when a hand grips your foot and tugs you hard to the floor, you slam painfully against the wood Groaning at the impact it only takes you a minute before your mind is clear again.

And you realise there’s some monster under the bed that tugged you to the floor. And their hands still holding your foot. you scream and tug your leg from their hold with force but still your eyes don’t adjust to the darkness and your scrambling to get back up but the monster doesn’t let you tugging you again to the floor. their hand grips your upper calf leaving a wet, sticky hand print.

What the fuck.

You feel their body crawl over you their cold hand trails your body with force but

Before you can scream again hand is covering your mouth tears well in your eyes at the feeling all the worst scenarios come to mind as you lay there frozen in fear, tears well in your eyes spilling down your cheeks.

“P-please” you whimper in its hold and the monster laughs. It laughs. Or what you think is a laugh it sounds like a horrible gurgle but it must be amused by the way the pressure holding you down lets up only slightly.

Just as quick as the laugh came it’s gone replaced with silence and a monster straddling your hips it feels human.

And in away that makes it worse. When the monsters hands trail your body from your hips to your chest where they settle over the little silver bff locket Jennifer gave you, it brings its wet slimy lips to your cheeks and its tongue slips from its mouth and you come to realise it’s licking your tears from your cheeks. It’s hold lightens immensely as it places a light kiss over your lips and you cry harder unable to see what this thing is, before its pulling back and it’s stopped straddling your waist instead it sits with its hands on the floor and its knees to it’s shoulders.

In the dim moonlight you catch a glimpse of black hair, and a sickly smile

“Are you afraid of me?” It asks with a voice like Jennifer’s and you swallow the bile in your throat

“Yes.” You hoarsely whimper, you’re left with a horrible realisation the lips that just kissed you feel the same as when Jennifer does. Before you can confront this thing masquerading as Jennifer it replies.

“good” just when you think you’re safe the creature skitters back to toward you, you finally see what this creature is, the light a passing car that shines into your window gives you enough time to see the creature and you’re right.

it’s Jennifer, just Jennifer she doesn’t look like some permanently deformed monster she still looks beautiful despite Her face covered in mascara streaks and an inky black substance that littered her pale skin and what looks to be blood on her shirt jennifer smiles and she crawls towards you her hands trailing your chest to her necklace. And she leans near you her lips hovering over the shell of your ear and she places a kiss And it doesn’t feel like it did when you and Jennifer sleepover, or the way she leans towards you to whisper something in your ear at school this is intimate.

But this leaves you questioning If she was Jen why did she go so far to tug you to the floor? Why Did she hold you down? Why did cut your lamp? You had so many questions and by the way the girl observed you it unnerved you, it made it abundantly clear you weren’t getting any answers tonight but still you couldn’t help yourself.

“Jennifer?”you say through tears finally sitting up “Jen…what happened?” You ask tearfully she’s crouching on the balls of her feet her her arms holding her ankles and it’s impulsive but you can’t stop yourself you reach out to touch her cold cheek with a shaky hand.

“Why were you under my bed? What are you covered in?”Your hands still hold the girls face before venturing to her shoulders and you pull her to stand up with you and to your surprise she does it. she watches you with a familiar glint in her eyes and you can see she wasn’t some bogey man. Just Jennifer. covered in what you assume is blood, and an odd black substance, but she was still Jennifer.

“What did they do to you?” You whisper before you can stop yourself, tell yourself that is was just shock. Like shock did this kind of thing to people. You couldn’t trick yourself with lies something happened.

It would do no good to question the girl about it just yet, so you Lead her to your kitchen you filled up a glass of water for the girl and watched as she downed the entire thing before going through your fridge, tugging through all of your food, finding nothing of value.

She turned back to you and she watched you hungrily like she wanted to consume your soul like you were prey and she was predator, like a lion and an antelope on a nature documentary. It made your skin prickle.

“Jennifer? What’s going on?” You pleaded your eyes watching her every move, Jennifer stalks up to you with speed that makes you back track into the counter, and her body entraps you against the counter and her lips ghost yours before she pulls away and you fight the urge to chase her lips you watch as she dashes out the back door, the slam of a screen is the only thing that even told you you were not crazy That and the black goop drying to your body.

✧༺༻∞

The next morning you arrive late to school having missed first period, staying awake into the long hours of the morning too afraid to sleep. from the fire, to your odd encounter with Jennifer it left you shaking, sitting for hours in an extra hot shower trying to pull yourself together although the heat seemed to make your skin prickle and the fire in melody lane burn brighter in your mind. You needing to feel clean, you needed to shower off the grime, and the incident with Jennifer.

Maybe it was The mild case of smoke inhalation in your lungs that made you hallucinate last night but the black goo on your body made you question that theory.

when you finally arrived to your first class of the day you sat beside needy and the girl looked as traumatised as you felt and you don’t have to ask to know she’s had a night similar to yours.

“Hey” you greet and the girl greets a quiet “hi y/n” back but you don’t pay much mind not when you’re teacher begins to talk about the fire and the people who died who went to school with you.

At the mere mention of melody lane needy and yourself share a look with eachother a sense of guilt and dread that you three survived. It wasn’t dread over the fact you survived, you all were happy to be alive but you felt somewhat responsible for the fire despite not even setting it.

Why did three girls who are the most unlikely group of friends survive? Why not everyone else? Were they not equally important? What if one of them were going to cure cancer. Why did you live you weren’t going to cure cancer.

When the door to the classroom swing open and Jennifer walks in looking as perfect as ever, you can’t help but think the girl looks absolutely stunning (like always) your cheeks prickling with the feeling of her hand caressing them last night and you fight the urge to chase the imaginary feeling. Making sure you don’t raise your hand to your cheek over the feeling.

Instead you shake your shoulders like it’ll put your back in the present. It works. But you can’t shake the feeling of your hairs that stand up on the back of your neck as Jen pulls up a seat beside you and her warmth heats your side and her addictive perfume wafts around you, and you can tell she’s watching you with the same look as she always does. A sensual look thats different than the looks she gives her flings, it’s a look that makes you feel like you can’t breathe.

She slathers lip gloss over her plush pink lips as needy attempts to talk sense into Jennifer, you didn’t even realise she was talking. Only catching the final bit of her conversation

“Anyone we know?” You hear Jennifer ask like she doesn’t really care, but there’s a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

“We know everyone…” needy says her eyes watching Jennifer like she’s foreign. And you watch the desk like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

You don’t pay much attention when Jennifer talks about how amazing she feels and how she doesn’t care about the fire. It shocks you truthfully because told but you don’t have the energy to pay attention to anything but the guilt when Craig’s friend, Jonas, starts crying in the middle of class.

You look down at your lap playing with your fingers as Jennifer talks to both yourself and needy you catch sight of needys hands. her nail beds caked with the same inky black substance that assaulted your body and for the first time since Jennifer walked in you look her in her eyes with a sort of horrified intrigue, it wasnt a dream that you conjured up in your fucked up mind. when your eyes flicker to needy something passes between you both. A shared Understanding.

✧༺༻∞

You spent the first day back at school in a weird headspace like your drifting through the hall’s hollow. Like your energy’s stagnant, like a ghost. It’s like you died in that fire.

It’s like you’re not actually here anymore you walk the halls seeing but not observing. Clutching your book to your chest as you walked the halls with needy the sounds of sobbing filled the halls, friends embracing friends it made the scene even more intense.

You were counting every minute down until the end of the day until you could go home watch some tv and stare into space, you stood beside needy looking through your locker as needy told chip about what she witnessed with Jennifer. You couldn’t help but pay attention to her story despite your hands searching for your school book.

“It was like evil…” needy shook her head unable to come up with words to describe it, chip watched the girl with something akin to awkward concern? Although chip was always awkward.

“I think you need to see the school shrink. I love you needy but that’s a little…crazy?” Chip shrugged defiantly before placing a kiss to needys cheek and walking to class.

“Well, I believe you needy. Something happened to me too last night she cut the cord to my lamp and she was under my bed…she pulled me to the floor- Somethings wrong.” Your voice shakes as you lowered it to a whisper confiding in needy with a nod of the blond girls head

“We need more information” needy spoke pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose

✧༺༻∞

When needy called you that night that Jonas had apparently been murdered and eaten it felt like time stilled, What curse was plaguing devils kettle stealing away its people it was odd. It was like melody lane was the one thing that caused a chain of events.

It was no time before news broke again there was another murder.

then another,

then finally Colin gray died after Jennifer agreed to go out with him.

Each murder had the same mo, a cannibal killing. murdering only boys. it was poetic As it was confusing, now you didn’t particularly care for any of these boys why would you? Who needed boys when you had Jennifer and needy? but you would admit to be eaten alive, left in a half finished houses, nothing but carnage with their pants down, rosary clutched in their bloody hands. It was pretty disgusting.

You empathised for these guys but truthfully you didn’t care, not one bit. The only people you cared for was needy and Jennifer and Jennifer had been glowing recently despite the murders, the girl waltzed around not a care in the world, she was living her best life. until she wasn’t.

Then there’d be another murder.

and then Jennifer would look beautiful again (not like she ever stopped but she’d look inhumanly beautiful.) And then shortly after she’d find another boy to toy with at school and in her fling with that boy she’d spend her nights in your bed, her soft fingers playing with your hair as you rested on her knees listening to the latest fall out boy cd And her strawberry lipgloss would leave a sheen on your lips that you’d be tasting for hours after.

And a scent on your tshirts that had you sniffing them for weeks, Then she’d disappear from your hold again. for weeks, she’d leave the sheets cold and her absence ever growing.

And you lay in your bed re-listening to fall out boy, and smelling her perfume on your tshirt to quench the Jennifer shaped hole in your life.

And she’d stop glowing, and she’d look tired, at school hair lifeless compared to its previous glowy form only a week ago.

And it began to make you wonder if maybe it was something more than just pms. It solidified your theory that something darker happened to Jennifer the day melody lane burned to the ground.

Maybe it changed Jennifer so much it made Jennifer kill these boys, you didn’t forget that night at your house where she looked inhuman. where she tugged you to the floor and her lips pressed against yours with force. like she’d have you right then and there like you’d be her last meal.

You had to confront her, Something was wrong with Jennifer check.

✧༺༻∞

It was a normal school day, nothing particularly special happened the morning your house empty by the time you woke up, the heater of your car blowing the same warm air against your cheeks as it always did, then you’d be at school the lively chatter of your fellow students excitement over the upcoming school dance was the only thing buzzing through the hallways

The various murders had become old news, by the time Colin grey died it was no longer of interest to be focused on the maneater “tormenting” devils kettle.

Just as quickly as the chatter came it left, and in its wake left nothing but a trail of murders behind and the horribly popular song released by low shoulder that seemingly took everyone in devils kettle by storm.

You couldn’t give a shit about the murders, these guys never cared about anyone but themselves, plus who needed boys they were useless anyway.

You’re infatuation with Jennifer grew but By this point in time you began to decipher by the help of needy, that Jennifer was a succubus. The blonde had been horrified to learn her friend had been killing these boys. That Jennifer virtually died the night the band shut the van door. Leaving Jennifer trapped with them.

The realisation that you indirectly killed the girl made you want to throw up, you’d never dream of harming the girl so learning you kinda sealed her fate left you wallowing.

The school library was chilly its plastic blue chairs and sad grey carpet left you rolling your eyes. The plain white desks and rows and rows of books left you and needy hidden from prying eyes

Shutting the occult book needy and your self discovered in the library both your hands shook with the realisation your friend was infact a demon, both needy and yourself shared a mildly horrified look and in no time the both of you departed the library the blonde to chip. And you to Jennifer.

✧༺༻∞

Rushing through the halls of devils kettle highschool you didn’t care to observe the faces of your peers opting to instead hurry through the halls to the change rooms Jennifer would have been only now finishing getting changed back from her flag girl practice and she’d always stay later for a long shower, so the room would be pretty much deserted. Perfect.

Flinging open the door to the change rooms you’re met with Jennifer tying her shoes on a small wooden bench the black haired girl lifts her head as you enter the room her usual bored expression plastered on her face her lips perfectly glossy and her eyes watched you with a sense of unnerving pleasure.

Like she enjoyed reading you to see when you’d figure her out.

“I know what you are” you tried to hide the shake in your voice when you spoke closing the change room door and stepping towards her. cringing inwardly at how blunt you seemed you refused to let the facade of fearlessness die so easily so you watched as Jennifer’s perfect lips tipped upward as the revelation

“Do you?” She dragged tucking hair behind her ear and standing up to stalk towards you bumped into the door as you stepped back you stopped the shuddering breath from leaving you when you felt her body creep in front of you her wicked eyes watched you.

“You’re a succubus. You’re the one killing the boys.”

“Boys are just placeholders, they come and they go.” The girl sneered her glossed lips bright as she watched you.

Steeling yourself beneath her gaze you took a breath filling your lungs with humid changeroom air;

“do you deny it?”

Your voice was strong as you stood your eyes boring into eachother you knew your icy tongue wouldnt do the girl any real harm, she’d had her fill she was immortal. Regenerative.

When you were met with silence Jennifer’s cold gaze calculating whether she should confess or kill you now. But the brave look in your eyes and the familiar feeling of your lips on hers she’d grown far too fond of you.

“Do. you. deny. it.” There was no doubt in you, now you were sure, Jennifer was a succubus you just needed her to confess to ensure you were not insane. Staring the girl in the eyes you hardened your gaze and you waited on baited breath for which of you would crack first.

This time,

it was Jennifer.

breaking eye contact she turned her gaze to the ground sighing. “Yes I’m a succubus god.” The girl groaned bored

“how did it happen?” You felt the flood gates open it had been involuntary for your concern to slip out through your cold facade

“The band freaks like totally sacrificed me, when I got into their creepy van it was like the fog on my mind cleared and I realised the trouble I was in, they took me to the falls and I tried to run but they caught me and…” the girl dragged the last bit out before plopping herself down on the bench sitting crisscrossed you sat next to the girl you felt tears well in your eyes.

Jennifer was murdered by the band freaks, and you didn’t try harder to stop her from entering that van, She died because of you.

You felt a lump rise in your throat, “they sacrificed you” you nodded and it felt like you were going to implode looking at your best friend and imagining her bloodied corpse all alone at the falls.

“Mhm, When they caught me they gagged me, and then sacrificed me to Satan- how fucking lame is that!” Jennifer rolled her eyes yet there was a hint of pain shining in her eyes maybe Jen wasn’t completely gone.

“And well after everything happened I managed to find my way to you… I was so hungry but I couldn’t bring myself to kill you, I like you too much.” Despite her bored tone her fingers fiddled in her lap she was nervous to confess this.

“Jennifer” your eyes shone as you watched the girl this was the closest you’d get to Jennifer telling you she loved you, atleast right now. But you understood what the raven haired girl was telling you, and it was like everything she’s done up to this point didn’t matter to you.

“Jen. I don’t care that you have to kill and eat boys, i don’t care that you’re like a demon now? I don’t care about any of it.” You shook your hands as you spoke with volition any confliction you held washed away.

“Jennifer I have loved you since we were kids. you were always my girl. Fuck those guys! The boys you’ve eaten, the band freaks, every pathetic morsel in devils kettle! fuck all of them! I want you, Demon and all.” You exclaimed your warm hands enclosing her cold ones your eyes booring into hers, the shiny sheen of lipgloss on her pink lips made you want to kiss her

It had been months since the fire, months since the girl had caressed your body like she was starving. Like your soft skin bled life itself into her undead heart.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you only had now.

“Can I kiss you?” Your hands hovered over the girls cool cheeks as you asked in a whisper, Jennifer didn’t respond instead the girl shot forward catching your lips into a kiss her lipgloss sticking to your lips as Jennifer had her way with you the girl certainly was a great kisser finally snapping out of your stupor, you kissed her back feverishly.

Both lips fitting together like pieces to a puzzle you hope to never pull back from her lips again. You’d put all of your fears behind you even if it was just for now.

#jennifers body #jennifer check #jennifers body x reader #jennifer check x reader #Jennifer’s body fanfiction #Jennifer check x fem reader #needy lesnicki x reader #needy lesnicki #Jennifer’s body x you #Jennifer check x you

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saylorsaysstop · 10 months ago

Text

Sleeping Together | 18+

also shout out to @joyful-enchantress because after she commented on my Grayson post earlier, this all came to my mind. 🤪

**underneath the cut**

DICK GRAYSON

Dick talks you through it. He wants you to be vocal and makes it his top priority that your needs are met first

"Tell me what you need, baby." - "That's it, just like that, baby. You're close, aren't ya? Yeah, look at you. Come on, grind a little harder. I know you can do it."

Giving head is a sport for Grayson and he excels at it. He eats you out like you're his last meal

The man is an acrobat. He's flexible. All the positions he can get the two of you in should be new entries in the Kama Sutra

Dick loveeeees head in return. He won't ever make you do it or ask, but he loves that you're so eager to pleasure him

"I've been good, haven't I? No other reason to explain why you're gifting me that hot mouth of yours, sweet girl."

Dick isn't afraid to moan either. He knows when the noises start coming out of his mouth, you get off quicker

Let's go back to that acrobatic thing. He may or may not figure out ways to suspend you in the air... He may or may not be such a kinky man that he's got a separate room in your house where he plays sports with you... I'm not admitting it, I'm just saying

Loves for you to suck him off when your head hanging off the edge of the bed. He also loves to eat you out simultaneously

Dick Grayson is a boob man. Both hands on deck, he squeezes and teases your nipples by plucking them between his fingers. Loves to suck on them until they're stiff peaks. Likes to push two fingers into you while he bites your nipple, stroking until he hits that sweet spot. You're a goner after that

Loves for you to take what you want

"Atta girl, ride it just like that. This dick belongs to you, right? Act like it. Pleasure yourself... Yeah, go ahead and play with your clit. Wanna see you come. You're so pretty when you do."

Dick treasures loving on you after sex. He rewards you for your good behavior and a job well done with baths, massages, you name it. He ensures you're taken care of and reminds you that he loves you dearly

JASON TODD

Jason likes it rough. He loves it when he sees your marks on him, whether it be teeth or nails. He collects each one like it is a kill

Ropes? Knife play? Any sort of bondage? Jason Todd is your man

Loves to bind your hands above your head while he rails you deep into the mattress. Loves the idea of you being helpless and unable to take it anymore. Gets him off real quick

Loves some dirty talk

"Take this dick like a good girl." - "You're soaking wet, babe. All this for me?" - "Not gonna waste a drop of this cum, you hear me? You won't let a drop leak outta this cunt - my cunt. You got that?"

Jason likes to get right by your ear while he grunts with each thrust, nipping your earlobe in between before trailing his tongue down your neck and sucking on your collarbone

"Gonna mark this pretty neck up, baby."

You two go at each other until you're a panting mess. Clothes strewn all over the place. Jason and you stare up at the ceiling, laughing like teenagers as you calm down from the high

"I think that was my new personal best. Ten orgasms. Ten!"

Yeah. Jason likes to place bets on who can give the other more orgasms in one night. Right now, he's winning

Jason loves your butt. Loves to slap your cheeks as he bends you over his lap as a warm-up. Carresses and bites the plump skin when he's kissing his way down your body before he hikes your legs over his shoulders and feasts

Likes to feel you breathe against him. He loves to feel your chest rise and fall when he's on top and you're panting for every breath while chasing your orgasm

He's a man who likes to edge that's for sure

"Uh-uh... That wasn't it. You can do better than that. Moan a little louder, that's it..." - "I'm being mean? No, you just need to work harder to come. You wanted this." - "Atta girl. I promise I'll let you come after this."

Jason's aftercare is you two taking a hot bath together where he can just hold your back to his chest and actually talk. You're his safe space

TIM DRAKE

Tim, albeit quiet, is a delectable switch. One day he's all soft and endearing, the next he's plowing you into next week (and blushing when you mention it afterward

He does a lot of studying on sex. What positions feel the best for you, different ways he can go down to ensure he has you screaming his name for all of Gotham to hear

Gets a little possessive during sex, especially when he's losing himself in it

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine, sweetheart. Mine." - "No one else is going to claim you. You belong to me."

He likes it when you pull his hair, especially when he's going down. Feeling you guide him further into you is like a bolt of electricity shooting down his spine

Tim loves to get you relaxed before sex too, especially if he knows it's going to be a long night. He'll run you a warm bath, pamper you with sweet-scented lotions, and get you nice and ready before he unleashes. Fun fact, those nights are when you know he's gonna get rough

Tim won't admit it aloud but he loves a good missionary position or where you two lay facing each other. He loves to caress your face and kiss you softly as he takes you

"Lift your leg, sweetheart... That's it. C'mere. Let me watch that gorgeous face of yours when you fall apart for me, yeah?"

Like Dick and Jason, he VALUES aftercare so. Freaking. Much! Takes a warm cloth to the mess he made between your legs and kisses along the heated skin, telling you how much he loves you

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drunk-person · 5 months ago

Text

The Rumor (Modern Au) P.1

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and uncle and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, fingering, Oral Sex, no description for reader.

Author's note: No accurate update predictions because I need to write, correct, translate and correct again. All this in the middle of a boring adult job. (Adulthood kind of sucks) But I'll do my best to finish it and it won't be a long story.

A/n²: The next chapter is already written, just needs to be translated. I hope you like this little story 💕.

Word cont: 1.400 k

"Hey hey kings landing, to the gossipers on duty it seems that after almost five years in Old Town the Rogue prince's daughter is back in our society. She was seen at the black Water bay airport in the morning, has our dear Targaryen returned to to stay?"

❦❦❦

Aemond had been in a terrible mood all day, the people around him had already given up on getting close to him. According to Lizze, his secretary, he could very well bite anyone who got too close. The reason for the more bitter than normal mood, no one had yet understood.

-Mrs. Mayotte. - Aemond said with a cutting voice from inside his own office and Lizze made a face at Sana, Aegon's secretary, before entering the room.

Shortly after, she returned with a huge stack of folders in her hand and a look of disgust.

-That man was possessed by a demon last night Sana, this behavior is not normal even for him. - Lizze whispered to her indignant colleague, Sana just laughed while filing her nails and looking at things on the Internet, according to Lizze one of the privileges of being a secretary for someone who doesn't work.

Suddenly Sana's eyes widened when she saw something on her phone.

-Oh my seven. - She said in shock, pulling Lizze by the hand and dragging her to the end of the corridor where they could not be heard with the cell phone in hand.

-What is it?

-I think I understand why the man is breathing fire today. - Sana said showing her cell phone to Lizze with the article from the gossip site, which now contained a photo of Y/n at the airport, with her hair braided back, wearing a blouse with low sides, shorts and sunglasses.

Lizze rolled her eyes at her co-worker.

-Sana, these are just malicious rumors that spread around.

-Did her uncle send her to the other side of the country because of a rumor? - Sana raised her eyebrows.

-No, he sent her to study. - Lizze rolled her eyes. - Now enough of that.

-Lizze, do you think it's a coincidence that he arrives here breathing fire from his ears on the very day she returns to the city?

-Sana...

-Lizze, this is no coincidence! - She stated vehemently.

-Which is not a coincidence, ma'am. Heyors? - Came the cutting voice behind Sana and she felt her body freeze as she looked at Lizze with wide eyes.

-N-othing Mr. Targaryen. It's just... just... - She babbled in despair.

-Our grandmothers attend the same dance class. - Lizze spoke quickly in her colleague's place, and Aemond raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

-No matters of a personal nature during working hours. - He spoke in a sharp voice as he went to the elevator. - Cancel my appointments today, ma'am. Mayotte, I don't have anything important and I'll need to leave.

And before one of them could open their mouth he had already disappeared into the elevator. Causing the secretaries to let out a sigh of relief.

-See? - Sana spoke soon after. - It's not just a rumor.

❦❦❦

Aemond didn't even greet anyone before leaving the family company. He just went down to the parking lot, got in his own car and got out of there before he collapsed. It was as if his blood was boiling, he hadn't had that burning sensation inside him for about five years. And now there it was again, Aemond wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel.

The phone rang while he was stopped at the traffic lights, and Aemond eagerly picked it up and was disappointed to see "Floris" written on the display.

-Shit. - He mumbled before answering the call.

-Aemond? - Came the soft voice from the other side.

-Hi.

-Don't forget we're attending Cece's birthday today.

Aemond wanted to hit his head twice as hard. Cece Lanister's damn birthday was definitely the last thing on his mind at that moment.

-Ok, I'm driving. - He confirmed before hanging up with a scowl on his face.

❦❦❦

-Viserys! - Alicent squeaked, staring at her husband in despair.

-What do you want me to do? - Viserys asked tiredly.

-Send her back to Old Town!

-She is already 22 years old, she is of legal age, I can't just send her back there.

-Viserys, you know very well why she came back here, and I will not allow her to take my son down the wrong path.

-They were children Alicent. - Viserys grumbled.

-Viserys they are 17 and 18 years old. They were far from being children.

-Alicent...

-No. - She replied. - She is just like her father, she has no respect for anything or anyone, I welcomed that girl into my home out of pity and how did she show me gratitude? Dragging Aemond along the wrong path. I don't want her anywhere near him!

-Alicent they are of age, we can no longer control what they do.

-Then we must be connivingwith this affront?

-They both probably don't even remember this anymore. It's been years, Aemond has found a girlfriend, finished college, and is working at the company. He's a responsible and mature man, he won't make the same mistakes again.

-And what about your niece? - She arched her eyebrow in irritation and Viserys let out a sigh of frustration.

-I haven't seen Y/n for as long as you, my wife, I can't know, but I'm sure that her time in Old Town as you requested helped her understand that what happened between her and Aemond was wrong.

-I hope so. - She grumbled and left her husband alone.

❦❦❦

Y/n smiled as she walked down the flour street, she missed being home so much. She looked at the Visenya Hills coffee shop and couldn't help but smile even more, the number of times she went there with Aemond wasn't even measurable.

She decided to go into the café and out of sheer nostalgia, she didn't even look at the menu, she just ordered the same thing she always ordered when she went to the place. As soon as she received the order and brought the straw to her lips, a flood of memories came with her and she almost moaned with satisfaction.

-Y/n Targaryen. - Came the execly sweet voice from behind her and Y/n turned around smiling.

-Cece Lanister.

-How long ago, I found out that you came back this morning. - The girl smiled hugging her and Y/n returned the gesture. - How was it in Old town?

-Definitely dull when compared to Kings Landing. - Y/n said rolling her eyes.

-Well, I need your new number. - Cece said, handing the cell phone to Y/n, who smiled at her and typed her own number, saving it with a heart on the front.

-Okay, then call me so I can have yours.

-You totally need to come to my birthday party tonight. - Cece said with a big smile. - It will be your official return to society.

-Oh Cece, I'm so tired from the trip. -Y/n gave the excuse, she wasn't tired. She just had plans to look for someone else.

-You need to go Y/n! Everyone will be there!

-Everyone? - She arched her eyebrow.

-Yeah. - Cece said, pulling out the vowel. - Even Helaena told me that she would go at least for an hour.

Y/n's eyes brightened. If Helaena would be there, he would be there too, he would never let his sister go unaccompanied to an event full of potential idiots.

-Well, I'll try to make an effort. - She smiled sweetly with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

-I'll wait for you! - Cece said ordering her own coffee while Y/n went out into the street again.

She drank her coffee while smilingly observing everything around her, until she passed a magazine stand and saw the cover of one of them.

Targaryen and Baratheon close to announcing engagement?

With a huge photo of Aemond next to Floris Baratheon. Y/n's blood boiled in her veins when she saw that, engagement. Aemond wouldn't be betrothed to some Baratheon bitch if she had a say in the matter, and she most certainly had a lot.

The smile slowly returned to her lips as she looked towards a store window and saw a short black dress that she was sure would look perfect with the heels she had seen two stores ago.

She would go to Cece Lanister's party, and she would go ready to take back what was hers, or she wouldn't be called Y/n Targaryen.

next chapter

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iadoreneteyam · 1 year ago

Text

e!1610 miles w/ a Y2K girlfriend who everyone loves

e!1610 miles who spend his nights in bed texting his girlfriend while kicking his feet back and forth like a teenage girl in an 80's movie

e!1610 miles who practically skips to school the morning after texting his girlfriend

e!1610 miles who can immediately pick his girlfriend out in a crowd due to her abundance of accessories

e!1610 miles that couldn’t understand why a pretty popular fashionable girl would wanna date the kid who made a public humiliation of himself his first day

e!1610 miles who remembers that the same day he watched his girlfriend sit at a table that had way to many chairs at it

e!1610 miles who also remembers the first time his girlfriend talked to him and told him “nice shoes”

e!1610 miles who loves the fact that,despite the strict dress code uniforms at visions, his girlfriend always manages to express herself through her clothes

e!1610 miles who doesn’t know how in the world his girlfriend made it through the front door without getting dress coded for her obnoxiously large heart earrings and the fact she switched out the boring uniform brown belt for one that was covered in jewels and swirly patterns

e!1610 miles who stuttered and stumbled over his words the minute his girlfriend brought up meeting his parents

e!1610 miles who is over the moon that his girlfriend sees their relationship good enough to reach the level of meeting parents

e!1610 miles who’s excitement immediately drops to the ground when he realizes that if his girlfriend meet his parents then he’ll have to meet yours

e!1610 miles who becomes undoubtedly nervous as he stares down at the ‘I’m outside’ text his girlfriend had just sent him

e!1610 miles who tries his best to rush to the door before his mom but ultimately fails

e!1610 miles who wants to nervously bite his nails dramatically like he was in a cartoon at the sight of his mother standing in front of his girlfriend with her hand on her hips

e!1610 miles who thanks god his girlfriend had sense enough to not call his parents by their first names

e!1610 miles who smiles so hard that his face was starting to hurt when he watched his girlfriend and his mother bond over each others outfits (I know for a fact that in the 2000’s when her and Jeff met she dressed up in the low rise jeans, chunky belts, tight baby tees, animal print bras, I’m talking the whole nine yards)

e!1610 rio morales who feels as she was transported into a time machine the second she saw miles’s girlfriend at her door

e!1610 miles who actually started to get scared when his mother pulled out their old photo album to show his girlfriend what he thought was gonna be his baby photos

e!1610 miles who is surprised that his mother completely skipped over the section in front that had his baby photos but instead went to the back that had pictures of his mom in college

e!1610 miles who becomes embarrassed when his father gets home from work and immediately starts berating you with questions his girlfriend’s future

e!1610 miles who was extremely happy that his father liked his girlfriend’s answer

e!1610 miles who decided it was time to go to his room when his mother actually did decide to flip back to the front of the photo album to show his girlfriend his baby photos

e!1610 rio morales who swore she had the same jeans with the exact pattern on the pockets miles’s girlfriend had on when she was younger

e!1610 miles who immediately attacks his girlfriend with kisses the minute they walk through the door for how well everything went

e!1610 miles who kisses his girlfriend hard on the lips when she says that she is happy that she doesn’t have to sneak in anymore

e!1610 miles who’s girlfriend scolds him for messing up her lip combo

e!1610 miles who is happy that his girlfriend was asleep when things in his room started floating and Gwen appeared above him

e!1610 miles who prays his girlfriend doesn’t wake up because this was not the way he wanted to tell his girlfriend about his secret identity

e!1610 miles who didn’t want to just ditch his girlfriend in his bed and hang out with Gwen

e!1610 miles who rushes Gwen into a nearby bathroom so he could wake his girlfriend up

e!1610 miles who wakes his girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek and whispers to her “since you met my parents maybe you should meet one of my friends. How do that sound, mamas?”

Miles’s girlfriend who knew that e!1610 miles only called her mamas when he really really wanted her to do something

e!1610 miles who lightly chuckles when his girlfriend says “ I met Ganke already, baby. We watched him play the last of us, remember?” and tries to go back to sleep

e!1610 miles who says “Nah mamas not Ganke, a different friend, Gwanda.”

e!1610 miles who silently tells Gwen to come out of the restroom

e!1610 miles who smiles with his girlfriend as they watch Gwen come out the bathroom awkwardly with her sweater wrapped tightly over her top half

e!1610 miles who is glad that his girlfriend didn’t seem to be upset that he had really sprung this on her out of nowhere

e!1610 miles who watched Gwen and his girlfriend talk

e!1610 miles who takes note that his girlfriend complimented Gwen teal converse so he had a gift idea for the future

e!1610 miles and his girlfriend who bid Gwen goodbye after a couple of hours

e!1610 miles who walks over to his dresser and pulled out a black tank top and a pair of hello kitty shorts along with some Spider-Man socks that he secretly got excited about when he swung by a shop and noticed he had an entire section inside

e!1610 miles who rolls his eyes when his girlfriend says “I’m not wearing mine unless you wear yours.” referring to the outfits he had just taken out

e!1610 miles who agrees and tells his girlfriend to “get yo cute ass up and in the shower.”

e!1610 miles who ends up having to pee and goes to shyly knock on the bathroom door

e!1610 miles who tightly covers his eyes when he walks in the bathroom and quickly washes his hands to leave

Miles’s girlfriend who smiles widely when she walks in from her shower and sees e!1610 miles laying in bed with his Spider-Man boxers and hello kitty socks that she had bought him for Christmas

e!1610 miles who giggles along with his girlfriend when he tells her that it’s close enough to what she was wearing

e!1610 miles who brings his girlfriend close to him and drapes her leg over his waist

e!1610 miles who continuously rubs his girlfriend’s thigh slowly lulling her to sleep

e!1610 miles who in a sleepy haze kisses his girlfriend’s forehead as he falls asleep

#across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 1610 #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles x reader

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senseofnewness · 3 months ago

Note

what are your own like personal headcanons about art donaldson!!! i love hearing about silly thoughts people have <333 (i love your writing btw!!)

(thank you bby <3)

random art donaldson headcanons

• at 31 years old, art donaldson still can't grow a full mustache. it's as if god took all the body hairs meant for him and gave them to patrick zweig instead.

• art wears tom ford’s azure lime, a fragrance that is fresh and crisp, with none of the heavy muskiness you might expect. some might say it smells a bit feminine, but it suits him well, at least, it always smells clean.

• he named his daughter lily after his grandmother, liliane. although she didn't raise him, they shared a special bond. it was liliane who introduced him to tennis.

• he is a secret fan of the lord of the rings and occasionally quotes gollum, much to tashi’s annoyance, who rolls her eyes at the nerdy side of her husband.

• his favorite food is lasagna, but not the kind you'd expect. he doesn't crave the gourmet freshly made lasagna his personal chef prepares. what he really loves is the store-brand frozen lasagna, the kind that comes in a box and is microwaved. tashi only allows him to eat it on his birthday.

• out of all his body parts, hands are probably his favorite. which is why he finds holding hands to be one of the most intimate gestures. he prefers sturdy hands with slender fingers and manicured nails.

• art had never blocked patrick’s number all those years, just so he could one day say "the phone works both ways" if patrick ever tried to blame him for their falling out.

• he has an irrational fear of spiders. if he spots one in a room, he cannot bring himself to sleep in there, even if tashi has killed the spider for him. in his mind, the spider’s family might be plotting revenge, and that thought is enough to keep him awake at night.

• art donaldson hates the taste of coffee, no matter how many times he had tried to like it in an effort to appear more mature. to him, it always tastes like straight-up dirt. he prefers to stick with vanilla milk.

• he has tried the curly girl method countless times, hoping to restore the curly texture his hair once had as a teenager. despite his efforts and the many products he has tried, his hair remains persistently straight.

• art chews his nails when nervous. and he will chew on anything else he can get a grip on as well. tashi tries to break this habit by painting his nails with bitter nail polish but it doesn't stop him from biting them, it just tastes like shit now.

• art rarely swears or gets angry, but when he does, tashi knows he will spend the entire day brooding. it's all about muttered complaints and scowls. the only thing that typically soothes him is a warm bath.

• when lily was born, art sobbed so loudly that the nurses had to ask him to quiet down to avoid disturbing the other babies in the hospital wing. tashi was so mortified that she pretended not to know him.

[nsfw]

• he wears those tiny underwears because he doesn't feel supported in anything else. he needs his pink fuzzy balls to be secured on the court. a lesson he learned the hard way. when he was fifteen, one of his balls slipped through the leg of his loose boxers during a match, and patrick teased him about it for months. ever since that day, he has sworn off boxers entirely.

• when patrick taught art how to jerk off, art waited for patrick to be asleep to look closely at the sock patrick had used. he studied the slimy stains, comparing the cum to his own, just to make sure everything was normal with him.

• he isn’t a fan of quickies. he prefers to take his time with tashi, believing that making love is about enjoying every moment and taking the time to bring her to the edge. to him, it’s not really making love if she doesn’t climax too. however, there are times when he becomes so horny after a particularly intense practice session, where tashi had pushed him harder than usual, that a quickie becomes necessary.

• he has incredibly sensitive nipples and gets easily aroused when they’re touched or teased. when tashi wants to make him shut up during an argument, she just pinches them and he starts whimpering.

• sometimes he can't help but think about the fact that patrick had been with tashi before him, and it turns him on. the thought of them together becomes a driving force, turning into a personal competition. he feels the need to prove to tashi that he is the best sex she will ever have.

• tashi used threats of her strap-on as a way to motivate him during his matches, but now, instead of fear, it has become a source of excitement. art knows that each victory means tashi is waiting for him at home with her silicone cock, ready to celebrate.

#art donaldson #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers fanfiction #challengers fiction #challengers #challengers 🎾#art donaldson smut #challengers smut #ask

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qwimblenorrisstan · 4 months ago

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Home, At Last | Azriel & WitchDaughter!Reader

Summary: Unbeknownst to Azriel, an encounter he had with a witch nearly three centuries ago will come back to haunt him when his shadows begin speaking of you, his “daughter”, a witch in danger of being thrown out of her coven.

Word Count: ~ 3.5k

Warnings: Mentions of rape, stillborn baby, pregnancy, abuse, branding, witches, sharp stuff, birth, death, major trauma and angst, injuries, ends kinda good tho (PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP W/ AZ AND READER)

A/N: Ok I feel like I’m scamming y’all bc reader is actually Az’s granddaughter but they have more of a father-daughter relationship in the ends…this is like super sad in the beginning but there’s comfort in the end and a bit of fluff, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

From the moment his shadows had begun whispering and speaking of rumors, Azriel hadn’t been surprised.

Of course, he was surrounded by rumors, he was the infamous shadowsinger, the Spymaster of Night Court who’d been alive for centuries and lived through several wars, a male who’d murdered thousands in his lifetime. But these rumors seemed a bit more real than the others, more realistic, or at least his shadows thought so.

‘She is small, with hazel eyes like ours’

They whispered to him, conjuring up images in his mind, images of a young teenage female, one of gleaming iron, with hazel eyes and midnight black hair.

He didn’t understand how or why he would have a child.

With any lover he took, he always ensured that the protection was flawless, whether it be condoms, birth control pills, or pulling out on time, he was careful with all of it. He knew he wasn’t ready for a child, and he didn’t want to have one anytime soon, let alone with a female he wasn’t mated with.

But there was one instance. One completely out of his control, an experience he would never forget.

It had been in the midst of the first Great War, he’d been sent on a mission, a secretive one to gather information, by Rhysand’s father, the High Lord at the time. It had all gone perfectly, he’d gotten in, and out, but he’d made a small pitstop on a little side of a high mountaintop to gather water, as he had been feeling a bit nauseous due to the lack of it for many hours.

The female had moved so quickly he hadn’t even been able to notice her until he was on the ground, and saw her iron teeth and nails come down over their normal counterparts a second too late before they were against his Jugular, the witch smiling wickedly above him as she crooned into his ear.

“Quite the catch. I haven’t seen a male like you in centuries,”

She had purred into his ear, her sharp nails tracing over where the Illyrian tattoos were visible on the lower half of his neck, and some of his shoulders. Overcome with nausea and fatigue from nonstop missions, not to mention the deadly witch that could easily slaughter him, he could do nothing but remain silent and blank as he could while the witch had her way with him. That was a key belief of their kind, that men were only good for breeding and food, nothing more.

He’d tried to forget about it, tried his very hardest, but now it seemed it was coming back to bite him. It was odd that his shadows hadn’t picked anything up sooner. That event had been nearly 300 years ago, and if that witch had somehow sired his child, survived the birth with the wings, and raised it…

He was getting ahead of himself. Maybe it was just a mishap with a normal lover, not the sadistic witch who’d raped him so long ago.

And if it was….he’d find her.

*********************************************************

Normal occurrences in the witch camps had always been chaotic, but you were bound to notice more when you were actively looking out for it.

Daily sparring, sharpening of iron teeth or nails, fights, meals, and hunting times. It had all been so painfully normal to you before you’d gotten pregnant. It had been a human man, one you’d met while scoping out a new area for the Matron. He’d been drunk, and you, like any other witch of your coven, had taken advantage of that fact.

He’d at least provided a decent meal afterward.

Carrying a witchling was a blessing from your gods, you knew it, and you were forever thankful for it. But that didn’t mean it was easy. You were usually stuck in the designated area for impregnated witches that were about to pop, which was fine. There was just one thing you were nervous about, one thing that might go wrong.

You had only heard the story once, how you’d been born with wings and your mother had been left ripped open and dead because of it, her birthing canal unable to adjust. The same wings that had been promptly ripped off for being improper. Death had probably been the best fate for the female that had once called you her daughter, giving birth to an improper or “wrong” child was worse, and you would be branded like cattle, and thrown to the side.

That could easily happen to you.

The chances were low, usually the only genes that carried so strongly through witch blood were the integral witch parts, what made you worthy and befitting of the coven. The chances of the child having wings were low, almost zero, but not zero.

You couldn’t help but wonder if that was what your mother had been thinking, or her mother before her. The gene of wings had been in your bloodline almost three women back. They’d probably thought the same. That there wasn’t a chance, not one bit of one. Even though there had been, and she’d paid dearly for it

Every day dragged closer to the day, and as the others in the coven noticed the behavior, the swollen ankles, the lack of strength, shortness of breath, odd cravings, fatigue, or the morning sickness, the stricter the designated midwives became you staying inside of your bed.

The nerves grew, for multiple different reasons.

“This is a blessing,”

They’d tell you.

“You’re birthing the next generation of a strong coven,”

They said.

It was easy to listen to them, but not so easy to believe in what they’d said. Other females gave you tips, being oddly kind for your species and their volatile behavior. The midwives prepared you, giving you a blunt explanation of what would happen, as they did with all the other females about to give birth.

Finally, the day came.

At first, you thought you’d just pissed yourself when your water broke, but after a second of actual contemplation, you’d nearly panicked. The contractions started soon after, horrible awful things making your body cramp and lurch in ways you hadn’t even known possible beforehand. Your groans and moans joined those of the other woman also giving birth at the time. This was her first time, too. You’d briefly talked to her before.

“When are you due?”

“A month before the solstice.”

“….”

“Three weeks before the solstice.”

“Is this your first?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Me too.”

The female seemed as kind as a witch could be, with piercing blue eyes and chocolate brown hair. Your screams intertwined together, beds separated only by thin curtains in the large birthing tent with rows upon rows of beds and supplies.

It felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside out, some sort of feral creatures trying to claw their way out. Your nails dug into the bed, ripping and shredding the thick furs in a way most mothers didn’t. It felt like it was taking too long. You faintly heard crying, that of a baby, the other female’s child.

You pushed for what felt like hours, nurses hissing to push harder, faster, to be strong like a witch should and suffer through it. Like the other new mother beside your bed had done.

However, with a final push, the baby had emerged. You looked down at it, eyes stained with tears and sweat. There were no wings on the small, red thing, not even a hint of it.

And not a hint of crying, either.

*********************************************************

“And..how long will you be gone?”

Rhysand asked him, with a raised brow and smooth tone, barely showing his curiosity. He never saw his shadowsinger this bothered. Azriel had been pacing nearly all morning and seemed distracted during training.

“Give me a day.”

The male responded, swallowing as he tried to stop his pacing, to stop seeming concerned. The stoic look remained on his face, despite his obvious worries through his body language.

“Very well…”

The High Lord replied, swirling the wine in his cup around before taking a small sip of it, gazing into the pool of dark red liquid, as if trying to find an answer to his questions in it.

“What are you up to, brother?”

He then asked, giving Azriel a curious but assessing look. Azriel only shook his head, heart beating faster than it should’ve as he left the office area, walking out of the townhouse, looking at the sparkling river that overlooked the Sidra, and took out the maps he’d acquired from one of the oldest sections in the House of Wind’s library.

He’d marked out a path in chalk, he would start where he’d first encountered that witch nearly three centuries ago, and he would go South from there, following evidence of migration patterns his shadows had managed to dig up.

It had been hours of endless flying, no sign of life on the mountain other than old, maybe a year ago, dirt disturbed, which could’ve easily been whatever wildlife could brave the heights of the mountain. He’d followed the pattern from there, his wings aching, the shadows whispering which way to go, but unable to aid him in his conquest. He was forced to stop for the night when a large storm blew in, thunder cracking down from the skies.

And so, setting up a fire in a small cave he’d found, Truth-Teller in his hand, he went to sleep for the night.

*********************************************************

It had happened too quickly, you’d barely had time to understand why, but when you realized your child wasn’t crying, and the fact that he was too small and pale, you knew what had happened. A stillborn.

They brought out the brand before you could even try to get away, the nurses hissing and grumbling at your every struggle and begging and pleading as they took the red-hot iron, sinking it into your flesh, searing so deep that not even your witch blood could heal it enough to avoid the mark it left. The big, black, ugly symbol on the left of your stomach, read “Infertile”.

They’d dragged you through the camp as you’d screamed and sobbed, public humiliation at its finest, and carried you far from the camp, far enough that you wouldn’t be able to sniff them out or trace them back, dropping you on the forest floor.

“Waste of our time,”

You heard one of them grumble as they departed, leaving you alone and in the cold forest. You were still bleeding slightly, your teenage body struggling to recuperate from being split open. It got better as time went on, when you managed to struggle to your feet, knees about to give out, and began stumbling through the forest. Your head was fuzzy, not clear, and unable to focus properly as you registered warmth from a certain direction.

Warmth.

The word clanged through you like a bell despite the lightning and rain overhead, you began sniffing out the fire, picking up the faint scent of a male nearby. It didn’t matter. You could deal with the male later, but if you didn’t get warm now, you didn’t know if you could make it through the night.

A small cave came into sight, and stumbling into it, you found the warmth you so desperately desired, a small campfire lit.

However, before you could get closer to it, you registered being slammed to the ground, cold steel against your neck, and a pair of dark, hazel eyes looking into your own.

*********************************************************

A witch.

And not just any witch, his daughter, his teenage daughter, bloodied and bruised, being pinned down beneath him. He had her wrists tied up in barely a second, he’d seen firsthand what those iron nails witches possessed could do to those who weren’t cautious.

The iron scent of her blood was obvious as well, and based on its location, she was either injured in a very bad place or menstruating, and he didn’t want to think of the only real possible answer. Another aspect of her scent was the smell of blooming life, the same one Feyre had possessed while pregnant with Nyx. A scent he couldn’t ignore.

“Who are you?”

He asked, Truth-Teller being placed back on his side as he carefully picked the female up, placing her down near the campfire to give her shivering and soaking wet form some warmth.

“I just — she wasn’t crying and they —“

You sobbed, as if not hearing his question, burying your head into your arms. It didn’t take Azriel long to piece together what had happened, and he knew that you needed medical attention.

“Hold still,”

He muttered, stamping out the fire and gathering the few things he’d brought, before gently lifting you into his arms, and in a swirl of shadows and magic, you were somewhere completely new. He watched you carefully as he hurried to Madja’s tent. Your eyes were closed as you sobbed, and if he was assuming what had happened correctly, you had reason to.

The old female, always reliable with their medical issues, was in her tent, mixing up some concoction, her eyes widened as she laid eyes on you but then went right back to normal, into medic mode, where she couldn’t panic and risk making a mistake or scaring anyone.

“Lay her down.”

Her voice rang out, and Azriel obediently obeyed, laying you on the table and watching, his anxiety evident in the way he paced back and forth, swallowing. Madja began examining you, taking the restraints on your hands and your clothes off, and when he spotted the brand, the dark mark burnt into your skin that looked all too fresh, his temper flared beyond control and he growled. Madja gave him a look.

“If you can’t control yourself, then leave.”

Her sharp tone rang out, and he huffed, but knowing that his anger wouldn’t solve anything, he walked out of the tent, sparing your barely conscious form one last glance as you groaned, clearly in discomfort.

…

“You have a what?”

Cassian’s confused and shocked tone rang out from behind Rhys and Azriel. Az sighed. The bastard must’ve snuck in when they weren’t looking. Rhys looked a bit worried, and Azriel felt more anxious than he’d been in centuries.

“A daughter, she’s a…witch.”

Cassian choked on his spit at that, watching Azriel’s frantic pacing. Rhys put his hand on the shadowsinger’s shoulder, stopping his constant movement in an attempt to soothe him.

“It’ll be fine, Azriel. We’ll work this out.”

“She could die, Rhys. I think she’d just given birth when I found her, it went wrong somehow, and those other witches marked her. They fucking marked her.”

Azriel snapped, eyes filled with such anguish, anger, and grief already that neither of them knew what to say, except to remain silent and think about the situation they were in and how to make it better.

Cassian carefully approached Azriel, with a look and demeanor he’d seen before. It was like he saw him as a wounded animal, like a soldier after the battle, scarred and mentally torn apart.

“All we can do is wait and see, Az.”

His voice, a bit softer than usual, though still gruff, spoke. His eyes held sympathy and understanding, as did Rhys’, but also caution and concern. A witch was dangerous. They knew that just as well as anyone.

*********************************************************

The first thing you registered was that you were in a lot of pain, with stitches being put in your body, and needles being poked every which way. You groaned and shifted, only for old, worn hands to put you right back into place, and a vague voice telling you to “stop moving.” before you felt another needle on the inside of your wrist, and you fell back into sleep again.

The next time you woke, you felt more numb this time, opening your eyes to be met with the sight of a room, ornate, the floor a rich red carpet with patterns on it, the ceiling wooden and going upwards to a point. There was some bland wooden furniture in the room, one mirror, and a large window that light bled through despite the light curtains on it.

A male was sitting beside you. Two of them. Three. They were talking amongst themselves. You hadn’t opened your eyes yet, content to listen.

“— but they gave her up, didn’t they?”

“Technically, yes. I think it’s well within our rights to keep her here if they moved her out of the camp.”

“So she’s ours?”

“She is no one’s.”

The dark voice that cut through the conversation finally made you open your eyes. You recognized that, and his scent…it was familiar, somehow. As soon as you opened your eyes and began to shift, they were all at attention, watching closely.

One in particular stood out to you, the dark male, shrouded by shadows, hazel eyes that resembled your own. All three had wings, leathery bat-like things, one of the males was more brusque and muscular, offering a little grin, the other looking more proper like a pretty Court boy, with his violet eye. All of them had dark hair.

You stared until the shadowy one spoke.

“What’s your name?”

He asked lowly, voice smooth and soothing. His scarred hands twitched up as if wanting to hold you or touch you, or anything he could to fix you.

“Y/N.”

You answered, swallowing as you tried to sit up, wincing as you felt the clothes that had been put on you, similar to a hospital gown, rub against the stitches in your body, and the branding on your stomach. The minute a hint of discomfort entered your expression, the scarred hands of the male were there, gently helping ease you up as you sat against the headboard of the bed, probably looking like death. The minute you were sat up, his hands went away, as if he realized what he had done.

“Sorry.”

He muttered, hands retreating into his lap from the chair. The other male, the violet-eyed one, then cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m Rhysand,”

He said with a small polite smile, clearly faked, as you could smell how unsure he was, even a bit anxious, as it was in his scent. The brusque-looking one then spoke up with a wolf’s grin, one that wasn’t faked at all.

“Cassian,”

He said before you turned to face the last one. He swallowed, looking a bit anxious.

“Azriel. I’m..your father, or related to you somehow.”

Your brow scrunched in confusion, eyes glancing back at his wings. He might have been your father, but not likely, given how long the trait of wings had been in your bloodline. From what you knew, it had started with your grandmother, then passed to your mother, then you. You sighed, looking uncomfortable but speaking.

“How many years ago was it?” How many years has it been since you fucked a witch?

He swallowed, now looking more uncomfortable, and Cassian snorted, clearly just thinking his eldest brother had gone off and had some fun with a witch, while Rhys shot the male a glare.

“Three centuries.”

He got out quietly, the tiniest of blushes on his cheeks. Your mind was spinning, but you managed to get one coherent thought out.

“You’re my grandfather.”

You said in a dry, clearly uncomfortable tone. Cassian couldn’t stop his laughter at that, even when Rhys elbowed him hard.

“He’s got a grandkid! I don’t believe it —“

He wheezed until Rhys shot Azriel and you an apologetic look, grumbling something to Azriel as he dragged him out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The shadowsinger seemed relieved to be alone with you.

“I’m sorry about what happened, with..everything, I should’ve been there-“

“Don’t. You probably didn’t even know I existed.”

You cut him off, your tired voice still firm. You let your iron nails slide out if only to check that they were still there and undamaged. They were shiny and sharp as ever, untouched. They slid back up as if never there, and you yawned, going to lay back down in the bed. He helped you lay down, scarred hands lingering and taking your hand into his own as he looked into your eyes, multiple emotions mingling inside.

You sighed, giving a tiny tug to his hand.

“C’mere.”

You said, and he easily obliged, tossing his shoes to the floor, but leaving his shirt and pants on as he crawled into the bed beside you, cradling your body gently against his. His hands made sure to avoid the brand on you, the fresh stitches, but they brushed over the large scars on your back from where your wings had been ripped off when you were born.

“You had wings?”

He asked, a pain clear in his voice as your head lay against his chest.

“Had.”

You replied, the exhaustion clear in your tone. Anger flared up in him, for those witches for laying a finger on you, taking your wings and branding you, for them treating you so horribly.

“I’ll never let them touch you again, I promise.”

He said, an inky black marking forming on his back, and on yours, that of a star forming with swirls all around and in it, right between the scars on your back. You gave a little hum of acknowledgment, head moving up to bury itself in his neck, deeply inhaling his scent.

It smelt like home, at last.

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mintmatcha · 1 year ago

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MONSTER FUCKING

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

The night continues with Obsidian.

cw: cisfem reader, feminine nicknames, female receiving oral, OC x reader, monster fucking, a TINY BIT OF DUBCON, overstimulation

PART TWO OF TWO (Part one: here)

a/n: again, big thanks to @saetyrn9 and @tyga-lily <3

He doesn’t return until the fire is burnt low, nothing but embers. His figure is nothing but a silhouette against the hall light as he creeps, doing his best to move silently around the room. His dirty clothes are replaced by the sheerest of shirts and pants, thin enough that even in the low light you can see how his scales shimmer in hue, purple and green where the firelight touches. Every now and again he throws a glance towards you, tucked neatly on your side of the bed, and then sighs, low and forlorn.

It feels wrong to watch him while he thinks you’re asleep. Even alone, he makes his movements so small, crouching to take up little space as he fiddles about, oiling his scales and the other mundane things he has to do before sleep. It hits you that he might be insecure about the space he takes up.

The world is not kind. It is tragedies and maladies, injustice and inhumanities. Tensions are always simmering under the surface, chaos always threatening to boil over. Horrible, awful things plague this world and not a single person is left untouched or unchanged.

Through all of that, Obsidian somehow remained gentle. That’s what you admire most of him- the softness he carries himself with. There’s a bitter edge that clings to you, a callus that won’t come off of your palms. He treats you well anyway, despite it all.

“You never got to ask your questions,” you say, voice only just louder than the last licks of fire.

Obi starts at the sound of your voice, then his shoulders soften. He drags himself to the edge of the bed, hands folded politely in front of him like a scolded child. He smells faintly of lemon and soap: soft, sour, and refreshing.

“Why are you still awake?” he whispers, affection honey sweet in his tone. He reaches to grab your ankle, then hesitates before dropping back to his side. “My curiosities can wait for another day.”

The night air is cool against your cheeks and the sheets are not thick enough. Obi, in all his emotional and physical warmth, is just out of reach. When you extend an arm for him, he doesn't meet you at first, hemming about like a child. It’s goofy, for such a grown man to seem so shy- you have to bite your lip to hold your smile back.

Instead of waiting for him, you peel back the sheets and crawl to him. It’s impolite and unladylike, but it earns you a smile from him and an outstretched hand. This time, he doesn’t pull away when your fingers loop with his, instead closing tight.

“I’m sorry Kiri said all that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for her behavior,” he says, eyes never leaving the spot he’s chosen at the end of the bed, “I heard how you… scolded her.”

The innkeeper had threatened to kick you all out after the way you berated the poor girl, screaming in the hallway in just your nightgown, but the elf had deserved it. She’s barely older than a teenager in elf years, you remind yourself, but that isn’t an excuse for bad behavior.

Tomorrow, when the sun is up and emotions aren’t high, you’re sure the group will discuss it all, but for tonight, you want to tend to Obi’s wounds.

“Was I too harsh?” You trail a thumb across the back of his hand. Knees on the mattress, he’s still much taller than you, able to rest his chin on your head if he wanted.

“Too harsh? No,” The hint of amusement you’ve come to love is back in his voice, “Too loud? Debatable.”

Imitating you, he drags his thumb back and forth in comfort, the rounded nail grazing against your skin. Finally, he meets your eye, the green piercing even in the night. The feeling of want is thick, slowing every breath as if your ribs are stuffed with molasses, and all you can think is that you hope he feels this too-- hope he wants this too.“I appreciate you standing up for my honor.”

“Always,” you say. A heat drips into your core as you realize his claws are trimmed and rounded-- just for you. “Anything for you.”

You rest a hand against his chest and wait in the silence, savoring the luxuriant feelings that fills your throat: want and need and desire and greed and contentment and bliss-- all a muddle you can’t swallow again, filling you, but also leaving you with a hunger that can’t be sated.

“You should rest,” he says as he slides his arms around you, grabbing handfuls of cloth.

“Ask your questions first.”

Verdant eyes flicker down, marked by his chittering. It’s like a purr, you realize-- a sound of pure contentment. Feline is the way he moves, elegant and fluid.

“Does it really feel good-” His knuckle drags down your chest and hints over the apex of your breast, “When these are touched?”

He hesitates there, a breath away from you, wondering, hoping. The air crackles a bit wilder with magic for a moment- a response to his excitement.

“Obi,” You loop a finger under the strap of your nightgown and guide it off of your shoulder, pushing the neckline dangerously low. “Do you like my tits?”

“You should know that it’s very cheeky to answer my question with a question,” he leans forward and bumps his head against yours, nuzzling ever so slightly The ridges and tiny horns ruffle your hair and all you can do is giggle and squirm into it, bumping your noses together. His touch has wandered dangerously low, cupping under your ass and lifting you into him.

Then, he sobers, voice lower than ever.

“Yes.” He takes the satin edge between his fingers and delicately, carefully, lovingly moves the other strap down the other shoulder, guiding it until your breasts fall free. Obi swallows thickly, then runs his tongue across the upper ridge of his teeth as he takes in everything about you. “I like them very much.”

His nose is textured against your skin, grooved yet smooth against your clavicle. Each breath is released so slowly that it blooms with heat, crawling across your chest as he moves down, loving every inch above your breasts. The journey is marked with kisses and nips, the lightest touch of his teeth. The way he reveres the boring parts of you makes your heart flitter and, by the time he’s sucking a bruise into the fat of your tit, your body is trembling for him too.

“I didn’t realize they were so…” Teeth sink into your tit, testing the give. The other is cupped by his wide palm, lifting it into the side of his muzzle. “Malleable.”

When he opens his jaw again, wider this time, it’s marked with the click and suck of wet. Strands of spit string together for a fleeting moment, following his panting tongue.

Oh, he’s no longer feline. He’s closer to a dog, feral and drooling for you.

The rough edge of his tongue dragging against your nipple rips a gasp from you, but it only serves as a siren’s call. His body presses into yours, folding your legs back and forcing you back into the down of the bed. The sheets crunch under you as you’re moved by the force of the way he indulges. You should scold him or warn him of the way you’ll bruise in the morning, but a heat consumes every aspect of you, robbing you of any thought. The scorch of his mouth, the delicious drip of spit trickling down your ribcage, the ambient heat that’s simply him- it all ignites that pulling, twist, blazing heat in your core, a fever you can’t sweat out.

Obi pulls away just enough to look at you through slitted eyes.

“My fawn,” he purrs, “Now you are being too loud.”

His hand grips your side hard enough that even the trimmed edge aches.

“People are going to hear you,” he continues, tongue dragging down the sweat touched valley between your breasts, “They’re going to know you’re being bedded by some beast."

That makes your stomach flip, then flip again, tying your insides into a sickly knot. Your hands find the ridge of his horns on their own. Their length is surprisingly long for his age, more than enough for you to tug and stop his descent. Obi glances up at you, giving you the reprieve you need. Both of you lay there, breathing in sync.

"Don’t say things like that," you say once you've caught yourself, "I don't like that. You're not…"

Lemon oil, mixed with the pressing of some sort of shrub nut- that's what he oils his scales with. It makes his skin so soft and makes the air always marked with him.

"You're not some beast." You rub a thumb down the ridges of his horn, "You're my prince."

The words feel so corny coming out of your mouth. You're no wordsmith, unlike him, but you can see the statement physically hit. At first, he just slightly draws back, then his eyes go wide before becoming intensely soft. Then, he curls in, tucked his chin and resting his forehead against your collarbone.

"Oh," he says, voice on the brink of laughter, "Oh, my fawn, my princess--"

He squeezes your hips again. "You're going to shatter my heart one day, aren't you?"

Before you can respond, he's kissing you for real. It's different from anything else you've experienced with humans and elves; his mouth is different, firm lips unable to fully pucker. The feeling is strange, with too much teeth and pressure,but so, so, welcome.

Obi must enjoy it too; he shifts and writhes, finding his place between your awaiting thighs. You can feel how he grinds into the mattress, strokes long and slow and rough, searching for any sort of pressure. You want to touch him again-- no, need to. You need to see his cock for real this time, coax it out of his body for you to ride.

Another tug on his horns pauses him.

"Stop, just for a second," you say. He obeys, pulling back fully, and you untangle yourself from him.

"Are you alright?" Obi says, a tad dejected, "We can stop-"

You wriggle out of your slip and clumsily push it to the foot of the bed with your feet. A sliver of doubt wrangles its way into your thoughts; even in the dim, you're sure he can see your body and all its imperfections, the scars, the marks, the bits you simply don't like: does he know what to expect? Does he even know what humans look like naked?

The room is cold without the fire going. You have to remind yourself who the man is on top of you. It’s not some stranger-- it’s Obi. Your Obsidian. A friend, a confidant, a brother in arms, and the kindest soul you’ve even met. It strikes you then that maybe you have feelings for him outside of all of those definitions, something closer to love than simple lust.

"I haven't shaved in a while, I'm sorry-"

"You have the body of a nymph," Obi blurts out, voice high with surprise, "You're exquisite."

His pupils are fully round, engulfing almost all of the iris as he soaks in the sight of you.

"Human's do not like this?" He leans down, head just below your belly button, examining when your body meets your cunt. His fingers run through your pubes, "But it's so…"

Mid-sentence he halts, mouth parted just enough that you can catch the jagged edge of his fangs. He swallows deep breaths, sucking more and more until his chest is puffed against yours. Strong, forceful hands loop under your knees and cram your legs apart. You squeal and kick, giddy in your embarrassment and barely able to contain your laughter.

"Oh, you smell so good," he exhales each word, only inches from your cunt. He’s pressing into you, almost folding you in half so he can creep into the bed with you. "That's your quim? That's what you've been hiding?"

He traces two fingers up the clef, admiring it even closer than ever. The rumble in his chest, the purring, is so grand that it shakes your thighs. Like this, strung up and spread apart, you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You muster up even more embarrassment when fingers part your lips and his steamed breath tickles your most inner parts.

“Don’t look so closely!” you scold, but he doesn’t listen.

"Humans get so wet." You try to close your knees on instinct, but the mass of his body stops you, "Is this usual? Do you always?"

"Only when-- a-aa-ah-"

You find out that he was not looking for an actual answer. Obi takes you by the hips and drags you down into his muzzle, wasting no item before dragging that damned tongue across the entirety of you. He's eager and unaimed, licking and sucking and drooling across every inch of you except where you want him. The crest of his brow digs into the puff of your mound, blocking you from reaching down and playing with your clit yourself.

The want, the need-- it's dizzying. Words fail you every time you try to speak, your comprehensibility robbed by the hiccupped whines Obi is pulling from you. Teetering on this edge is deliciously painful, but you're already losing patience.

Frustrated, you grind your hips down and Obi's nose bumps against your clit. The pressure makes your body sing, so you do it again and again, claiming your pleasure on your terms. A laugh rumbles through your skin as Obi chuckles and obliges, lapping at exactly where you need him too.

Heat sears through you as you cum: hard. It's almost a surprise, boiling over when you least expect it. It’s a flex and release of your muscles, a quick, simple thing that gives you just enough release. It’s nothing life changing, but it’s better than what you get with most men.

You breathe and wait for Obi to move or comment, but he's still, waiting for you to pick up your pieces.

"That was nice." You say after a bit, "Now, why don’t you come here and let me ride you?"

Whe he doesn’t respond, you sit up slightly, only to be caught. A hand presses down on your stomach and locks you in place against the mattress. Dark eyes glance up at you, narrowed.

"Stay still," he says, voice rougher than ever, "I can do better than simply 'nice.'"

Immediately, you regret teaching Obi where you liked to be licked. He abuses that knowledge, focusing on your poor, overstimulated clit until you're nothing but whimpers. Your brain cant think when he's touching you; all you can do is whine. Reaching and grasping for hair that isn't there, your nails run across his scales head and find no purchase.

Then, your own head is tapped by… something. You screw back and realize he's ran you into the fucking wall; you have to extend both hands to stop yourself from being crumpled even further.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit--" This one's going to be big. You can feel it rolling in, coming like a wave.

Two thick fingers press inside you. If you weren't impossibly slick, the stretch would ache, but there's no friction left to resist the intrusion. He explores a bit, pumping and curling and-- there. That's all you need to tumble again, falling and falling and falling-

Until the drop hits.

You're left boneless. There's no resistance in your body as he adjusts you again, throwing your knees over his shoulders-

"Obsidian, no," You drum your heels against his back, "No, no, no, no, I can't take another--"

A deep, rolling growl fills the room as he squeezes tighter, locking you together as his long, firm tongue presses inside of you. You realize he’s speaking an unfamiliar tongue-- Draconic, most likely. It’s sultry tones and clicked vowels, rolling deep and slow into one long slurred sound. Maybe he’s scolding you, maybe it’s praise: you don’t care. He holds you like he owns you-- like he controls you, and you find that you like that.

“Please, please, please, just fuck me already-” You find yourself blabbering, “Need you, need it, just-- oh, Gods and Stars-- Please fuck me, please--”

You clutch on to the mattress and hope the world stops spinning. “On me--- in me, just-- Gods, fucking cum already-”

“No,” Common slips from his mouth, “Not yet.”

The night is a blur after that. There’s no possible way to count how many times you cum; they all roll into one in your mind, an unstable peak. He’s everywhere, he’s everything. You always imagined him as a patient lover, but you’re quickly proved wrong. He’s mean and demanding, drawing everything from you until the ache in between your ribs grows unbearable. Slick runs from your thighs to your knees, ruining the cotton beneath you both. The unbearable sounds of wet fill the room, marked by your occasional protests.

You hate him, you think. Maybe you love him. You can’t tell when your brain is absolutely swimming in dopamine.

“‘m gonna pass out,” you whine, weakly batting a hand against his forehead. The dragonborn pulls away with a dot of a kiss, finally listening.

“Then do, fawn.” Obi’s chest and face shine with a mixture of your excitement and his spit, “Sleep. That doesn’t bother me.”

With that, he spreads you open again. You eventually do drift off, too overstimulated and absolutely fucked to even keep your eyes open. There has to be something to it. The taste? The smell? Dragonborns are more sensitive to pheromones, you think. Maybe he's high off of you?

No, it’s too focused to be solely for him; it must be for your pleasure. He must get some sort of sick fucking satisfaction from unraveling you down to your very core and then continuing. You feel unwound, a ball of yarn left to uncoil and flounder in the breeze

In the moments of twilight between sleeps, you manage to catch him moving, legs positioned around your rib cage as he whines, voice tight when he speaks. It’s mumbled nothings, ripping through his broken voice. Draconic seems to be paced so much slower than Common, each word rolling carefully slow off of his tongue.

Exhaustion sits so heavy that you can't keep your eyes focused. You have to keep one eye closed to even get a glimpse of what he's-

Oh.

Above you, inches away from your face, Obsidian Vyke fists his cock. Contrary to what he said, his body is not very similar to a humans. All of the important parts are there, of course, but the shape is much, much bigger, with a tapered end and ridges running down the bottom. It's an ashen purple, the same color as his skin under his scales, and his balls are a bit darker, hairless and slick with his precum. The head pulses every couple of strokes and you know he's dangerously close to cumming himself.

You want that. You’ve been begging for it this entire night and it’s there, inches from your face. That needs to be inside me, you think, but your poor pussy is twitching and raw from all the attention.

You settle for the next best thing.

With all the effort you can muster, you prop yourself up ever so slightly. You stick up your tongue and the pillow of his cock presses against it. It only takes a couple of kitten licks for him to spill; he crumbles into a whine and your mouth is suddenly painted with thick, potent seed.

It’s… different from other spend you’ve had the displeasure of tasting. Less astringent, more… you’re not sure. When your ex husband used your mouth, you always winced at the taste, but now you close your mouth and suck. His cock doesn’t stop kicking, dribbling more than a man could ever dream of producing. It’s hot enough that you flinch with it touches the back of your throat, but you don’t stop swallowing, draining it down as fast as you can.

The taste was enjoyable, you realize. You liked that, as if you were a common whore. Before any sort of shame can set in, Obi scrambles away, cooing and stroking the side of your face with his usual warmth.

“Oh, sweet fawn, you didn’t have to,” he says, “Let me get you something to spit that into.”

You shake your head and open your mouth again, tongue extended to show him it’s already gone.

"Little minx." Obi speaks with a wild amount of warmth and you bathe in it, letting your eyes close again. "Beautiful, dirty thing.”

There’s no way you’re beautiful now, with your makeup smeared and your hair ruined, but you choose to believe him. The swipe of a tongue against your cheek, comforting, not erotic, elicits a giggle from you. Gods, it hurts to even laugh.

“You’re dripping in sweat. I’m going to steal a towel to clean you up with, alright?” Obi pauses, presumably waiting for your approval, before hurrying about. You can make out the slip of fabric being pulled up, the creak of floorboards, the-

Sleep overtakes you.

The sun is much, much higher than you’d like it to be when you awake. The town is in full force, boys screaming the news, merchants peddling their wares, but you can’t seem to find the energy to join them. Not when the bed is so warm and welcome.

Obi is gone. He’s always been an early riser, so that doesn’t bother you much. Besides, you aren’t sure you want him seeing you like this, knock-kneed and drained as you try to gather yourself together. Down there is unbearably slick still, even after all the time that's passed, and that fills you with a sick excitement.

It’s not until after your bath that you feel remotely human again. The glitter and lust of last night begins to fade as you strap yourself into your clothes, but a relaxed giddiness still hangs on.

By the time you meander downstairs, the inn is busy serving lunch. The air is tinged with salt and spices-- the familiar kind you haven’t smelt in ages, let alone tasted. Familiar faces are crowded into one of the smaller booths, Obsidian’s comically large shoulders bumping against his two elf companion’s. Tensions have clearly calmed since last night. The elf is busy spooning bits of vegetables out of her stew and plopping them into the dragonborn’s.

“You must take my carrots. I know how you like them,” she demands, “And I’ll have your rabbit, since you don’t eat meat. Does that sound good to you, sorcerer?”

Obsidian is already obliging, cornering the bits he doesn’t want out of the bowl. “If that’s what you want.”

"You'll take this bread too. I grabbed an extra for you."

"Oi, you didn't grab any extra for me."

"The Sorcerer probably weighs fifty times what you do, he needs more."

Obsidian pats his stomach with concern. "Fifty times?"

“She awakes!” Tig, Kiri’s lover, croons, head in their hands as they notice you. They are just as lean and beautiful as Kiri is, but painted much, much fairer. “We feared you dead, Rogue!”

“Aye, both of you act as if I would leave her rotting,” Obi bemoans. Both elves turn to the poor man and coo, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Your speech clearly had some effect on the group and that deepens your giddy feeling.

“Did you bathe again?” Kiri hands her bread over to the dragonborn as promised, “I thought you had done so last night.”

You glance over at your… lover? Friend? You aren’t sure. He watches back, brow quirked, waiting for you to lead this dance.

“Just taking advantage of the water,” You reply as evenly as you can, taking the empty seat. Your relationship news to be figured out before you make it public knowledge, especially since your last relationship ended with such…

The dragonborn slides a roll across the table with a crinkle of his eyes, sparing you a train of thought you’re not emotionally ready for. It steams as you rip into it and cram it into your mouth. Hunger suddenly rips through your body and you perk up, searching for the source of this stew.

“Did you sleep well?” Tig asks between mouthfuls. They aren’t as proper as Kiri; they spread their legs wide and take up as much space as they can, holding their utensils like a shovel. If they weren’t so ethereal and genderless, you’d think that they were a half elf.

“Hopefully I didn’t keep you up,” Obi says, offhandedly, “I’d hate to think I kept you awake.”

Oh, that rascal. His nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh.

“You bothered me a bit,” you reply, equally placid, “But I don’t mind.”

“What a shame.” He takes a spoonful of the meal and chews it thoughtfully. Then, he pauses, pressing two fingers into the crook of his jaw. “I must have slept strangely because I woke with this awful ache in my jaw-”

A swift kick to the shin silences him.

678 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

empty crib

Summary: “So?” you ask, not lifting your gaze from the crib you've been assembling for the past thirty minutes. Wanda simply shakes her head, discarding the pregnancy test into the trash.

Word count: 5.3K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Angst, ILGOSS Universe, Slight breeding kink

A/N: Another oneshot in the ILGOSS universe, this time requested by anon who wanted something about Wanda and Reader's struggles with getting pregnant.

Masterlist

You slide slowly inside of Wanda with a groan, starting with steady, shallow thrusts. Your hands find their way to her waist, fingers inching towards the softness of her lower belly. Each movement of your hips against hers is fueled by the tantalizing idea of filling her. The thought is driving you crazy, and you can't help but visualize a future where Wanda carries a piece of both of you inside her.

Ever since the two of you finally decided to get pregnant, and that Wanda would be the one to carry the baby, you've been constantly consumed by the thought of impregnating your wife, fucking her like an obsessed, horny teenager every time you get the chance. Wanda hasn't expressed any complaints either. She seems to want you too, in that desperate, touch-me-or-I’ll-die kind of way. The last time you were both this intoxicated with each other was during your honeymoon, but the difference now is that you're both more comfortable and daring in bed, having had ample time to learn about each other's likes and dislikes.

Now is no different; in fact, the atmosphere feels even more heady since Wanda recently received the embryo implantation. Lifting your wife’s hips slightly off the bed and putting the rest of your weight on your knees, you begin thrusting into her in slow, deep strokes. You make sure to pull out with just the tip of the strap inside, before pushing back in with more force. You repeat the action with rapt attention and soon, the unmistakable sound of wetness fills the room—a rhythmic squelching accompanying every thrust of the strap.

“God, Wanda,” you groan, feeling the wetness of her coating your cock, watching it trickle down her soft thighs, “You're so fucking wet, you’re dripping.”

She lets out a throaty moan, her voice dripping with lust, “Because of you.” Wanda's own hands move to the roundness of your ass cheeks. She grips them tightly, nails digging into the flesh, urging you with a silent plea to drive into her with more force. You struggle to keep your eyes open, even as pleasure begins to stir in the depths of your stomach. They trail over Wanda's body, taking in every exquisite detail. The soft, blue hue cast by the moonlight makes her skin look even more ethereal, highlighting the slight sheen of sweat that has formed on her forehead and neck. The delicate curve of her breasts draws your attention, especially her tight, pink nipples that stand erect in the heat of the moment. You take a deep breath through your nose, inhaling the scent that is distinctly hers, a mix of sweat, arousal, and the lingering fragrance of her perfume.

Her lips, plush and rosy, are half-parted, soft moans escaping them every time you move within her. But it's her eyes that capture you the most. They dart to yours every now and then, holding your gaze, the vulnerability in them enough to make your heart race. As you continue to move, you notice the little details—like the way her face scrunches up in sheer pleasure when you angle yourself to hit that particular spot deep inside her. The way she bites down on her lower lip, trying to muffle a particularly loud moan. You're hopelessly enthralled by her, that sometimes you toy with the idea that you can cum just by looking at her, by filling your senses with everything that is Wanda Maximoff.

In the heat of the moment, you allow yourself to be fully immersed in the experience. You imagine the strap is a part of you, a real extension of your own flesh, and you feel—or at least, you pretend to feel—every ridge, every hot, slick part of her clenching around you.

Wanda whimpers on cue, as if reading your thoughts. “I want all of you. Now.”

Suddenly, you feel her fingers drawing slow circles around your rim, teasing the sensitive skin there. The unexpected sensation makes you gasp, your rhythm faltering momentarily. “What are you—?” you start, only to be silenced by her lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss is fiery, desperate, and when you pull away, she whispers, “More.”

You comply, thrusting with renewed fervor, driven wild by her touch and her words. “I'm close,” you gasp, the coil in your belly winding tighter with each thrust. You're slicker, your thrusts becoming deeper, and with a particularly hard drive, you're pushed deeper inside her than you'd imagined possible.

“Do it,” she moans, her middle finger slipping inside your ass, “cum inside me.”

Wanda's inner walls clench tightly around the toy, signaling her own impending release. Her legs lock around your waist, pulling you in even deeper, and you can't hold back any longer. With a strangled cry, you climax, your body shaking with the force of it. You bury your face into the crook of her neck, biting down on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, leaving a mark that will surely be visible tomorrow.

The two of you ride out the waves of pleasure together, your breathing ragged and in sync. But the moment of rest is brief. Sensations still course through you, and with a sense of boldness, you start moving again, this time at a pace that leaves both of you breathless.

“W-wait,” Wanda stammers, her body already trembling from overstimulation. “It's too much.”

Instead of slowing, your fingers deftly find her clit, beginning to circle it with precision. Her protests turn into moans, her body arching up to meet each of your thrusts. And then, with a gasp and a shuddering sigh, she comes undone beneath you once more.

Moments later, her eyes flutter open, and there's a look of sheer astonishment and satisfaction in them. “You... you're incredible,” she breathes. “I've never felt so full, so complete.”

“You did so well, love,” you whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You took everything I gave, and you looked absolutely stunning doing it.” Unable to resist, you lean down to capture her lips in a tender kiss, before your hand moves to caress her belly. “I love the idea of filling you up,” you murmur against her lips.

She chuckles softly, her fingers tracing patterns on your back. “I noticed,” she teases.

Not ready to break the connection just yet, you wrap your arms tightly around her, savoring the closeness. And with a gentle roll, you shift positions, with Wanda now on top of you. The toy remains in place, and you both shiver from the sensation, even as the urgency of earlier has mellowed into a languid post-orgasmic haze.

Wanda nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, her soft breaths tickling your skin. “Let's just stay like this,” she whispers, her fingers lazily drawing circles on your chest.

“You know,” you muse aloud, a dreamy quality to your voice, “I’ve always liked the name ‘Elena’ for a girl. And maybe ‘William’ for a boy. What do you think?”

Wanda giggles, her breath warm against your neck. “Already thinking about baby names, are we?”

You shrug, feeling a bit bashful. “I can't help it. I'm just... excited, you know?”

She pulls back slightly, looking deep into your eyes with her own sparkling ones. “I know, darling. But remember, it's only been a week since I got the implant. We don't even know if I'm pregnant yet.”

You sigh, the reality of the situation sinking in. But then a stubborn grin forms on your face. “How about we make sure you are?” you say as you gently rock your hips upward.

Wanda gasps, her cheeks reddening. “You do realize that's not how it works, right?” But even as she says it, you can notice her gaze already darkening.

“But it doesn't hurt to... practice, right?” you whisper, your movement becoming more deliberate.

Wanda bites her lip, considering, then nods with a smirk. “Alright then. Let's 'practice'.”

It’s the third attempt that ends with Wanda not being pregnant. To be sure you're doing everything right, you and Wanda decide to visit a different reproductive endocrinologist.

The sterile walls of the clinic, coupled with the waiting room's soft music, can't quell the anxiety bubbling up inside both of you. You glance at Wanda, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the armrest.

Soon, a nurse calls you into the doctor’s office. It’s more welcoming than the antiseptic hallway outside. A tall, thin woman with a kind face and graying hair greets you both with a warm smile. “Hello, I’m Dr. Adams. Please have a seat.” She gestures to two comfortable chairs opposite her desk. You both take a seat, and she flips through Wanda's medical charts, scanning the numerous notes and test results. After a few more minutes filled with the sound of pages flipping and muffled conversations outside the room, the doctor finally looks up, focusing specifically on Wanda.

“I’ve gone over your charts and the lab results,” she starts evenly. “Everything looks promising. The numbers, hormone levels, all of it—it’s in the range we’d hope for. In clinical terms, you're a great candidate for conception.”

You and Wanda release a synchronized breath; Both of you have been overthinking this, searching for any fault, so it's reassuring to hear that everything is not only normal but also as it should be—perhaps even great.

Dr. Adams continues, “However,” she leans forward, “conception, in my personal belief, isn’t solely a game of numbers. God, or whatever higher power one might believe in, still has a say. There’s a mysterious element, a touch of magic, if you will, in the process.”

Wanda nods, her eyes a bit watery, “We just want to be parents. It's been harder than we imagined.”

The doctor nods, clasping her hands together. “I understand. I always tell my patients, 'Do your part and let the universe handle the rest.' It might sound a bit philosophical, but I've seen countless stories of hope and miracles throughout my career.”

Squeezing Wanda's hand, you're buoyed by the hope in those words. In return, she offers you a tight smile.

“With that said, let’s go over your treatment plan. It says here in your clinical history that you’ve been on COH for a while now, so let’s just retain that as we might need to harvest a new batch of eggs again

“We'll also introduce a GnRH Agonist, probably Lupron, to make sure there's no premature egg release. And as a precaution, we might add a GnRH Antagonist like Ganirelix.”

“And after you retrieve the eggs?” Wanda asks, hoping for something different, something that could easily be the missing piece in all of this.

Dr. Adams smiles gently, “Then, we'll give Progesterone, perhaps in the form of an injectable or a vaginal gel, to prepare the uterus for the embryo implantation. And we may supplement with Estradiol for the uterine lining, especially if we consider a frozen embryo transfer later."

She pauses, completing the prescription as she continues speaking. “Around the embryo transfer, I'd also recommend antibiotics and possibly a low dose of steroids to enhance the chances of implantation.”

You both exchange glances, feeling as though you're back at square one. Dr. Adams catches the look shared between the two of you. “I understand your apprehension,” she says, “and it might feel as though we're taking a step backward or starting all over again. But sometimes, we need a new approach or a minor tweak in the process.”

You rub Wanda's back soothingly, but you can feel her muscles tense beneath your fingers. The medical jargon, the never-ending cycle of hope followed by despair, it all starts to blend into one blurry narrative. You take the prescription from Dr. Adams, thanking her for her time and insight.

At home, you both decide to take a break from the overbearing thoughts and treat yourselves to a quiet, simple dinner.

You’re about to reach for the strap when Wanda stops you.

“Can we maybe... just for tonight—” Wanda's gaze meets yours, her lip caught nervously between her teeth, her eyes searching for your response as if she's made a misstep. “Just... just you. That’s all I need. Please?”

You place the strap aside, focusing solely on her.

“Okay, okay,” you whisper back, fingers delicately skimming the contour of her cheek, absorbing the heat of her flush. “Just us.”

You keep your gazes fixed on each other as you slowly guide her back onto the bed. The look in her eyes tells you she needs more from you—not just the need to come. You desperately want to tell her that whatever it is, she just needs to ask. Or that you wish you could understand her unspoken needs, so she wouldn't have to voice them, and you'd still fulfill them. But somehow, words fail to leave your lips.

Frankly, words have been failing you for quite some time now. And so, you let your mouth and your fingers do the talking.

“So?” you ask, not lifting your gaze from the crib you've been assembling for the past thirty minutes.

Wanda simply shakes her head, discarding the pregnancy test into the trash. For eleven months, you've both been diligently adhering to every guideline—tracking ovulation cycles, maintaining the prescribed diet, optimizing sleep schedules, even monitoring the daily water intake. You've both undergone all necessary tests for IVF, from basic hormone assessments to detailed embryological evaluations. Despite all efforts and precautions, Wanda still isn't pregnant. Of course, there's a pang of disappointment, but giving up isn't an option.

“We just have to keep trying.”

Wanda scoffs as she pours herself a glass of water. Sparky scuttles up to her, hoping for a fallen morsel. “Easy for you to say.”

Distracted by her remark, you shift your focus from the wooden pieces that refuse to align. Your brows knit together, and your lips pull into a slight frown. Meanwhile, Sparky trots over and nudges your leg with his snout. “What do you mean by that?” you ask Wanda, while absentmindedly patting Sparky's head.

Wanda’s silence is a more powerful response than any words could have been, but she quickly sidesteps the tension in the room by changing the subject. “Do you want bacon?” she asks, her eyes focusing on arranging the ingredients on the counter.

Baffled by the sudden shift, you answer, “We don't have bacon. We've been on that strict diet, remember?”

“I picked some up yesterday,” she replies, her voice a tad too casual as she avoids eye contact, focusing instead on cracking an egg into a mixing bowl. You study her for a moment, sensing there's more beneath her words.

“Wanda,” you begin gently, “talk to me.” She remains silent, but her grip on the pan's handle speaks volumes.

With no response from Wanda, you release a resigned sigh and refocus on the crib you’ve been struggling with. An insight strikes and you manage to align the elusive pieces. As you start hammering them together, the sound ricochets across the quiet morning—a rather unpleasant sound.

The clamor clearly irks Wanda, causing her to hurl the turner onto the sink with a resounding clang that captures your attention. The sudden motion startles Sparky, who retreats to a corner with a soft whine.

She spins around, her chest heaving with pent-up emotions. “You want me to talk? Fine, I'll talk. Why did you tell Natasha we were trying to have a baby?”

Your hammering ceases abruptly. Her rage blindsides you. It's true, you had shared your hopes with Natasha as early as a month into trying with Wanda. But that was a long time ago, why was this a problem now?

“You know Nat is like a sister to me, and I didn't think it would be an issue,” you try to explain. “It’s been so long since then, why bring it up now?”

Wanda’s face contorts as she struggles to hold back tears. “Because last night, she looked at me with pity, with sadness... I don’t want people’s pity!” she cries out. You set down the hammer and walk towards her.

“I promise, Nat doesn't pity you,” you say, taking Wanda’s hand. She struggles against your grip for a moment, but you don't let go. Eventually, she gives in, and you pull her into a hug. “But I'm truly sorry for sharing without your consent. That was my mistake.”

When you pull back, she doesn’t meet your gaze, her eyes fixed on the crib behind you. It's a beautiful piece, elegant in its design, something any parent-to-be would cherish. But for now, it only makes Wanda seethe even more.

“Natasha gave us that crib, didn't she?”

You nod, remembering the day when Natasha had surprised you both with the gift, her way of showing support for the new chapter in your lives. “Yes, she did. Out of love, Wanda.”

But Wanda’s eyes blaze, her voice breaking, “While you feel gratitude when you see it, all I feel is pressure. You know what I see when I look at it? The symbol of my failure. I feel like I'm letting you down, and now with Nat knowing, I have another person I feel I’m disappointing.”

You’re heartbroken hearing her express her anxieties. You had no idea she'd been carrying such a burden. Pulling her close, you hold her tightly. “I don't ever want you to feel that way. We're in this together, no matter what. And nobody—not even Nat—can make us feel less than.”

Wanda buries her face in your chest, allowing herself to release the pain she's been holding back. She clings onto you, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt as she seeks comfort in your reassurances. “Don’t you ever leave me,” she murmurs amidst her tears. “I just want to make you happy.”

Your lips press tightly together. Of course, you'd never consider leaving Wanda. The thought wouldn't even cross your mind. Where is all this coming from?

“You do make me happy, every single day,” you reply, your words soaked in the truth of your love for her, “with or without a baby, our happiness is crafted by the love we share, not by the expectations of others or the gifts they give.”

“And you love me?” Wanda asks.

Gently cupping her face in your hands, you make sure she’s looking directly into your eyes when you say, “Every inch, every fiber, every moment.”

Her eyes search yours, a shadow flickering within them that you can't quite pin down. After a long beat of silence, she whispers, “Okay. Then return that crib to Natasha.”

Natasha's apartment is a study in minimalist elegance with clean lines and straight forward colors. You ring the bell, adjusting the large box you're holding, and rehearse the speech in your head. After all, you've never returned anything Natasha has given you before.

The door swings open, revealing your best friend in a tattered shirt, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She eyes the box, then shifts her gaze up to meet yours, arching an eyebrow. “That's...a large box.”

“It's the crib,” you state simply, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Her eyes flash with understanding and perhaps a hint of curiosity. “Come in.”

You push the box through the door with some considerable effort and take a seat on her plush sofa, noting how her living room has changed since your last visit. New artwork on the walls, a couple of throw pillows that weren’t there before.

Natasha takes a seat opposite you. “How's Wanda?”

“She's... coping,” you reply with a bit of hesitation. “Some days are better than others.”

After Wanda confronted you about sharing the private details of your married life with your best friend, you've been extra cautious about what to share and what not to. With people like your boss Scott or your colleagues at work, it's easy. But with your best friend, it's hard to hold back, especially when she's the only other person you turn to for advice and confide in.

Natasha nods in understanding, her sharp eyes analyzing you. “You look...fit. More so than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, been on a restrictive diet to help Wanda keep hers. Thought it'd help her with food temptation if I joined in.”

She smirks, “That's sweet. But is that the only reason?”

You smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Well, initially, yes. But I've started enjoying my time at the gym. It makes me feel... more confident, I guess. And it's been a good distraction, especially with all the stress at work.”

“That’s good to hear,” she says, her gaze flitting towards the box. “But what’s up with the crib?”

Taking a deep breath, you began to recite the rehearsed explanation about your mother wanting to gift you a crib, how it seemed redundant to have two, and how—but Natasha cuts you off with an amused chuckle.

“Come on, Y/N,” she grins, shaking her head. “I’m not buying that crap. Just tell me the truth. I won't be offended.”

“Alright,” you start, dropping the facade. “Wanda's been finding it hard. The crib... it’s like this looming symbol of expectation and pressure for her. We’ve been trying for months and it's been weighing on her. And, honestly, on me too.”

Natasha’s eyes soften at your admission. “I can’t even begin to imagine how tough this must be for both of you,” she says. “But let me ask you something, Y/N. How do you feel about all of this? Not just the crib, but Wanda not being able to get pregnant?”

For a moment, you appear deeply engrossed in thought, gazing at the box and the unfinished crib, then your eyes shift back to meet Natasha's. “It's difficult. Every month, there’s this hope, this expectation. And when it doesn’t happen, it’s... crushing. Not just for Wanda, but for me too. I watch her go through it every time and it kills me that I can't do more to help. That being said, I don’t blame her, nor do I see her any differently. I love her, no matter what. But it's hard to watch her go through this pain.”

“Does she know that?”

You’re about to say yes but then your most recent argument with Wanda stops you.

Don’t you ever leave me. I just want to make you happy.

It’s clear that you haven’t been telling her enough. Maybe a part of you doesn't want to admit that there's a twinge of disappointment, or that you've started to believe you could be the one to try in her stead. But you haven't shared any of this with Wanda. In keeping silent, you mistakenly thought you were reassuring her. Wrapped up in your career, you've been blind to the emotional strain it's placed on your wife, how it's shaken her self-esteem and her trust in your love.

Maybe you'd been too caught up in your own head, too busy trying to protect her, and in doing so, inadvertently pushed her away.

“I mean, I thought she knew,” you say with a shaky sigh. “But maybe I haven't been clear enough. I've been trying to maintain a positive outlook, you know? But I think I messed up.”

After a pause, Natasha rises and offers, “Want a beer?”

You nod, then lean back, exhaling audibly. “I'm even thinking about... you know, maybe I should be the one to try. But I'm scared it'll seem like I've given up on her.”

Natasha's eyes widen slightly as she hands you a cold can of beer. “Whoa, that's big. But just, when you talk to her about it, make sure she knows it's 'cause you two are in this together. Not 'cause you think she can't. And is…that what you want?”

“We want kids, Nat.”

“But does it have to happen now?”

You pop open the beer and take a deep sip before responding. “I mean, I don't think either of us envisioned it would be this hard. It's just... We both felt ready, you know? And after all the effort and disappointment, it's not easy to just push pause.”

“I don’t know, Y/N… Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we've got to decide if we want to swing or wait for the next pitch.”

“You've been hanging around Clint too much.”

Natasha grins. “Maybe. But seriously, what's the rush? If the universe is telling you something, maybe it's worth listening.”

You look down at the beer can, condensation slipping down its side. “I just hate seeing her hurt. Every negative test, every failed attempt, I can see how much it's breaking her.”

“Then talk to Wanda,” Natasha says. “Ask her what she wants. Stop making assumptions and trying to fix everything.”

The thing is, you don't want to give up. That's probably why you're so nervous about mentioning to Wanda the idea of pausing and rethinking things. You've been self-centered for too long, and as much as Wanda wants to make you happy, you need her to be happy too.

“Thanks, Nat. It means a lot,” you say, rising from your seat. Just as you're about to reach the door, Natasha's voice stops you.

“I'll hold onto the crib for when the time's right, okay?”

You are startled awake from a light slumber by the sound of soft moans beside you. As your eyes flutter open, you see Wanda, her hand moving frantically under the sheets. The sight sends a warm thrill down your spine, but you notice her face turning a shade redder as she realizes you've woken up.

“Oh, I-I didn't mean to wake you,” she stammers, trying to pull the sheet over her actions, but you catch her wrist gently. It hurts a bit to realize that Wanda tried to hide her actions from you. It's in this moment you recognize you've been neglecting her physical needs as well, and you can't remember the last time you made love to her in earnest.

“Hey, it's okay,” you whisper reassuringly, your sleepy eyes now more alert and focused on her flushed face.

You reach over to the nightstand and turn on the lamp. Now, with better visibility, you can see the sheen of sweat on her forehead, her lips slightly parted as she bites down on her lower lip to stifle any further sounds.

“Sorry,” she mutters again, looking away shyly. “I didn't think I'd wake you.”

“No need to apologize,” you respond softly, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “Can I... can I help?”

Wanda nods her head bashfully, her breath quickening. You smile inwardly; you've lost track of how many times you've done this to her, to each other, yet there’s still this little dance you do even though you both know what it’s going to look like within the next hour.

You can tell she's probably expecting your fingers, which is why when you maneuver yourself down to the foot of the bed, her eyes widen with a blend of surprise and arousal.

You settle between her legs, taking a moment to admire the goddess before you. As you slowly slide off her panties, you take the opportunity to press tender kisses along her trembling thighs.

“You're so beautiful,” you murmur against her skin, feeling her shiver under your touch. “You smell so good, so delectable.” She whimpers softly as you continue, “You've been such a wonderful partner, Wanda. You complete me in every way.”

Wanda is enough. Whether the path to pregnancy is smooth or rocky, what matters most is this—the life you share together, the bond you’ve formed over the years. You'd rather have her happy and content, than stressed and miserable over what might not be.

Without further ado, you delve into the act of worshiping her with your tongue, making her gasp and clutch the sheets beside her. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer as you navigate through her soft folds, each stroke of your tongue eliciting a beautiful melody of moans and sighs from her.

You don't consider yourself particularly religious, but you send a silent thanks to whoever might be up there, that you get to experience everything with this woman—for better or for worse.

“Branch manager? But I thought—”

“You need the experience, Y/N, so I can properly recommend you for an AVP position,” Scott says, adjusting his tie—a habit you've observed he resorts to in awkward moments.

You blink in surprise, trying to process the unexpected turn. “Scott, that's... I'm honored, truly, but I was under the impression that the AVP position was nearly within my grasp.”

He exhales, avoiding direct eye contact. “Look, Y/N, you're incredibly talented, and everyone knows it. But there are some procedural checkboxes we need to tick, and having branch managerial experience is one of them.”

“But there must be some catch to this 'promotion', right?” you ask.

Scott shifts uneasily in his chair before replying, “Well, there is a trade-off. You'll be temporarily relocated to Westview, New Jersey.”

“Westview?”

He nods, “The branch there needs significant improvement, and the higher-ups believe you're the best person for the job. They would be immensely grateful for your expertise.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you inquire, “How long do I have before the move?”

“Less than a month,” he admits, sounding apologetic.

The prospect of relocating, even temporarily, is daunting, especially given the current circumstances at home. You haven't even touched on the idea of perhaps pumping the brakes on conceiving with Wanda, and now this added responsibility looms ahead.

You push open the front door of the apartment, immediately hearing Sparky's playful barks. Wanda is lounging on the living room couch, a bowl of green salad in her lap. She's back on her restrictive diet, you note, and she looks more refreshed than she has in weeks.

Attempting to be discreet, you try to slide the platter of sushi behind a cushion, but Wanda's observant eyes catch the movement. “Is that...sushi?”

Ah, there it goes—your surprise. “Um, yeah,” you mutter, bringing the platter around, “I thought maybe we could enjoy something different tonight.”

Her eyes dart between the sushi and your face, the question clear in her eyes. You sigh, deciding to cut to the chase. “I think maybe we should...take a break from trying. Just for a little while.”

Wanda looks stunned, and before she can say anything, you continue, “It’s taking a toll. On both of us, but especially on you. And with this new opportunity at work, which requires me to relocate temporarily…”

She’s silent for a beat, and then you see her eyes well up with tears, the dam breaking as she cries softly. It's a quiet cry, one of acceptance and understanding, but it still breaks your heart.

You pull her into a hug, letting her tears soak through your shirt. “Hey, it’s just a pause. And it’s a chance for us to enjoy things we’ve missed,” you say, holding out the platter of sushi toward her.

She looks at the platter and then at you, her tears mingling with a soft smile. “I've missed sashimi,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

You smile back, wiping away her tears. “And I've missed seeing you enjoy it,” you reply tenderly.

With a small sigh, she picks up a piece, enjoying the flavor that she's missed for so long. You both know that this pause doesn’t mean giving up—it's just a small detour. You’re looking forward to a new chapter with the move to New Jersey. Who knows, maybe if things in your career stabilize, you can discuss with Wanda the possibility of you being the one to carry. It's a delicate suggestion, for sure, but deep down, it kind of feels like that might be the way things should go.

But still, you can't help but ask—

“Hey, we're okay, right?”

Wanda seems to search for words for a moment before answering. Her eyes, now clear, meet yours with a fondness that's always been there.

Her hand reaches out to hold yours, and you latch onto it, feeling your need for her to stay grounded.

“We’re okay.”

A/N: Yeah, we all know what happens next...

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #oneshots #wanda maximoff au #fic request #natasha romanoff #ilgoss oneshot

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

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pay for your crimes

part 4! Ona and R get Alexia and Mapi back for trying to play Cupid. Or they try to.

no warnings!

You and Ona spent the morning... busy. You spent the afternoon busy too, but in a different, less sexy way: figuring out how to trick two of the most observant people on the team was a challenge. The two of you decided that Ona would call Alexia and tell her that you didn't reciprocate her feelings. You would continue your radio silence to Mapi, as if nothing had happened. At practice tomorrow, you and Ona wouldn't speak to each other, and you figured Mapi would corner you and try to get you to talk, if she didn't call you immedietly after hearing from Alexia. You'd tell her nothing happened, and even though she'd presumably know the truth from Alexia, she wouldn't be able to admit it.

The biggest problem here was Ona; she was a horrible liar. Growing up, she didn't hide much from her parents, so she didn't get practice then like most teenagers do. You really didn't know how her call to Alexia was going to go.

Predictably, Alexia answered on the first ring, her voice ringing out into the room over the speaker, clearly expecting to be told how good she was at matchmaking.

"Hola Capi" Ona let her voice quiver slightly. You turned away from her, worried eye contact would cause both of you to break into giggles.

"Ona! How did it go?" Alexia's words were said with so much excitement, you almost felt bad. Almost.

"Not great."

"What?" The confusion in Alexia's tone had you biting your lip to keep from laughing.

"We talked. You were wrong, Ale. She doesn't have feelings for me. And I didn't tell her I had any for her. I think it's better we just keep some space until we can be friends again." Ona's voice was filled with emotion, and you knew it was the stress of lying, but it sounded like she was genuinely upset.

"No, Ona that can't be right. I'm... i'm sure she has feelings for you."

"What because of the way she looks at me? I don't think that is more convincing than her telling me to my face that she doesn't have feelings for me."

"No, Ona it's not just that. Its..." Alexia was clearly struggling to not admit that she had firsthand testimony that you had admitted to being in love with Ona. "It's more than that. You just have to trust me, go talk to her again," she practically begged.

"Ale, I already trusted you. It didn't work out that well. She doesn't feel the same way, it's time to move on."

"Ona if you just-" Alexia sounded almost frantic at this point.

"No, Capi. I just need some time okay? I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, Ona hung up, just in time for both of you to collapse into laughter. She'd impressed you, keeping it together well. It turns out that the shakiness in her voice from being dishonest seemed similar to how she sounds when she's emotional.

The two of you had just stopped laughing, and regained your breath, when your phone rang. Seeing Mapi's caller ID flash on your phone literally only minutes after hanging up with Alexia was enough to push you both into another fit of hysterical laughter. You had to let the phone ring out before you could pull yourself together, wiping a few stray tears from your eyes.

"Alright, keep it together, I'm gonna call Mapi back. And Ona, don't you dare look at me or I'll lose it again." Ona took a deep breath, wiping the smile off her face, and turned around so her back was facing you on the couch. You took a deep breath too, before pressing the call button. Mapi answered before the first ring had even finished.

"Hey Mapi. What's up?" You made sure to sound a little dejected, but as though you were trying to hide it.

"Y/n! Um..." Mapi trailed off; it seemed she hadn't really thought calling you through all the way, and she didn't know what to say. Digging your nails into your palms to stop yourself from laughing again, you waited for her to decide what to say.

After a minute she finally spoke. "Patri told me you left the bar with Ona last night. What happened?" She tried to sound casual, but you could hear the serious tone in her voice. Ona turned to look at you, mouthing the words, Sure, Patri told you, before you pushed her shoulder to turn her back around.

"Oh yeah. I was just kind of drunk and freaked out over those weird guys. She just took me home. Nothing happened." You, as opposed to Ona, were a great liar. You knew how to lie, and how to layer a lie; allowing someone to see through what you wanted them to, but not alerting them to what was really going on. You let your voice shake slightly, trying to sound as though you were putting on a brave face.

You were met with silence from the other end of the phone. You don't think you'd ever lied to Mapi before, and she clearly didn't know what to do with it. She would know from Alexia that you and Ona slept together, and had a conversation, but she had no way of telling you that. She was stuck.

"Are you sure, nena? If something happened, you can tell me." Her voice sounded so genuine, so reassuring, that you had to really fight to keep yourself from telling her the truth.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Nothing happened." You cleared your throat, hoping to make it seem like you were fighting back tears. "I'm hungover though, and I don't really feel that good, so I'll see you tomorrow."

You hung the phone up before she could respond, groaning as you sat back heavily on the couch. Ona turned around, pulling your body to lay your head in her lap. She smiled down at you, and you grinned back up at her, admiring the freckles that adorned her face. You were beginning to think they were one of your favorite of her features. She absentmindedly ran her hands through your hair, and you melted a little at the sweet gesture.

"Should I be worried at how good of a liar you are?" She made it sound like she was joking, but you could sense a hint of insecurity in her voice. Instead of responding right away, you pulled her head down, pressing a deep kiss to her lips. When you broke apart, she was gasping for air, her eyes looking slightly dazed.

"As long as I keep kissing you like that, you don't have anything to worry about. I'll never lie to you, Oni. Promise." She returned your smile, before it fell from her face. Concerned, you asked her what was wrong.

"I'm gonna have to lie to Alexia tomorrow. In person. All day." She looked genuinely terrified at the prospect.

You laughed, "You're just gonna have to try your best to seem like an emotional mess and not a lying one." She sighed, clearly thinking deeply about how she was going to approach the next day.

-----

Ona returned to her apartment that night, and you decided you would arrive early to practice, to see if anyone asked you any questions, and Ona would arrive late, to avoid being asked questions right away.

You walked down the hall towards the locker room, thinking you would be the first person there. You stopped when you heard voices, leaning against the wall to shamelessly eavesdrop.

"-don't understand, why would she lie to me? She's never lied to me before, this is not normal." You felt a pang of guilt at the sound of Mapi's voice. She sounded really concerned, and kind of hurt. You reminded yourself that her and Alexia needed to be taught a lesson about their matchmaking, as they were getting too confident in their skills.

"I don't understand why they won't just admit whats going on to each other. I mean y/n straight up told Ona she didn't have feelings for her. They are making this so complicated, and now we have to get even more involved," Alexia sounded frustrated.

"I hate to point this out," Ingrid broke in, although she didn't sound that regretful, "but if you guys hadn't meddled in their relationship, they might have been able to take their time and figure things out themselves."

You didn't have to see Mapi and Alexia's faces to know they were both glaring at Ingrid.

"Helpful, Ingrid. Thank you. Ale's right though, we have to fix it, maybe we can-"

You walked in then, airpods in, pretending you hadn't been eavesdropping. You made sure to keep your gaze down, and your face neutral as you headed to your locker and set your stuff down. You could feel the three girls staring at you, and you pulled your airpods out before looking over at them.

"Hi?" You acted confused, catching them staring at you.

"Hola, y/n. How are you?" It was Alexia who responded, her eyes looking over you searchingly.

"Fine. How are you?" you turned back to your stuff, still listening, but began to pull your training kit out of your bag.

"I'm... fine." Alexia responded slowly, and you hummed in response, pretending to be distracted. The rest of the team started to trickle into the locker room, and you let yourself fall into conversation with Pina and Patri, who, unlike some other people, would never have mentioned to anyone that she saw you and Ona making out against the wall.

You watched Ona walk in out of the corner of your eye, and she sent you a small smile, back turned to Ingrid, Mapi, and Alexia, who were still huddled together in front of Mapi's locker, looking as though they were trying to construct a solution to end world hunger. They weren't paying attention to you, so you sent Ona a small smile back, before turning back to your conversation.

You didn't notice Ingrid clock the looks you and Ona exchanged, or the way her eyes followed the two of you the rest of practice. You and Ona made a game of it, seeing who could make the fake tension between the two of you the most obvious.

You thought you had won when you pretended to hear someone calling your name on the other side of the field when Ona neared the water cooler you were standing by. However, Ona took the cake when she took you out with a particularly nasty tackle that left you sprawled out on the grass, not bothering to apologize, going so far as to step over you before you could get up. The whole team exchanged looks at that one, and even though your body ached from the impact, you really weren't mad; Ona was competitive, you knew this.

Mapi helped you up, shooting a glare at Ona, and you had to hide your smirk in your shirt, wiping off your face with it. You still hadn't noticed Ingrid watching the two of you carefully, whereas Mapi and Alexia were individually focused on each of you.

When practice ended, you headed into the locker room, leaving a couple players out on the pitch to work on penalties, including Mapi and Alexia. As you neared the door to the locker room, you felt a sharp pain on your ear and yelped, feeling yourself be dragged down the hall. You heard a similar yelp coming from the other side of you, but at the risk of losing your ear, you didn't turn around to look for the source. Instead, you let yourself be pulled into the medical supplies closet, turning to face Ingrid, who let go of your and Ona's ears once the door shut behind her.

She looked at the two of you, raising an eyebrow, before she reached out a hand and pulled the neck of Ona's training top down slightly, revealing the many, many hickeys littered across her upper chest. It's possible you had gotten carried away yesterday morning, and Ona had to be careful about which top she wore, as the marks were barely covered by her shirt. Ingrid must have spotted one peaking out. You both blushed, and Ingrid sighed.

"You know that you're driving both of them crazy right? They think they've ruined your relationship, and both of you are going to die alone unless they do something to fix it." You fought back a laugh, and could tell Ona was doing the same.

"This is what they get for trying to play cupid. It could have ended like this, and they need to be taught a lesson. Who knows who their next victim could be," you joked, looking for a laugh from Ingrid, but only finding a serious face. "Oh come on, Ingrid, I heard you telling them the same thing this morning in the locker room." Ingrid opened her mouth to respond, but Ona interrupted her.

"Wait, how did you know?" she questioned, and Ingrid rolled her eyes.

"It's painfully obvious to everyone except those two! The little looks, little smirks at each other when you think no on is watching. That absurd tackle. The only people who don't know are Alexia and Mapi, because they're too upset to notice." Ingrid was shamelessly scolding you both, and you started to feel guilty. She turned her attention to you before speaking again. "You know Mapi cried yesterday when she got off the phone with you? She knew you were lying to her and she couldn't understand what she did to make you not trust her."

It made sense why Ingrid was so upset. She was fiercely protective of Mapi, and even though you knew she agreed with you, making her girlfriend cry was clearly a step too far.

You sighed, "We weren't trying to upset them, it was just supposed to be a little joke." Ona murmured her agreement with your statement.

"Well you did upset them. They both really care about the two of you, and thought they had really messed up. So now you're gonna go march into that room and tell them the truth, before you make my girlfriend cry again. Got it?" Her hands were on her hips, and she was glaring at both of you as you hung your heads in shame, and agreed. Ingrid had a reputation for being a big softie, but she could really turn on the stern when she wanted to.

She led you out of the closet, bringing you to an empty conference room, leaving with a warning to stay put. You and Ona looked at each other, exchanging wide eyed glances, not finding the situation so funny anymore.

"Damn, I really didn't expect them to be that upset," you stated.

"You know, I always assumed Mapi was in charge in that relationship, but clearly I've underestimated Ingrid" Ona mused, shutting her mouth tightly as the door opened again.

Ingrid walked in, with an incredibly confused Alexia and Mapi trailing in after her. You met Mapi's eyes, and she looked so worried that the guilt you felt tripled. Ingrid gestured for everyone to take seats at the table, looking like the least professional business meeting anyone had ever had.

"Tell them what you two did," Ingrid said, when it became clear neither you nor Ona were going to start the conversation. Mapi and Alexia turned to the two of you, confused.

"Well. We did talk yesterday. And we realized that the two of you were both telling each other things, and trying to get us together, and we were kind of annoyed, so we decided to tell you guys that we weren't together. But, we are. We figured it out," you started.

Ona continued, "and we didn't mean to make you guys upset, we thought it would just be funny."

Alexia and Mapi looked back and forth between the two of you for a minute, before saying at the same time, "so you ARE together?"

You and Ona nodded, and the two girls opposite you let out huge sighs of relief. Mapi ran her hands over her face, and you hadn't realized how tense she had looked until you watched it leave her body. Alexia looked like she was fighting back tears, which was incredibly alarming; you'd seen Alexia cry maybe 3 times. You and Ona started spouting out more apologies, but Mapi held up a hand, and you both grew quiet.

"We were upset because we though we'd pushed too hard and ruined your relationship. Can you imagine how guilty we felt? Lying to us was really mean. That being said, we shouldn't have started conspiring together in the first place, and for that, I'm sorry." Mapi was so rarely serious, it was really a sight to behold.

"What happened to the little Ona I knew that used to cry every time she lied?" Alexia was glaring at Ona, and you laughed quietly.

"She used it to her advantage. She had to sound upset to be convincing," you responded, and Ona slapped your arm, shooting you a glare.

"Alright, we've all apologized, everyone knows the truth, are we free to go now," Ona asked, directing her question towards Ingrid.

Ingrid looked between the two of you for a moment, before sighing, and standing up, heading towards the door.

"Fine. But you should probably make sure to cover up those hickeys all over your chest before you change in front of everyone tomorrow Oni." She smirked back at you, heading back into the locker room, as Alexia and Mapi looked at the two of you in horror. Ona made to bolt out of the room, and Alexia chased after her, demanding to see what ungodly things Ona had allowed you to do to her.

Mapi still looked grossed out at the thought, but you crossed the room, wrapping yourself around her in a hug.

"I'm sorry I lied. I never meant to make you feel like I didn't trust you," you mumbled into her shirt. She wrapped her arms around you, squeezing tight.

"All forgiven, nena. I can't stay mad at you. As long as you're happy, I'm happy." You pulled back, smiling at her. You heard a shriek come from the locker room, followed by Alexia's voice.

"My god! One wasn't enough, y/n, you needed to leave 15?" You winced, and Mapi looked down at you, her face once again one of disgust. You shrugged at her, and she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, walking you back to the locker room, hopefully to help you save your girlfriend from Alexia, but more likely to join in on the teasing. You found that you didn't really mind it.

-----

this was.. way more fun to write than I was expecting. hope you enjoyed :)

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ona batlle x reader #mapi leon #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #ona batlle

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ecstarry · 6 months ago

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@rosekillermicrofic / lies / 415 words / rated M/ Cook Barty meets produce guy Evan

for u babes @fromagony @star4daisy @godsofwoes @bellaxisworld <3

If this is how I die it’s alright was all Barty could think as Evan finished working his tongue around his cock. They had been fucking for close to a year now. When he started flirting with the produce guy, he did it for fun, he was bored that day doing prep when the new guy arrived.

He had been working at that shitty restaurant for far too long if he was honest. He only got along with Dorcas, the Head Cook, but as the new place was about to open she practically left this shithole to Barty and was never there anymore. So when a shiny new toy came in with a tight ass and tired bags under unholy green eyes, he found a way to entertain himself. He never expected for Evan to bite back, let alone for him to leave marks behind.

He became obsessed with Evan. It all started with Barty trying to find any excuse to get Evan close. To grab his hand, then his waist, and eventually his ass. Evan returned every gesture right back at Barty.

It was Evan who pushed him into the employee’s bathroom and kissed him for the first time. That day Barty felt like a teenager, almost leaving a mess on his work pants because a pretty boy was touching him. But Evan didn’t just touch Barty, he devoured him, with his hands, his mouth, his teeth, his nails. He clenched to Barty’s skin, his scent, and to his bones.

Barty went home that day and dreamed of Evan. He woke up and jerked off to Evan. He went to work and waited for Evan. It was only Evan.

Barty tried to tell himself that it was just an itch. That if he fucked Evan it would go away. And so he did, but the itch was still there. So he thought he needed Evan to fuck him. And so Evan did, but the itch was still there. Every fucking time he had the man under his grip, his waist in his hands, his cock in his mouth, his eyes fixated on Barty, he knew. It was all lies. Evan was not an itch he could ever get rid of, nor did he want to. Evan had branded him, through bruises and scratches, Barty could trace every part of his body that belonged to Evan, including his heart.

Desperation had never felt so good. He didn’t care, not as long as Evan remained his.

#kinda had bittersuite by billie in mind when writing it #and by that i mean its on loop #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic #marauders #marauders era #slytherin skittles #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #barty crouch x evan rosier #gay dead wizards #barty x evan #barty jr #evan x barty #hp marauders #marauders microfic

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lundenloves · 1 year ago

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IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, I MEET MY FATHER WHEN HE IS A CHILD

〔 yeah this had no idea being as emotionally intense as it was, and for that, i will take a swig of this wine i’m drinking. a rhône red. this is based off the poem by nikita gill — and dedicated to all the girlies who relate. i love you, you are seen. 〕

˗ˏˋ i have a lot of requests in my inbox. i’ll take ages to do them because all of my time is stolen by the ceiling whom i stare at lovingly. it’s been really rough lately folks, i won’t lie.

⇀ warnings of brief abuse mentions | 1.7k

dad!simon masterlist | masterlist | taglist | request info

A father and his youngest daughter. Simon and his youngest daughter. A concept so simple but also complex. The last one to need dad, the last one to be embarrassed of him, the last one to scoff after consoling kisses to her temple, the last one to say bye to him and the last one to move out. Every of his efforts landed enough for surface satisfaction, though not deep enough to reject tears over TikTok slideshows. Father quotes, embedded between photos of old and new paintings, some of animals hugging and others of people.

What if you met your father when he was a child? It said, eleven words that joined together to create a swell of pity in her stomach. The clock turned three and darkness welcomed the girlhood routine of small houred upset.

In another universe,

I meet my father

when he is a child.

Her chest hurt. She hadn’t said bye to him, too busy on the phone with her friend. Undoubtedly another teenage drama, one that lasted only an hour at best when saying goodbye could’ve taken mere seconds and lasted forever. He stood in her door frame, camouflage clad and knocking to enter.

“Bye.” She’d mumbled, now touching her shoulder at the invisible feeling of his hand. A touch that she had learned meant love from her father, his calloused fingers padding twice before pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking out. He always closed the door behind him, a fatherhood instinct he had picked up from the years.

She viscerally pictured his youth. An image near scolded into her brain from the single photo she had seen. Stood without a smile, hand raised to bite on his nail. He was small against his older brother who looked just the same, a distant hand placed on Simon’s shoulder. It was something that she thought about often, about how even in his childhood she hadn’t seen one smile.

It was telling.

We play catch in the woods

and as we play he tells me

he isn’t allowed to cry

but sometimes the world

hurts him and he doesn’t know

what to do with all that pain.

One tear fell. She could hear the young voice, something so untainted but so far from happiness. A nonchalance sprouted from a young age, said with a shrug and a wide eyed stare — something like an animal in headlights. Her own childhood easily caught up to his, passing him by without a look back. The boy dropped his arm and watched her walk by, dark circles made home under his eyes and the bruises on his arms harbored, making their place known for years to come.

So I give him the shoulder he needs to cry on.

And he does. He does

Until the tears are done.

Her lip tasted salty, one or two more tears dropping for the thought of her father at her age. Still and silent, an observant soul with a foul temper. One tested more than he would’ve hoped or had energy for — if not his father, then school peers, finding joy in persistent teasing for his solemn stares and aggressive responses.

It was something he had carried to adulthood, to parenthood. Dropping the bag of trauma at the door and doing his best to avoid the handle, locking the door and throwing away the key to avoid stepping near or on anything delicate. Anything that could set him off, for anger and upset had been merged into one. Because it wasn’t right to be emotional, it wasn’t right to cry or show visible turmoil because that’s not what men were like was it? Nevermind a five, nine, twelve or sixteen year old boy.

Tears were the crime, anger was the fine. Even now, his rare despair came laced with anger and she couldn’t help in finding similarities to herself. She was her fathers’ daughter. Her smile, her eyes and her cry. Silent. Her ears went red the same way his did, her pitch raised when on the defence and her tears came at night when no one was around to see them.

Like now.

As she lay in bed, wiping tear-stained cheeks in a house bought from what was ultimately Simon’s life. Every deployment it seemed far fetched to assume he wouldn’t come back, though it was easy to forget the very real possibility. His texts kept her mind from wandering too far, a simple text of good morning or night. Something he knew was reassuring, because as much as she was his daughter he was also her father.

Afterwards, I buy him ice cream

and I listen to his laugh,

the glowing warm laugh

of a child who knows he is safe.

Isn’t it weird how you can feel it in your chest and stomach when something really hurts your feelings? A sinking feeling, one that you can’t seem to shake until your head decides to alleviate you of the weight. Her head spun at the thought, her father as a child and this continuous feeling — something that happened so often he almost found comfort in it.

Familiarity runs a person. It’s undeniable, anything merely familiar is a driving point for the average individual. Though it was easy to forget the definition was different for everyone. For some, it was being born into a burning house with spits of fire. The inclination to find a human equivalent of petrol just to start a riot, finding home in forever arguments and turbulence. Simon was scared that’s what he would create, a lineage of trauma and anger.

But he hadn’t. Not to the extent he was worried for anyway, instead, his girls were extended parts of the warmth he feared yet craved so deeply. The feeling of safety was a necessity growing up, it’s grounding — something he wasn’t a party of privilege to and it made his daughter sob.

It made her sob how his hugs were forever tainted by his childhood. A fear to hold both arms tight in favor of a one armed distancing method, one that was abolished when drunk and she received his longing. Constant drunken smiles, laughs, hugs and words of affirmation. Her phone was pulled from the bedside table, scrolling to find his contact and phoning him without a second thought.

It was even later where he was, but still the phone barely had a chance to ring once before he had answered. “Hi, you alright?” Voice hoarse from sleep, forever in concern.

She imagined him sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his eyes with a mighty frown across his brow. One that would soften as she began to cry down the line, “I feel bad I didn’t say bye to you.”

“You did.” He’d almost laugh instantly, his own attempt to lift her up from thousands of miles away. “Don’t cry over it.” A pause. “It’s late where you are, eh?” The creak of his bed sounded over the phone and she knew he was getting up to start his day rather than go back to sleep.

I wish someone could

have done that for him.

She hated it. The way he would throw emotion away by retreating to his room for days after coming home. It was something she hadn’t paid any attention to being younger, but the older she got, and the older he got, it became obvious. The undeniable anxiety in his shaky hands, all pent up worry from being so still on the field releasing. He couldn’t hold a mug for days, growing red faced out of frustration and subsequent embarrassment over the inability to do something so simple.

“Are you alright dad?” She’d ask, watching from the threshold as he clinked the ceramic against the counter — a crass sound filling the room and then his puff of anger. The tea spilled across the surface, his fist encouraging the flow with a thump against the marble. “I’ll get it.” Voice quiet, wary eyes catching his own.

His jaw tightened at her presence, pushing both hands up through his hair and down to rub his face. “No, it’s—” He cut himself off with a timely blink. “Sorry.” He motioned to the spillage, taking steps backward to lean against the surface behind him, instantly zoning out.

Sometimes he wanted to cry.

But it didn’t ever happen.

Been a kind, safe place

for the child he used to be.

Would it have made a difference?

The worst feeling in the world was that of neglect. The feeling of loving someone so hard, on your knees in front of them begging for them to love you back, and yet, only receiving a familiar feeling of disappointment running cold in your veins. Nothing but abuse and torment, the pining for warmth becoming redundant against each icy spit. It was worse coming from someone you looked up to. Anyone from a friend to a sister and a brother. But worst of all. A parent.

Because there was something devastating about the lack of parental love for a youth. Those key years are knocked for six by the physical blows and emotional hits. It shapes you. Molds each crevice in your brain to whatever badness it feels, manifesting in forms of wrathful anger or complete silence, a primal human instinct to protect yourself.

Not that it ever worked.

It never does.

Instead, it works in tandem with the abuser. Silence aiding an escalation of the inevitable. But one or two hits isn’t so bad, right? The purpling of your cheekbones feels like home and it’s not something you can ever leave.

Simon recognised that from a young age.

And if the tears hadn’t been beaten out of him and he was able, he would’ve cried. Ten years old, yet his tears had already run out.

But would it have made a difference?

as always, comments are reblogs are highly highly appreciated! if no one pats me on the head every now and then, i’ll fall down a hole.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta

i cant tag more than 50 people, so will tag in comments!

i tag x reader as it’s your family with him, your daughter.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley headcanons #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #ghost cod #ghost call of duty

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verysium · 1 year ago

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ACT 1, SCENE 2: blue lock headcanons

nagi found out amazon product testers were a real thing, and he had never been more happy in his entire life. if he wasn't training to become a professional football player, that would have been his dream job.

sae became a victim of the cat distribution system the moment he moved to spain. he left his window open once, and he came back to a whole secret society of strays on his fire escape.

aryu used to watch his mother do her makeup in the bathroom every morning. after she left for work, he would use her hair curlers and nail polish to bedazzle himself. if you ever ask him to do your makeup, he would tilt your chin up with one hand and ever so gently swipe on your lipstick for you.

kaiser is a whore for attention, even if it is bad attention. if you're not listening to him during dinner, he would most definitely steal the food right off your plate whilst maintaining eye contact. gives you the most shit-eating grin once you catch him.

rin genuinely cannot function around the female species. sometimes his aunties make small talk during family gatherings, and he just sits awkwardly with his baby cousin in his arms. the baby almost always cries.

sae still uses his ipod from 2005. he doesn't have any interest in music, so he mostly uses it as a white noise filler during long flights. if you send him a song recommendation though, he will listen to it.

rin kept a diary as a teenager with some of the entries completely filled with angsty scribblings about sae. he definitely had an entire section somewhere dedicated to death and existentialism. the second half of his journal is reserved solely for you though. he sometimes doodles flowers in the margins.

raichi is chronically online. he would be the type to have an entire four-page argument with a stranger in the youtube comment section. sometimes you have to remind him that the outside world actually exists, and he needs to go outside and touch grass.

sae is secretly intrigued by artists. like how can you just transfer an image from your head onto paper? is it some sort of magic? he cannot wrap his mind around anything that isn't concrete and tangible. he sometimes walks through the streets of madrid just to spy on the old people painting the sea. if you made a drawing of him, he would internally malfunction.

isagi used to help his mother with knitting and sewing. he even learned how to crochet one summer but forgot all about it once he got into football. would not complain if you asked him to do laundry or iron clothes. he is (most of the time) very sweet and kind.

bachira does not have a sleep schedule. what is sleep? he only knows 24/7 hyperactivity and the demons under his bed. would wake you up at the crack of dawn just to go hang out in some random abandoned parking lot.

sae has to physically restrain himself whenever he does shoots for brand endorsements. he would definitely tell the truth if the product was low-quality while literally being on set for its commercial. this man does not lie. cannot model for the life of him. he lost his ability to smile a long time ago, and he feels viscerally ill every time a camera is shoved into his face. if you're there to accompany him though, he will straighten up and at least attempt to look enthusiastic.

rin is terrible at any sort of class that involves creative writing. however, he does enjoy reading haikus. it's the only form of poetry he can understand. definitely sends you one when he misses you.

reo is clueless whenever you tell him that you feel ugly in your outfit. like where is the ugliness? all he sees is the most stunning person in the world. definitely recommend taking him shopping. he would go into the fitting rooms with you and give you the most encouraging confidence boost you have ever felt.

sae has the strongest enamel in existence because he bites his popsicles right off the stick. rin tried to do that once and ended up getting brain freeze.

yukimiya is the type to go from 0 to 100 in less than a millisecond. if anyone says anything remotely negative about you, he will definitely make sure they do not live to see the light of day. he does all this with the most charming smile on his face too.

shidou has no table manners. he would be the messiest eater in existence. if the dining hall looks like a velociraptor just barraged through, you know shidou was there. he only uses a napkin because you told him to.

rin wears chelsea boots and women's clothing. he has a collection of trench coats in his closet, and they're one of the only things he's incredibly proud of. at least he beats sae when it comes to fashion sense.

ness would pack you lunch every day without you even asking for it. he also uses those glittery animal toothpicks and cuts your apples into hearts. his paper notes are little menacing though. usually it has your name written a thousand times in blood red ink.

sae would let you braid flowers into his hair, but he would wrinkle his nose in embarrassment if you ever took a picture of it. he tries to act nonchalant when you gush about how pretty he is because in his mind he looks incredibly stupid. will keep that photo by his bedside and look at it when he's lonely though.

isagi is incredibly clumsy. sometimes he will act like an egomaniac before falling right on his face. the world has an interesting way of humbling him. he does keep his mood swings in check when you're around though. your presence gives his mind inner peace.

otoya has color-coded folders for every girl he has dated. he keeps their names, likes, dislikes, and contacts all separately filed so he doesn't confuse them. however, on your night out, he got so caught up in talking to you, he forgot to even update your file. the date ended with him smiling like a damn fool. you're always the exception.

aiku is the type to just be casual about everything. he just got into a car accident while on call with you? that's okay because he got to hear your pretty voice on facetime. he took a tidal wave straight to the face while ogling you at the beach? that's no problem because he got a sneak-peek at your cute little bathing suit. this man literally has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to you.

bachira was the kid who tried to mix up weird concoctions at the school lunch table. now it translates into drinking both an energy drink and americano at once. you had to pull him away from the soda fountain because he kept trying to add every single drink combination possible into his red solo cup.

sae would blatantly stare at your ass and then tell you it was for research purposes. if you press further, he will pull up the statistics showing how buttock size correlates with athletic ability.

rin is obsessed with tea only because he saw his brother drink it at family dinners. he always sat up straight on the zabuton and sipped the bitter leaf juice as a way to impress the grown-ups. unfortunately for him, he developed a caffeine addiction in his late teens.

niko would be the tech-savvy person in your relationship. he doesn't believe in traditional flowers, so he codes you an entire HTML webpage with roses on the user interface. he also wholeheartedly believes that virtual pets are real pets.

shidou is an adrenaline junkie. he has six piercings, two of which are helix. he also snowboards during the winter and speeds on the highway for fun. (don't be like shidou, kids.)

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