#and I promised I would talk more about him

[mild-lust]

"He's an idiot." Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6k

❥ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sweet!Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

❥ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being stood up by Eddie Munson, you run into Steve Harrington on the walk home from the trailer park. He lends you listening ear and a ride—and instead of taking you home, he takes you to his.

❥ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MDNI! 18+ content! Explicit language. Smut with undertones of fluff, and a little angst (if you squint). Unprotected penetrative sex, f!receiving oral sex, past casual relationship with Eddie.

❥ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first post, nerve wracking as hell !! I think I got a bit carried away !

You stare at the phone blankly after hanging it up. It was a call that you had been all but unfamiliar with receiving, but it conflicted you all the same each time. And always went the same way. He would make fake niceties, ask you shallow questions about your day and try to keep up some small talk before, inevitably, asking the same damn question. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?”

You huffed in annoyance each time, making a half-hearted attempt to resist and trying to conjure up some lame excuse not to, but each time you would end the call with a reluctant ‘Fine, Eddie, I’ll be there.’ You hated yourself for being persuaded so easily. It was basically routine at this point, and it was stupid of you to even pick up the phone in the first place. As soon as you heard his voice on the other line, you should’ve hung up on him. You always think these things are so easy to do until you have to do them, until you hear his sultry voice pleading on the other end of the phone for just one more time. You let yourself think, in that moment, that maybe it’ll be different for once. It’s a stupid, short-lived belief.

Even so, you find yourself sat in front of your vanity again, brushing your hair and curling your eyelashes in hopes of impressing him. Maybe if your cheeks are a little more rosy, your eyelids a little more colourful, he might change how he feels about you. He might come to the revelation that he wants more than just sex this time. You know your efforts are futile, as long as your clothes are easy to take off he couldn’t care less about anything else, but it makes you feel better for a few moments to let yourself believe otherwise is true. You reluctantly slip on a matching set of underwear, lacy and baby pink. Very intentional. You know you look good, and you know that Eddie will appreciate it. You realize that this is the reason he expects the same thing every time—because you deliver it. You curse yourself for it. Shaking the thought from your head, you step into a short pink dress, throwing a cable-knit cardigan on top. 

You try not to think as you walk down the stairs, out of your house, and down the street to his. You consider turning back about a million times, but you end up at his trailer before you can actually muster the courage to do it. You knock on the door a couple times, waiting patiently, stupidly, for a response. Then again when you don’t receive an answer, the action proving ultimately as useless as the first one. You raise onto your tiptoes to try peek through the window, and you find that the trailer is completely empty inside. Your face grows warm as you look around the trailer park, realizing no one is around or waiting for you. 

Tears threaten your eyes, and you forcefully blink them away before they get the chance to well. You shake your head, promising yourself that you won’t be brought down by the behaviour of Eddie Munson. Not again. You turn and make your way back down the street, your shoulders slumping. The street is desolate and lifeless, the late hour clearing the pedestrians from wandering and leaving you alone on the road. That is, until headlights shine from behind you, casting your shadow on the concrete front of you. 

A familiar burgundy BMW slows as it approaches, stopping beside you. The tinted window rolls down, and you’re met with the face of Steve Harrington. You brush a stray hair from your face, then attempt to clean the smudged mascara from beneath your eyes with the knuckle of your thumb.

“Hey, L/N,” he drapes his arm over the door, “what are you doing out here?” he asks, his eyebrow cocked as he looks up and down the dark street. You’re slightly surprised to hear the concern in his voice. Although, you suppose, you’ve seen him around and you hang around a lot of the same people. Besides, it’s kind of impossible to roam the halls of Hawkins High School and never hear the name King Steve. You’ve had quite a bit of interaction with this boy, but the significance of your friendship only really occurs to you the moment that he stops his drive to talk to you. 

You shrug your shoulders, and you feel your cheeks grow rosy as you realize you have to find a way to avoid telling him the truth for the sake of your own dignity. He raises an eyebrow at you, “It’s late, you know,” he says, pointing out the obvious. You feign a small, agreeing smile, nodding your head as you avert your gaze to the ground. You open your mouth to speak, hesitating when you try to figure out what to say, “I know. I, um,” you shake your head, “I was just on the way home.”

He’s clearly dissatisfied with your response, concern still evident on his face when he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “That’s awfully vague,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Here, you want a ride?” he asks, gripping the stick shift and switching back into drive, his gaze unwavering. 

You blink at him, slightly surprised by the invitation, “No, that's okay, Steve.”

You purse your lips into a polite smile, and he gives you a disapproving frown along with a quick, dismissive shake of his head. He opens the door opposite to him, a gesture for you to get in. His tone is persistent but gentle, “Come on.” He cocks his head toward the empty seat beside him, “Let me at least get you off the street. You can chill at my place, just to… you know, not be alone.”

You carefully consider his offer, pulling your lower lip between your teeth in thought, a subconscious attempt to suppress the smile that tries to pull your cheeks. You dip your chin, soon decidedly trotting your way around the front of his car and slipping through the passenger door. His arm crosses your body as he shuts it beside you with a soft thud, before he returns his grip back to the steering wheel. You lay your hands in your lap, watching yourself fiddle with your fingers. It’s hard not to think about the fact that you’ve never been alone with this boy. The car is quiet for a beat, the low hum of the engine bringing ambience to the space. You realize that you feel a bit less lonesome now, being in this car with him. A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you wonder if he knows that he’s saved you from a harrowing, pitiful night at home alone. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, needlessly ashamed to say it. 

He shakes his head, “Don’t mention it,” he says as he turns to look at you, his expression curious once again. “Where were you coming from?” 

You scrunch your nose and bring your gaze back down to your nervous, fidgeting fingers. “Nowhere,” you lie, the familiarity of embarrassment crawling up your neck. 

He gives you a comforting half-smile, his eyes shifting back to the road now that he has you talking, the engine turning and thrusting the vehicle forward. “No, come on.”

You hide your face with your hands, an action you realize is meaningless as he’s not even looking at you anymore, “God, it’s embarrassing.”

He smiles amusedly when he senses your unease. He remains wordless, the quiet itself urging you to continue. “I went to… um, Eddie’s place.” The words leave your mouth reluctantly, humiliating and heavy on your tongue. 

You see his eyes widen a bit as he processes what you’ve said. “No kidding,” He says with a scoff, disbelief heavy in his voice. “Munson?”

Your chest tightens, and you’re unsure if you’re more ashamed by your actions or Steve’s reaction. “Yes, Munson,” you huff, “but nothing happened.” 

He seems to lose some amusement from your clarification, potentially hoping for a juicier outcome. To your surprise, he doesn’t press any further. You were glad to see him bring his focus back to the road, going back to quietly navigating the stark streets for the remainder of the drive. You watch the unlit houses go by through the window, cruising by streets you only faintly recognize. Before you know it, Steve is pulling into his driveway and leading you up the small steps to his front door. He coolly unlocks it and opens it for you, welcoming you into the darkness of his living room. Light creeps in from a small light in the kitchen, allowing you to just barely make out the outline of his furniture.

You squint your eyes, lingering in his foyer once you’ve hung up your sweater. He sets down his keys and heads towards his staircase. “Are your parents home?” you ask tentatively.

“Nope,” he replies, “they’re in Chicago for the weekend.”

He throws the words away, moving into his house without a second thought, apparently used to being alone. It’s only when he disappears into the kitchen that you think to catch up to him, finding him with a crisp can of Coke already opened. He leans against the open door of his refrigerator, his head tipping back as he takes a swig. You stand in the doorway, your eyes trailing up his exposed neck, moles sparsely trickling along his flesh and adams apple as it bobs with deep gulps. Your eyes snap back to his face when he speaks again, “Want something to drink?” 

You shake your head and murmur a sheepish ‘That’s okay, thank you’. He nods and moves past you, travelling across the long distance between his kitchen and his living room. You follow behind him, your head turning every which way to take in his house. It’s spacious, tasteful, but you can’t help but notice its overbearing hollowness. The halls are empty and dark, any sign of liveliness or family apparently absent. You wonder how often his parents must be gone for the house to be this pristine, practically untouched. You clear your throat, taking a seat next to him on the couch, sure to keep a safe distance between the two of you. 

“What were you doing at Eddie’s house?” Steve questions you again, breaking the silence and setting his elbows on his knees. You recognize an edge that suggests more than just innocent curiosity; an insistence that makes you wonder if he’s truly interested in your answer rather than simply enticed by the gossip. 

“Um,” you wet your lips, “he wasn’t even there, actually.” Your mouth dries up as you say it, the reminder digging a pit in your stomach. He tilts his head to the side, clearly not understanding.

“Hm? Why not?” 

You raise your shoulders, letting out a soft, defeated sigh. “He was supposed to be.”

Uncertainty flickers on his face, and his expression softens when he realizes the implication. “Oh,” he utters, his voice quieter now, “I see.” He leans back against the couch, looking down at his lap. 

“It’s not a big deal,” the words tumble out, quick to reassure him. “We’re not, like, together or anything. Just… kinda sucks.” His eyes find yours as you speak, actively searching for any sign of doubt on your face. You press your lips together, “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” he nods slowly, not entirely convinced of your apathy. “Well, he’s a dick, you hope you know.” 

Your lips curl, eased by his attempt to sympathize with your being stood up. You wave him off. “Oh, whatever.” 

“Seriously,” he persists, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip of his Coke.

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s Eddie.”

“I guess. Still a dick move,” his voice softens. “I mean, no dude should get to stand anyone up.” He pauses for a moment, seemingly careful to choose the right words. “You don't deserve that. You’re… a really nice girl.”

“Nice?”

Steve keeps your gaze when he continues, “Yeah. He’s a moron.” He tsks. “If I had someone like you coming over…” He trails off, unsure of whether or not he should continue. 

“What?” you ask curiously.

“I mean—look at you. I’d be waiting at the door."

“Really?” you say. As if you need to hear it again to fully understand what he means. 

He swallows dryly, setting his can onto the coffee table and, in turn, settling closer to you. “Come on, you’re gorgeous.” He says simply. 

His leg brushes yours, and he doesn’t pull away. You nod, mostly to yourself, and try not to smile too obviously as you look down at your lap. “Thank you,” you mutter quietly enough that you’re not sure if he hears it. There’s no indication even once you look back at him, but you realize that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You feel your cheeks burn up, and you hope he doesn’t notice the pinkish-red that tends to slither up your neck when you get nervous. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times, though.”

You purse your lips, somehow embarrassed not to have been told something when you have no control over whether or not you’re told. You try to shrug it off, “Not really.”

Steve is visibly puzzled by this. “No?” He asks inquisitively. 

“You know,” you say, trying to feign indifference. “Eddie’s not really… a talker.”

“‘Not really a talker’? What does that mean?” he replies, as if there’s no way he could be interpreting this correctly. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, instinctually starting to feel defensive over Eddie, despite yourself.

“You know,” you say again, hoping he’ll understand before you have to say it. “Neither of us really talked. Not much opportunity for compliments.”

He scoffs, “That’s bullshit.”

You frown and swat him half-heartedly, “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not,” he raises his eyebrows and holds his hands up in a mock-surrender, “Just saying. Must’ve been real good for you to put up with all that.”

You laugh humourlessly, glancing away from him. “Yeah, you’d think so.”

His eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of your crypticity. It only takes him a second, and his eyes flit back to yours. He cocks his head. “He wasn’t?” he asks lightly, trying to sound casual though the interest in his eyes isn’t exactly subtle.

You don’t want to offer anything more, admittedly embarrassed to elaborate. You figure he can read between the lines, but his gaze is unwavering, still curious. You hesitate before you continue, “I don’t know.” Part of you wants to protect Eddie’s intimate life for the sake of his privacy, while the other doesn’t really care after what he pulled tonight. Decidedly, you go with the better part. “It was never really about me.”

“What, you mean, he never, like… you never—” he breaks, his eyebrows raising as it dawns on him, “Oh.”

You’re grateful that he’s not judgmental about it, just surprised. Possibly even for your sake. Silence hangs between the two of you for a moment, not particularly uncomfortably, before he breaks it again. “Wow, that sucks.” All you do is tighten your lips and nod agreeingly. “You deserve, um,” he stops to weigh his words, “You should be with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means. He’s searching your face, as if he’s still trying to decide something, and his eyes dip to your mouth almost imperceptibly. He sets his hand onto your knee, gingerly, giving you the opportunity to pull away from him. You don’t. 

You let out a nervous exhale as he leans closer to you, the distance between you closing further and further. Once his mouth meets yours, it’s drastically different from the hungry, lustful make-outs you’d shared with Eddie. He presses softly, his lips moving cautiously, still proposing a question. He breaks the kiss, just for a moment, only leaving an inch or two between you. Another opportunity to let you pull away if you wanted to. Once he sees that you don’t, his hand moves to cup the side of your face, and he kisses you again with more fervour. Though his lips are still moving with care, gentleness, there is more intent behind it. He’s eager. 

You shift closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you rest your hand on his leg. His tongue brushes along your bottom lip, a silent request meant to coax it open. You answer it, slipping your tongue alongside his. You still yourself, suddenly unsure, and wonder if you’re moving too quickly. You’re not sure of how far he’s meaning to take it, or whether or not the kiss was supposed to mean anything at all. Your answer comes soon after when his hand trails carefully up your thigh, deliberate and certain. You lean into his touch, and he gently pulls you into his lap. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, and he places both hands on the small of your back. You sigh softly against his mouth, moving your hands to both sides of his neck and drawing him impossibly closer. 

The skirt of your dress gathers around your thighs when your front presses flush to his, your legs spread across his lap. His hands travel to your bare thighs before he stops himself at the hem of your dress. He lets out a careful exhale, pulling his lips from yours and searching your eyes. Your noses still touch, his breath fans hotly against your face, and you bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you whisper reassuringly, answering the question he hasn’t yet asked aloud. 

“No, I…” he trails off, his eyes flicking to the ceiling. He swallows once, then utters quietly, “Upstairs?” 

The single word earns a fervent nod from you, and you lift yourself from his lap, offering your hand to him. He hastily takes it, moving in front of you to lead you out of the living room and up his staircase. Once you’ve made it to his room, he shuts the door behind him with a quiet ‘click’. He crosses the room with only a couple strides, his hands again holding your face and bringing you into another kiss before you can even make it to the bed. He walks you backwards and only breaks away from your lips once the back of your legs bump against it, then he lowers you gently on top of his rumpled bedspread. As he crawls over you, his lips attach to your neck and kisses tenderly along your jaw. 

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours to take a second to catch his breath. His hand rubs the fat of your thigh, hesitating when it traces the hem of your dress. You place your hand on his and guide it higher up your leg. 

Steve sits back for a brief moment to swiftly pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside and causing it to pile in a heap on the floor. He leans back down for another kiss too quickly for you to properly see him, so you resort to instead moving your hands to run delicately along his stomach and up to his chest. He grasps your thigh and hikes it up to his hip, opening your body against him. His hips rut gently against yours just once, and you can tell that he’s making an effort to restrain himself. The growing tent in his jeans rubs roughly against you even after he stops moving. His hand wanders further up your thigh, skimming the bottom of your dress and pausing, almost waiting for you to stop him. Yet again, you don’t. Instead, you raise your arms to allow him to peel it over your head and discard it to the floor, just as his shirt was. 

Your face grows hot when you’re left bare underneath him. As he leans back onto his knees, you see his breath hitch in his throat when the lingerie that you initially put on for Eddie is revealed. His hands instinctively move to your hips, tracing his fingers along the lacy material that clings to your curves, his eyes still fixated on your body.

The longer he stares, the more self-conscious you feel, even if it only lasts for a second. “What?” you ask sheepishly, pulling your knees together in a half-hearted attempt to close yourself off. 

“Nothing,” he responds quickly, his eyes darting back to yours, “It’s just… Eddie’s an idiot.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips, your hands reaching out to pull him back in for a kiss—partly to stop him from staring much longer. Obviously, that’d been the reaction you’d hoped for, but you’d gotten so used to being stripped so hurriedly that it was surprising to be given more than a few seconds before rushing to the ‘good part’.

 His hands continue to admire your body when his eyes can’t, moving along your waist and eventually cupping your breast. His thumb brushes over the hardened peak of your nipple through the thin material, the sensation causing a shudder to run down your spine. Your back arches into him responsively, along with a quiet moan that’s muffled by his mouth. 

His lips travel down to your neck and press hotly below your ear, tenderly making their way down to your chest. His erection rubs evidently against your inner thigh. Despite himself, he doesn’t grind or urge against you. He still takes his time to plant gentle, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, lower, lower, lower…

Faint pants escape from your lips, your chest rising and falling heavily. His lips press between your breasts, trailing down to your belly button, to the soft plush of your inner thigh. You gasp softly, a chill running through your body when he presses a feathery kiss to your clothed clit. He continues to pepper light kisses on your thighs as one hand roams along the side of your body, stopping when it reaches the lace of your panties. His eyes flicker to yours, and you answer the question he means to ask with a keen nod of your head. 

A finger hooks the material, sliding them down your legs smoothly. Once they pass your thighs, knees, and ankles, he balls up your underwear and tosses it aside, then hooks his hands around your legs to pull you closer to him.

Your eyes flutter shut when he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. Your cunt pulses desperately, the almost torturous pace he’s setting already making your head spin. He evasively pulls his tongue back into his mouth, and in its place, he slides his middle finger to glide along your folds. He slips it in tentatively, his eyes wide as he looks up at you for even a semblance of hesitance or doubt. All he’s met with is the soft gasp that’s drawn from your lips, a clear green light for him to continue. Pushing deeper into your soaking entrance, his finger curls and his lips attach to your clit, suckling. This earns another gasp, the pretty noises coming from your mouth growing more consistent once his finger starts to slip in and out of you. 

His tongue swirls around your sensitive clit, and he slides his index finger alongside his middle, his thick digits already starting to stretch you out as they move with mesmerizing care. You have to make an effort not to tug too hard on his hair when your fingers thread through it, your knees draping over his shoulders. With his tongue lapping and sucking on your puffy clit, fingers curling expertly to brush against your sweet spot with every pump, you realize how badly you’d been lying to yourself about ‘not minding’ the lack thereof with Eddie. Because, Jesus, does this feel fucking phenomenal.

His free hand moves to grasp your thigh, encouraging your legs to stay open once they try to close around his head. You start to burn up from the inside, being pushed closer to the edge despite his pace that refuses to quicken to match your rapid breaths. It’s a bit embarrassing to near your orgasm so quickly before he’s even fully undressed, but it’s excruciatingly hard to focus on anything except the waves of pleasure that wade through your body. 

“Steve,” you breathe, trying to grab his attention. You tighten your fingers in his hair, a weak attempt to break him away from you, but he persists. Your skin tingles with the sensation of his tongue working against you, and the lust that blooms in your lower tummy begs you to take this further. You squirm slightly underneath him as you mewl his name once again, “Steve...” 

All he does is him in mindless acknowledgement, the sound being muffled by your cunt. Once you get him to finally pull away and look at you, he is a visionary. His lips are pink and wet, parted slightly as he gazes up to look at you. His dark hair is tousled by your eager grasp and a strand falls loosely onto his forehead. You brush it from his eyes. You truly don’t know how much longer you can wait to have him, and you find yourself driven by this burning impatience. 

You urge him to move from between your thighs, pulling him to sit up. Tucking your lower lip between your teeth, you lay him down beside you and climb on top of him, settling your knees on either side of his hips. You reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, pulling it off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. This warrants a groan to erupt from deep in his throat, his eyes taking in your bare chest as if he’s immediately committed to memorizing it for future notice. 

“So pretty…” he whispers, and it’s unclear whether or not he meant for you to hear him. 

He attaches his mouth to yours again, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your lips and explore. There’s a newfound sense of urgency now, his movements still deliberate but considerably more driven. You shift backwards to give yourself enough room to start working on his belt buckle, your fingers fumbling as if you’ve never undone a belt in your life. Then he lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down his thighs, and he’s left in nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs, the barrier between the two of you starting to dwindle. You can’t stand being naked where he remains clothed, even if it’s nothing but a pair of briefs, so your fingers move quickly to slide under his waistband. You wet your lips and tug delicately, just enough that his erection is revealed from beneath the fabric. 

You almost salivate when he springs free and weighs heavily against his stomach, a drop of precum gathered at the pink tip. You can’t help but reach to wrap your hand around him, your fingers barely meeting around his girth. His reaction is immediate; his eyebrows creasing, his lips parting with a sharp inhale, and his head tipping back against the headboard with a faint ‘thud’. You swipe the bead of arousal at the head with your thumb, before moving your hand slowly down his length. You’re only granted a stroke or two, base to tip, before he stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Easy,” he breathes, seemingly concentrated on restraining himself from ending the night right then and there. 

It’s unspoken, but there is a mutual understanding between the both of you that he needs to get inside you, like, yesterday. You lean forward, bracing yourself with one hand and arching your back somewhat purposefully, allowing you to hover above his cock. He shifts between your legs, his hand replacing yours at the base. You’re a bit embarrassed by the sheer amount of arousal that already coats his thick cockhead, though he seems to be in utter disagreement with you when he responds with a guttural groan. He aligns himself with your slick, carefully gliding the tip up and down without yet going in. 

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, despite the telling circumstances. 

“Yes, Steve,” you respond firmly, almost exasperated by his unwavering hesitancy. “I want you,” you emphasize, hoping the slight whine in your voice is enough to soothe his uncertainty. 

Luckily, those three words are all he needs to hear. Once he properly positions himself, all he says after that is a small ‘Tell me if you wanna stop’, and his hands move to steady your hips. Your eyebrows knot, and your chest swells with anticipation, even nervousness. His tender demeanor, the way he looks at you, it’s so overly different from how Eddie treated you. You wonder how you ended up here, with Steve, instead of in Eddie’s trailer as you always do. Coincidence, you suppose. If you had ended up there again, you certainly wouldn’t—

Holy fuck.

The thoughts are swept clean from your head once he guides you down onto him, your mind overcome instantly with the tantalizing stretch his cock brings upon entrance. Your nails go to grasp his shoulders, your jaw slackening with an audible gasp. Your eyes flutter open, your senses overwhelmed with the firm grip he holds on you, the grunt that falls from his lips, the air that punches from your throat with the first deep, experimental thrust. 

He holds your soft hips tightly, enough that it seems he’s keeping you from moving any more. “Jesus christ,” Steve mutters, his voice strained. “You’re so—fuck.”

You give yourself a moment to adjust, partly for his sake, especially because it seems if you move at all he’s going to fucking explode. Once you see him relax, you set a controlled pace, rolling your body against his. His eyes fixate on where you’re connected, and you watch his expression change; the light crease between his eyebrows, the lower lip that he sucks between his front teeth, his jaw that tenses visibly. It’s not long before he’s drawing small, breathy moans from you, his cockhead dragging mesmerizingly along your inner walls. 

Soon, you find yourselves in a rhythm, your bodies familiarizing themselves with each other and starting to work in tandem. Your hands slide up to the sides of his neck and you let your head fall back to look at the ceiling, your face starting to twist in pleasure. You can’t help the noises that drawl from your lips, his cock hitting the perfect spots inside you so easily. You don’t notice, but he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Sweat beading on his hairline, low groans coming from his throat as he watches your every move, the way your breasts bounce with every deep stride of your hips. He’s completely enthralled by you, your long nails clawing at his shoulders helplessly. You lean back down, your front pressed to his as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying uselessly to suppress the mewls that escape your mouth. You busy your lips by kissing along the sparse freckles on his sweat-slick skin.

“Oh, Steve,” you moan out. “Steve,” you repeat mindlessly, the word warbled by your breathlessness. There is a visceral reaction to your babbly moaning of his name, a shiver running through his body as he struggles to maintain a steady pace. 

Panting, he threads his fingers through the damp hair on the back of your head and gently pulls you forward to look at him, his eyes darting along your flush face. He brings you in for a kiss, your ability to reciprocate lasting only momentarily before you end up doing nothing more than gasping into his mouth. He curses under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut as his hand falls back down to your hip, helping to guide your unstable pace. 

With a tight grasp on you, he starts to thrust upward to meet your movement, pushing himself deeper inside you. The room fills with the sounds of skin-on-skin, and he starts to do most of the work to make up for your ever decreasing control. His thrusts don’t last long before they become erratic, his hips moving desperately and clearly starting to chase release. You cry out, your hands moving quickly to dig into his shoulders again. 

“Fuck,” he grunts in response, knitting his eyebrows together, “That feel good?” You’re unsure if the question was rhetorical, the moans that rip from your throat more than enough evidence for him, but you answer anyways. 

“Yesyesyes,” you murmur, “S’good.” You’re almost whining, the coil in your tummy starting to tighten rapidly. You turn into a hot, trembling mess on top of him, letting lewd noises wrack through your body. 

“Holy shit,” he says with a strangled groan, heavy breaths causing his chest to rise and fall against yours, his chest hair scraping between your breasts. “You’re driving me crazy,” he pants, his tip brushing deliciously against your sweet spot. 

You plead his name, pleasure blooming under your sensitive skin and spreading to the rest of your body. He surges forward to capture the noise with his mouth, the kiss only lasting a second before he breaks from your lips and presses his forehead to yours. You tense and arch almost completely against him, your thighs aquiver as you start to unravel around him, barely keeping the ability to hold yourself up on your knees.

He watches you fall apart intently, eyes blown-out with admiration. They then shut with concentration after he’s successfully ridden out your high, his face contorting blissfully as his hips stutter, a weak warning leaving his lips. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

He abruptly pulls out, only a few pumps of his hand necessary before he erupts onto his own stomach, painting his cock with shiny, white streaks that run down his length. There's a collective moment where you’re both trying to catch your breaths, struggling to find composure. Licking his lips, Steve brings his hand to brush away the baby hair that sticks to your forehead. Without realizing, he bats his eyelashes as he studies your face; your parted, puffy lips, the rosy tint to your flushed cheeks, the heave of your chest. Truthfully, you look a bit ruined. Not that he’s complaining. 

You turn over to lay flat beside him, your shoulders brushing, and stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re mildly terrified of what’s to come, how he’ll act after this. You wonder if you’ve just broken your whole dynamic by letting this happen. You trace the patterns of the small bumps on his popcorn ceiling with your eyes, and wonder whether or not he’ll treat you with the same sort of respect now that you’ve had sex with him. Going off of past experiences, you have reasonable doubt. 

You feel his eyes on you, and you turn your head to meet them. As if he’s read your mind, his lips curl slightly, reassuringly, and he slides an arm behind your head to wrap around your shoulder. You let him pull you to your side, leaning your head into his chest and resting your hand close by. His thumb draws slow circles on the tingling skin just below your shoulder, goosebumps rising in their wake. 

You catch a glance of the alarm clock across from his bed, the numbers 11:37 stare back at you in bright red. Admittedly, there’s no urgent reason for you to have to get home, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome. You mutter against his skin, not really making an attempt to move, “It’s almost midnight,” you say as more of an observation than an excuse, paying close attention to the reaction it garners.

In any situation with Eddie, this would’ve warranted a dismissive ‘why don’t you head out?’ or, on a good day, an ‘I'll drive you home.’ Amazingly, that’s not what you hear next. 

“You don’t have to go yet, do you?”

This takes you a bit off guard, the softness in his voice. Nonetheless, you answer honestly. “No, I guess not.”

“Good.”

❥ MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

[justwonder113]

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🎧 Shutting you up mid argument with a kiss - Hyung line edition 🎧

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Maknae Line

📖 Summary:  Basically what the title says 🤭

⚠️ Warnings:  Cursing as always; Arguments; kissing; fluff; angst but nothing too extreme; Suggestive ending at Chan's part. NOT PROOFREAD

🖋️ Author’s Note:  Saw a gif of a man shutting a girl up with a kiss and got inspired so hopefully you'll like it. Will do a reverse version too so stay tuned~

📝 Word Count:  3k

📜 Masterlist: | ☕ Ko-fi:

💬Reblogs and comments are truly appreciated—they help more STAYs find my work, and your feedback means a lot to me. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

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Chan

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To say that you were pissed off would be an understatement. On a broad daylight in front of you this bitch had the nerve to flirt with your boyfriend! Even worse, apart from ignoring your whole damn existence like you meant nothing she made him uncomfortable!  

Like you just wanted to enjoy a peaceful meal, a peaceful evening with your sweet, overworked, always busy boyfriend and instead of that you were now practically seething in your seat while Chan awkwardly but still firmly rejected the girl. 

“Baby you’ve not touched your food in a while. We can go home if you want?” Chan’s concerned voice brought you back from angry and mean things you were thinking about a waitress you were doomed to be served by today. 

 You felt bad. “No...” - You started unsure of what to say. “You wanted to try this place for a while. Let’s just eat okay?  I promise I’m fine.” 

Chan didn’t look convinced.  You saw his eyebrow rise in question but he didn’t say anything and as if sensing  your inner turmoil he started rubbing your hand with his thumb, He hadn’t let go of your hand since you first sat down here. Sometimes it infuriated you how perfect he was. How handsome, kind, gentle, loving, understanding... Even now he was the one feeling uncomfortable but the first thing on his mind was to check on you.You alsmost felt bad feeling angry. 

Almost. 

To be fair you really tried to keep your cool but you were human after all. 

“It’s just some people have no shame! I mean I was right here! She just ignored me! You were holding my damn fucking hand! Of course it means we’re dating or do we have to start making out for her to get a hint?” You grumbled out all annoyed.  Looking up at Chan to take your side you noticed that the expression on his face had changed. Instead of an awkward smile he had on he was now gazing at you with amusement written all over his face. His eyes like a crecent moons and his adorable dimples showing.  

It wasn’t fucking fair he looked this damn good! 

“Don’t smile at me like you aren’t in fucking trouble!”  You watched as confusion washed all over his face. 

“Why am I in trouble?” 

“Oh I will tell you! You are too kind!” You point it out like it’s a huge problem which sounds ridiculous but unfortunately for both of you it is. 

“How is me being kind a problem? Isn’t that a good thing? Should I be evil?” Despite Chan’s playful tone and his amused smile confusion was as clear as a day on his face. 

“Shut it I’m still talking and you’re on thin ice!” The glare you gave him instantly made him shut up. 

“Sorry darling, please continue.” Softly kissing your hand he straightened up and tried to look serious. Tried being the key word. You really tried to keep your composure. 

“You can’t just smile at everyone like that, Chan,” you snap. “That waitress was eating it up. You were practically handing her your number with those puppy eyes.” 

Chan blinks, caught between confusion and guilt. “I was just being polite—” 

“That’s the problem!” you cut in, voice slightly rising against your better judgement. “You’re too polite. Too nice. Too—you. And you don’t see it, but people take advantage of that. You think they’re being friendly. I see it as them testing boundaries.” 

You sighed. “I shouldn't have to sit through a meal watching someone throw themselves at you while you smile and thank them for it like it’s normal. I trust you. I know you won’t betray my trust. It's just... Fuck I don’t know how to explain. I don’t want someone to make you uncomfortable like this. It’s not just about me getting pissed.” 

You exhale sharply, half-angry, half-exhausted mostly grumbling like an old cartoon character. “I should just—I don’t know—write ‘taken’ on your damn forehead in permanent marker or something like mark you up or some shit like that.” 

Chan’s expression shifted at that — something flickered behind his eyes. And then, without a word, he leaned forward over the tiny table, cupped your jaw with one hand, and kidded you. The kiss was firm, sure, leaving no room for argument — just the press of his lips saying everything he hadn’t yet taking your breath away just like that. 

When he finally pulled back, he murmured, breath warm against your skin, “Then I guess I’ll just have to show everyone I’m already yours.” Another short but loving peck, and you’ve already forgotten just what had you worked up anyway. “Is that good with you darling?” The teasing glint in his eyes and the smug grin he was barely hiding made you snap back to reality. 

“Oh fuck you!”  How did he manage to always fluster you was beyond you. He was taking advantage of how much you loved him really. What a tease. Made your heart throb and everything...

God you loved him. 

“Later baby.” He leaned in and sealed your lips again, not that you were against it. Also, you just loved how sour the mood of a certain waitress got after Chan’s very much public display of affection. A win was a win. 

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Lee Know

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The day started out great. You had a day off and you had spent it all day cuddling with your boyfriend and his adorable fluffballs till noon, you had a great breakfast and you two even went out to hang out with the guys. You decided to have a game night. There were also few other close “friends” invited.  

The thing is you and Minho were always a team whenever you played because both of you tended to get overly invested in games and usually it resulted in chaos. But today others had an interesting idea. Since there was an even amount of you Felix and Jisung came up with the idea to randomly split into pairs. That’s how you ended up being paired with Minho’s biggest enemy- Kim Seungmin. Not that you had anything against him, in fact you loved that chaotic little gremlin, the literal chaos incarnate.  

Minho didn’t seem to appreciate that at all. 

At first you thought that he was sulky because he and Innie lost to you and Seungmin in many games, declaring you the winner of the night. But now as you two were heading towards your shared house the atmostphere had really shifted. 

Even the air felt heavy in the car. It was quiet. Too quiet. Like the storm was brewing.  

After you felt Minho glance at you for the nth time this whole ride you just couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. 

“Okay what is the problem? You had been sulking since we left.” 

Minho looked at you for a second, his face unreadable. “I’m not sulking.” Flat, so dry. 

Yeah right. 

“Please like I’d miss something like that after knowing you for years. You’re literally pouting Min! You only do that when you’re annoyed...”-You poused for a second-“or jealous.” 

“I’m not pouting.” a displeased scoff from him.

Ypu scoff in return. Yes, it's very mature..“Oh please like you can fool me.” 

"I’m fine.” 

“Minho. Why are you upset” 

He laughed now dryly.

“What is funny?"

“It’s funny you noticed, considering you were too busy all evening laughing at everythingSeungmin had said, like he’s the funniest person ever. You didn’t even bother to look at me from time to time. What a cute little pair you were." Minho's voice was cold, so cold it made you shiver. He never talked to you like that.

How dare he?

“Are you fucking serious right now?"

Another glance

“Completely” 

"So what? Am I not allowed to laugh at someone else’s joke? What if my boyfriend takes it as me flirting? What do you not trust me now"

"You think this is about trust?" Minho asked after stopping a car in front of your house. He looked at you, he really did. For a first time in the last 2 hours. "No. It's about the fact that you know exactly what you do to me when you smile like that—and then you go flashing it at everyone else. So fuck me I guess." 

"Excuse me? I’m not yours to—"  

You barely desipher the click of his seatbelt before his hand is firmly on your jaw and his lips are on yours. The kiss so raw and passionate speaking so many things at once. "Yeah, you are." He whispered against your lips before connecting them all over again. You swear you feel like you’re melting.   "You're mine."

“You won’t get out of this with a kiss you know.” 

"If you don’t want me to kiss you, don’t look so damn kissable when you’re angry." Only Lee Minho would he able to say this in the most nonchalant way.

Still it made your heart flutter.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes." You grumbled as you avoided his gaze. You didn’t want him to see how flustered he got you.

“You love me.” 

“I do.” 

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Changbin

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You loved your boyfriend. He was your love, your joy your happiness. He meant everything to you. Like there was nothing you wouldn’t do for him. But sometimes you just felt like strangling him. Like the way Homer Simpson strangles his son Bart. Or at least smack him. 

You two were supposed to have a date in this fancy restourant that recently opened up. You barely managed to make a reservation it was already packed for next 3 months.

Well, you were supposed to go and enjoy your date. The key word being supposed.

 Because he didn’t show up.   

You waited and waited. 15 minutes he didn’t answer your call. 30 minutes. Still no answer and no call. An hour- nothing. The pitiful gazes from the restaurant staff and other people around you became too much, but you still waited. An hour and a half... You just couldn’t take it anymore, so you left. 

You had barely taken a few steps from the restaurant when you saw him running full speed at you. 

“Baby I am so sorry!” You heard him huff out between laboured breaths. 

“Forget it, let’s go home.” The sound of your voice sounded so foreign to you. So emotionless. So empty. 

Changbin quickly caught up with you and stopped you by gently but firmly grabbing your wrist. “Baby please!” He sounded desperate but you didn’t care. You were fed up. You just wanted to go home. 

The desperate call of your name made you stop. And something in you snapped. ”Unbelievable! You forgot! Again! And now you act and sound like you’re the one hurting?” 

“Baby please, listen to me for a second.” He pleaded but you were done listening, 

“Do you even care Changbin? Or am I just some afterthought in your schedule?” You finally asked it, you really did. 

"I—No, I do care! I just lost track of time. I was in the studio, and-” You didn’t let me finish. Scoffing you started to talk. You were done being forgiving and understanding. This time you would speak up for yourself. "Studio. Right, always the studio. Always work. Always something more important than me! You didn’t even text, Changbin! You could have at least warned me instead of making me look like a pathetic fool in front of all these people! You could have fucking answered one of the many fucking calls. “ You knew that his schedule was a nightmare, but you weren’t asking for much. You knew that his mind was occupied with work, but would it kill him to think about you from time to time? 

Changbin looked like he was physically hurt by  your words. "I know. And I’m sorry, I really am!” 

“Sorry?! Sorry doesn’t change the fact that I was sitting there alone, waiting for you! I looked like an idiot, Changbin! Do you even know how...” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, you barely even had time to realize what was happening but one second you were pouring your heart out to Changbin in the middle of nowhere and the next second he was kissing you so desperately like you were the air he needed to breathe.

like you were his lifeline.

He held you like he was afraid you would disappear. 

The kiss itself was so raw, so desperate, so passionate and urgent. You didn’t even know how to react. Your whole body begged you to reciprocate to return the passion. It begged you to hold onto him and never let go, but at the same time you heart ached so much...  

His hands were so warm and gentle holding your face. His whole body was warm. All you wanted was to nuzzle against his strong sturdy frame. But what frightened you more is how weak you were for him. It’s like you could physically feel how the frustration, the anger- all melt into the heat of the kiss as the seconds passed. 

Eventually he leaned back. His eyes  glistening  like he was seconds away from crying. You don’t even realize when you started crying yourself. You only realized when Changbin gently wiped them away. “I messed up. But please, don’t say I don’t care about you.” He took your hands in his and kissed every knuckle making your skin crawl in anticipation. Not breaking eye contact. His eyes speaking for himself , in the language only you two could understand. Something just you two. “You’re my heart.” Another kiss, on your wrist now. And your heart leaped in your ribcage.  

“I love you so much baby.“- He muttered against your skin as he now migrated and kissed both of your cheeks. His touch purely electrifying. “Please trust me on that.” A broken voice and a final kiss on your forehead and you finally give in. 

“You’re on thin ice...” You finally mutter out after a few seconds of silence and Changbin looking like a literal sad puppy instead of a dwaekki. 

A biggest grin comes up on his face immediately. “I won’t break your trust again bunny! I promise.” 

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Hyunjin

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It starts the same way it always does. 

You said something—something important, something you needed Hyunjin to hear—and he just nodded, absently, like your words were some kind of background noise to whatever thought was occupying his head. 

Like now. 

You were sitting across from him, watching, waiting for even the slightest flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. But instead, he was staring at the floor—no, not even staring. Spacing out. 

You could feel your fingers tighten around your drink. Your heart clenching in pain from being ignored yet again. “Hyunjin.” You called out agan but somewhat you already knew you would be ignored again.  

And there it was - Silence. 

Your heart sinked further. 

“Hyunjin.” You called. His head jerked up, eyes wide, almost guilty. “Huh?” 

Oh, there it iwas. The proof that he wasn’t listening. 

Your voice sharpened, your tone cold. “You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” 

“i’m sorry darlin I must have spaced out. What were you saying?” There it was. He asked you to repeat yourself like it was nothing special. Did he even realize just how much he tuned you out? Were you not interesting for him anymore? 

“God Hyunjin you always do this.” It’s like you could feel the headache manifesting. 

“What? What did I do wrong?” He fully sat up now. God was he serious? 

“Do you even hear yourself right now? That’s the problem, Hyunjin—you don’t listen! 

Hyunjin looked taken aback for a second but he quickly started to defend himself. “That’s not true, I...” You didn’t let him finish. 

“It is! Every time I try to talk, you brush it off. You nod along, say, "Yeah, yeah," like it’s nothing! Like I’m some background noise in your life!” You paused a second to take a deep breath. You felt like you could cry any second now. You felt so fragile like you could crack any second.  “It really hurts Hyun...” 

Seeing your defeated state he paniced " I swear, I...” 

"No!”  You interrupt, quite harshly also. “No, don’t just "I swear" me! Because the moment I get serious, the moment I actually need you to listen, you always...” 

Hyunjin moved. Quick, decisive, like he already made up his mind before you even finished your sentence. His lips crash against yours mid-rant, stealing your words, your frustration, your breath. The world tips upside down and all that's left is him—his touch, his warmth, his absurd, infuriating way of handling things. He pulls back just enough to whisper—soft, teasing, smug in the way only Hyunjin can be and get away with - “See? You’re not arguing anymore. Perfect balance.” 

You’re actually speechless. It was like the anger and sadness evaporated but now all you felt was confusion. Being in a relationship with him sure was a rollercoaster. You were flustered, scandalized, fuck you would be clutching your pearls if you had any on.  

You were dizzy. You could barely stand on your two feet. Your heart was going absolutely crazy in your ribcage!

“That—That doesn’t help your case at all you asshole!” Not able to stop yourself you smacked his arm which made Hyunjin giggle. 

Leaning in he wrapped his arms around you and gently brough you to himself. “I’m sorry my love I promise I will be more present from now on.” As if to make his point come across, he laned in to kiss your forehead gently. 

Bergundigly you wrapped your hands around his waist.

As if you could stay mad at him. 

“You better Hwang!” 

Hyunjin flinched like you slapped the shit out of him. “Baby! Not my last name!” 

Served him right. 

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✧･ﾟ: Thank you for reading! :･ﾟ✧ 

If you enjoyed this story, reblogs and comments are truly appreciated—they help more STAYs find my work, and your feedback means a lot to me. 💬🖤 

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[biteyoubiteme]

txt without protection

warnings: unprotected sex, creampies, mentions of choking, cockwarming?, orgasm denial, breeding kink, marking, fingering, birth control mentioned?, ummmm prob forgot some sorry >< wc: 2.7k (400-600 words each) an: well hello >< this is eh but yeah no one asked for this I just can't help myself lmao sooooo hope you enjoy <333 [m.list]

yeonjun .ᐟ

wears them because he knows it makes you feel more comfortable. He would do just about anything you suggested, condom, no condom, he couldn't care less so long as he had you. But even if you were on birth control, you feared getting pregnant, especially early into the relationship. But as time went on, the two of you got so secure that it slipped your mind more often than not. “We don't have a condom.” The swift reminder was enough to make sure yeonjun knew the boundaries; he didn't push to go any further than getting you off with his fingers or his mouth, less worried about himself when most of his pleasure came from seeing you get off.

But it never helped you to see him so understanding, so comforting, without a blink of an eye, it made you tempted each time to say it didn't matter anymore. Especially when it was after a long night, Yeonjun's hands on you, guiding you back to the elevator of your hotel. His soft kisses pepper along your skin, and he's quick to take off your clothes, moaning while you tug him free from his jeans. And for the first time, it's yeonjun to remind you that he's forgotten the condom, left at home without thinking, but you don't pull away. “I don’t care,” the words said between kisses, Yeonjun's reassuring questions only solidifying your decision.

He would give you anything you wanted, but as soon as he slipped in, he knew he wouldn't be able to pull out. Because for the first time, he wasn't chasing his high vicariously through you, but solely focused on himself only after half a thrust in. It was almost like it was the first time all over again, his amazement at the way your body took him in, eyes locked on the place the two of you met, his hand pressing right down over your pelvis until you started to squirm. “You take me so fucking well,” his stomach flexes with each drag of his hips, hair handing in his eyes and he curses. The feeling makes him dizzy, dragging him down to the beginning of something he will never come back from. And when you finish, back arching off the bed, he can't help but follow right after.

But it's the sight of your cunt leaking his cum that does it for him, still high off the feeling of you but pulled right back in by the view. He's quick to collect everything he can, pushing his fingers back into your still pulsing body, getting you off on his fingers without realizing it was happening with how distracted he was just watching his cum being pushed back in, over and over. His cock was already stirring back to life with the visual alone, “I don't think ill ever get tired of this,”

soobin .ᐟ

fully knows he has a breeding kink and tries to hide it at first, but not well. Uses condoms the first few times you're together because he feels it's the right thing to do, but you know almost instantly that he didn't want to.

As soon as he was in you the only thing he could think about was taking the condom off, all of his dirty talk consisting of, “fuck imagine how it would be raw-” “god, if I could fill you up I would,” “I'm going to fuck you so hard the condom breaks,” still makes you beg for him to fill you even when he wears one. But he is not impossible, he does not beg you to take it off, does not try to convince you that it would be better without one, he is unbothered if you plan to have him wearing condoms for most of your relationship so long as he gets to fuck you. he rolls it on with no complaint.

You know how badly he wants it, and you couldn't even deny you wanted it just as badly. His whispering promises to keep you stuffed full replaying in your mind over and over as if he were speaking your thoughts right out into the open between the two of you. So many times you almost told him to pull out and get rid of the thing, make well on all his words, and just do whatever it was he wanted. But you liked it so much better when you finally told him he didn't need one, “If you stay still, I'll let you put it in without a condom.” You watched the way his breathing jumped, his eyes not leaving yours as if looking for the trick in the words.

You only wanted to see how long he would last before taking over. And he started off so well, sitting against the pillows, head rolling back as you finally sank down onto him, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to swallow down his obscenely loud moans. He was holding onto your hips like a vice, fingerprints sure to be ingrained in the soft skin from how tightly he kept his hands. He was straining so hard not to move, panting with desperation, trying to grasp a single breath in his lungs before he died because that's what it felt like, dying because he couldn't move. “Does it feel good?” you asked so sweetly, brushing his hair back from his forehead, already coated in a fine layer of sweat. And he nodded, trying to as he clenched his lips closed, eyes falling shut as he tried not to think about how warm and wet you felt wrapped around him, everything he had ever wanted handed to him at what cost?

He wanted to be good, but the second you clenched around him, he couldn't stop himself. He only moved your hips just enough to feel the way you reacted, your lashes fluttering as he found the right spot. It was in that look that he didn't care anymore, flipping the two of you over and pummeling into your waiting cunt. “Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned, arms wrapped around you, one hand at the back of your neck tucking you into his shoulder while the other was holding your ribs pushing your chest as close as he could get you. He didn't even care how embarrassing it was to finish so fast because he was fucking his first load right into you in no time, still hard and not stopping. Your soft whimpers keep him going, his thrusts matching his words, “fuck, imagine if I got you pregnant,” “god I'm going to fill you to the brim with my cum,” “I'm going to fuck you so hard everyone is going to know you're mine,”

beomgyu .ᐟ

the night the two of you met had been messy and drunken, condom well forgotten, and since then, never even brought up. And it wasn't as if they weren't around, the box in his nightstand drawer unopened and collecting dust. And it was in one moment when you teased him about needing to wear one that he was taken aback, “Why would I?” The look he had made you giggle, the pure concern written on his brow enough to make the teasing worth it. “Maybe as punishment for annoying me or just cause I said so,” it had been all fun and games, you liked it too much when he came inside you to actually suggest him wearing one, but his jaw clicked nonetheless.

He had you pinned to the mattress in seconds, hands working over your body, pulling off your clothes just to suck marks onto your neck, your chest, your stomach. He wanted you worked up, clawing at him back, trying to tug him closer when he started to prod his tip right against your entrance before pulling away. “No, no, no,” because he was leaving the cradle of your hips, your arms and reaching out for the nightstand, “it was a joke- I'm sorry, please gyu just fuck me-” because you had never felt so empty, seconds away from having him only to be left with nothing.

He didn't even argue, just slotting himself right back where he belonged, sinking into your warmth, both of you moaning out into the empty room. He would get so close to you, his hand around your throat, keeping you in place as he taunted you, “You feel how perfect we fit together?” all his slow thrusts building up as he questioned you, “You were made for me, don't you think?” you nodded too lost to the feeling of him pressed right against that sweet spot to form words.

He knows when you're close, feels it in the way your body starts to flutter around his, whimpers turning to gasps right before he pulls out. Any longer and he would have spilled everything, cock throbbing and begging to be back in you, sticky and bumping his stomach as you cried out. “Beomgyu!” your knees pulling in as if you could have stopped him from pulling out.

He wants to tease you more, make you watch him fuck his hand until his cum is spilling onto his fingers but he knows even touching himself a little bit when he was this close would end him. “It's just like filling a condom, you don't get anything. Isn't that what you said you wanted?”

“No, I'm sorry, please,” because your orgasm was already rolling away from you, your nerves right on the edge. “Maybe I should punish you for even thinking about me putting on a condom.” your fingers reached down to try and rub at your clit, his hand quick to tug it away, “no, your pussy is mine and if you think for one second you could tell me how I use it you're mistaken,”

“I'm sorry, I'm sor-” he doesn't even let you finish, pushing all the way in without warning, hips snapping into yours. Both of you cum hard enough to see stars, the slick sounds of him fucking his release back into you making your head roll back. And the next morning, you find that unused box of condoms waiting at the bottom of the trash like it never existed in the first place.

taehyun .ᐟ

the safest boy around, paranoid on the worst of days. He is dedicated to wearing a condom, making sure to always keep one on him, just in case. And when you start to bring up the question of maybe not wearing them anymore, since you’d been on birth control for nearly the entirety of your relationship. But he had responded with a simple, “Maybe,” as if you had asked him if he wanted to eat out instead of staying in for dinner.

You had dropped the topic all until the two of you were on the couch one evening, the lazy makeout turning into fumbling hands at waistbands. You were only a few feet from the bedroom, the nightstand stocked up, and yet still not close enough to want him to break away from you for even a second. And when he did try to pull away, you were quick to pull him right back, sinking your hips down on him, arms wrapped right around his shoulders, fingers twangling in his hair. His nose bumped along your cheek as he muttered, “I know what you're doing,” his hand sliding down your back, cupping your ass as you shake your head in confusion, “doing what?” breathless and not caring if you got caught.

But he knew you too well, and your little act. With the position you had taken, trying to keep him in place, you forgot one little detail: the fact that he was so strong and could lift you, flipping you on your back and pressing you into the couch cushions with nothing but his hips. His mouth hot at your ear whispering, “If you're good, I'll give it to you.” his fingers slipped into your panties, circling your clit just enough to have your response be a whimpered promise. And he will have you right on the edge of believing him, stripping you down and making you beg for his cock while his fingers are shoved deep into you, bulge rutting against your leg, a pretty wet spot of precum already dotting the fabric of his underwear.

If he were mean, he would get up and still grab the condom, make you roll it down over his shaft like a punishment before apologizing with fucking you but that would be underestimating the neediness that was eating him alive. So instead, he would promise not to put it in, give you almost exactly what you wanted, rubbing his tip right over your clit over and over until he was grinding his cock right against your slick folds. Your whining is so loud, the pleas desperately clawing at him, enough for him to shove his fingers into your mouth, the taste of you still on them as he quieted your words.

“Just the tip and I'll pull out.” It's a weak attempt at holding onto some control, but the second he just pushed in just enough, he knew it was a bad idea, his arms trembling to hold himself up, to keep himself steady when you're rolling your hips to get him in deeper. And just as he's about to finish, he's too lost to even care about a condom because instead of pulling out he pushes all the way in, triggering your orgasm just in time to take all the cum he's now spilling into you without a drop of regret.

kai .ᐟ

always uses one, makes sure to keep them at both of your places and has pulled away with that sad puppy dog look once he's realized he forgot to bring one with him to your small trip. His face flushed and hair a mess as he apologized. And it's so sweet the way he cares, knows that he would rather sacrifice and set the barrier between the two of you instead of worrying about pregnancy scares.

But now the two of you are far too gone to really care, already stripped down to your underwear, grinding on him while you promise it's okay, “you can pull out,” your whispered words pressed to his ear so tempting even when he knows himself. Because Kai didn't know if he would be able to stop himself the second he felt your wet cunt without anything in between the two of you. He already found it hard enough to not completely blow his load fast with a condom, but without? Felt impossible.

But you were dragging your hips just right, drawing his mind into every direction as you begged with whispering words of, “Please Hyuka, I need you,” It was enough to have him questioning if condoms were ever really needed because once he finally slipped in, feeling just how warm you were, just how close you could be, he was a goner. You had never seen that look on his face before, not so blissed out in nothing less than a second, brows close together, his mouth opened in a silent moan. His hips had a mind of their own, lost to anything but the feeling of you until he was sloppily fucking into you tucking his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed to your pulse as he moaned with every drag, completely flush with every part of you.

And he almost didn't remember, almost. Because it was as the words were leaving his mouth that he was on the edge of his orgasm, that he realized he was far too close to filling you up with little room for remorse until after his high had washed away. So he tried to pull away, even when he didn't want to because he wanted to do right, but it was you who locked your legs around him, pressing the heels of your feet into his back to keep him right where he wanted to be. “No, please, I wanna feel it, please-” and he can't stop himself, his body melting into you before he starts to tremble, a low groan rumbling against your chest as he spills everything he has right into you. Even you're surprised with how long you feel him pulsing inside you, his whimpers so sweet as apologizes unable to stop his slow final thrusts to make sure all of his cum is pumped deep into you.

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[obeymeluv]

Kalim's family tradition of seeing a fortune-teller before introducing the partner leaves him with concerns when she says something comforting and cryptic about your future with him.

There was a tradition in the Al-Asim family where a fortune-teller must be consulted prior to bringing a partner to see the family for the first time. It was a highly regarded practice meant to see the compatibility of the couple and how it might impact the family. Rumor had it that an Al-Asim had been saved long, long ago by a fortune-teller and promised them a life without want in return. Kalim sat nervously, swallowing thickly as the swathed woman lit her incense and rearranged her trinkets.

Jamil stood guard outside the tent, as did several other men loyal to the family. Kalim knew he was safe; he was more scared of what she may have to say. Divinatory magic was her family's specialty and she had a fantastic record. Thus far she'd correctly predicted the gender of six of his siblings, which suitors would come for his older sister, and the night his father would've been successfully poisoned (if not for her dream and intervention).

He couldn't imagine a life without you! What could she possibly have to say?

Sure, you weren't far along in your relationship but Kalim knew in his heart that he didn't want anyone else. For him, the sun rose and set in your eyes. The relationship was pretty serious, given Jamil's threats to strangle him if he talked about you anymore than he already talked to you.

"Be not afraid, little Al-Asim," she smiled, talking in their shared tongue, "I see a very happy life for you."

Kalim jumped, snapping to alertness. He didn't realize he'd zoned out staring at the smoke winding up from the incense sticks. She hummed and swirled her hands around the giant crystal ball in front of her, inhaling the smoke and blowing it over the sphere. Some of his siblings warned him that she would describe the partner--with scary accuracy; she could even tell him what toe his brother-in-law had a freckle on!--before giving the vision.

She correctly guessed the color of your skin and quoted his favorite way to describe your eyes. Kalim physically shivered; apologizing hastily soon after. His cheeks were a fierce pink that made her chuckle. "For all your privilege, the greatest one is to have them as your spouse. They will nurture your independence as much as you desire to coddle them for all of their suffering. You will become a great leader and they will guide your hand. The foundation of your dynasty is made with mud and tears but it will support something beautiful and prosperous."

That was it? It was over? She dismissed him sweetly and he stumbled out, dazed and deep in thought.

Why would there be tears? Happy tears, he hoped! You and Kalim had never fought, much less raised your voices at each other! He didn't know his brows were knit with concern until Jamil placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Kalim blew out a heavy sigh, feeling himself relax at the touch he didn't know he needed.

"Good?" Jamil's brow quirked with curiosity. Per the tradition, Kalim could not share the fortune-teller's words with anyone. It had to unfold as she described. She would tell his parents and things would go from there. Worry gnawed at him, twisting his guts into knots as he realized not even you could know.

"Yeah," Kalim mumbled. That was a bit slow for Jamil's liking. Kalim wouldn't look at him directly and was twisting the biggest earring in his left ear. He was nervous about something, Jamil observed.

"Then you have a week to enjoy. Be happy." Jamil patted him on the back as they made their way to the main house.

As expected, his parents were thrilled with the news. His mother was conflicted with the idea of her little one blossoming into a man, of course, but could not deny she was intrigued by a 'beautiful and prosperous dynasty'. How many grandkids was that, exactly? Maybe she could pull the fortune-teller aside and ask her in private! Kalim had aspirations of a big family, like his father, so her imagination was running wild.

Kalim's heart squeezed at his father's large, comforting hand. The half-hug pressing him to the reassuring belly was also nice. "Don't fret over the tears, my son. Tears are like rain in the desert, they help things grow."

"No relationship is perfect, anyways!" his sister waves her hand in the air, "everyone screams and cries at some point!"

"For different reasons!" his brother cackled, dodging two of her slaps. She swung a silk pillow with gold threads and teardrop rubies hanging from the corners. He yelped when the rubies smacked him, complaining to their mother.

"It will be fine!" his mother swooped down to pinch his cheeks. Her perfume swirled around him and Kalim couldn't help but break out into a smile. "You've sunshine in your soul, my love, and people will always want the light. Don't worry!"

"Are they staying for the whole break?" his sister asked, voice curious and sweet as she maintained eye contact with her cowering brother, pillow poised for another blow.

"That's the plan!" Kalim smiled.

His sister gave a squeal that made them both cringe. "I have so many ideas! I have to make some calls!"

The plan was for Kalim to spend the night with you in Ramshackle, give you a quick run-through of his siblings, and bring you to his home in the Scalding Sands in the morning. You were the first person he'd ever brought home on break and it was a very big deal.

He steps through the mirror with kisses from his mother and siblings still tingling on his skin. Kalim loves his family dearly but he's happy all of the pressure, worry, and excitement is on the other side of the mirror. The magic crackles over the surface, dies, and becomes a still pool. It's not until Jamil nudges him gently with one of the bags that Kalim realizes he was lost in his own reflection.

His own thoughts.

Most of the groceries and luxuries are restocks for his and Jamil's room in Scarabia but there's a few things for you. Kalim always liked to bring gifts over when he visited even though you've told him a million times that he was the gift. Jamil's threatening the boundaries of his role as a watchful servant to house Al-Asim when he tells Kalim to go straight to you and that he'll come to Ramshackle in an hour. It's a dangerous game they play, Kalim constantly overanalyzing the technicalities of what he can get away with to give Jamil some semblance of freedom and him, his independence, but as long as neither one of them say anything it works.

The white-haired boy chuckles to himself as he realizes he has, in fact, become more independent since knowing you. Sure NRC is protected with charms and enchantments but that still counts, right? He knocks on your door and you answer in your comfy clothes. Kalim feels his heart flutter and melt; you may have holes in the hem of your shirt and your pants are slightly too big because they're from a thrift shop but it doesn't take away from how beautiful you are.

In this moment he thinks his mother is wrong. You must be the sun and he, a sunflower, because he's always looking in your direction. There is nowhere he wants to be but with you and he is ever-reaching. You're chastising him about bringing gifts--again!--but he doesn't hear it. The second you arms circle around him, warm and soft, all of his senses fall away except for the one that registers your touch.

It's better than any massage he's ever gotten. It's as if his soul is a precious infant and you are the ultimate protection. The best comfort.

You manage to get him out of the doorway and Kalim laughs as you become an awkward tangle of limbs. He separates just long enough to set up the treats and show you the gifts--a silk pillow, a body scrub, a hair mask, and another set of sleepwear--before fishing out the little cards he'd made.

It's a huge stack! He sees your wide eyes and giggles as he pulls you against him, rubbing your arm comfortingly. "I have a lot of siblings, remember?"

"There's over thirty!"

"I have a lot of siblings," he repeats, cheeks heating up.

Jamil uses one of the three spare keys you made and finds you curled together, Kalim snoring quietly in the crook of your neck. The floorboard creaks under his foot and your eyes snap open. He sees the hand in Kalim's hair flinch but he doesn't move. Kalim's handmade family cards are all over the small coffee table, as are some half-eaten snacks. "Get ready," he whispers to you, "it's going to be an experience."

Jamil's words left you not knowing what to expect but you certainly couldn't predict the towering, ornate palace or the sheer number of white-haired people ready to drown you in the impressive entryway. Hands pulled you from all directions, hugs coming two at a time. You tried to turn your head at the feel of someone touching you hair but couldn't. Someone grabbed your face and you found yourself staring into Mrs. Al-Asim's eyes. "My grandchildren will be lucky to have such eyes!" she teased.

Kalim grabs you now, laughing nervously as he weaves through the siblings like it's nothing. You take a relieved breath and look back on the crowd. They've settled but you can definitely see where Kalim gets his excited puppy look. He introduces you to his mother and father first, breaking his siblings up into two groups: those older than him and those younger than him. One of his siblings is a literal toddler and it makes you wonder how old Mrs. Al-Asim is because she's as youthful and exuberant as Kalim!

Flawless, really. Good genes!

Said toddler has been watching everyone come up and hug you or shake your hand. He waddles up to you and plops himself down on your foot, hugging your leg. One of the older girls scoops him up as he giggles, another yanking you away and down a series of massive halls. Kalim tries to take you back but one of the girls ushering you along calls something out in their language and the kids swarm him.

"That's a dirty trick and you know it!" Kalim yells.

The room you spill into is just as massive as any other part of the manor. You take in the gold thread on the carpet, the expensive-looking vases, and nearly faint at a walk-in closet that looks big enough to fit the first floor of Ramshackle in it.

You're beginning to understand what Jamil said about the whole thing being 'an experience'. It was just luxury upon luxury with the Al-Asims! Some of the girls were holding up pre-made outfits, telling you not to be discouraged because you would have a custom outfit within a few hours. Others were holding rolls of uncut fabrics under your chin at the advice of a...color analyst? Someone is measuring your waist and it makes you flinch.

You can't give it much thought after one of the sisters ask if you're a 'jewelry person' and they start bickering about what would suit you. You can't even begin to imagine how much what they're holding costs! It feels like you're in there for hours but you come out with a casual outfit, one for swimming, one for shopping, one for the dinner party, and a different style of sleepwear you'd never seen before. There's more to come, they promise, but this is decent enough to start. Stunned by the opulence and generosity, they drag you back through the halls to show you off.

Your heart is fit to burst with how welcoming the Al-Asims are. It makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Kalim looks like he wants to cry, too. His mother and father assure your safety, thank you for being so precious to Kalim, and welcome you into their culture with the wish that you embrace it. The kids promise to teach you all kinds of words and it makes you laugh.

The outfit is colorful and you're glad it covers you because you'd probably burn to a crisp otherwise. You walk over to Kalim, trying not to stumble in the shoes as you get used to the feel of things breezing and jingling around you. He catches you and his eyes start to sparkle with tears again. "Did I step on your toe?" you joke.

"You look so pretty, hayati!" he sniffles like he can stop the tears from slipping down his face. Kalim is always daydreaming of your future together but something about the realness of you being in his arms, wearing traditional Scalding Sand garb, hits his tender heart hard.

"Come on now, stop crying. We can't do anything fun if you're crying!" you dab at his eyes with a flowy sleeve and he leans into you.

"That's one of our words!" one of the kids points at Kalim. "Do you know what that means?"

"My life," you reply, taking Kalim in your arms like you have a million times before. Every time he's ever said it, actually.

One of his brothers walks by and teases him about teaching you sweet nothings. Kalim glares at him from your shoulder, pouting. He points at his brother and yells something. The kids take off after him. "I told them he's 'it' for the next round of tag!" Kalim beams, satisfied with himself.

Your first day in the Scalding Sands is an innocent one of meeting family, playing games, and having a delicious dinner that isn't unlike one of the parties at Scarabia. Kalim is by your side at every opportunity. Some of his younger siblings try to feed you and teach your how to eat the food, ignoring Kalim as he politely explains you're big enough to feed yourself. He's trying to keep them from choking you with food but can't deny that you look adorable with your cheeks packed like a squirrel.

The party winds down and you fall into your usual habit of picking up everything. Jamil hisses at you to stop but you ignore him. Kalim saves the moment by swooping in to collect things, too. It's clear the help is stunned and trying not to look too surprised in front of his parents. "Ah, I see," his mother laughs over her glass, "your sanadi."

Kalim whines, guiding you hurriedly to the kitchen, clicking his tongue at you before you take a wrong turn. He removes his bracelets and gives you gloves to wear, putting on a pair of his own soon after. It's not until you're wrist deep and washing the dishes that you ask what the new word meant.

"'Sanadi' means backbone." he blushes, suddenly very interested in the custom plates, "it's a term of endearment in the Scalding Sands."

"I like it," you smile at him.

Your first night in the massive palace is odd. You know you're in one of the most protected places in the world but it's new and the shadows and sounds make you nervous. Trying to focus on the obscenely soft pillows and comfy sheets help a little. You're almost asleep when a noise outside the window draws your attention. A little wary, you open the window.

"Want a preview before the girls run you all over the Sands tomorrow?" Kalim offers you his hand, carpet fluttering patiently underneath him.

"Sure. Couldn't sleep anyways," you shrug. He secures your hands, body over yours to protect you from the windchill as he points out details in the palace before telling carpet how to get past the garden and gates without being seen. Clearly he's snuck out enough for people to look skyward now and then.

Kalim's only fifteen minutes into describing the bazaar when he realizes you're asleep. He gives a breathy laugh, tugging gently on one of carpet's tassels to make him head back to the palace. Carpet glides smoothly into the still-open window of the guest room, rolling you back into the sheets as he flops onto a nearby chair. Kalim locks the window back and tiptoes to the bed, snuggling in beside you.

He doesn't know how long you slept, but it was long enough for people to look for him and realize he's not in his own bed. The door to your room bursts open, a chorus of squeaky 'Sanadi!'s pouring in with little feet. Kalim shrieks like he's being drowned in cold water when something much bigger jumps on the bed and it lurches your bodies, the tiny ones collapsing all over you with giggles. Crisp smacks echo in the room, Kalim tangled in the sheets and fighting for his life as his sister yells. You try to cover Kalim but the kids dive on you and press into you, seeking protection from the shoe's rage.

Kalim falls out of the sheets like he's just escaped a cocoon and can't use his legs. Blind with sleep, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, he's piloted by the primordial fear of being a younger sibling at the mercy of an older one. He makes it around the door and down the hall.

You're allowed to dress yourself but the sisters insist on fussing and fawning over you, giving you this or taking away that before summoning bodyguards to escort you to...wherever they want, really.

It's hard for you to process that they can just do whatever they want at the drop of the hat. They don't have to panic crunch numbers or scour every possible inch of Ramshackle for a thaumark and you're stunned. You don't know why you are, but you are. The girls are sweet but they have no concept of reservations and they don't recognize their own entitlement--you think--because people are just as happy to cater to them as they are to ask.

You're taken to a very expensive, insanely exclusive spa that you've heard Vil mention before. No appointment needed, of course. Staff just seemed to materialize and rooms were just conveniently there. The girls are established here and the employees are familiar with their skin and favorites but you're a new face.

Your stomach clenches nervously and you wonder if they're judging you. Do they see a blank check or someone who looks out of place in the clothes you're wearing?

When they're given permission to charge the account but 'be reasonable' you wonder what reasonable is to an Al-Asim. You can't help the smile that cracks your lips when you think of Kalim and his many parades and parties. He thinks those are reasonable and they're quite extravagant.

'Reasonable' is a skin analysis and so many treatments--special steam, cleanser, toners, mask packs, funny lights, weird tools--in the comfiest bed-like table that you're not even sure you were awake for half of it. You're amazed by what you see in the mirror. You don't see someone who's fought overblots or eaten something questionable to keep from starving.

Dazed and ethereal, you're escorted to the next experience. You and the girls spend the day in the spa, this time in several soaking pools before finishing in a mud pack-body wrap combo. You're introduced to several native drinks and get some sort of special infusion. Whatever it is, the girls swear by it.

You're surprised Kalim recognizes you when you get back to the Al-Asim home. He sweeps you up and gives a surprised peep about how you smell and how soft you are. The embrace is short-lived because you're being dragged away to change for dinner. He makes up for lost time by sitting next to you and sneaking into your room again.

It's cute and a little harder than the night before. Some of his siblings stayed up to make sure he didn't just walk in. When you have that many siblings, you always have more than one plan. You and Kalim have to shush each other at times but you're happy to tell him about your day.

He's just as happy to listen. His heart relaxes when he realizes you had a mud bath and you're doing your best not to ugly cry because you feel clean and pampered and had a day where you didn't have to worry about anything.

That means everything came true and it's smooth sailing, right? Everything she said came true?

He kisses your tears away and lets the emotions dwindle into exhaustion, holding you close.

The rest of the week is a balance of playing with Kalim's siblings, finding fun things to do around the main house--or having them brought to the main house--and going out into public with a crazy amount of guards. The third day was a personal parade of animals not unlike a standard Scarabia party; Kalim and his siblings translated how to hold, care for, and feed them. You got to ride some of them!

You spent the fourth day taking in the local sights with Kalim, Jamil, and his sister. It was nice to get away from the splurging whirlwind of the Al-Asim girls and just be casual in the browsing. For all his wealth, Kalim blended seamlessly with the interesting hole-in-the-wall spots others seemed oblivious to. It was an interesting side of him.

Kalim promised the last day would be for you and him and he was keeping his word. You took off on carpet at first light, watching life trickle into the bazaar. He'd begged the kitchen staff for several baskets and you were enjoying a simple morning of people-watching and sharing food. When you were finished eating, he found someone who looked like they could use the rest of the food. Carpet tucked safely under his arm, Kalim took you to a shop you'd passed over yesterday.

"I want to get matching rings," he smiled.

Back in the world you came from, custom jewelry would take a week or more. In Twisted Wonderland you guessed magic made the process near-instantaneous. Or maybe they just had multiple hands on it since it was a request from an Al-Asim. You wouldn't be surprised if they had a file for the Al-Asims given how much jewelry they wore.

The ring was beautiful. It was a thin, elegant, curving design that looked like a blooming flower with a ruby in the middle. It reminded you of Kalim's eyes. Kalim's ring shared the curving, elegant design, but his flower hadn't bloomed; the petals were flush against the jewel and almost crown-like. He'd just paid when the door to the shop burst open.

Neither of you were surprised. You half-expected it to be Jamil. Or one of his siblings.

You were both wrong. Very wrong.

You had no idea who these people were or what they wanted. Had they been watching you since yesterday? Earlier in the week? They rushed you and you thanked the Seven that they didn't immediately draw their magi-pens. It gave you the time to sock one of them.

There was a brief moment of stillness when they saw his head snap back. Four strangers realized they didn't know you or what you were capable of. Before they realized you didn't have a magi-pen, you kicked one as hard as you could in the knee. He buckled, sinking enough for you to punch him hard in the stomach.

You felt one of Kalim's arms wrap around your middle, yanking you back to his chest. He thrust his magi-pen forward and you held your breath. Kalim was far more valuable without a scratch or burn.

And they assumed you were valuable to Kalim. They were right. Kalim was so focused on anticipating a spell, on getting his protections ready, that he didn't anticipate a physical attack. He started sliding across the shop floor when they got the idea to rip you away.

It took three of them but Kalim wasn't done yet. He wasn't beaten. They escape in an uncoordinated stumble and Kalim's hot on their heels, taking to the skies and firing off spells from carpet. They fire back but between trying to keep you from running and aiming up at a moving target, he has the advantage.

Until they run through the bazaar, of course. There's so many people now that he struggles to keep his eyes on you. He almost loses you once or twice but he can hear you yelling. You call his name and he'll always hear it.

Kalim's not surprised they managed to sneak out of the bazaar into somewhere semi-abandoned. The bazaar wasn't always a bazaar; it used to be a small community. Pockets of old homes remained. People sold them for ample compensation but vendors found them off the beaten path and not as lucrative so they sat, unused.

A spell caught him by surprise, carpet veering sharply and almost throwing him off. Kalim patted his little singed tassel, peeking over the fringe to fire off a spell of his own. Carpet wove through the air, doing his best to keep Kalim safe but let him see through broken windows and open entryways. His goal was to confuse them, have all the attention on him and give you time to escape.

Kalim saw you bolt out of the home and gave carpet a tug. You were halfway to carpet, kicking up sand, when the men charged out. The jewel in his pen was starting to darken but Kalim knew he wasn't at his limit. Something in him snapped; he saw red when those men dove atop you like rabid dogs.

"Respite in the scalding sands, a neverending party. Dance! Sing! Oasis Maker!"

The sky turned dark and ominous in an instant, a cool shadow stretching over the sand. The rumble echoed Kalim's brewing rage. With a hair-raising crack, the rain poured out in a fierce deluge. It was icy, heavy, and stung like a whip. Carpet sagged under the weight of the water; Kalim guided him down carefully, squinting against the downpour to find you.

Why weren't the firing off spells? Were their clothes too heavy? Did it hurt too much to move? Could they not see? Kalim's suspicions were high and he could only assume that any grass magic wasn't strong enough to cut the water and fire was pointless.

He took advantage of the situation and fired off a few smaller water spells. They were boosted by Oasis Maker. It almost felt wrong, knocking them around like toys, but he didn't care. Oasis Maker dwindled to a drizzle, then stopped, when he saw you trying to crawl through the mud.

He couldn't help but laugh as the fortune-teller's words finally made sense. It was weird to have his face half-numb from icy rain and still be able to feel his tears. It took effort, but he managed to pull you out of the mud with a wet squelch! The two of you sat, stunned and freezing, just looking at each other for a moment.

He wiped water and mud off of you. You immediately grabbed his pen and started checking his hands. "You feel okay? You're not going to overblot?!"

"I'm fine, sanadi. As long as you're fine, I'm fine." Kalim breathed, resting his lips against your forehead.

He composes himself and looked at how utterly stuck the men are in the mud. Some of them probably need to be observed for drowning; they probably inhaled enough water to feel like they were drowning. Serves them right, Kalim thinks as his nose turns up in a sneer. Carpet does as Kalim wishes, carrying him to the nearest guard to report the event.

Kalim picks mud out of your ring and cleans it with his drenched shirt as carpet takes you back to the main house. There's no way in hell anyone will let you bathe together but he can dream.

He can also dream that he won't get his ear pulled off. Kalim was surprised to feel his father's warm, firm hand on his ear after he stepped onto Al-Asim property. Usually it was his mother's. Hissing through his teeth, Kalim risks a look back to see you getting swarmed and dragged by his sisters and mother. There's multiple people shouting in a language you're beginning to understand but you don't need to know anything to know you're in trouble.

"Welcome to the family," Jamil mumbles under his breath as he takes instruction from Mrs. Al-Asim to fetch Kalim some dry clothes.

[paulyenvol6]

the shirt stays on

I need another three business days to recover from Pedro at Cannes and, obviously I had to write something about the sleeveless look. This is dirty and smutty and involves a strong hand/arm kink of course. I'm so serious, this is the hottest a man has ever looked.

And send me your request please I need inspiration!!

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, choking, little bit of biting, ARM AND HAND KINK, Pedro and reader are married, reader is down bad for Pedro, talking of offspring, creampie, size difference, slightest hint of a breeding kink, tooth-rotting fluff, nicknames (baby, sweetpea)

Wordcount: 6,914

Masterlist

"Jesus fucking Christ, Pedro…," you slapped your hand over your mouth, supressing a gasp as your husband turned in circles in front of you.

"Did I promise too much?"

You rolled your eyes and nothing hinted at the fact that your rapidly pounding heart would slow down any time soon.

"You know I'm not gonna be able to let you go like that," you whispered through clenched teeth, but your serious facade crumbled when Pedro approached you, sliding his arms around your waist and palming your flesh.

"Mhmm, is that so?" he whispered in your ear and you reflexively grabbed his bicep, his muscles tantalisingly hard, yet soft under your grip.

"You're fucking killing me, you know that right?" you said, but it sounded more like a cry.

"That's why I'm wearing this. Why else, if not for you?"

You dropped your shoulders, pressed a gentle kiss onto his upper arm, and couldn't stop yourself from carefully grazing his skin with your teeth.

"Careful, sweetheart. I can't walk the red carpet with bite marks all over my body."

"Oh just shut up. As if you wouldn't enjoy the attention…"

Pedro laughed and secured his hold on you, his thumb drawing circles over the small of your back.

"I can't believe you're real," you continued, not scared to freely speak your mind in his presence.

"You have to stop or I'm gonna get out there with my face all flushed from your compliments," he lowly whispered, sounding amused, but then got serious as he cradled your head and kissed your cheek.

"I wish you could come with me," he sighed, pulling back and giving you his puppy eyes that never failed to make you weak in your knees.

"Me too… But you're gonna have a good time. Say hello to Emma from me, will you?"

You smiled as you trailed a hand up his jaw, careful not to mess up his perfectly styled hair.

"I will. And you're gonna stay up for me, right?"

You rolled your eyes, head shaking in disbelief as your feverish skin slowly began to cool down again now that you were starting to get used to his gorgeous appearance. Not that you would ever seriously get used to it, of course. In fact, you believed you would never be the same person you had been three minutes ago. Not after you had seen Pedro looking this gorgeous.

"Of course I will. You think I could even possibly sleep knowing that you're out there looking like this?"

Pedro leaned in to kiss you, the smile glued to his lips and you had no choice but to return it although you already regretted the fact that he was about to leave for a couple of hours.

This was just him. When you saw him happy, your stomach always fluttered with nerves, the little butterflies dancing and rejoicing and your insides turning upside down. And now wasn't an exception, you realised as the adrenaline was pumping through your veins, your fingertips and the end of every nerve in your body prickling with steaming heat.

Your mouth was dry as Pedro took a step back and your eyes involuntarily wandered down his body. The black leather loafers with metallic spikes across the upper part, the high waisted trousers and of course the centerpiece of the outfit, the sleeveless black top that showcased not only his toned bicep, but also the side of his body, due to the deep cutout at the armholes. Something about it genuinely made you feel like Pedro had chosen this outfit just for you, who had a not-so-secret obsession with his arms and hands.

"Oh baby," he now laughed and instead of finally leaving the hotel room, headed back to you and pulled you into yet another hug, this time pressing what felt like a million kisses to your hairline.

"You know I'm a sucker for you being all needy and clingy," he mumbled, holding you snug against his broad chest. You were close to starting to pur like a cat.

"Congrats, then," you whined and dropped your head to his chest, peacefully closing your eyes while inhaling his perfume. To be fair, you didn't really feel at peace. Inside of you, there was a thunder, your stomach unable to settle and the blood in your veins throbbing as if you weren't Pedro's wife of five years, but a teenage girl who had a crush for the first time in her life. You felt hot-headed, your palms sticky with sweat and you didn't even want to think about the state of your underwear. You needed him religiously and part of you couldn't understand that he was about to walk out of the hotel room.

That was until there was a loud knock on the door and Pedro hummed deep in his chest, the vibrations rushing through your body.

"I'll be right there," he shouted and gently lifted your head from his chest. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby."

You definitely didn't want him to feel bad so you forced your lips to curl into a smile, but you weren't successful. Well, maybe it was just that Pedro could read you like a book.

"I'll make it up to you later… You just gotta be patient for a few hours and watch a movie or read a little and then I'll be back and..." - He kissed up your jaw until his lips were pressed to your temple, your pulse rumbling behind your skin - "I won't stop."

You chuckled and stroked down his arms while Pedro watched you with a broad grin.

"I promise, I just won't stop. Gonna stay all night right there between your thighs if that's what you want."

You reached up to wrap your arms around his neck one last time, swaying the both of you to the side while your hot breath brushed over his ear.

"The shirt stays on."

It was almost three hours later now and you were lying on your stomach on the bed, your chin resting on the palm of your hand while you scrolled through your phone feeling bored. You had listened to Pedro's advice and rewatched an old Star Wars movie and although you loved the franchise, your thoughts had occasionally wandered elsewhere. After that, you had tried to read, but it turned out to be even more frustrating because you couldn't focus on the pages, the letters blurring before your eyes while you couldn't ban the picture of Pedro's arms in this goddamn top from your head.

After torturing yourself for another 30 minutes you had given up, went to the bathroom and changed into your favorite set of underwear in a flash of inspiration. It was olive green, simple, but the bra had a little bit of lace tracing the cups. You hoped that once Pedro was back your underwear wouldn't stay on your body for very long, but you sometimes liked to dress up a little bit just to feel even more comfortable and sexy in your skin than he was already capabale of making you feel.

So now you were lying with a jeans and one of Pedro's sweaters hiding the fancy underwear while scrolling through instagram. Of course your feed was full of pictures of your husband and you were soon to figure out that it wasn't helping your situation. Each image was more beautiful than the last: his adorable smile when he faced the cameras, the wink of his eye and the way his bicep flexed when he hugged one of his fellow cast members.

Your breathing was heavy and longing as your eyes were fixed on the small screen, your pupils flickering to the time every few minutes. As if the wait wasn't already long enough, you knew he was at a press conference at that very moment, so it would certainly be another 30 minutes before he got back to the hotel.

You sighed and dropped your head so that your forehead rested on your phone while your legs were dangling in the air. Your thoughts unconsciously wandered to Pedro again. If you hadn't known how much your husband enjoyed your swooning and yearning, you certainly would have felt bad. But Pedro was never shy to admit that he loved to feel desired by you and lord have mercy, you were happy to oblige.

The position with your brow touching your phone display turned out to be surprisingly comfortable which was why you remained like that. Your eyes were closed, Pedro appearing before you in short periods of time and your ribcage expanding with steady, but heavy breaths.

Soon you noticed that the air in the hotel room was too warm and stuffy so you propped yourself on your elbows and then crawled off the bed to open a window. It was still warm outside, but it was definitely better than the stifling, thick air in here. You were just about to turn around to get back on the bed when you suddenly heard a noise outside your room and froze, your pulse loud in your ears.

When the door opened, your heart skipped a beat or two and your adrenaline made you run the few feet separating you from Pedro and jump in his arms. He deeply laughed, but caught you in the air, securing you with his arms sliding around your waist as you trapped him with your legs crossed behind his back.

"I missed you so much," you complained against his neck, your hands playing with the baby hair in his nape that you finally got to touch without the fear of ruining his perfectly styled curls and getting in trouble with Coco.

"Mhmmm I missed you too," Pedro replied while turning around so he could close the door behind him without having to put you down. The fact that he was able to carrry you so casually with one arm made a very familiar wetness soak your underwear and you giggled against his collarbone, inhaling the smell of sun and him.

"Pedro," you whined, not exactly sure what you were asking him for.

"I know," he answered nevertheless, the sound of his voice making your pussy throb and you reflexively started to rock your center against his abdomen.

"Gonna take care of you now, baby."

Your eyes rolled back at the promise and you were just about to surrender to the body contact and let yourself go with your eyes shut close, but then your mushy brain remembered what you had yearned for all night and your gaze instantly fell upon his bicep again that was flexed from carrying your weight. Of course Pedro noticed it and of course he reacted with a wry grin, his eyes glistening with the same beautiful spark he had left you with three hours ago.

"I know, I know, baby," he just whispered and lowly chuckled when he felt you stroke up and down his arm, your pupils blown and your expression in awe of the smooth skin covering his thick muscles.

"All of the Marvel training," he then giggled and tensed his bicep on purpose just to watch your eyes widen.

"Pedro," you moaned once more, your inability to speak clearly apparent to both of you, but Pedro knew what you wanted anyway.

"Don't be shy," he hissed, one hand on your back travelling south to dig into where your back met your ass crease.

"You know I want you to take from me what you want. You can touch it and bite and lick it… Whatever you want, sweetheart, you know that."

You whimpered again, perhaps overhelmped with the options, your eyes frantically springing between his hands, underarms and shoulders. Deciding to leave the choice for later, you pressed your mouth against his, your lips greedily sucking at his bottom lip while you buried your hands into his muscles, tracing the outlines of his bicep and kneading the flesh which soon made Pedro groan.

"Jesus… you're killing me, baby."

Your pulse thundered up your throat and you couldn't remember ever wanting someone or something as much as you wanted him. Your body was so hot, you were convinced you would go up in flames if you wouldn't take some of your clothes off soon. On that note, Pedro was clearly aware that the oversized hoodie you were drowning in belonged to him because he fisted the fabric and chuckled deeply while you were still busy exploring every inch of his arms that were covered with a thin layer of sweat, either caused by the warm temperatures in Cannes or by what was happening right now. You preferred to think that it was the latter.

"I think I know this one…," he whispered referring to the hoodie, his jaw clenching when he slipped his hands under the piece of clothing and palmed your waist.

"Just missed you," you whined and now kissed your way down to his shoulder where you were finally allowed to bury your teeth into his skin, careful not to hurt him of course. Pedro gasped, slightly throwing his head back as he traced along your ribs and spine in turns.

"You wanna get on the bed, sweetpea?" he growled, the nickname much too soft and sweet for his husky voice, but you nodded with your head, tightening your arms around his neck while he carried you over to the big hotel bed.

He carefully lay you down on your back his hands unwillingly leaving your waist to rub his palms together as his hungry eyes followed every move and twitch of your body. The hoodie had slid up your body a little and the thin strip of bare skin was enough for Pedro to bite his lip and wipe over his brow with the back of his hand.

"Shit, baby… You look so pretty with my hoodie on."

Then he adjusted his shirt, prompting you to immediately let out a whine of complaint, as you were scared he was about to take it off. But Pedro just shook his head in amusement and then leaned down to take off his shoes that were probably worth more than this whole trip to Cannes.

"Don't worry, sweetpea. I promised you it's gonna stay on."

Once he had carelessly kicked them off, his mind somewhere else already he finally approached the bed. Your legs were pressed together, the heat pooling in between almost making you squeal with frustration although you knew that Pedro was about to make it better just like he always made things better.

"Please," you still whispered when he knelt on the bed and reached out to cradle your head.

"What, baby? Tell me what you want."

Mindless thoughts flickered in your head as you tried to get a hold on yourself, at least to be able to form a coherent sentence and tell him what you wanted.

"I wanna taste you," you eventually moaned, your eyes already on the outline of the tent beneath his trousers.

"Oh Christ, baby…," he swallowed to fight his dry throat, but moved closer to kiss you. "You sure you don't want me to take care of you first?"

"Yes, I'm sure," you whispered against his soft lips, clutching the fabric of his tight black top and feeling his firm torso through your fingertips. Pedro took your bottom lip between his and sucked it softly until he released it with a plop. He then took in the needy glint in your eyes.

"Alright…," he murmured and sank down on the mattress once you made room for him, his back resting against the wall behind the bed and his legs slightly parted.

Meanwhile, you moved to settle between his legs, your hands splayed across his thighs and the cool fabric of his pants a thrilling contrast to your feverish and sweaty palms. And then you ran your gaze up his body and you almost let out an involuntary moan. Of course you knew how fit Pedro was – you would have to be blind to miss the effects of the intense training for the fantastic four movie on his body, but this outfit made them especially visible. You just couldn't get over the veins on his wrists and the way his hugs bicep jiggled every time he made a sudden movement.

You must have been a sight, staring at him with round eyes, your lips dry and a stunned expression on your face while you couldn't get a word out. Pedro smirked again and reached out to touch your elbows, slowly trailing up your arms until he put them on your shoulders.

"You know I love seeing you wearing my clothes, but can I take this off?" he asked, rubbing the fabric between his fingertips.

You gave a nod and helped him by lifting your arms so he could pull the hoodie over your head and throw it on the floor next to the bed. You could see the bob of his adam's apple and the deep gulp as his gaze fell upon your stomach and chest that was beautifully hugged by the olive green bra. Pedro would never hesitate to tell you that he loved the way you looked, no matter what you were wearing, and that he would still be swooing over you even if you wore a garbage bag. But when you felt especially confident in your favourite underwear, he was a fan of that too. Your comfort in your own body made your whole appearance glow — a beautiful light surrounding your frame as you sat on your heels in front of Pedro. He truly felt like the luckiest man alive.

"My god…," he said, his voice quiet, but thick with awe and silent appreciation.

When he brought his hand to your waist you leaned in to his touch, pressing yourself against him while he palmed your flesh. The motion was more than convenient for the both of you because he got to feel the softness of your flush skin while you were able to see his bicep flex, the dim light in the hotel room emphasising every curve and line so stunningly.

The two of you remained in this position for a little longer before you couldn't hold back any more and placed your hand on his dick that pressed hard against his pants. He hissed out through gritted teeth, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes followed the movement of your hand. You slowly began to palm him, your hand massaging the bulge that felt firm and hard against you. Pedro's hand on your side tensed as his tip twitched and you could feel his fingers digging into your flesh, stinging, but showing you the arousing impact of your actions.

"Fuck. Baby, fuck…"

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, giving him a broad smik while feeling him grow harder under your touch. Soon it wasn't enough for either of you, Pedro biting his lip bloody while you were yearning for a taste of him so you stopped palming him through his pants and instead fumbled with the zip of his pants. Once you had opened the button and started to shove them down his hips, he lifted them to help you. When they dangled around his knees, you did the same procedure to his boxers, your eyes tearing at your desire for him at the sight of his stiff, leaking dick that looked like it desperately craved a release.

Pedro's eyes followed yours, but before he could run his dirty mouth again, you had already lowered your head and pressed little kisses on his length. He clearly hadn't expected you to go straight to work because he gasped and jerked forward, his hands reflexively reaching for your head.

"Jesus!" he spitted out, his mouth falling open as you showered his dick with as much adoration and affection as you possibly could. You traced along every vein and line, licking off every drop of precum and pumping with your hands what you couldn't reach with your mouth.

You loved the way he felt around your hand, the skin soft, sleek and warm and almost a little silky when you went up and down his shaft. And the way he tasted… Musky and salty, but there was another note that you weren't able to identify. It was just him and you couldn't get enough of it.

"Sweetpea, I'm not gonna last long," he warned you after a while, his grip around your scalp tight, but not to guide or force you, but rather to cling to something while you made him lose his mind.

"Mhmm, okay," you teased, rubbing with your thumb over his tip while your tongue trailed a line down his dick to kitten-lick his balls.

"Jesus, baby… God, you needa… Fuck…," he stuttered, unable to speak his mind, but you just giggled and suddenly felt very powerful with him falling apart under your touch.

"That's perfect," he growled, eyes rolled back in his head as you finally took him down your throat, not very deep, but enough to bob your head around his length. You reminded yourself to slide your tongue around his glans from time to time, knowing how sensitive he was there and it most certainly had the desired effect.

"Baby, I'm serious. I'm really fucking close," he panted, his pupils struggling to focus on you as they threatened to drift upward at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him. Pedro gave your hair a gentle tug that finally made you stop and you darted up to him.

"You don't wanna cum?" you asked, your lips forming a playful pout that made him groan once more.

"Shit, of course I wanna cum, but I need to take care of you first."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and so did your dripping pussy that painfully clenched, your clit throbbing for any kind of friction.

"C'mon. Lay down, okay? Gonna make you feel really good," he breathed, still trying to control his pounding heart and exhaled when you pulled off him with a wet sound and sat back on your heels.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you're gonna kill me," Pedro whispered more to himself while making room so you could lay down where he had rested with his head against the bedrest a second ago.

"Pedro?" you quietly asked once your head touched the cushions.

"Yeah?"

"Choke me."

He lowly chuckled, a dark sparkle lighting up his already deep brown eyes and you knew exactly what it meant. It meant that he was deep in and would do anything you asked him of. Anything for a single twitch of your body or roll of your hips.

He didn't reply with his words, but with his hands. He gently - almost to give you a taste of what was coming – caressed your neck, two fingers trailing up and down the sensitive skin while settling between your spread, welcoming legs. You took a deep breath, shuddering at the way Pedro regarded your body, which was still hidden by far too many layers of fabric and then almost felt disappointed when the hand on your neck, so deliciously close to doing what you needed so badly, traveled south, trailing a line between your clothed breasts to help his other hand undress you. He skillfully opened the button and zip of your jeans and swiftly pulled them down your legs along with your lovely underwear that unfortunately didn't get a lot of attention right now. Neither of you cared though.

"You don't know how much I love you, sweetpea," Pedro whispered, shaking his head like he couldn't believe you were real and palmed your hip in his large hand.

Although there truly was a lot to see between your thighs, you couldn't help yourself and your gaze unconsciously was on his hands and arms again that gleamed so wonderfully in the light. He looked strong, yet soft and you loved the way his muscles moved when he was turning or adjusting you beneath him.

"I love you too, Pedro," you whispered, but he was already one step ahead and watched your pussy like it was the first time he had ever seen one. His eyes and facial expressions radiated so much love and admiration, you felt like you were about to explode with joy. Your heart was pounding rapidly but you couldn't tell whether it was from your arousal and excitement or the love you felt for him.

"So goddamn pretty," he mumbled and then placed his hands on your inner thighs and spread you wide for him so he could have the first taste of tonight. Pedro circled your entrance with the tip of his tongue, savouring your salty, prickling wetness in relief and while he tried to take his time and enjoy each moment and impression, he simply was too eager to toy with you for long.

The rest of his face was pressed against your pussy and while he dipped inside of you with his tongue, his nose scrunched against your clit, finally helping you fight the burning heat that had previously made the bundle of nerves shudder and tremble with anticipation. But he knew too well what he was doing and managed to please your pussy only with his face to an extent where you felt that it wouldn't take you long to orgasm. Who could blame you, really? This whole afternoon had basically been one long, tormenting period of foreplay with Pedro looking this handsome and his arms being so stunningly on display.

He was far from being finished though. Sensing how you buckled and your hips shifted under him, he brought a hand up to continue those torturing strokes across your neck that you had gotten a taste of earlier while moving his tongue upward to focus on your clit. He used his spit and your wetness that he had collected on the flat of his tongue to circle it, pressing loving kisses all over it like he wanted to show you his affection this way. Your body naturally reacted to his tongue, your hips rolling in accordance to create more friction and encourage him to give you more, give it to you harder and – most importantly – not to stop, but your eyes were on his arms.

You just couldn't help yourself; with his hand teasing your neck you had a perfect view on his underarm and you had a feeling Pedro exactly knew what he was doing. You were so focused on his arms, a work of art in themselves, that you didn't see it coming when he suddenly choked you. The restriction of air made you gasp and your eyes sprang open.

"Is that what you want?" he teased and you were not sure if his words were dirty talk or if he actually wanted reassurance that you were giving him your clear consent. You nodded, your eyes pleadingly devouring his bicep while the sensation of his large hand wrapped around your neck sent you into insanity. And then the stimulation on your clit… You could have died right on the spot and you would have thanked every god there was.

"Fuck," you choked, your own hand coming to rest on top of his, but not to gesture him to stop, but to trace his veins and tendons. Soon that wasn't enough though, especially having in mind that his gorgeous arm was so close, right in front of your face so both of your hands traveled down to his underarm just to feel him. His flesh seemed to burn from inside, his skin as hot and feverish as you felt. Whenever he squeezed you tighter, your muscles tensed and you let out a little whine. Pedro noticed this and, keen to reward you, gave you a special treat and did it as often as he could.

By now his expensive black top was soaked with sweat, but he couldn't have cared less. How could he with this sight and especially this taste on his tongue. He was aware of every single reaction of your body, the way your pussy clenched and your hips arched off the bed whenever he took your clit between his teeth to gently nibble, your desperate sighs when he squeezed your throat and the way you licked over your lips, blushing over his arms. He would definitely keep this shirt, no matter what.

'Pedro, I'm gonna cum, fuck...' you told him, your teeth clattering together and your neck flexing beneath his touch. Your fingertips pressed into the flesh of his arms, your nails leaving a slight sting while uncontrollable pleasure took over you and you writhed underneath him.

"Yes, there you go, baby…," Pedro soothed you, keeping his grip on your hip firm while his other hand relaxed around your throat so it wouldn't become too much.

"Cum for me… Let go, sweetpea, wanna taste it all."

A muffled cry left your throat, your lips still pressed shut while your eyebrows drew together and little shock waves went through your body.

"Yes, there you go…," Pedro smiled proudly, his tongue gliding up and down your slit to savour your juices for as long as possible while your spinning head took in his hand that was now loosely resting on top of your chest, his thumb drawing soothing circles over your skin.

"Ohh god…," you whispered and fell on your back, your chest rising heavily and the blood pumping in your veins. You felt messy with drops of sweat pooling on your forehead, but when Pedro looked up to you with his soft puppy eyes you forgot everything about it and melted on the spot.

"Have I ever told you how sweet you taste?" he growled while crawling up to cage you beneath him.

"I think so," you giggled, too weak though to slide your arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry," you then whispered with an apologetic look on your face and Pedro lifted his eyebrows in confusion.

"For what?"

"That you have to wear this top in this heat. You must be melting."

He twisted his lips and propped himself on his elbows next to your head.

"Not because of the top," he mumbled while connecting his lips with your chin, leaving gentle kisses as he made his way up to your neck where he kissed the faint pink marks he had left.

"You okay? Wasn't too much?" he wanted to make sure, the sound of his voice muffled against your skin.

"No," you grinned, finally finding the strength to grab his bicep, which you were sure was covered in scratch marks. It was nothing unusual, though. The two of you loved to show the world who each of you belonged to, even if, in many cases, you did it in places that no one else got to see anyway.

"Pedro?" you asked which made him glance up to you without pulling away from your hot skin.

"I want you to fuck me."

You felt him tense at your words, his hand grabbing your shoulder more firmly as he started to kiss up your collarbone.

"Lemme get a condom…," he whispered while unwillingly drawing away from you to reach to the nightstand, but you were quicker and trapped him with your legs wrapped around his hips.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Pedro asked in confusion, but stopped in the motion to look at your face that gave him a loving smile.

"We talked about it," you said, looking down to where your hands were playing with themselves. "And I thought we both… We agreed, right?"

His expression was unreadable at first, but then he bit on his lip and sighed out.

"Yeah. We have."

You chuckled and he immediately joined, but then he stroked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's just… It's kind of scary when we actually do it, don't you think so? You know… the fact that there's a chance you could actually get pregnant. I – I would like that… Of course I would like that" – his lips curled into a sweet smile – "It's just kind of surreal."

You nodded in agreement and took hold of his face, making him look into your eyes.

"I know. But yeah… I think we should do it. Everything's perfect right now, you know?"

He nodded and then gently peeled off your hand to kiss your wrist, his brown eyes big as he didn't broke eye contact for a mere second. And there you were melting away under his gaze as his lips caressed the thin skin on your wrist where your pulse was so loud and rapid, you thought that he had to hear it too.

"Yes," he said, his breath tingling on your skin and then he kissed you one last time before carefully putting your hand down on your stomach.

"I love you, sweetpea. So so much. And I wanna have a child with you."

You heart skipped a beat just like it always did whenever Pedro said the L-word. After five years of marriage you still had this kind of physical reaction to it which amazed you.

"I love you, Pedro. Now fuck me," you hissed, your eyes sparkling and your teeth bared as you already eyed down his broad body.

"Can't have a cute fucking moment with my wife because she can't get a hold on herself…," Pedro playfully rolled his eyes, but adjusted himself between your legs.

You were still giggling when he wrapped a hand around his shaft to align himself with your quivering entrance, your swollen clit eager for his touch again, but he teased you for a bit, avoiding the little nub on purpose. When his tip prodded your hole you prepared yourself for the slight stretch that was always involved when he fucked you and you inhaled deeply while Pedro waited for your approval which you gave him with a nod.

"Relax, baby," he breathed as he slowly eased himself inside you and fortunately, you were so wet that you took him without any problems.

"Jesus!" he cursed once he was inside of you to the hilt and glanced down to you, who had your face drawn with sheer pleasure.

He was big yes, bigger than any dick you had ever seen, but tonight when your pussy had been yearning for him all day, your entrance was more than happy to smoothly welcome him inside you.

"You feel so good, shit… Please, look at me. Need to see you, baby."

You had closed your eyes, focusing on all the ways you felt him so deep inside of you, the veins on his shaft excitingly pressing and rubbing against your walls, but then they fluttered open at his words.

"You're fucking perfect," he murmured through clenched teeth and leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose while he rolled his hips to pull out of you and started fucking you at a steady pace.

"Pedro, fuck… Need…"

You couldn't finish the sentence, the words stuck in your throat, but your affectionate husband kissed up your temple, softly humming against your skin.

"What do you need? Tell me, baby, c'mon…"

"Need to cum again," you whimpered, buckling your hips to meet his deep thrusts.

"I know, I know... Don't you worry, m'gonna get you there. Just relax for me, alright? And breathe…"

You literally felt him everywhere. His hand had reached between your thighs the moment he had started fucking you to rub small and percise circles on top of your clit. You were in awe of how well he was able to coordinate his movements in his state because you were sure were you the one to touch yourself right now, you wouldn't be able to aim correctly. And then there was his mouth everywhere he could reach. Pressing kisses all over your face, your nose, your jaw, next to your ear and down to your neck and chest where your bra was half-off, the straps loosely around your shoulder and your breasts bare on display for him. You seriously wondered how Pedro managed to focus on so many things at the same time because you already had struggles breathing, whereas he fucked, fingered and kissed you at the same time.

You let out a broken moan and could literally feel him smiling against your collarbone when your hands tightly gripped his bicep, obviously not only to hold on to him, but also to knead his firm flesh. Part of you wished there was better lighting in your hotel room, the sky outside dark by now, but of course there was no way you would stop him right now to turn on the brighter ceiling lamp. This would have to do, and feeling his muscles under your palms was already more than one could wish for.

Now that he was propping himself up on his elbow, he had to keep his muscles tense at all times, which was very convenient for you. You were almost in awe, your lips parted and your eyes round as coins while you traced every curve and curvature, every inch of skin as if you wanted to worship it.

"Oh baby, I'm gonna fill you up so well," Pedro interrupted your silent admirations and you averted your gaze from his arms for a moment to look at him. "But first I need you to cum again, alright? Need you to come around my dick."

His finger on your bundle of nerves fastened up at his words and you threw your head to the side, your heels digging into the mattress in search of release.

"I know, sweetpea," Pedro growled at your whine that almost sounded like you were in pain and rolled your clit between two fingers.

"You can cum… It's alright, you can let go whenver you want to…"

And so you did. Seconds after the words had left his mouth, your second orgasm of the night rolled over you, knocked all the air out of your lungs and made your whole body tense up. You arched off the bed, presenting yours breasts to Pedro so prettily that he leaned down to take one nipple between his lips, but then suddenly grunted as the clenching of your pussy drove him over the edge as well.

It really was poetic, the two of you reaching your highs almost at the exact same time and as Pedro spasmed in your hole, slowly riding out his orgasm you collapsed on the bed, utterly exhausted after two highs. It was an unfamiliar feeling to be filled up by him, but not an unpleasant one. The ropes of cum felt warm and sticky inside of you, almost as if your pussy was overflowing with your own juices.

"Holy shit…," Pedro now growled, his face buried in your neck while his rapidly heaving chest crashed against yours. The weight of his body pressed against yours aroused you more than it probably should and once again, you ran your hands up and down his arms and shoulders, savouring the gorgeous picture of him in this goddamn top as long as it lasted.

He also seemed to welcome your soothing hands, softly humming as the two of you calmed down in each other's presence.

"That was so perfect," you whispered and brought one hand to the back of his head to play with his locks.

"Yeah," Pedro agreed, moving on top of you to withdraw his flaccid dick from your dripping entrance.

"Oh baby…," was all he could say and closed his eyes as a gust of wind from the open window sent a shiver down his spine.

You remained in this position for a little while longer, feeling content and peaceful as you listened to the other person's heartbeat. Eventually, however, the cool air from outside made it inevitable for Pedro to roll off you and slip under the blanket, leaving you to regret the replacement of Pedro with the silky fabric of the blanket.

He was quick to pull you toward him though and instantly wrapped his strong arms around your head to keep you snug against his chest. You both smelled of sweat and exhaustion, but neither of you cared. The chirping of distant birds and crickets from outside was beautiful background music to the serene scene and soon you felt yourself drift off to sleep, but before you could Pedro cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth.

"There's a chance that I just got you pregnant," he whispered, sounding torn between amusement and excitement.

"Mhmm yes," you answered and giggled when you felt a hand pressing down on your lower tummy.

"It would be nice, right?" Pedro asked and opened his eyes into yours. Despite the darkness, you were still able to make out his pupils and twisted your lips into a smile.

"Yes. It would be… perfect."

You gave each other one last grin before Pedro cradled your head and guided it down to nestle against his chest, his heartbeat evenly thundering in your ear while you closed your eyes, expecting sleep to take over soon.

And it did. You were still thinking about what Pedro had said, and the image of him and you with a baby was so clear in your mind that you could almost see it.

It was a nice thought to fall asleep on and when Pedro grabbed your hand and his thumb gently brushed your knuckles, you somehow knew the two of you were thinking the same thing.

[brokenmenswhore]

i kept thinking how its not fair how remus is usually the one to take r virginity so i was wondering if u could write a poly!marauders with sirius taking their virginity ik u did a fic about this but i just wanna have my man sirius take their virginity for once! hope u do it u dont if u dont want to tho!!

actually had a lot more fun with this than i thought i would so thank youuuuu

ready | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders (james, remus, & sirius) x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

“I wanna talk about having sex.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair, running his hands across his thighs. Remus stayed leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and James ran his fingers through his hair, attention trained on you.

“Okay,” Remus sighed, “have you been thinking about it?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah, and, I mean, I know that last week I said I wasn’t ready yet, but-“

“We didn’t pressure you, did we? We were just asking to check in and make sure you know your options, we didn’t mean-“

“You didn’t pressure me,” you cut Remus off, “I promise. I just-“ you sighed as the sentence died in your throat.

As you dipped your head, eyes trained on your fidgeting hands in your lap, the boys all exchanged looks. Sirius raised his eyebrows at James, who nodded toward Remus, signaling to Remus that he should say something. Remus, seated in the middle, turned his head to the right to look to Sirius, pushing the responsibility of breaking the silence back onto him.

“I saw-“ you could barely get the words out, and the boys’ attention focused back to you, “I saw something, and it helped me feel differently. It helped me realize that I want this.”

The boys all exchanged a quick look again.

“What did you see?” James asked.

Your cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson. You couldn’t look any of them in the eyes. You swallowed hard and dropped your gaze again, evidently nervous.

“Baby, I say this with love and as gently as I can: if you can’t talk to us about sex, there’s no way to be sure you’re ready to have it,” James said, his voice soft.

He was right.

Huffing out your nerves in a short, quick breath, you forced out, “I saw Sirius a few days ago,” deep breath deep breath deep breath, “touching himself.”

Sirius’s eyes widened, his arms crossed against his chest, his leg still shaking as his casually slouched form paid close attention to every breath you took. “Yeah? When?” he asked, nodding his head upward with each word, almost in challenge.

“A few days ago, I got my usual potions timeblock free, and I knew you had that time free too, so I came to the dorms to say hi, and- you were, you know.”

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair, his arms crossing on his chest as one hand rested in front of his mouth.

“So you saw Sirius masturbating,” Remus took over, “and that made you want to have sex? How?”

“Well, he was-“ deep breath, you can say it, “moaning my name.”

Sirius, only moving his leg up and down, otherwise stagnant, barely blinked as he stared at you, his eyes darkening with each passing moment. He could barely breathe.

“Baby, please connect the dots for us,” James pleaded.

“I thought I wasn’t ready,” you started, “but when I saw and heard you,” you said, gesturing to Sirius momentarily before refocusing on the whole trio, “it made me feel really… really… I don’t know, the same way I feel when you kiss me.”

Sirius nearly lept out of the chair, but this wasn’t about him. He could control himself, even if only momentarily.

James kept looking to Remus and Sirius, a silent plea that they keep you talking. James was about as awkward with conversation as you.

“You mean horny?” Remus asked like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I guess?”

“Seeing Sirius masturbating made you so horny that you’re ready to lose your virginity?” Remus asked.

“Remus,” Sirius warned, fighting to keep his composure, but slowly losing.

“I mean, yeah. I think-“ you paused for a moment, “I think I wanted to do something, but I got nervous. So I just left. I wasn’t really sure how to tell you, since I had just said I wasn’t ready yet.”

“Define do something.”

Sirius wasn’t asking.

“What?”

Through gritted teeth, and a mouth still covered partially by his hand, he repeated, “define do something.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You looked to Remus and James, who knew better than to disregard Sirius’s requests or intentions when he was this worked up.

Sirius’s dark eyes were transfixed on you, refusing to let up until you spoke.

“I don’t really know what to say,” you admitted.

“Did you want to touch him? Is that what you mean?” Remus asked.

“I guess. I think it made me want him to touch me. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Sirius didn’t move, apart from the shaking leg.

“We know you’re a virgin, Y/N, but have you ever been touched?”

You thought you’d already had this conversation, but in hindsight, it had stopped the moment you said you hadn’t had sex, and weren’t ready yet. The boys never pried further, but always allowed you to go to them when you were ready for something. They didn’t know the true extent of your inexperience.

“No.”

Sirius jolted off of his chair and began to pace back and forth behind the other two boys.

“Sirius, relax,” James said.

Sirius just growled at him in return.

“Keep it together, this isn’t about you,” James continued.

“What does it look like I’m fucking trying to do?” Sirius snapped.

“Don’t you think we’re all fucking losing it right now? Damn,” Remus said, turning back to look at Sirius is annoyance.

Sirius paused his pacing to say, “At least I’m trying to walk it off, you’re just sitting there with your dick pressed up against your jeans like it’s gonna explode.”

“Guys, for fucks sake,” James ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, “please don’t be mad at me.”

“No, no, no, baby, we’re not mad,” James said, pulling you out of your own head, “you did nothing wrong. You know we’re idiots.”

“See? Look what you fucking did,” Remus shot at Sirius, gesturing toward you.

Sirius begrudgingly slumped back down into his chair. “Fuck off, she knows I could never be mad at her.” He then turned his attention to you and said, “sorry, babydoll.”

“Did I upset you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you acting upset?”

“Because it’s taking everything in me not to come over there and fuck you right now.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“Baby, do you want to have sex?” James asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Do you want to have sex right now?” James continued.

“Does- is that okay with everyone?”

“Is that okay with everyone?” Sirius repeated, “fucking hell.”

“Would you keep your fucking innocence kink in check for at least the next 20 minutes?” Remus glared at Sirius.

“I’ll do my best mom.”

“Can I come over there?” James asked you, ignoring the boys’ bickering.

You nodded your head yes.

James approached your seated frame on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you so that you were nearly eye level. “We’re gonna take such good care of you, angel.”

You leaned down slightly and captured James’s lips in a kiss, nothing you hadn’t done before.

Only this time, James wrapped his fingers through your hair to keep you in place as he stood, leaning over you until your back was against the mattress.

As the kiss heated up, James pressed his hips against yours, and you let out a small whimper. James pulled away from you, a smile growing on his face. “What, you like that?” he teased, grinding down harder on you.

You made another little noise, and James began to fully grind onto your hips, the friction of cloth between your bodies becoming an unbearably annoying barrier.

“You wanna be touched, huh?” James whispered into your ear, moving a hand between your bodies, “you ready?”

“Please,” you whispered back, the word for James and James alone, as he pulled your underwear and skirt down your legs.

Remus, from behind James, took them fully off of you and discarded them to the side.

James ran a finger slowly between your folds. “You’re already so wet, baby, shit,” he said, his voice almost more surprised than sensual.

“Sorry,” you said, your heart rate increasing and your breath shaky.

“Not a bad thing, honey,” he assured you, “usually means you like it.”

“It feels-“ you fought through the embarrassment, “really good.”

“Yeah? You want me to go faster? You want more?”

Remus sat beside you, watching the scene unfold as he stroked your hair for an added sense of comfort.

“Yes,” you said.

“Good girl,” James praised, circling your clit, and progressively moving his fingers quicker and quicker.

“Fuck,” you moaned at the sudden sensation.

Sirius remained seated, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, silently watching you come undone.

Remus leaned down and kissed you, swallowing your whines and whimpers as James slowly lifted himself off of you, sinking back down to the floor and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

You squealed and pulled away from Remus, looking between your legs. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna taste you, hun, that okay?”

“I mean, sure, but what does that mean-“

You went silent immediately when James ran his tongue between your folds, collecting your wetness and sucking on your clit, causing you to throw your head back.

You squirmed nonstop underneath his tongue, the sensation new and overwhelming.

“Easy,” Remus said, partially to you and partially to James, reminding him to go slow since you’d never done this before.

“Sorry baby,” James said, “you just taste so good.”

With James between your legs, looking down your body gave you a clear view of not only him, but of Sirius, who was seated directly behind him.

When you saw Sirius, you couldn’t look away. The way he was looking at you was something you’d never seen or experienced. All three of the boys looked at you in different ways, but you’d never seen Sirius with this look in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but maintain eye contact as you moaned and gasped, James’s expert tongue knowing exactly how to work you up. You decided he had his reputation for a reason.

Watching you come undone with James between your legs, and your eyes locked on his, Sirius shifted in his chair, refusing to give up control but becoming very, very close to losing it.

You threw your head back when James hit a particularly sweet spot with his tongue, and your sight landed back to Remus next to you.

You grabbed at his hair, a smile on his face as you needily pulled him down into a kiss.

“You want James to prep you?” Remus asked.

“Mhm,” you moaned.

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant, but you knew you should say yes to any preparation for what would inevitably be a painful virginity loss.

James kept his mouth on you, but very slowly slid one finger into you.

Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, and Remus pulled away, his face still close to yours. He gently gripped your chin in his hands, keeping you in place to look at him.

James began to move his finger in and out, curling the digit every once in a while to add to the pleasure.

You could barely breathe. You just laid there, gazing up at Remus, helplessly squirming your hips, to either stop the pleasure or add to it, you didn’t know.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Remus cooed, “does that feel good?”

“More,” was all you could get out.

Remus nodded to James, who clocked it, and added another finger into you.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, three pairs of eyes on you. James’s glasses were lightly fogging up as he tasted you, his eyes peering up at you through the still-clear zones of glass, focusing completely on how you reacted to each movement of his hand and his mouth.

James, ever the awkward, goofy, muscular idiot, loved knowing that he was the one making you writhe. He griped your thighs as they instinctively closed around his head, but not to stop them, only to hold you close enough to him that you didn’t squirm away. James would happily let your legs crush him.

He began to scissor his fingers inside of you, and you let out the filthiest moan yet, your back arching as you ground yourself against James.

Remus leaned down to unbutton your blouse. You decided not to wear a bra today, despite it bothering your back, because you had hoped you would end up here. Remus attached his mouth to one of your nipples, a hand squeezing the unattended breast, adding to your pleasure.

“Shit, shit, please,” you whimpered.

“James, get up,” Sirius said, the first words since the sex started.

James turned around, his fingers still inside of you, “what?”

“She’s never had sex, coming twice is gonna be too much for her right off the bat. Get up.”

James knew Sirius was right, and he reluctantly pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty as James stood up.

Remus didn’t move, but instead kissed you to help ease the sudden stopping.

“Who do you want, baby?” Remus asked, his hand on the side of your face.

You swallowed your nerves, suddenly worried that naming one of the boys would hurt the others. However, given the situation, there was really only one answer.

You looked down to Sirius, and when you caught his eyes, he immediately stood up and walked toward the bed, positioning himself over you with his knees between your legs.

“You want me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You remember seeing me touching myself and moaning your name?”

“Yes.”

“I was imagining this,” he said, slowly running his cock between your folds. You didn’t know when he stripped his clothes off, but there he was, naked above you.

You didn’t notice James and Remus strip either.

You let out a breathy moan at the feeling of Sirius rubbing himself against you.

Sirius leaned down to kiss your neck, holding his cock against you as he bucked his hips. “I was thinking about how fucking pretty you’d look and sound underneath me, and how fucking good you’d feel around me.”

“Sirius, please-“

“Sh, baby, I got you,” he said, “I’m gonna treat you so fucking good, baby, you’re gonna come so fucking hard.”

You whined as Sirius continued to kiss your neck, his cock lubricated from all of your wetness.

“Need you,” you said, so quiet he nearly didn’t hear it.

“Yeah? You need me?” he taunted, lining himself up with your entrance.

You reached around to find either Remus or James’s hand, but instead found James’s cock. You gripped it anyway, looking to pleasure him, but he pulled your wrist away.

“This is about you, angel, relax,” James said, “Rem and I can take care of each other.”

You nodded your head in understanding, and focused back on Sirius.

Looking up at him, you couldn’t help but admire his beauty. You reached up and tucked a piece of fallen hair behind his ear. That seemed to break him, as his intense demeanor completely folded as he gave you the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. He could have cried right then and there, the gesture was so sweet and intimate.

Sirius leaned down and kissed you softly as he pushed his tip into you. Your body tensed up, and you gasped in your throat.

“Sh,” Sirius told you, pulling away and looking intensely into your eyes, pushing himself into you at a torturously slow pace until he bottomed out inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re big,” you said, not to be seductive, but out of the feeling of how-the-fuck-did-you-fit-that-in-me-and-why-didn’t-you-warn-me.

Sirius dropped his head. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I’m sor-“

Sirius kissed you briefly to silence you. “It’s a good thing. Relax, baby.”

Your eyebrows were furrowed and Sirius watched you closely, waiting until your muscles relaxed and your breathing calmed before he began to move.

Your moans were much louder than you thought they would be, considering how slowly he was fucking you. Sirius slammed a fist down into the sheets next to your head, fighting with himself to go easy on you.

Remus, who was being sucked off by James, placed a supportive hand on Sirius’s back. “Hold it together, Pads, you got it.”

Anyone who looked at Sirius, even anyone who didn’t know him, could take one look at Sirius and know he was holding back. You felt bad, but you needed it, especially when it felt like your entire lower body was bursting into flames.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you focused on your breathing. You fought opening your mouth to tell Sirius to stop.

“Sirius, she’s hurting,” Remus warned.

You shook your head no. “Don’t stop, please, it’ll only make it last longer,” you cried.

“Oh, bunny, you shouldn’t feel like-“

“The pain’ll go away, just please,” you choked, “I gotta get there.”

Sirius understood. He leaned down and licked a tear off of your cheek, straining even more to be gentle and move slowly.

“Breathe,” Sirius reminded you, “are you okay?”

“Just burns,” you said, voice strained as you tried to keep your tears at bay.

“I know, I know,” he said kissing you to help distract you.

As he continued his steady pace, the burning began to subside, and quickly turned to pleasure. As it did, you moaned into the kiss, and Sirius pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Can you- fuck- can you please go faster?” you whined.

“You sure?” Sirius spoke through gritted teeth.

“Please, Siri.”

The nickname was enough for him. He began to move quicker, his head falling into the crook of your neck as one hand gripped your shoulder, partially holding himself up and partially holding you in place.

“Fuck,” Sirius moaned.

Your moans got higher as Sirius picked up the pace, and you grabbed at his back. You didn’t know what you needed, you just needed more.

“What’s up, baby?” Sirius said as you heard Remus groan, his cum squirting down James’s throat.

“More,” you whispered.

“You want more?”

“More,” you repeated.

Sirius shifted his knees, pushing your legs up higher and hitting deeper inside of you.

You nearly screamed, and Sirius wrapped an arm around your head, helping push you against him as he thrust up into you.

“Siri-“

“Fuck, you sound so pretty,” he praised.

You tilted your head to see James touching himself sat beside you, and you grabbed for his face, kissing him when he leaned down toward you.

You combed your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

When James pulled away, he turned to Sirius, and Sirius lifted his head, hungrily kissing James as he thrust up into you, your body jolting with each hit.

Watching Sirius and James make out as Sirius fucked you, and as James fucked his fist even harder as they kissed, made you wetter and wetter.

James was decently big, but his hands were so fucking large that it didn’t take much movement to cover the length of his cock. You watched his arm muscles contract as his hand moved faster and faster. You didn’t even notice him come, or that the kissing stopped.

“Somethin’ catch your attention?” Sirius teased.

James smirked and kissed you one more time before getting up to clean himself up.

You squeezed Sirius’s cock involuntarily, approaching your climax quicker than you anticipated that you would.

“Shit, baby, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight,” Sirius moaned.

“More,” is still all you could say.

“Fuck, you still want more? Tell me what you want,” Sirius said, his eyes locked on yours.

You whined, “I want- shit- I want you to fuck me like I’m not a virgin.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” you heard Remus say from somewhere in the room.

Sirius dropped his head, still restraining himself as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Baby, I’ll never forgive myself if I hurt you.”

“Please don’t hold back, Siri. I want you,” you said, desperate to feel any semblance of what it’s really like to fuck him.

Sirius searched your eyes for any doubt or regret, but he found none. He tilted his head and said, “okay then.”

Sirius grabbed your thighs and hooked his arms beneath them, pushing them upwards until you were nearly folded in half. You weren’t super flexible, but Sirius was strong. Despite your protestations, he wouldn’t fully let loose with you. Not right now. You had time.

Your legs rested on Sirius’s chest and shoulders, and as he leaned down to kiss you, he began to buck his hips again. The new angle had you moaning desperately into the kiss, his cock hitting deeper and deeper with every vicious thrust of his hips.

You held onto his hair as you kissed him harder, using him to swallow your uncontrollable moans.

Grunting and breathing heavy, Sirius kissed down your jaw and stopped at your neck, sucking at a sweet spot.

You moved your hand to cover your mouth, and James grabbed your wrist, gently moving it away and holding your hand. “Let us hear you, hun.”

You couldn’t protest or agree; all you could do was lay there, writhing, moaning, and swirling your hips to give yourself even more friction. With your movements and the new angle, your core ground against Sirius with each thrust, causing your back to arch and your head to push into the pillow.

Sirius noticed.

He placed a sweet kiss on your cheek as his hand slid around one of your thighs to your core, and he began to rub somewhat gentle circles onto your clit as he breathed you in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted.

You could feel your walls squeezing Sirius, and he growled animalistic-ally in your ear at the feeling.

“Shit, baby, you gonna come?” he asked through shaky breaths.

“I think,” you said. Sure, you’d made yourself come, but you’d never come from penetration before.

“You don’t know?” Remus asked, watching you intensely.

“I- fuck, fuck, Siri- I think I’m gonna c- shit, gonna come,” you gasped out.

Sirius pounded into you harder, gripping your waist to keep you positioned slightly upward as he pulled you onto him to meet his harsh thrusts.

You squeezed James’s hand desperately as you came, your eyes also squeezing shut as your body slowly relaxed back down to the mattress.

Sirius stilled his hips, despite being close to his own high, and allowed you to catch your breath before he pulled out of you.

Remus quickly sunk to his knees on the floor next to the bed, and Sirius turned toward him, heavy breathing as he stood and tilted his head back, his fingers running through his sweat-slicked hair as he came down Remus’s throat. The sight was so pretty.

Remus rose from the ground and lightly kissed Sirius, moments before Sirius collapsed next to you in the bed.

James was already on you, scooping your frame up into his arms. You protested, thinking he couldn’t hold all of your weight, but James was ridiculously strong, somehow lifting someone your size effortlessly.

“Let’s clean you up, eh?” James asked.

You just rested your head against his shoulder, and James kissed the top of your head before walking you toward the bathroom.

Once you were out of earshot, Sirius turned to Remus, smirking as cocky as ever, “I hope you guys always remember that that was because I’m just too hot to resist.”

Remus shoved him playfully, and Sirius smiled, flopping his back onto the bed.

[venusbyline]

Continuing on that competence kink I was mentioning on my blog, it's my personal headcanon that Aemond would get so hot watching his partner be physically violent. Hurting someone, or torturing someone, committing war crimes... (I mean, the way he looks at Daemon after he's murdered Vaemond- HELLO THAT MAN GETS OFF ON VIOLENCE AND BLOOD)

tbh I never knew about competence kink until that post of yours, but when I saw it... everything makes sense 🤭🤭 I wanna join him in his freakiness

btw, I wrote this two days ago but I forgot to post it 😭😭

⚠️: SMUT & DARK CONTENT. female!reader, dom!Aemond Targaryen, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), competence kink, blood kink, blood licking, missionary position, non-graphic violence, implied Alys Rivers.

— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin), Issa (yes).

There had always been something wrong with both of you.

Aemond noticed this when you were still children. He knew how angry you got when his bastard nephews teased him along with Aegon, he saw how you glared at Lucerys when the little boy gouged out one of your twin brother's eyes, just as he heard you mutter something about Rhaenyra deserving that scar on her arm after all that fight at Driftmark.

Your violent thoughts were just thoughts back then, but Aemond was not stupid. Despite trying to be a kind loving child, over time Aemond came to understand a little better what you felt.

He always liked your way of being, though. Sometimes he had lectured you if you expressed it around someone you should not, especially someone as prude as your mother. However, deep down Aemond liked to hear everything you had to say.

Alicent was furious when Aemond was younger and he went to talk to her about letting you start training with him and Ser Criston, after Aegon stopped being interested about swords. For the Queen, it was absurd for a girl to want to practice something like that, you were born to marry some lord and carry children, making more necessary alliances for the Greens when the right time came. After so much insistence from Aemond and even Ser Criston, who promised to your mother that no one but them would know that you were doing such a masculine activity, Alicent finally gave up on putting some sense into your mind.

Now, a few years later, you had proven a great worth to Aemond when you marched with him and Criston Cole to Harrenhal. Your dragon might be smaller than Vhagar, but you were willing to do anything he ordered during that war. After all, the two of you were twins and freak like each other.

Aemond felt horny watching you slit the throats of the men of the castle, your frustration at Simon Strong’s loyalty to the Blacks matching your twin's anger at the situation. The two of you were covered in blood as he sipped some wine with Ser Criston, because of Aemond's refusal to order the random woman with long black hair — the one whose life he spared, so he could keep as a servant — to draw you a bath yet...

Aemond wanted to see you like this for a little longer… Your silver hair was drenched in red drops, both a scarlet shade and a darker shade. You had killed so many people that the stains were a mess caused by other people's arterial and venous blood.

Ever since the entire family witnessed Daemon kill Vaemond Velaryon in front of everyone, the Prince Regent had been jerking off picturing what it would be like to see you committing all sorts of atrocities possible.

"Cole, leave me and my sister alone now." He ordered the knight, who nodded and left, taking the brunette servant with him.

"Feeling good, idaña?" Aemond teased, staring at you moaned with each deep thrust, the sounds of slapping skins echoing through the dark room.

You nodded, biting your lower lip at the feeling of your brother's cock sliding in and out of your warm cunt. He had already deflowered you many years ago, but nothing like that night. Aemond had never been so aroused and you had never been so tight before. "Mmm, issa..."

"Issa?" A low, husky chuckle rumbled from his chest, mocking your whining tone before he leaned down to nibble your neck, licking at the blood that dried there, the metallic, bitter taste making him growl and speed up the thrusts pace further. "Fuck... Your little cunt feels so fucking tight right now, sister. Such a freak thing, are not you? Just like me."

There was no need for a verbal response, though. Aemond had always known the truth. You were the only girl who matched the freak inside him.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Begging for more future fest bob amd reader

Future Fest | b. f. | 3

Bob Floyd x teacher!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Making out in public, Hangman is an asshole, suggestive content and allusions to sex

Author’s Note: Only because you asked so nicely, anon. Here’s another dream I had about Bob and his teacher, meeting the squad officially. GIF from @tomundsen

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

After the second date, there’s a third. Then a fourth. Even a fifth. And by the end of the month, she and Bob are full blown dating. Not that it came as a surprise, given after the first date he’d asked her to be his girl. 

She likes that –being his girl. 

She has never considered herself someone who dates a military man. Truthfully, the idea scares her –even now, a month and half into the relationship. Thoughts of long distance over deployments or uprooting her life sit in the back of her head. Is she willing to relocate if he asks? Is she okay with him being gone for weeks, months, even years at a time if she can’t join him?

She doesn’t know. 

Of course, these are thoughts she keeps to herself. It’s too early in the relationship to even think about those things, let alone ask Bob. She thinks this might be it for her –and she told him she’s not dating just to date; he agreed –but she doesn’t know what Bob is thinking. She can assume but she doesn’t want to scare him off if she’s wrong.

Tonight, however, they’re taking a step forward. She’s going to the Hard Deck to meet his squad. Bob seemed reluctant at first, warning her that they can be kind of rowdy. But she reminded him she spends most of her time with high schoolers —nothing a few Navy pilots can do will bother her. 

She’s already met Natasha, outside of the recruitment event. Bob insisted they meet pretty soon after their third date, wanting to make sure she knew Natasha was his partner and their jobs relied on trusting one another. She wondered at the time if he was worried she’d be jealous or something –but she was secure in herself and her relationship. 

Natasha also pulled her aside at one point and reassured her that there was nothing there except familial love. 

The Hard Deck is loud when she walks in. She’s been here once before, during a teacher appreciation event where they served teachers a free round. It isn’t exactly her kind of place; not anymore, at least. Ask her 21 year old self and this place would have been tame for her. 

She’s looking around for Bob, holding her purse strap a bit tighter than usual. She’s not sure why she’s nervous to meet his friends; she’s already met Jake, and Bob promised he’s the worst of them. But she is, and she slips up to the bar to find something solid to lean on for a second. 

“Need a drink?” The bartender asks, and she’s smiling at her. 

“Uh, yeah. Cranberry and vodka? Probably make it a double.”

“Can do.”

“You wouldn’t by chance know where Lieutenant Floyd is, would you?” She asks, leaning against the bar as her drink is slid in front of her. 

The bartender practically beams at her, pointing at her. “Oh, you’re the teacher. Bob mentioned you’d be coming by —I’m Penny. Your drinks on his tab, then.” Penny points over towards the back of the bar, grinning at her. “He’s back playing pool with the rest of the squad.”

She blushes at the idea that he’s talked about her to the bartender of their favorite bar. But she thanks Penny, taking her drink and taking a long drag of the cocktail. Then she weaves through the crowd, only stopping when she comes to the top of the short steps.

Bob is leaning over the table, stretching out to make a shot. She leans against the banister, unable to help herself as her eyes trail over his arms down to his hands. He's lean, but there’s a strength under that uniform that can’t be seen. And she loves how he feels against her. They’ve gotten pretty handsy in the last month and half, but they’re taking their time. Enjoying learning how the other ticks. 

But that certainly doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to stare a little. Or imagine those hands on her thighs or in her hair when she’s dropped off at home and alone in her bed. 

“You gonna stand there and eye fuck Baby on Board or you gonna go introduce yourself?” Hangman asks, loud enough to announce her presence, and puts a hand on her shoulder. She feels heat rising to her ears as she looks up at the pilot in disgust. 

Bob finally looks up though, eyes falling on her. He’s smiling at her brightly, handing his pool stick off to Natasha, whose glaring daggers at Hangman. As he approaches, Bob turns to Jake, and his smile fades to be a little more dark.  

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to my girl like that,” he states, voice low. He puts his hand on Hangman’s shoulder, and she watches as his knuckles turn a little whiter as he squeezes. That motion –this side of him that she’s not seen yet –does something to her. Feels it in her stomach, between her thighs. 

Hangman, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised by this reaction. He just pulls away and puts his hands up. “Apologies, Bobby.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Bob counters, nodding to her. 

The pilot turns to her, nodding. “Apologies, ma’am. Wasn’t trying to offend.”

“Yet you always manage,” Bob says, dropping his hand from Jake’s shoulder and taking her hand. He pulls her over towards the rest of the team, his usual demeanor returning as he introduces her to everyone. 

“You’ve met Nat and Bagman,” he continues without missing a beat. Then he motions to everyone else –and she’s taking mental notes as he does. Rooster, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback. All call signs, all names she’ll easily remember on top of their actual names.

Rooster –Bradley –extends his hand and smiles at her politely. “Pleasure to meet you finally.”

“Finally being the key word,” Fanboy –Mickey –teases, taking her hand once Bradley lets her go. “He’s always on his phone when he’s not workin’ now –definitely can see why though.”

She laughs as Bob pulls up a chair for her, his hand never leaving her lower back. He’s always been a perfect gentleman with her; but now he’s���well, she doesn’t want to think possessive but that’s certainly how she feels. And she would be lying if she said she isn’t kind of into it. Or a lot into it. 

Crossing one leg under her as she sits down, she takes in the faces of the people that seem to mean a lot to her boyfriend. They’re all grinning, teasing one another like they’re a family. And maybe they are, she thinks. They have to rely on one another like a family –probably even more so, honestly. 

“You play, miss teacher?” Rooster asks, holding the pool stick to her. 

“Oh, uh,” she pauses, then nods, setting her drink down and taking the stick. Bob immediately picks up her glass, holding it close –protecting it. “I do. Not well –it’s been a while.”

“Well rack’em up. Let’s go.” 

“Bobby can show you if you need him to,” Hangman teases, though she shoots him a warning look with a smirk on her face. 

There’s two options now. 

One, she can put in the actual effort it takes to be decent at pool –and she is pretty good at it, really. Knock these Navy boys down a few pegs. 

Or two, she can feign ignorance and have Bob “teach” her to play pool. Let him lean over her and put his hands on her. 

The only downside –the only one –is the teasing she absolutely knows will come from option two. She doesn’t mind the teasing, but she knows Bob gets a bit riled up from it. He’s mentioned it before, how sometimes it goes a little too far.

She decides that option two is far more fun, and she can make it up to him later. 

“It’s been a hot minute,” she admits, looking at Bob with a flirty grin. “I could do with a reminder.”

“Oh, uh,” He hesitates, just a second, before handing Natasha her drink and standing up. “Yeah, of course.”

She suddenly regrets wearing jeans as he stands behind her, taking the pool stick to help her line up the shot. He’s explaining what to do –actually explaining it, bless his heart –before leaning her over the table. One of his hands is guiding down hers, holding the pool stick carefully. The other is on her lower back. 

Someone wolf whistles. She has no idea who. She doesn’t even care, honestly. Because even though her shot is bad, she’s pressed back into Bob when she stands up and his hand moves to rest on her hip, right where her shirt rides up. 

“Woops,” she sighs, looking up at him from over her shoulder. She stands on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Guess you’ll have to give me some more lessons.” 

He’s blushing brightly, nodding some as he sits back down. She wants to take a picture so bad. He’s cute like this; even cuter when she considers how he was acting just barely half an hour ago. 

The teasing came just soon after she “tries” again, but she passes the game off to Natasha in exchange for her drink. Feeling bold still, she moves to sit on Bob’s lap, perched on his knee. He immediately pulls her against him, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Having fun yet?” She asks, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Oh yeah,” he grins, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I think you’re having more fun than I am, though.”

“I might be,” she admits, setting her glass on the counter behind them. Then she shifts some, draping her arms around his neck and sits sideways in his lap. “Is that okay?”

“I like that you’re flirting with me,” he confesses, his hand finding itself resting on the top of her thighs. His thumb rubs circles dangerously close to the inside. “Didn’t do a lot of that before you agreed to be my girl.”

“I can flirt more, if you’d like,” she offers, running her fingers over the hair at the nape of his neck. “Could go to the bar, you can pick me up.”

He chuckles at that, squeezing her thigh gently. “No, no –I am perfectly fine with this.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she teases, guiding his face to look at her so she can kiss him softly. 

His grip on her thighs tightens as he returns the kiss, unable to help himself. He doesn’t seem to care that anyone else is around, especially as his hand slides further up her thigh. Her hand is tugging at his hair and he holds back a sound that she can feel in his chest. Someone clears their throat, and they pull away from each other, both a little out of breath but grinning. 

Reluctantly, she pulls away from him and stands. But she extends her hand to him, nodding towards the door. There’s no hesitation as he takes her hand and follows her lead –with his squad hollering and whistling after him. Risking a peek over her shoulder, she sees the flush on his cheeks but he’s smiling as they slip out the back door of the bar. 

She’s about to ask him where he wants to go but he’s on her before any word can get out, pressing her up against the wall outside. There’s no helping the moan that escapes her lips as she grabs at his belt to pull him flush against her. His hands are on her jaw, holding her in place as he parts her lips with his tongue, slipping it in without argument from her.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes, lips brushing over hers as he pulls away just enough to press his forehead against hers. His glasses are fogged over, and he’s trying to catch his breath. “But I think you know that.”

“I do,” she grins, one of her hands reaching up to hold the back of his head so he can’t get away. “Couldn’t help it. Between the uniform and how you stood up for me earlier…honestly, it was hot.”

“Oh yeah?” His hands find her hips, pulling her against him –a knee pressing between her legs. She gasps at the friction it causes, unable to control it. “I wasn’t doing anything but stickin’ up for my girl.”

“Still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she sighs, hips bucking involuntarily against his thigh.

“Think you can wait ‘til we’re back at your place?” He asks, voice low in her ear as he holds her still. “I’d rather our first time not be against the wall of the Hard Deck. Was kinda hoping to make it special.”

“I think this is very special,” she teases, a breathy laugh escaping her lips. “But I can wait, I promise.”

He grins himself, pulling away from her entirely. Though he keeps one hand on her hips as he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Should we say goodbye?” She asks, looking up at him as she smooths out her shirt. She’s certain she knows the answer though. 

“Absolutely not.”

[iovesentry]

you’ll be safe here joaquin torres x reader

summary: you thought you’ve moved on from it, put it all in the past. but how could you? you literally witnessed the most important person in your life, sacrifice himself in front of you. that haunted you for the rest of your life, even in your dreams.

warning(s): reader is an og avenger, witnessed tony starks death, tony used to be readers father figure, nat is alive and winterwidow makes a tiny part of the story!!!

A/N: sorry for the lack of posts guys! i’ve had no ideas whatsoever, but i promise i’ll post more soon!!

flashes of the fight kept swarming your thoughts, dreams, and even your daily life. you never forgot his face—the mad titan—the face that took away the life of the person you loved the most. remembering how the mad titan had you in his grasp, almost taking away your life. that moment kept on replaying over and over again in your dreams, dreams that turned into nightmare.

“you will be shrinked into nothing, you will witness the snap of the glove and watch everyone you love–including yourself–disappear.” thanos held your neck in his hands, slowly squeezing it. you thought it was the end, that you’ll finally find peace.

you woke up from your nightmare, drenched in sweat. getting up from your bed, you went to the bathroom and splashed your face with water. it just kept haunting you over and over again that you had to go to therapy because of it. you wished it would all go away, get tony back.

you put on a robe and slippers and made your way out of your room, going to the kitchen to get something to eat. you remembered there was leftover pizza from earlier that sam ordered, so you were looking forward to eating that. when you got to the kitchen, you were met by joaquin.

“hey, couldn’t sleep?” he asked you as you went to the fridge to get the pizza. “yup. nightmare, as always. you?” you took two slices of pizza from the box and placed it on a plate to microwave. glancing at the time on the oven, it showed 12:30 AM.

“do you… wanna talk about it?” he asked you, concern laced in his voice. joaquin always listened to your problems, whether that was about the team, a mission, something about the past, or about yourself. he always knew what right words to say too—thats what you loved about him—even though people always thought he was just a flirt.

hearing the microwave ding made you snap out of your thoughts, taking the plate and placing it beside where joaquin sat.

“uh, you know–the usual nightmares. the battle with.. thanos.” hearing your own voice crack was embarrassing, especially in front of joaquin. “he just- i miss tony. i keep remembering how it felt to be in the grasp of that mad titan. i know he’s gone but—i just can’t seem to forget, you know?” before you knew it, your eyes were already filled with tears, the pizza long forgotten at this point.

“hey, hey, hey. look, you’re the bravest person i’ve ever known. you fought him and helped save the world. i know tony would be proud of the person you’ve become now. you’re probably one of the reasons why he did it. you were one of his motivations in life.” he says the right words again. you felt his hands cup your cheeks and dry your tears, but despite that, the tears kept coming anyways.

you were now face to face with joaquin on the barstool of the kitchen, hiding your face in his chest as he cradles you and rubs your back, letting you cry in his arms. you didn’t know how long you were crying for, but eventually you calmed down. looking at his tear-soaked shirt, apologizing immediately.

“hey, sweet girl, its okay. it’ll dry off or i can just change shirts.” you wiped your tears and stared at him, admiring his current state. “thank you, joaquin. i owe you a lot.” looking down at your pizza, you took a bite and offered the other slice to joaquin. you both ended up moving to the living room and talked until 2 AM, yawning profusely.

he was talking about a random topic until he noticed you went silent. looking at you beside him, you fell asleep. your head was resting on his shoulder the entire night but he didn’t notice when you dozed off. being so careful, he got up and carried you bridal style to your room. thankfully, you and joaquin were on the same level in the compound.

he opened your door and carefully closed it, hoping not to wake your room neighbors. he placed you on your bed, tucking you in. he didn’t forget to remove your slippers and robe, putting them back to where you always place them. as he was about to leave, he felt you grab his arm.

“joaquin, can you stay. please?” sleep was evident in your voice and in your face. you were scared you might’ve made him uncomfortable, but seeing him take off his slippers and joining you in your bed, you were relieved. you rolled over to face him—still distancing yourselves a bit—looking at him make himself comfortable.

“thank you for staying, joaquin. good night.” unbeknownst to you, he didn’t sleep immediately, but he watched you fall asleep. not in a weird, creepy way, but in a way where he’s admiring how your chest rises and falls. how peaceful your face looks when you’re not stressed. how beautiful you were looking even though you’re sleeping.

“good night, pretty.” joaquin fell asleep after that, slowly snuggling to get closer to you. you both ended up cuddling throughout the night. what joaquin didn’t realize is bucky and natasha heard both of you enter your room, even hearing the closing and opening of the door. they waited until joaquin would exit your room but after waiting for about 10 minutes and yet no sign of joaquin, they looked at each other and high fived.

“do you think they finally confessed?” bucky asked natasha, earning a slap to his chest as they both also went to sleep. “hey, leave them be, james. at least joaquin is a natural at it, you were a fumbling mess whenever you used to speak to me before.” natasha chuckled, remembering her and buckys cute dates. “who said i’m not a fumbling mess anymore?” natasha laughed at that, snuggling closer to buckys side and pulling the comforter over them.

safe to say you slept peacefully that night. and the next. and the next again. until forever, for you and joaquin.

[yoiisa]

Hey I saw your post of a s/o with a high libido and would like to see with Sae, Barou, nagi and Ness plsss. Thank u

hehehe okkiiieee (˵ ¬ ؂ ¬˵)

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: pwp ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ), dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, begging, oral sex m

➜ itoshi sae is a lot like kaiser wherein he will only cater to you if he's feeling it as well ➜ he's not trying to be mean about it, but he genuinely could not give less of a fuck if you're horny, he needs to watch reruns of his games and study the plays ➜ but he promises later a lot, so you end up getting strung a long for the ride more often than not when it comes to him

“Sae please!” You beg, staring up at him with a soft pout and a needy haze in your eyes. He tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. He sighs, “I told you, I’m tired.” You blink up at him, then look down. You wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his stomach. “Okay. I get it . . .” But you’re just so pitiful like this, a tightness forms in Sae’s chest. He pats your head, his fingers carding through his hair. “Do,” he pauses his face heating. He can’t believe he’s about to ask this. “Do you want to suck me off? Will that help?” You look up at him in surprise. “Are you sure?” When he nods, you smile softly. “Y-yeah, it’d help.” A few minutes later, your hands are on his thighs, and your mouth is stuffed. Sae’s fingers are tangled in your hair, and he slowly guides you up and down his shaft. “Ffff-fuck. Fuck,” he groans, his eyes growing lidded as he watches you. When you look up at him with those sweet eyes, he swears his heart stops. His hips twitch forward, driving himself deeper into your mouth. You moan and the vibrations are magical to Sae. “Don’t look at me like that,” he growls, his hips thrusting forward with more excitement at the eager display. “I can’t stand it, it’s way- ugh, ah~ it’s too much, Y/N.” But oh, the way he says your name is so perfect, you can’t help wanting more. You suck with more excitement, your tongue laving over a prominent vein on the underside of his cock. Safe to say, he doesn’t last very long after that move.

➜ oh, barou shouei is a giver ➜ trust me, i know it doesn't seem it at first but if you ask just right, in just the right outfit, with the right amount of lash-batting ➜ that bed is not surviving the night, that's all i'm saying

You knew what you were doing when you asked him like that in that nightdress. The satin garment is still on your body, but Barou is butt naked. He has you in a mean mating press, and your head is tossed back in bliss. “Shouei,” you moan, your hands fisting the bed sheets. “I love it.” “Yeah? You like it when your king folds you like this?” You nod, and through his gruff groans, his chuckles. “That’s what I thought.” He leans down to whisper in your ear, “You didn’t have to dress like such a slut to get me like this- fuck- I would’ve given it anytime and in anyway, ugh. Quit squeezing around me like that, are you that greedy?” You nod and you catch his lips in yours in a messy kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue and Barou bites your lip. You gasp and feel the fire in you growing stronger. “Harder, please?” You beg, fluttering your eyelashes. “I need it harder.” He nods and is quick to fuck you deeper into the mattress. You can hear the bed creaking, adding to the sweet symphony of your moans and his growls. He fists the fabric of your dress in his hands, his need growing by the second too. Barou buries his face into the crook of your neck, sighing as he feels his release nearing even more. Suddenly, the two of you dip, but you hardly notice it as the two of you finish at the exact same time. You squeal his name and he bites down on the juncture of your neck. It isn’t until later when he tries to move off of you that he fully falls onto the floor. Barou goes to check what happened, and lo and behold, one of the legs of the bed completely snapped, giving out entirely. He blushes and mutters about poor craftsmanship, and you tease him.

➜ y'all ever get really needy in the morning? like fresh from sleep? ➜ well, nagi seishiro knows all about that feeling, and the two of you have rounds and rounds of morning sex ➜ honestly, your sex life consists more of morning sex than any other type ➜ it's just the perfect way for him to start the day in his opinion (and mine too hehe)

“S-sei,” you whimper as his hand drifts over your body through your pajamas. His hand palms your breasts and grope your ass. You kiss him, your tongues caught in a slippery mess. He’s so soft and gentle, but you know you’re in for it still. The two of you manage to get semi undressed, after making out a bit more. You’re left only in your panties and he’s in his boxers. His fingers rub your slit through the fabric of your underwear, and you pant into his chest. “Mmmmm . . . wanna be in you baby,” he mumbles into your hair. “Can feel it, it’s already so wet.” “I-I know,” you gasp, your hand drifting down to his bulge, which is tightening in his boxers. You tilt your head up and moan as he snaps your panties against your core. “Seishiro.” “Can I? Please,” he groans. “You’ll feel so nice and warm . . .” You nod and he pulls your panties to the side. You shove the waistband of his boxers down, freeing his long and thick cock. He notches it into you, savoring each new sensation as he slowly sinks deeper and deeper into you. “Mine, my pussy, my favorite thing ever,” he rambles as he bottoms out. You whine as he fills you up, feeling it stretch you out beautifully. “Seishiro,” you whimper. “Let’s stay like this,” he begs. “Forever.” You nod, and the two of you lay in each other’s arms, connected in the way only you allow each other to.

➜ alexis ness is the king of service tops ➜ this man lives to please you, so as soon as you say the word, he's bricked up and READY ➜ his tail wagging, his puppy eyes bright and cheery, and his hand on your waist dragging you to the nearest private corners so he can get it on, even if it is just humping

You rest your forehead against the headboard, and your finger are pressed against the wood. “Alexis, wait-” you try to lift your hips, but he whines, and yanks you back down onto his face. “No,” he demands and delves back in your messy core. His tongue is literal magic inside of you, and when you lean back a little, he opens his eyes to watch you. You feel his lips smile against you and you giggle breathlessly. You reach down and comb his hair back from his forehead. “Just like that… are you okay down there? Do you need air?” he shakes his head as much as he can when it’s clamped between your thighs. He gives a particularly harsh suck on your clit and your hips buck. You grind harder down onto him, one hand going up to run through your hair. You look like a real goddess, your arms up, revealing your perfect breasts, and your soft stomach. His arms wrap tighter around your thighs, keeping you trapped more against his mouth. He could die like this. Like, genuinely. This isn’t a joke. He could die right here, beneath you, worshipping you, and he would not give a fuck. He’s ecstatic, and as long as you’re happy, who the hell is he to complain. “Alexis, I’m gonna- fuck,” you gasp as you gush all over his mouth. He eagerly laps it up, his pupils dilating to a concerning degree as he watches his woman. His girl. And he’ll be yours until he dies.

a/n: mwahahahahahahah 💋

[piastriprincess]

wrapped  around  your  finger ⸻  alex  albon  x  reader  .

featuring  alex  albon  ,  established  relationship  ,  disgusting  tooth  rotting  fluff  word  count  0.8k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  forever  ago  but  i  just  got  inspired  for it today  !!  ALEX  ALBON  P5  oh  the  man  that  you  are  …  i’m  a  mclaren  enjoyer  but  if  we  don’t  get  albodium  this  season  i  WILL  riot  .  this  is  a  bit  short  and  frankly  very  random  but  i  was  having  brainrot  about  cuddling  with  alex  and  saw  the  albon_pets  story  which  just  made  me  laugh  and  inspired  a  tiny  bit  of  the  fic  .  i  hope  you  enjoy  it  ,  anon  !  as  always  come  tell  me  what  you  think  and  my  inbox  is  always  open  for  requests  !  title  is  from  linger  by  the  cranberries  .

“Okay. What am I drawing now?”

You trace your finger deliberately against the side of Alex’s arm. You’re in the hotel bed in Imola; you flew in just a few hours before, after your boyfriend mumbled through the phone after qualifying that he missed you very much and would like you to come to the race please, if you could. He’s been clingy all evening since you got to Italy, now holding your back flush against his chest in the bed, arms wrapped around your waist. You like that he always presses his arms tight against yours, like he’s not just spooning you but actively hugging you closer.

There’s silence, for a moment. Even though you’re facing away from him, you can picture his face, the way his bottom lip is probably caught between his teeth, the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s concentrating. “A cat?”

“Be more specific,” you say, smiling. 

He sighs lightly into your hair, his grip around you settling just a little tighter. “You’re expecting me to guess one of the cats based on your invisible drawing on my bicep?”

“They’re your children, you should know them by touch.” 

“Fine, okay — do it again,” he says, and you try not to laugh at the appearance of his familiar competitive streak, exactly like you knew would happen when you started this little game. Still, you oblige, dragging your finger over his skin again and watching as it leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Horsey,” he says confidently. “Definitely Horsey.”

You shake your head, hiss through your teeth like a disappointed game show host. “It was Moomoo.”

“That felt nothing like Moomoo,” he protests, and you just laugh. “Are you having me on, love? Barely felt like a cat, honestly — it’d be a bit of a funny-looking thing.” 

“Well…” you say, trailing off, and Alex gasps. 

“How very dare you. Moomoo is a handsome boy,” your boyfriend says haughtily. He gives an exaggerated gulp like he’s shocked at your audacity to suggest otherwise, but you know better. Really it’s just because he knows you hate the feeling of his adam's apple bobbing against the back of your head. 

“Alex, ew, stop, it feels so weird!” you whine, squirming away from his grip, but he holds you firm against him, arms lean and strong around yours. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says lightly, doing it again. “And if you keep wiggling around it’s going to be something very different rubbing against you.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “I’m scandalized, Albon.”

“It’s scandalous business,” he replies, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Tread carefully.”

You snuggle in closer, cherishing the proximity after being apart for the week. There’s a yawn creeping into the edges of your voice when you speak again. “I’ll be sure to watch my step. Your turn. I’ll close my eyes, you draw.”

“If you close your eyes, you’re going to fall asleep, love,” Alex murmurs, his hand ghosting gently up and down your side in a soothing sort of motion.  

“I won’t,” you lie. You can feel the exhaustion overtaking your body, but you want the time with him more. “Promise. I’ll stay up until you go to sleep. Now draw.”

“Bossy,” he huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. There’s a pause, and then his fingertip drags slowly across your forearm. It’s delicate, precise, like he’s trying to make sure you get it right without disturbing you too much. 

You hum, trying to picture the soft touches in your mind’s eye. “Is it… a star?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a really lopsided version of the track tomorrow.”

Alex laughs, low and warm in your ear. “It’s a heart.”

“Might need to take some art classes, baby,” you tease, though you can feel your cheeks heating up even in the dark, cool room. 

“Hey, my canvas was moving,” he says, squeezing your arm as if to emphasize his terrible conditions. “And I was distracted.”

You crack one eye open at that, tilt your head back towards him even though you can’t see him. “Distracted by what?”

He shifts slightly, like he’s trying to be closer to you even though he’s basically wrapped around you by this point. When he speaks, his voice is achingly soft, almost shy. “By how happy I am you’re here.”

The sudden sincerity makes something warm bloom in your chest. You’re quiet for a beat, finding his hand in the darkness and intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m happy I’m here too,” you whisper. “Even if your drawing skills are questionable.”

“Rude,” Alex mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Poured my soul into that drawing, didn’t I?”

You laugh, tired and utterly content as your eyes flutter shut again. “I lied earlier. I think I’m falling asleep.”

“I know, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, squeezing his hand once before you let go. “Love you.”

You don’t hear his reply. You feel it, as sleep starts to drag you under. 

Alex’s finger tracing across your forearm. L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-M-O-R-E.

[clarkeysbedchem]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

will lenney x reader

summary: two childhood best friends with unspoken feelings finally find their way together

warning: mature content (18+ only)

masterlist | main masterlist

You had always known Will, he was the boy in school who’s laugh bounced off the walls, the boys who has been infatuated with since you were kids. He was the boy who never paid attention to you until you waltzed into your science class hair freshly bleached and teeth free of braces.

But when he finally noticed you, he never overstepped any boundaries. Somehow, you just made sense together. The two misfits who sat in the back of the classroom, whispering nonsense and building inside jokes that spanned over years. You bonded over stupid YouTube videos and helped edited each other’s first videos in his cramped uni accommodation, the air thick with energy and promise.

Eventually the silly little YouTube channels you had made began to grow - thumbnails improving, ideas improving and friendships growing. Every achievements or milestone celebrated with you by each others sides no matter what. You making random appearances in his commentary videos, and him always being found in your vlogs. ‘Power duo’ fans called you. ‘Platonic soulmates’. You just laughed it off, even when your stomach fluttered whenever his hand brushed yours.

Then the flirting started. That line between friends and something more slowly fading away but neither of you mentioning it, scared of what will happen if you do.

The off-camera moments, the lingering stares during late-night editing sessions, the sleepover where you’d wake up tangled in each other, that one night where a dare turned into a kiss that was never mentioned again.

Then Mia came into the picture and everything you and Will once shared; he now shared with her.

Will fell hard, you watched it happen in real time. One day he was laughing at your new video, leaning against your shoulder as he scrolled the comments. The next, he was talking about her; her hair, her laugh, how easy it was with her.

You told him you were happy for him. You said it so often that the words didn’t even feel real as they left your tongue leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Eventually, the daily texts slowed, then stopped all together. The invites from your shared friends stopped. Suddenly you were watching his life from a screen, like the rest of the world, like you hadn’t even been there to begin with. His fans noticed and blamed Mia which you hated because it wasn’t Mia’s fault – it was Wills. Your friends checked up every once in a while to make sure you were still around, and you were just not for them.

And then, after five years of pretending he hadn’t once been your entire world, of getting rid of any trace of him in your life - he showed up at your door.

Drenched from the rain that hadn’t stopped all week, his hoodie clinging to him, like a scene straight out of a movie. His eyes sad and hopeful as he stared at you. You didn’t ask any questions, you didn’t really need to, you just let him in.

“She’s gone,” he told you, pacing around your hallway, the rain dripping onto your hardwood floor, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

And just like that, the air between you snapped back to what it used to be buzzing with something unspoken. He stayed that night curled on your sofa in a hoodie you had stolen from his back in uni, and it was life he never left after that.

He started showing up again. Random texts updating you on his day at the office, random facetimes when he was away filming for his channel. Then you started to appear on his social’s again, just the occasionsl Instagram story where he panned the camera a little too far and fans would spot your hand or the corner of your laugh. Then they spotted the extra pair of shoes, or the additional coffee cup in the corner of your vlogs and pieced it together.

You weren’t hiding anything, just not labeling it.

Everyone noticed.

Your friends would shoot each other looks when Will would pay for your drinks on nights out or take your bill at a restaurant without an argument. Then the not-so subtle brushes of his fingers against your arm during a conversation or him pullinh you closer in a group photo. You would catch Freezy smirking, or Chris raising his eyebrows like he knew exactly what you were both dancing around.

Which brings you to where you were now. At a rooftop bar in London, glittering with fairy lights and overpriced champagne celebrating Ethan’s 30th birthday. Everyone dressed to the nines, and you are no exception.

You wore that dress. The one you bought without evening thinking about it. The one you tried on and immediately thought of him. The way it clung to your curves like second skin, the deep green satin glittering under the light with every step. You didn’t admit it, not even to yourself, but you only bought it so he could see it. Subconsciously hoping it would end up unraveled into a pool on his bedroom floor.

The music pulses through the floor, laughter swirled around you, drinks clinking in celebration. You could feel the burn of his eyes on you, goosebumps rippling up the bare skin of your tanned legs and arms. The shift in the air and the wave of heat travelinh down your spine made your brain melt into mush as you turned around spotting him across the room laughing at something Harry said.

But his eyes were focused on you, darkened with something you hadn’t seen before, like he hadn’t seen anyone else all night, like he was starved.

His eyes dragged down the length of your body, slow and lingering, drinking in every inch of you, and you let him. Your pulse raced, your skin prickling with want as your eyed locked. You didn’t smile, neither did he. It wasn’t that kind of look; it was the kind of look that said you know what this is.

You didn’t acknowledge his presence when he appeared at your side, but your body immediately melted into him as his hand fell flat on your hip when he laughed his way into your conversation with Talia and Faith. The two girls exchanged knowing smirks, but they didn’t dare say a word letting it unfold naturally.

By the end of the night, you could barely breathe.

You were practically vibrating in your seat as you sipped on your countless glasses of champagne. Your legs crossed over each other as you pushed back the ache burning in you as the the tension and unspoken weight of years and missed chances started to crash down. Every lingering look from him felt like a promise, and every touch a dare.

He found you alone for the first time that night, stood near the bar waiting for your final glass of alcohol, with the fairy lights shimmering above you.

“Come with me,” he murmured, sliding his hand in yours.

You didn’t ask any question, you didn’t care enough. You just followed him, letting your fingers tangle together as he lead you through the back hallway of the venue, past the coat check, past the quiet staff corridors, until he finds an empty room.

The door shuts behind you. And then there was a silence.

A heavy, charged silence.

“I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours, “All night. I couldn’t stop.”

Your voice caught in your throat, your words coming out more hesitant than intended, “You think I didn’t notice?”

He stepped closer, “You wore this on purpose.”

You didn’t deny it. You don’t need to. He already knows.

And then his hand is on your waist, and your back pressed flush agains the cold wall before you could let out your next breath. His mouth crashed into yours like a dam breaking, all teeth and passion, the past two decades of unspoken yearning finally dissipating.

You kissed him without hesitation, kissing him like you had never kissed anyone before. A kiss that was desperate, hungry, raw.

Your hands tangled into the curls at the base of his neck pulling slightly and his grip on your hips tightening in return as his lips moved to your neck, and you gasp his name like a prayer.

“Say it again,” he groaned.

“Will.”

Everything stops. His eyes found yours looking at you like you had just given him oxygen. Like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense to him,

“Will, I need you,” you whispered, fingers clumsily pulling at the buttons of his black linen shirt.

It was all heat and motion as his hands pushed your dress up your thighs, your finger palms flat on his toned chest like you needed something tangible to know this was actually happening. You were both half-drunk, fully gone, lost in each other like there’s nothing else. No cameras. No fans. No relationships. No years of holding back.

Only this.

Only him.

His hands brushed over your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress with practiced ease, until he was cupping the backs of them, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your back burning against the wall, your dress bunched around your waist.

A string of groans fell from his mouth vibrating against the skin of your necj as you rolled your hips against his, the contact sending sparks up your spine. Something snapped inside him, and there was nothing careful about the way he moved anymore. His hands tightened on your thighs tethering you to him like he was afraid you’ll slip through his fingers again, like he needs to memorise the way your body felt against his.

One hand fumbled with the strap of your dress, slipping it down your shoulder with agonising slowness, exposing your skin to the cool air. His mouth follows the trail, leaving kisses and bites along the outline of your collarbone, and down to the swell of your chest.

“Fuck,” his breath fanned against your skin, “You’re so beautiful. You always were. I just. I couldn’t let myself.”

“Then don’t wait anymore,” you whispered, breathless, “You don’t have to.”

That was all it took.

Your dress fell away from your chest entirely pooling at your hips, as you bared yourself to him. A low wrecked sound tumbled from his chest as his flickered between your face and the expanse of skin in front of him. When he leaned in again, his kisses were softer, slower like he was worshiping every inch of you. His hands shaking slightly as they roamed your body, cupping your breast, thumbing over your pebbled nipple, pulling a lewd gasp from your lips.

The way he looks at you, it was so much more than lust.

It was like all the years of unspoken love that had been buried deep beneath friendship and silence finally caught up with him and was captured in his now deep blue eyes.

His hand dropped down between your bodies, pressing the heel of his palm right where you need it, and your hips bucked in response. His forehead rests against yours, breathing ragged.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he muttered, his eyes focused completely on the way your hips responded to his movements, “You have no idea.”

Your hands moved to cup his jaw lifting his head to meet your gaze, your words slipping out raw and honest, “I’ve always wanted this.”

The look in his eyes turns molten, “Say that again.”

“I’ve always wanted you Will,” your whispers melting into a broken moan as his fingers slipped under your underwear, finding your soaked and aching core, “You’ve never been just a friend.”

He cursed softly under his breath, his touch growing more deliberate as his finger slipped into you, coaxing soft gasps from your lips as he worked you open with gentle, teasing strokes.

Your head lulled back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as he curled his fingers just right.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving your blissed out expression and the way your lips parted slightly for your soft noises could slip passed them.

“So are you,”

His free hand unbuckled his belt, never once stopping the rhythm of his other, his fingers still making work on you, never taking his eyes off you. The need growing into an unbearable pit in his stomach now, frantic and pulsing. You wereboth too far gone to stop, not that either of you want to.

He lined himself up before pausing, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he pushed into you with a slow, deep stroke, and everything else disappears. The room, the party, the years of pretending all dissolves as you clung onto him, your legs wrapped around his hips, your body trembling with relief and pleasure.

The rhythm builds slowly, desperately, as he fucks you up against the wall, every thrust laced with all the things you’d never said.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails breaking skin drawing specs of blood. His name tumbling from your lips like a song. And when your orgasm finally crashed down, you unraveled in his arms, your mouth pressed on his to conceal the moans ripping from your throat, and your heart splitting wide open.

He followed moments later with a gasp of your name, his forehead pressed into the crook of your neck as he spilled into you, shuddering through the release.

For a long moment, there was only silence. The rise and fall of your chests pressed against each other, and the thump of your hearts still racing in sync.

Then, quietly, he kissed your temple, “You‘re mine,” he stated, his voice barely audible.

You smiled, dazed and wrecked and glowing, “Always.”

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[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 30

Went and voted- going to be a white night tonight 🫠 I don't even want to think about the outcome tbh. The russian muppet is already calling fraud and the exit poll votes aren't even live yet.

Anyway- Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 30 >>next(TBC)

Gordon was growing too old for a lot of things. Drinking and partying, roller coasters, horror movies, his job, and above all, the mess that was the Wayne family.

He remembers the day he found you, shivering in the cold shadows of Crime Alley as your hands clutched at your mother. He remembers how much blood you were covered in, the terrified look on your face, the pure shock you were in. And he remembers how reassured he felt when he found out you were Bruce’s kid.

Bruce had grown so much from the boy who burned the lawn of his professor, from the kid who spent so much time in detention, who had to spend his early life in Arkham’s boys’ rehabilitation home, who got himself expelled from the pure violence running through his veins. He did so well with Richard, but maybe Gordon deluded himself into believing that.

The man has felt guilty since the whole truth went public. Sure, it has died down quite a bit, but he couldn’t help it. You were so small then, so frightened, to see the malice and hate in your eyes, the pain threatening to crack your even, calculated voice- it hurt. He promised you that Bruce would love you, that the young billionaire would protect you.

He should have checked in. He should have, especially when his own daughter didn’t talk about you as she did the others, like she did even about Damian. Gordon didn’t even know you were missing, he truly thought that Bruce would be better. He was with the others, he was with Barbara. How could he be a second father to her and not even a guardian to you?

The old officer rubbed at his face, trying to erase the tiredness. And his daughter… When he asked her about this madness, the guilt and shame that overtook her face hurt more than a gunshot. He raised her better than that, raised her not to be afraid to speak up and question authority figures, to help defend the defenseless. How could she do that by night, and give a child the cold shoulder by day? She saw how the other treated you, she told him how she did. Barbara should have told him earlier. He would have fought for you- hell, from everything he’s been finding out, he was sure Bruce would have willingly given you up.

You were just another kid he couldn’t do right by. Another number weighing on his shoulders. He should have checked up on you.

Barbara could only watch as the guilt ate at her father. It was like being teleported back to when Joker shot her spine out, like it was his fault everything happened. She wasn’t sure what her old man could have done right by you, not when everyone was so willing to not even try, not when she wasn’t willing to try.

If someone asked her about you a few years back, she’d just brush you off as an annoying kid Bruce took in. But you weren’t. You were curious, tried to worm your way into the dynamic of everyone, but that was just normal kid behavior. You didn’t throw tantrums because shit didn’t go your way, at least nobody saw them, and you didn’t deliberately break stuff or acted out to gain attention. At most, you had bad timing with your questions, or maybe she just fell in line with the others and was trying to find an excuse.

She could say you were easily forgettable, that you were too busy doing your own thing, but you were a child. It was their job to integrate you into the family, into society, it was their job to nurture you into something great. Barbara’s lips pursed as she realized how bad that line of thought was. You weren’t something to be shaped into whatever they wanted, into the next Robin, the next Batgirl, into the next heir of Wayne Enterprises.

You were an artist, a good one, and not because of how many things you won, but because your art shone with emotions. Every piece was a little glimpse of how you felt, and maybe she wasn’t as experienced in art as Damian, but she could see the little symbols of longing you had of them, of how your art immediately changed to something happier around the time the Rogues took you in, how it turned neutral, little signs of them slipping back in when Cassandra and Duke came in the imagine, and how it returned to happiness when the Graysons took you in, the drawings on your social media shining with glimpses of them, not the bats.

She hated it. Hated to see how you viewed them, a grim presence in your life, there just to ruin your day. You didn’t view Nolan like that, even after everything he did. You didn’t even want to be a hero, he forced you to be one. So why did you prefer them over your real family? It couldn’t be just because they showed you some affection and were part of your school life.

For now she put the thought away, jotting a note that perhaps it was because of Markus and Deborah Grayson as she got back to her work. Cecil was sure it was because of the woman, but she couldn’t trust one man's opinion, not again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everything went to shit so quickly, the Reanimen were strong as a unit, but against two versed Viltrumites, you, and Mark, it was easy to cut through them. However, as Thragg and Conquest were clean and quick in their actions, Mark and you were sloppy. Your brother was simply in too much pain from the sound wave to try and pull his punches, and you were in too much distress to care about being careful.

Your fingers were twitching for Cecil’s blood, to put the bastard down, even though you understood why he’d do something like this. He wasn’t a meta, he was a mortal, merely a human with too much power and responsibility. He was doing what he thought would be best for everyone, for the world. But your loyalty was never his, and he should have been more prepared. And yet… you stopped Thragg from decapitating him.

“Rudy. Get this fucking thing out of my head. Now.” Mark limped as Robot followed him, and your hands shook as blood dripped off them. An argument seemed to be happening in the background, but the yelling was being drowned out by a buzz ringing in your ears. You weren’t ready for immortality, for losing people you actually cared for. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. “Should have let us kill him.” Grandpa Morgan’s grumble finally brought you back to Earth.

“Maybe.” You whisper, your head snapping behind you as you finally register what everyone was arguing about, your eyes sweeping over Robot’s mechanical body and the others. “Rae’s right. You’re not even the original right now.” Kate straightened at your words, everyone’s eyes going to the one on her chest.

“Maybe Cecil was right about having contingency plans, but putting a bomb in my brother’s head is too far. First of all. Second, if you, any of you, think you’re safe, you’re wrong. Cecil is very similar to Batman, and we all know that the furry has contingency plans for his own kids. You’re not free, not safe, once you think of stepping the wrong way, you’ll be next.”

Your eyes move to the Immortal and Kate. “And third, you two are beyond pathetic.” Rex snorted at the comment, unable to keep it in from shock, but no one else was willing to comment or argue on it. “You’re angry-“ Abe was trying to placate you, to redirect your emotions. “Yes. I’m also terrified. At how easy it was for him to sneak something so deadly into my brother, a boy who’s only been on our side, and at how easy it is for you to deem it as right, not willing to see the bigger imagine.”

“And I’ll double down on what I said. You two are pathetic.” Thragg shifts behind you, arms crossing over his chest as he simply observes. He’s been doing that since he landed on Earth. “I have no expectations of Kate, she’s not my friend, and she’s reckless and stupid in the way she fights. No technique, no strategy, just duplicate yourself as much as you can and hope for the best. It’s pathetic, a waste of potential.”

“But I expected more from you, Abe. I expected you to stand up for us, considering we were your anchor for a while, but truly, that’s my bad. I shouldn’t expect that from spineless bastards who can’t even stand up to their younger lover.” You shrug. “Your fighting styles aren’t that different either. You used to be better, but since the Guardians got murdered, you’ve become useless. Jumping in, fist at the ready, all that power running through your veins, and yet, you’re the first to drop.”

“It’s pathetic. All of it.” You sigh, shaking your head as you gently nudge the two Viltrumites towards the door, done with the Guardians and ready to just get your brother and go home. And with that, the guardians broke into two sides. Samson rubbed at his temple as his name was called.”I owe her a lot…” His eyes moved from one side to the other. “I still believe that this was just a misstep- I can’t fix this from the outside.”

“But if push comes to shove, I know damn well it wasn’t Cecil or the Guardians who pulled me from rock bottom.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After talking to your parents, Mark went off to talk to his friend, maybe sneak in Eve’s room too, you could smell the romantic angst off them. It could never be you. “Thragg, please move over a bit, you’re invading my personal space.” You could only sigh as the man barely moved, still keeping his knee touching yours. ”….Thank you.” Your eyebrow twitched as the man nodded.

Conquest was flipping through the note cards and books Oliver insisted he and Thragg could learn from, calloused fingers tracing the cartoonish drawing of a child with his parents and other family members. His eyes first went to Nolan, who was snoring on the armchair with Oliver draped over his lap and snoring just as loudly as his old man, before settling on you, lingering on your tired eyes. “You called me Grandpa. We’re not blood related.”

“We’re not.” You shrug. “But I’m not blood related to anyone in this house either, and Nolan and Debbie still call me their daughter, Mark and Oliver still call me their sister. My blood family never did. They let their enemies raise me, so blood doesn’t mean much around here.” Conquest only snorted at you. “Blood means everything to Viltrumites.” A shit eating grin slowly took over your lips as the opportunity to meme presented itself. “Well, too damn bad, grandpa. You’re family now, a Grayson, deal with it or perish.”

“…What does a grandfather even do? What’s the responsibilities that come with the title?” Deep down, Morgan liked how easy you welcomed him in, how willing you were to give him a purpose beyond being a killing machine. “Good question.” You hummed in thought, trying to find a way to explain it in correlation to how he knew how to live. “Well, traditionally, the role of both grandparents is to love and nurture their grandkids, but usually the grandfather takes a more easy-going way of it while still being a protector. We’ll talk about gender roles and how they harm both women and men later, but for example, my friend’s grandpa was more willing than his grandma to climb a cliff and jump into a lake with him. She was thinking about both of them being hurt and in pain, trying to protect him from the get-go, while the Grandpa had the freedom of just thinking about creating more memories-“

Morgan stopped listening a while back, and now that Thragg was poking fun at the way you were rambling, trying to over explain, he was deliberately not listening. He could do that. He could protect the boys and you, he could… he’ll try to love and be there for you. He watched as you got more and more angry while Thragg remained blank-faced, his permanent frown still present even as his eyes shone with mirth… Yeah, he could try.

“Yes! Always frowning does give me a headache, what about it?!-“ Your childish bickering got interrupted by a knocking on the door. “I’m not done with you- We’ll get back to your mean mug, that much tension in your face can’t be just your resting face.” You huff as you get up, moving fast to your front door and opening it.

“Hello neighbor!” Horror overtook your face as your shoulders slumped in defeat. “I do not have the mental capacity for this right now… or ever.” Dick Grayson didn’t get another word in as the door was slammed in his face, Damian not even being noticed. You’ve never locked a door and drawn the blinds closed as fast as you just did, being even quicker to turn around and hiding yourself under Thragg’s discarded cape. “I’m not here, I died thirty years ago.” The man just raised an eyebrow. “You’re nineteen… Almost twenty.”

“I don’t care, I died thirty years ago.” Conquest got up, the couch creaking in relief, and straightened his back. It was the moment for Grandpa to protect his family. “I’ll get rid of the worm-“ He stopped as your hand snuck from under the cape, waving dismissively as you whined a small no, slumping back on the couch with defeat. He pouted, saying that he deemed this a worthy kill, but he was ignored.

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Sneak peek ch 31: “You’re bald.” Conquest’s mutter made you wheeze, your shoulders shaking as you covered your mouth. Mark did his best not to laugh, nails digging into his knees. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lex huffed. “By our standards, you’re old and out of your prime. And you’re weaker than her. Too weak. Your offspring would be useless.” Luthor stared into the void for a few seconds, mouth agape as he parked in front of a cozy farmhouse. “Okay, slow down-“

[mrrharper]

Military-Grade Scheme

Here’s a more unorthodox transformation story I wrote as a commission for @khartoum1. Enjoy!

In every college football team it’s pretty easy to point to a couple guys that rise above the rest. Both in terms of athletic ability and personality. Dudes who excel on the field and have no problem boasting about it after the game in the locker room. They naturally assume leadership roles, feeling that it’s only natural they hold at least some amount of power. I mean, look at them.

Tom Sullivan was a textbook example of such a player. Starting safety playing for Wake Forest, he had a reputation as an unstoppable weapon on the field, never allowing any receiver to get past him. His frequent and flashy tackles always made the highlight reel after every game and he was frequently rewarded for his effort with awards, respect from his bros and frequent hookups. Of course, being the arrogant football jock he was, he cared most about the last one. Every week meant a different girl in his bed, another pussy to conquer. This allowed him to reinforce his cred with his teammates, and even though there were a few cases of a condom being forgotten about, higher forces wouldn’t allow any random slip-up with a chick to affect his promising career. And so Sully lived his blissful life, surrounded by dudes who borderline worshipped him and girls who basically loved him.

And there was David, of course. David Mustafa, a year older than Tom and also a safety playing for the Demon Deacons. He was always there in the back of Tom’s mind as a possible threat, but not a very dangerous one. David was good, but not Tom Sullivan level of good. That thankfully translated to him spending basically 90% of every game on the sidelines and Tom could only assume he was always waiting for him to make some kind of mistake, place his foot at a wrong angle or something, so that he could have his moment of glory. But that moment would never come, as Sully was way too good to make this kind of rookie error. Football was his life, the only thing that mattered, and he would make sure it would stay that way.

Wake Forest’s season began with a Military Appreciation Game. Tom was obviously a patriot - red, white, blue and all that shit - but he was not the greatest fan of these types of events. Not because the military wasn’t important or anything, of course it was. But for Sully, a true All-American alpha, the troops had become too effeminate, too soft. And that was not something he thought needed appreciating.

He had one hell of a game. A few big tackles, including one on Boston’s brawny tight end who was known to play dirty on the field. He even recorded an interception, breaking their opponent’s best drive so far in the game and basically sealing the win for the Decs. The final score being 41-17, there was celebration in the locker room. First, Coach came in and gave a quick and dry congratulatory speech, as was custom, and then the more than 50 football players were left all alone. Booze quickly entered the picture, everyone filled with adrenaline after such a thrilling performance.

Tom quickly took off his sweaty jersey and pads and threw them onto the locker before turning around to face the rest of the team.

”Brahs, we fuckin’ did it! That’s how ya begin a fuckin’ season!” A scream of cheers followed and someone threw a can of beer at Tom. He caught it, which gained him a few more claps, and quickly drank the whole thing. He then crushed the can with his foot and flexed. Fuck, winning felt so good.

”These faggots have just tasted the raw power of Wake Forrest football, am I right guys?” A bunch of ‘fuck yeah’’s came in response.

After some time the temperature in the room cooled and the players started taking care of their gear and getting ready to leave. Meanwhile, Tom was talking with his best bros on the team - two corners, Antonio and Demarcus, and Sam “Carnage” Carney, a linebacker.

”Dude, I’m tellin’ ya, this whole thing was bullshit.” Tom groaned after Demarc mentioned how cool he felt as they were clapping for all the service members who came to the game.

”Bruh” Antonio looked at him, surprised? “What do ya mean dude? They’re, like, the army, ya know, the dudes who fight for our country and shit, defending America from terrorism.”

”I mean, I guess they do that, sure” Sully shrugged “But you must have seen how the military turned from thought dudes to woke pink-haired pussies. This ain’t the strongest army in the world no more, just a bunch of beta libs.” He grinned and looked at his bros “Am tellin’ ya dude, if ya got me a random soldier dude form the nearest base or whatever, I would defeat him in seconds. That’s how weak our military is now, huhuhuhuh.”He then let out a low, dumb-sounding laugh. The other three jocks nodded, automatically aligning themselves with Tom’s view.

”Yeah, brah” Demarc slapped him on the back “You’d crush any one of these camo-wearin’ pussies, fuck yeah dude!”

”Exactly, bro” Sam joined in “With yer strength, nothin’ would stand in yer way man, I can see all these bitches runnin’ away after seein’ ya all pumped and ready to smash them into the ground.” They all laughed, imagining such a scenario.

A few days later, the defensive line was in the middle of their weekly workout sessions. The gym was filled with banter as different guys chatted in between sets or motivated each other to push as hard as they could. And of course, in the middle of it all was Tom, breaking another personal best on the bench. After getting through 3 sets with the heavier weights, he threw the bar onto the rack and screamed.

”Fuuuuuuuck yeah!” A few bros closest to him stopped their exercises for a moment and congratulated him in their own bro ways - with wolf whistles, claps on the back and shouts. Tom stood up and got to the nearest mirror to flex his pumped arms. 

“Look at these arms, dude” He said to no one in particular “These guns just won Warrior of the Month on Insta.” A few more cheers followed. “And they fuckin’ deserved it, huhuhuh” He kissed his right biceps and looked into the mirror once more. Yes, he was a football god. 

After the high of crushing his lifting record had dwindled, he turned back towards the gym and started walking towards the free weights area. There he stumbled upon David, who was picking up a set of dumbbells.

”Ey, David bro, how ya doin dude?” Tom came close to the other guy with a smirk on his face. “Gettin pumped for the next game?”

”Yeah, sure” David just shrugged in response. Tom then put his arm around David’s shoulders and tucked him closer.

”Bet ya just can’t wait to warm up the bench for us stars, am I right?” 

“Mhm.” The only response he got was a grumble and a sigh. Tom clapped David on the back, causing him to lose balance and drop the dumbbells on the floor. Sully erupted in laughter and David just rolled his eyes and picked the weights back up.

”Hope yer better at holding onto chicks then weights bro” Tom said it loud enough for some other guys to hear it, and they all started laughing once again.

”I’ll be sure to let you know” David responded, putting a slight grin on his face, and got out of Tom’s embrace. But Tom was not yet done with him. He quickly jumped up to him and rubbed his hair.

”Calm down bro, am just messin with ya, ya know, as bros do, huhuhuhuhuh.” With that, Tom lost interest in hazing David and went back to the other jocks.

Next week Wake Forest destroyed the Air Force Falcons 49 - 6. From the moment he put on his uniform, Tom knew this was going to be an epic night. He ran onto the field with his signature crop top look, his jersey tucked to expose his flexed abs. And he dominated for the next 4 quarters. Tom and his bros celebrated after the game for a while, seeing this as a sign that Sully was correct in his assessment that the modern American soldier was indeed a weak beta pussy. Crusher and Demarc had once again brought beer and the jocks got very rowdy in the locker room. With booze flowing, surrounded by used football gear that was reeking of sweat, Tom felt like he was on top of the world.

When they finally left the stadium and walked onto the parking lot, Sully saw David waiting by his car. He dismissed the rest of the guys, who obediently said their goodbyes and left, then came up to his Chevy.

”What’s up, brah?” He looked at David, a cocky grin on his face, his arrogant expression partially hidden by his sunglasses.

”Nothin’ much” David shrugged “That was one hell of a game, right?”

”Fuck yeah” Tom took a step closer and clapped David on the shoulder “These Air Force pussies couldn’t get past these guns.” He then flexed both his arms. After all, he needed to show David who was boss.

”Oh certainly, huhuhuh” In response, David laughed in the same dumb and low-pitched way as Tom and other jocks usually did. He then reached into his pocket and took out a pair of dog-tags hanging from a thin, stainless steel ball chain. That immediately caught Tom’s attention. David then put the dog tags in front of Tom’s face.

”So… I know your attitude towards soldiers,” Another dumb laugh. “But I found a couple of these and from what I’ve heard wearing these can do magic with girls.” David grinned slightly and extended his hand towards Tom, who looked at him, suspicion in his eyes. David felt that reluctance and continued. “And so I immediately thought that you need a pair of these for yourself. Gotta make sure our team’s alpha safety stays on top in the chicks department, huhuhuh.” 

Tom thought about what he heard. For all of two seconds. The promise of more pussy was more than enough for him. He grabbed the dog tags and put them on. Two small metal plates were now hanging from his neck. He looked down and watched them settle on his meaty chest. Then he looked back up at David.

”Damn, dude. That’s sick. Chicks are gonna dig it so bad dude, I bet they’re gonna get wet just from seeing these.” Tom then flexed his chest, making his pecs bounce and watched the dog tags bounce as well.

”Hahahah, I bet dude” David extended his fist towards Tom, who eagerly bumped it. Then they both chuckled again and watched Sully flex his pecs a few more times.

”Let’s hope you know more about gettin’ pussy than defending the field” Tom laughed at his own joke and David just smirked and nodded. 

After a few days Tom had to give it to David - he seemed to be correct. Wherever he went, chicks seemed to gather around him instantly, all competing for a chance to hook up with him, as long as he had the dog tags on. He very much enjoyed the effect they seemed to have on women. He didn’t know it was possible to get more chicks into bed with him than he already did, but it certainly was. He just had to have these two small pieces of metal resting on top of his chest.

A few weeks in, Tom felt that he needed to go a step higher, so he got himself a military-style baseball cap that he started wearing all the time, even when he wasn’t hunting for sexual conquests. Antonio gave him a bit of grief after he wore the cap on the sidelines during a game, about how he was ranting about the Army just a few weeks prior only to suddenly become very into the military aesthetic, but even though he was one tough son of a bitch on the field, it wasn’t hard for Tom to put him in his place. Besides, he wasn’t “into the military aesthetic”, he just… felt like he had to buy the cap because… uhhh… he… he had to buy it to make sure the dog tags’ influence was still working after the novelty wore off. Exactly, nothing more. 

A similar line of thought made him look up military bars around town. If chicks were into this whole “army vibe” then that would be the absolutely perfect spot to hunt pussy with his newly acquired powers, right? Thankfully for Tom, there was a Marines training ground in the same county as the school, so there were a few establishments catering to the military crowd around town. He decided to go there one Wednesday after practice. He didn’t have any classes the following day so he had all night to himself.

”Brah, yer not goin’ to that Alpha Psi Delta party?” Carnage stopped him before they left the building. “It's gonna be an absolute beer fest duuuuuuuude.” He was clearly pumped up for the party. The party which Tom forgot about in his quest to find the best army-focused place in town.

”Ya gonna skip the Alpha party, bro?” Demarc joined in. Suddenly his bros were so focused on him skipping one frat party. And what was the big deal in that? It was just another random exert at Greek Row, indistinguishable from countless other parties he attended. And he attended all of them. Which meant today he would be breaking a pretty impressive streak… Tom looked at his bros and thought about it for a minute, but then he felt a thought tugging at the back of his brain. He had a mission today. And you don’t abandon a mission because of some random event set up by a bunch of drunk frat bros. 

“Nah brahs, already got some serious plans for today.” He thrust his hips slightly and they all immediately realised what he meant and backed down.

”Go get that chick, dude!” Demarc slapped him on the back and Sam just grinned, immediately changing his tune.

”Fuck dude, yer dick can’t get enough of that good ol’ pussy, huhuhuh“ He let out a dumb chuckle and Tom left them at the entrance with a mock salute.

The night went spectacularly well for Tom. At the bar, he felt at ease the entire time, even talking with a few actual Army guys at the counter. Interacting with them felt almost natural, the right words flowing out of his mouth for the soldiers to treat him as one of their own. And of course, the dog tags worked their magic on every chick that entered the establishment. He ended up fucking two girls that night, both cute blonds who clearly had a thing for military guys. Both seemed to love it when he barked at them like a drill sergeant and he found himself enjoying this as well, which he didn’t expect.

Visiting that military bar became almost a habit for him. Every few days, when his cock demanded action, he would spend the evening there, talk with some of the regulars and use his natural charisma to get some sweet, sweet pussy. This entire military thing seemed to work better and better on girls with every passing week. He didn’t have to put in any effort (even though, of course, his game was top notch) as women were just naturally joining him when they registered his presence. 

This also helped in further cementing his cred with his teammates, who were all cheering him on as his body count inflated every day. And he had more and more stories of his conquests he could use to further assert his dominance in the locker room.

After one game, a close one against Boston College which went into overtime, Tom was talking with their tight end about his latest hook up and he was clearly impressed.

”Damn bro, you just have this thing in ya that girls can’t get enough of.”

”Exactly dude, that’s it man!” Tom playfully punched Trev in the shoulder, then took off his pads and got them ready for cleaning.

”What ya doin’ bro?” Antonio, the linebacker, looked at him with a puzzled expression.

”Dude, that shit stinks bro. I gotta get it at least disinfected or somethin’.” Tom responded, perplexed as to why his bros found it weird that he was cleaning his gear. He was not some grunting neanderthal. 

Antonio immediately nodded, and Tom noticed he was doing the same thing with his pads when he was leaving the locker room. He was grinning as he left the facility. It seemed he had some positive impact on his bros. 

To make sure their next game wasn’t another nailbiter, but a dominant win instead, Coach dragged the entire team through every drill and exercise under the sun to make sure they were ready to crush Clemson on their home turf. Tom quickly adopted Coach’s mindset, barking at his bros during practice if their footwork wasn’t good enough or if their tackles landed at wrong angles. “Damn, Sully, yer like a fuckin’ drill sergeant.” One offensive lineman laughed as they were going back to the locker room after their last practice before Saturday’s game. Tom furrowed his brow, still in his serious mood, but after a second he grinned and patted his bro on the back. “Y’all need a sergeant to kick yer ass when ya do shit wrong. And if no one's gonna do it, I will.” He said, a feeling of pride growing inside him. Sergeant. That sounded good.

Funnily enough, other players started calling him that. In the guests’ locker room before the game, Demarc walked up to Tom. “Ey, Sergeant, ya gonna give some big speech or somethin’?” Sully looked at him confused. He wasn’t really the type of guy to do speeches and shit. They had Coach for that, and even Coach didn’t do motivational quotes, but rather warning them what would happen if the team didn’t live up to his expectations. But as he looked at Demarc, something shifted inside him. These guys needed that. They needed to be riled up, spirits high, ready to destroy the other team. And who’d be better to make sure that was the case than him, their Sergeant?

Tom stood with his back towards the door, looking at the team, fully geared up with his helmet on, and clapped a few times. “Everyone!” He shouted and all eyes were now on him. 

“I know Coach dragged us through hell this week, but he had one damn good reason. Cause right now I’m certain that when we get out on that field we’re going to fucking destroy these fuckers!” Cheers filled the room, and Tom’s face was covered by a shit-eating grin. “So when we’re out there, remember just one thing - we can fucking do this and nothing will stand in our way. Ain’t nothing gonna stop us from gettin’ that W!” More cheers and a few whistles followed. A moment later the players started leaving the locker room, and they all clapped Sully on the back as they walked past him. 

When most of the team had already left, Tom noticed Sam “Carnage” Carney was wearing his jersey as a crop top. He stopped him as he was about to go through the door.

”Dude, ya know that’s against the rules.” He pointed at his stomach which was proudly on display.

“Brah, ya wear yer own like that all the fuckin’ time.” Sam rolled his eyes. Tom furrowed his brow in response.

”Am I wearin’ it like that right now? Nope. And that’s cause I know the fuckin’ dress code. We don’t need no stupid penalties today. Am I right?” He looked at his bro with a serious expression and Carnage rolled his eyes again, but he obeyed Tom’s order and grabbed his jersey to straighten it so his whole abdomen was covered.

”That’s good enough for ya, Sargeant?” He said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But Tom was only focused on Sam wearing his gear in accordance with regulations, so he didn’t care.

”Yeah” He patted him on the shoulder. “Now let’s go and win this thing.”

They beat Clemson 28-14. The game wasn’t as close as the score would suggest, with Wake Forest’s defence keeping their opponents at just seven points for most of the game. The atmosphere in the locker room was ecstatic. Coach made a short, but powerful speech. Tom also took the opportunity and congratulated everyone on their performance, highlighting a few guys who excelled during the game.

During most of the trip back towards Wake Forest, Sully was in the middle of a conversation with a few defensive linemen about their sexual conquests, and Tom seized on the opportunity to boast about his recent successes. But around the time they were passing Charlotte, he heard two guys sitting in front of him discuss going to a shooting range together. He never got this whole thing with owning a gun. Like, he understood that they were manly as fuck, but the actual shooting part never appealed to him, his mind occupied by his workout routines and diet plans since he started high school.

And yet he joined in. The guys were more than eager to share their only passion other than football with Tom, telling him all about the guns they tried out recently and what they planned to buy for themselves after their newest NIL deals had been signed. Even though this was his first time engaging with the subject, he very quickly became fluent in the appropriate lingo. It didn’t take long for Tom to ask the guys to take him to their favourite shooting range, so he could give it a shot. By the time they arrived on campus, he felt as if he’d spent the last few years getting proficient with handling various types of firearms instead of tackling and catching footballs. Talking about it came naturally to him and when he did, his hands felt ready to grab a gun and pull the trigger, and he knew he’d get a bullseye every time.

Life was going good for Sully. A beast on the field, a beast in bed. An alpha in the locker room and at the shooting range. When the season began he couldn’t have imagined that thing would have gotten so much better for him. And yet they did. From the moment when he put on these dog tags he got from Mustafa, he turned into the best possible version of himself he could have ever imagined. Tom “Sergeant” Sullivan. That sounded good. Very good.

David came into the empty locker room, always one of the first guys before a practice, and slowly went through his usual routine of checking all his gear. As he did, his teammates slowly poured in, the locker room getting progressively louder and smellier. David didn't talk much with the other guys, being more of a silent type and keeping mostly to himself. The exception to the rule came with Jake Griffin, the team’s kicker, with whom David talked at length, mostly about topics completely unrelated to football.

As the locker filled up with more and more rowdy jocks David kept glancing at the entrance, looking for one particular face to show up. Or rather, to not show up. A smirk appeared on his face and it grew progressively wider as the minutes passed, still no signs of him. Maybe this would be the day. The other guys finally noticed that he wasn’t present when almost everyone had their gear already on, and David could hear them discussing the possible reasons for his absence. He couldn’t believe it, this must be it.

When 5 PM finally came, Coach came into the locker room with an expression that would make God himself uncomfortable. He looked at the team, then faced David.

”Tom Sullivan has enlisted in the US Army and is on his way to bootcamp. David Mustafa, you’re the starting safety from now on and I expect you to prove today that you’re worthy of being Sully’s replacement.” There was a loud, heavy sigh coming from Coach, followed by an even louder, collective “What?” that came from the team.

“I expect every single one of you to focus only on today’s practice. Leave the high school gossip for later. Understood?”

”Yes, sir!” The entire Wake Forest roster responded and ran onto the field, David among them, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

His plan had worked. He didn’t believe it at first, but his hatred of Tom Sullivan made him buy the dog tags from the sketchy website regardless. The site proudly advertised “military grade” tags that would turn the person wearing them into a proud soldier eager to join the military. David assumed that the target audience of such a product was mostly propaganda-pilled high school kids, but when the idea to gift them to Sully to get rid of him appeared in his mind, he just had to try it.

In the beginning he didn’t know whether he had been scammed or not, but when Tom started wearing military caps, following the dress code and bragging about picking up chicks at a local military bar, David realized that it was working. There was just one question he was asking himself - would the dog tags be strong enough to get Sullivan to enlist in the Army. His personality seemed to get more and more aligned with a serious recruit, but the final outcome didn’t seem sure. Until now.

With no Sully to taunt him, the other jocks immediately dropped their crude jokes, and thanks to hours spent studying the team’s playbook David replaced Tom on the field with little effort. Coach seemed satisfied with his performance at practice, which was not easy to achieve, and assured David that he would be playing for the rest of the season. His future on the team now looked very bright.

From the moment Tom woke up that day, he was running on autopilot. He showered, made breakfast, packed his bag and left. But he didn’t go to the training facility, no. Instead, his legs led him to the closest military recruitment center. There, he knew exactly what to say, what forms to fill out and how, and the recruiters loved it. He was also lucky, seemingly, as the next transport to boot camp was the same day. So just a few hours after getting out of bed, Private Tom Sullivan was on his way to Basic Training. Away from his previous life, away from football and his bros.

Just as David had planned from the beginning.

Unluckily for Tom, he was assigned to a squad led by Staff Sergeant Driver who for one was a walking stereotype. Clean shaven, tall and always straight as an arrow, his entire body a showcase of every regulation. He was hellbent on turning every cocky recruit into a military machine, so from the moment he learnt a football jock was arriving on base, he knew he had to make an example out of him in every way possible. And so Tom was assigned additional PT hours, his uniform was meticulously checked every morning, afternoon and evening and Driver always made sure that he shouted just a bit louder when standing just in front of Sully’s face. 

There were also other, less visible aspects of Tom’s training. Sarge was laser-focused on making every single one of his recruits conform to a specific set of personality traits that Driver saw as necessary for a true American Soldier™. That meant arrogance mixed with unwavering obedience to superiors and a steadfast conviction that every action of the American military was a correct one. This was all mixed with a streak of conservatism, but with a twist as Sergeant saw spreading one’s seed and increasing the population of the greatest nation on Earth. Because of that, all of his recruits had developed a kind of horniness only satisfied by breeding a fertile female. Obviously Tom’s sex-focused brain didn’t need a lot of conditioning to align with Driver’s view and it didn’t take long for the child support paperwork to appear on the Sergeant’s desk.

Every day for weeks on end, Sully’s brain was worked on, molded to fit the standard of an Army grunt - indistinguishable from any other soldier in his squad. Although… Even as over the duration of his stay at boot camp he got closer and closer to this ideal, Driver saw something in him and at some point he turned from the scapegoat to the favorite. When he was deemed close enough, when he adhered to all the uniform regulations without a single comment, and when his brain was fried by all the propaganda, fucking and lifting, he became his Staff Sergeant’s little pet. Driver showed him off to other officers on base, basically advertising his abilities to turn even the most stubborn recruit into a mindless drone dressed in camo fatigues. 

One day towards the end of his training, Tom was summoned to the Staff Sergeant Driver’s office. He came in and stood at attention in front of the desk, waiting for further instructions. The officer on the other side smirked.

“You’ve done a great job, Private. I can tell you’ll be a great new weapon for our amazing Army.” He then picked up a remote and turned on a small TV standing on a cabinet next to Tom. A football game appeared on the screen, a close one. 21 - 17. Tom’s eyes turned towards the screen and one detail immediately caught his attention. The name of the team currently in the lead. Wake Forest.

He furrowed his brow slightly, a thought nagging at the back of his head. Nothing specific, but a weird sort of unease. His eyes were now glued to the screen as Wake Forest’s defense lined up for the next play. The ball was snapped, the quarterback receded a few yards, clearly getting ready to throw to one of the receivers that sprinted towards the end zone. A second had passed and the ball was in the air, flying towards the upper part of the field. For a moment it seemed like this throw would turn into a 30 yard reception, maybe even a touchdown pass, but then a player from Wake Forest jumped right into the path of the bowl, snagging it right in front of the receiver’s face. That player then runs across the field as his teammates rish in to congratulate him on the interception and the TV broadcast shows his name in the corner of the screen. Wake Forest safety, David Mustafa.

That name stirred something deep within Tom. His brow furrowed even more and a feeling of anger started building inside him. But a moment before he could act on this feeling he heard Sergeant bark at him.

“You’re not listening to me, soldier. I just gave you an order.” Tom’s head immediately snaps back, looking at his officer who doesn’t really look angry, just amused. “That requires punishment. Drop down and give me 100.” Private Sullivan immediately complied and got down to the ground and began doing push-ups.

“Count them as you go along.” Another order from Staff Sergeant Driver.

“Yes, Sir! Two… three… four…” Tom kept counting as he was focused solely on executing the order. Memories from just a minute ago, the image of the football game, David getting a highlight reel-worthy interception, it all disappeared, his mind now locked into the soldier mentality that Driver instilled within him.

As the Sergeant watched his grunt continue doing push ups on the floor he knew that this was his last relapse. Tom Sullivan, the football star, was gone. In his place was Private Sullivan, a perfect specimen of Army mentality. Just war fighting, fucking and lifting on his mind.

[pupkashi]

facetimes & phone calls

part one // part two // masterlist

part three of lights out f1 au | both you and satoru are beyond busy, but pinky promises should never be broken, right?

a/n: helloooo !! i hope u guys are doing well :3 im so deeply sorry for the wait you’ve had to endure for this part </3 i hope you guys enjoy it !! i swear i wont take nearly as long to upload the next part LOL plzplzplzplz let me know what you guys think it really helps motivate me to keep going :3 reblogs are very appreciated <3 any f1 enjoyers do not jump me for any inaccuracies in the schedule okay thats all bye bye !

wordcount - 4.8k

tags: gojo satoru x reader, formula one au, gojo is in his rookie season, fluff and angst, long distance is hard

LIGHTS OUT & AWAY WE GO !

neither you or satoru were ones to break pinky promises, even two months into the relationship the two of you had managed to have at least one conversation each day despite your busy schedules and jarring time difference. there hadn’t been enough time between races for him to be able to fly in and visit, and you had begrudgingly rejected his offers to fly you out to any races.

and so the two of you sat on facetime, your phone propped up against the lamp on your desk as you reviewed for your upcoming finals. satoru cherished every moment he could spend talking with you, going on and on about his day, making sure to spare no details so you felt included. you hung on his every word, happy to be an outlet for him after stressful days on and off the paddock.

“what about you? how was your day?” he asked, a glint in his eyes as he watched you furrow your brows in concentration before humming and replying.

“same as usual, went to class, had lab, studied” you shrugged, insecurities creeping in. you were just a boring college student, how could your day ever compare to the glamor of his? nothing in your daily life compares to him getting sponsors from million dollar companies.

“what’d you do in lab?” satoru urges on, “y’know i would’ve liked to go to college i think it would’ve been nice.” your ears perk up at his comment.

“really?” you have a small smile on your face as he nods at you, looking off to the side before focusing back on his phone.

“yeah, wanted to study engineering” he replies, “i like hearing about your days so i can live vicariously through you” he giggles, even through the phone you can see the blush on his cheeks as you stared at him.

there’s a beat of silence before you speak up again. “well i woke up early cause i had to take the bus- and you know how full the busses get for 8 ams” you ramble, continuing to talk about your day in detail. satoru couldn’t feel more grateful, hanging on your every word just as you did his.

“there’s a race this weekend right?” you asked after a couple minutes of silence. satoru nodded, grabbing his phone where he had it propped up and holding it up as he laid on his back, one arm behind his head.

“imola this weekend, think you’ll wake up on time for it?” he teases, you scoff and roll your eyes at him.

“it’s not my fault i had to pull an all nighter before the last one” you pouted, “i really did try! i watched the first two laps before passing out” you defended. satoru couldn’t help but laugh.

“alright, alright I’m just teasing you sweetheart” he looks at your now flustered face and swears his skips a beat, “don’t ever feel guilty about missing a race, your classes are more important even though i try to talk you into skipping to follow me around the world.”

you grow more flustered by his words, smiling widely at your phone and clearing your throat. “maybe once I graduate I can take a gap year” regret creeping up on you. was it too soon to bring up the future? the two of you hadn’t even said i love you yet.

“oh that would be a dream” satoru giggles, his face flushed and he’s practically swinging his legs like a schoolgirl. “we can wear matching outfits in the paddock and i can show you around the cities- oh my god ill get to kiss you right after races.” the white haired driver catches himself in his daydreams, clearing his throat before trying to backtrack as to not scare you off.

“I mean only if you want of course” he assures, his face burning as a shy smile creeps onto his lips. “would you want to?”

“Im the one who brought it up, genius” you tease. satoru lets his heart skip a beat, admiring you as you got back to studying. “oh also i might be texting you a bit less since finals are around the corner.”

you can practically hear your boyfriend pouting through the phone, “how much less?”

“not too sure, I’ve got a couple back to back days so i need to start early to cover all the material” you sigh, stressing out over all of it already, “I’ll try to keep calling but i get really bad at communicating during finals season” you admit.

“it’s okay sweetheart, just take care of yourself alright?” he gives you a soft smile, “I’ve actually gotta go but I’ll text you, make sure you don’t stay up too late.”

satoru laughs as you give him a salute, smiling and waving goodbye before hanging up. he rolls over on his back and lets out a sigh, it’ll be okay, right? he begrudgingly sits up in his bed, rubbing his face before standing and getting on with his day.

the sunlight is barely creeping into his Monaco home, there’s a couple decorations here and there, some trophies from F2 and now a second place trophy is adorning the top of his shelf. photographs with family and friends hung on the wall, a picture of him and suguru smiling brightly at the camera, both of them no older than 14, clad in their karting uniform.

satoru wasn’t sure what do with himself, it was rare for him to be up so early. he almost regrets hanging up so soon, but as his phone buzzes with your text he smiles.

goodnight <3

he knew you’d have stayed up all night studying if he had stayed on the phone with you. satoru wastes no time in replying to you, a grin on his face as he makes his breakfast. he did have a couple errands to run, making a mental checklist as he finishes up his food and checks his phone, just in case you had texted him again.

he wasn’t sure how he survived without your presence before, the hours of the day seemed to drag on, texts from the team, a quick phone call and meeting up with Oscar and a couple of his friends to play some padel.

“are the rumors true then?” oscar asks, a sly smile on his face as satoru looks at him with the tiniest grin.

“dunno what you’re talking about” he teases, Oscar nudged him softly as they both stand from the bench, satoru twirling the padel in his hand as they get ready to play.

“you plan on introducing them to anyone?” satoru thinks it over, mentally mapping out your schedule as they continue the match.

“maybe after the semester ends, might be able to convince them to follow me around for the summer” he replies, cheering and giving the McLaren driver a high five as they score.

satoru’s mind continues to wander the rest of the day, what would it be like to have you here for the summer? he thinks about showing you around Monaco, taking you around Europe and treating you to fancy dinners. he imagines you in his house, having you meet the other drivers, it all makes his stomach flip.

you weren’t lying when you had said you’d be texting him less, with satoru only receiving a good morning text and nothing else for the next six hours. by the time you’d had a moment to take a break satoru was sound asleep, his phone buzzing next to him.

“hello?” his voice is raspy and groggy, and you feel guilty for ruining his sleep.

“did i wake you? sorry we can talk later” you quickly rush out, zipping up your bag and making your way out of the building you’d been studying in.

satoru rubs his eyes, checking the clock and seeing how late it was, “no, it’s okay what’s up?” his eyes are still half closed, a loopy smile on his face as he hears your voice.

“just wanted to say hi, sorry i hadn’t texted you, had to meet up for a project and then studied for finals” you sigh out, “gonna get home make some food and probably study for the rest of the day.”

satoru hums in response, “want me to send you something to buy dinner?” you can’t help but laugh, a blush and stupid grin on your face as you walk through campus.

“no, I’ll be okay thank you though” you giggle, “how was your day? when are you heading to Italy for the race?”

“tomorrow probably” he mumbles, “hopefully it’ll be a good weekend for the team” his voice trails off as he sighs dramatically, “even if you won’t be there.”

“just gotta get through these next two weeks,” you say, comforting yourself more than you were him. satoru can practically feel the stress through the phone. “my bus is here I’ll text you?” there’s a hint of hope in your voice and satoru yawns on the other end, humming.

“I’ll be waiting, sweetheart” satoru has a sleepy grin on his face as you whisper a quick bye and hang up, two minutes later he’s out like a light.

you sit giddy in your bus seat, headphones in as you scroll through your instagram. there’s a feeling of being watched you can’t seem to shake, looking up and finding two girls staring at you, quickly tearing their eyes away as if they weren’t caught staring. you check your shirt, then your reflection in the bus window. with furrowed brows you shake it off, maybe they recognized you from a class?

there was no telling how long it had been since you began studying, your eyes burning as you decided to take a quick nap, figuring you’d be up in an hour to knock out some last minute assignments.

when you woke up at was already almost 5 in the morning, groaning as you saw your somehow snoozed alarm. thankful you didn’t have classes that day as you scrolled through your notifications.

satoru <3 1h ago

good morning :)

about to get on the plane :P

forgot to mention it was a morning flight lol

you felt a small pang in your chest, texting him back quickly

hi !! sorry i got so caught up in studying i totally forgot to text you :(

i hope it’s a safe flight !!!

im probably gonna head to bed for a bit longer, have a good day :3

the frown on your face was evident as you locked your phone, your reflection staring back at you. there was no telling what satoru was up to, it was 11 am in Italy, you figured he was probably setting up in his hotel room or in team meetings.

the days seemed to fly by, with you losing track of when qualifying was, waking up for the last part of Q3 and cheering when satoru placed P5.

you texted him immediately, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later. there was a slight pang in your chest as you scrolled through the past messages, sparse ‘good morning’s, ‘good night’s and ‘hope you had a good day’ being most of the texts for the last couple days.

part of you knew this is what you’d signed up for, having talked to satoru about it the night before you’d come home from Japan.

“i really like you” you began, your hands fiddled with the drivers fingers as he hummed for you to go on. “but do you really have time for a relationship right now?” the words hurt to say out loud, but both of you were thinking it.

“I’ll make time for you,” he responded, not missing a beat as he stilled your fingers, intertwining his with yours and squeezing softly. “hey” he mumbled, smiling when you finally looked him in the eyes, “we’ll make it work, pinky promise.”

you sighed, locking your phone before slinging your backpack over your shoulder and heading out the front door.

satoru felt like the team debrief went on for ages, fingers itching to check his phone. had you woken up on time? he nodded along to kento and toto’s words, having some input on track and tire feel when necessary.

“alright get some rest, let’s try and get both of you on the podium tomorrow” toto spoke, laughing when satoru shot out of his chair and waved goodbye quickly.

satoru wasted no time in checking his phone, grinning when he saw your live commentary via text. he immediately pressed the dial button, hoping you weren’t busy.

“well if it isn’t mr. P5 himself” you teased, a smile on your face as you walked across campus. “you did great today, i think” you smile.

“hi sweetheart” he’s practically giggling to himself as he walks to the car, a giant grin on his face, “i saw you woke up in time for quali” he says, turning the car on and reversing out of the parking spot.

“course i did! had to cheer for my favorite driver” you reply, “ill be up for the race tomorrow also, it’s not insanely early” satoru can’t help but feel nervous, as if you were right there with him.

“I’ll do my best for you sweets” there’s a beat of silence before he speaks up again, “how’s studying going?” the words make you let out a small sigh, satoru frowns a bit.

“it’s going, last day of classes today and then I’ll have more than enough time to hyper focus in on everything else I’ve gotta study.” you sit on a bench outside the campus library, staring at a couple of birds in the tree in front of you.

“two weeks and you’re done with the semester right?” satoru wonders how stressed you’d be for the next two weeks, if would you be texting even less than you were now.

“week and a half, my last final’s on that wednesday” you mess with the strap of your backpack as you speak, “but I’ll be free after that.”

satoru hums, wondering if he should get you plane tickets for the races now or if he should hold off to closer to the date.

“I’ve gotta get to this study room before someone steals it, and you need to get some rest for the race tomorrow” you say, smiling when satoru whines for five more minutes. “bye toru get some rest, I’m betting everything in my bank account on you getting on the podium”

“well you’d only be losing like what? $15?” the driver teases and you wish he was there so you could smack him. “goodnight sweetheart, make sure you eat dinner and get some rest too okay?”

your goodbyes extend into another 10 minutes of talking, finally saying goodnight to him when you hear him yawning a bit, hanging up before the two of you could strike up another topic of conversation.

the next morning you were awake bright and early, watching the race with your friend as the two of you have your laptops open to work that slides that should’ve been getting studied, but instead stare at the two of you cheering at the fast cars.

you’re drowning in a Mercedes crewneck, satoru’s number embroidered on the front. he’d bought it and shipped it to you when he found out you didn’t own any formula one merch, except for the Red Bull shirt you’d bought on sale. it practically brought the driver to his knees when he caught glimpse of the two bulls on your t shirt.

you’re hugging the pillow in your lap tightly, on the edge of your seat as you watch satoru enable his DRS behind a McLaren driver.

“and gojo is on norris’ tail as we head into the chicane, he’s out of the slipstream- he’s able to get into the apex first and he overtakes!” the announcers voice is blaring though your apartment, “another great move by the rookie as he gets yet another podium for Mercedes.”

you can’t help but cheer, jumping from the couch out of excitement. “that’s my boyfriend!” you squeal, a grin on your face as you jump around with your friend, hugging her in satoru’s stead.

there’s no wiping the grin on your face as you watch him get out of his car, cheering and running to his mechanics before taking his helmet off. you feel your cheeks heat up at how hot he looks, breath hitching in your throat as you try (and fail) at focusing back on your studies. small giggles leave your mouth as you record the podium ceremony, snapping a picture of your tv and sending it to the man on your screen

told you I’d cheer you on :3 I’m so proud of you !!!

satoru spends the day in a blur, a whirlwind after the race as he handles media and team debriefs in the paddock. he gets to his hotel room beyond exhausted, falling face first into his mattress before finally checking his phone.

sweetheart <3 6h ago

his eyes go wide as he scrambles to text you back, a toothy grin on his face as he types back quickly. there’s no filter as satoru rambles on over text, sending you a plethora of messages explaining the race highlights and what he’d done after, being sure to ask how your studying is coming along. the time difference makes his heart ache, knowing you’d reply when he’d be dead asleep.

so he does the only thing he can do, ‘i hope you have a good day :3’ he sends, a small frown on his face before sighing and tossing his phone to the side and finally letting himself relax.

you weren’t sure where the days had gone, your stress growing exponentially as your finals creep up on you, hundreds of pages worth of notes to study as you coop yourself up in the campus library. the buzzing of your phone makes you lose focus, grabbing it and smiling softly when you see it was satoru.

hiii , can you call ??

at the library rn, talk later ?

oh

okay :)

no race this weekend but i might be busy w other stuff :P

satoru feels selfish for feeling hurt, he hadn’t talked to you in over a week already, the last time being sunday night after his imola podium. he tries to push past his feelings, reassuring himself that after this next week you’d be all his. he can’t be too mad at you though, seeing as though he’d all but ghosted you during some race weeks where he had other responsibilities on top of team duties.

the by week was no time for satoru to relax, with toto and kento calling him to train during the week so they could better prepare for the next race. now that they had a foot in the door for the world drivers championship they were gonna do everything they could to make it a reality. it was long days and nights for satoru, being the first one in and out as he listened in on strategy meetings and practiced on the simulators.

satoru landed face first in his bed when he got home, mumbling out a curse as he feels his phone vibrating next to him. what the fuck more did they want?

your contact picture lights up the room, one of you under the cherry blossoms after he’d asked you out. satoru’s foul mood has vanished, answering quickly before the last ring.

“hi!” he grins, sitting up in bed and looking at your face through the facetime call, he messily attempts to fix his hair as you stare at him with a smile.

“hi! whatcha up to?” you ask, messing with the pencil in your hand as you rub your eyes gently. satoru noticed the darkened bags under your eyes, and he can spot the empty can of Red Bull you’d forgotten to get off camera.

“just got back from practicing, they’re working me to the bone” he smiles, “how’s finals? almost done?” you nod at his words, exhaling dramatically.

“thank fuck I’m almost done, have my last three this week” you grin, “and before you ask yes I’ve been having actual food” satoru giggles over the phone.

“and that contraband next to you?” his brows lifted as you spot the crushed can and look at him sheepishly, tossing it into the trash can under your desk.

“dunno what you’re talking about, maybe the crashes got to your head?” you tease, satoru laughs, falling back onto his pillows, one hand behind his head. the flex of his biceps makes you lose your train of thought, satoru can’t help but admire how cozy you look in the crewneck he left you.

“funny seeing as though I’m in the top four for the championship” he quips, not so subtly trying to get your praise.

“i saw that! you’ve also podiumed in every race except your debut” you boast, wiggling your brows as you show off your limited knows, “i wish i could give you a kiss or hug you or anything” satoru feels the frustration in his bones, wanting nothing more than to hold you after the high of a podium.

“someone’s been studying up on the formula one” he replies, it makes your cheeks heat up, “after your finals you’ll be able to kiss me all you want, I’ll get you plane tickets to fly you over to me” the excitement in his chest is quickly put out as he sees the look on your face.

“i wanted to talk to you about that” you mumble, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze from your phone. you’re nervously writing in your notebook as satoru stares at you intently through the screen.

“what?” he lets out a breathless laugh, “i thought we agreed after your finals you’d come with me to my races?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

“we never talked about that toru” you laugh nervously, “and I’ve got this internship i interviewed for” you begin, eyes flickering to your phone to gauge his reaction. “um it’s between me and three other people- it’s a really good opportunity i can’t pass up on if i were to get it.”

the silence in the air makes you feel like you’re suffocating, not tearing your eyes from the paper you were writing notes in, satoru is staring dumbfounded at his duvet.

“oh.”

he winces at his own lack of words, racking his brain and speaking up again, “i mean that’s great but how are we going to work? like-” he laughs dryly running his fingers through his hair, “you’re not making time for us, how is this even a relationship?”

the words come out harsher than he intended them to, and it makes your chest pang with guilt. you bite your bottom lip, scoffing at his words and rolling your eyes.

“i don’t make time for us? what about you making time for us? for me? even before i started studying for finals it was me waiting around to see if you’d text or call” you snap back, the stress making your meaner than you wanted to be.

“you know racing isn’t just me driving around the track a couple times right? i have to practice, do media and promotions and so many other things” the slight snicker in his tone takes you by surprise, anger bubbling in your chest.

“okay? and it’s not just me going to classes for a couple hours and coming home and chilling out for the rest of the night” you shoot back, the grip on your pen tightening.

“y/n racing is my whole life, I’ve worked to get into formula one since i was a child” satoru says, “i can’t just skip out on stuff because you want me to.”

“so you shouldn’t ditch your responsibilities and goals but i should? for what? so i can be your little trophy wag?” the venom in your voice is enough to make satoru’s defenses go up.

“you know that’s not what I’m saying” he groans, “how are we ever going to work out if we’re texting each other every other fucking business day.”

maybe it was the terrible timing of it all; with the stress of finals driving you up a wall and satoru being hailed as Mercedes saving grace, the pressure was on him to compete for the world drivers championship title.

“im trying my fucking best, I’ve been nothing but supportive waking up at fuck ass o’clock to cheer you on” satoru rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw and shaking his head at your words.

“are you implying that I haven’t been supportive? I’ve sent you money for dinner, I’ve wished you luck every day I check in on you everytime i fucking can” he snapped.

“point to where i said that, stop pulling shit out of your fucking ass” you groaned, “you know what i have to study for this final im not wasting my time with this” satoru can’t help but chuckle darkly.

“so now working on our relationship is a waste of time?” he knows he’s being petty, but being snarky and rude was the only way he could mask his pain.

the exhaustion seemed to hit you at once, no longer having the energy to keep up with your anger. you put your face in your hands, sniffling before wiping your eyes. satoru’s heart breaks at the sound of your sniffles, eyes locking on your figure, frowning at your red rimmed eyes.

“let’s talk about this later” you mumble, satoru shakes his head, he knows there wouldn’t be enough time in his schedule to.

“no we need to discuss this now” his voice is stern, “if we don’t talk about this now we’re just going to be wasting each others time.” the statement breaks your heart, you know where this is going.

“we talked about this in the hotel” you say, “i knew this shit would happen.” satoru pieces everything together quickly, but ironic as it may be, he’s not fast enough.

“m-maybe in another life-” your voice wavers, chocking back a sob before you continue. “maybe in another life or another time it would’ve worked out for us.”

satoru’s hands go cold, he feels himself getting dizzy. the flurry of emotions makes him feel numb, but even as he stares at you dazed he whispers out, voice breaking.

“i love you.” the three words he’d been saving to tell you in person roll off his tongue naturally, so instinctively it hurts.

“don’t say that” you plea, “that’s just going to make this hurt more.” there’s a certain desperation in your voice, satoru shakes his head.

“do you not feel the same? tell me you don’t love me” he begs, heart shattering when you remain silent.

“i cant” your voice is barely above a whisper, you’re shocked your microphone even picks up on your words. “you know i love you, but-”

“why does there have to be a but? I don’t want to end things” satoru cries, his face is flushed red, bottom lip torn from how hard he was biting it earlier. “we can try harder, I’ll try harder” he’s clinging onto anything he can, hoping he’ll find the magic words to keep you on the phone longer.

“we have to be realistic about this satoru” you say, “we’ve got to let each other go.” even as you say the words they don’t seem to register in your mind, “we don’t have time for this relationship, it’s not fair to either of us.”

there’s so much left you want to say, but nothing seems right, not as your vision continues to blur through your tears as you pick at the lint of your sweater, his sweater. there’s no telling how much time had passed when he speaks up, it makes you jump slightly.

“so that’s it then?” satoru asks, it takes all your courage to nod, giving him a small smile and saying goodbye. your shaky thumb hovering over the red x, wincing when you end the call.

his sweater felt heavy on you, like it knew you shouldn’t be wearing it anymore. even then you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off, a chocked sob leaving your mouth as you hugged yourself tightly. it was for the best, you tell yourself.

satoru is out of bed, running his fingers through his hair and replaying the conversation in his head as he paces around the room, mumbling curses out of frustration in every language he knows. your words are rattling around his brain, he sniffles softly before finally sitting down. the bright sunlight seeps through his closed curtains, he feels his bottom lip wobble before letting his head land in his hands, sobs shaking his whole body.

despite being thousands of miles away the two of you are found in the same state, splotchy tear stained faces and broken hearted. it’s for the best, the words are repeated in both your mind and his. if that’s true, why does it feel so wrong?

taglist (send an ask or comment to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke @cactisjuice @thewondrousdreamer @beaniebaby12 @kenmacantakemeaway @rirk-ke

[specialgradefckr]

Replaceable

In which Satoru Gojo learns exactly what he is to you.

tw: explicit sexual content, dubcon. clone!satoru/reader, yandere x yandere. technically everything is consensual but no one here is really sane so it's kinda a wash. deeply unbalanced power dynamics. cloning.

Desensitization.

It's a phenomenon in psychology. A treatment, even - exposure therapy, as it's called.

After all, humans can really get used to anything.

The problem is, Satoru wasn't supposed to get desensitized to punishments.

It's not like they were terrible or anything. You wouldn't do anything truly cruel to him. Just enough for him to learn his lesson, just enough for him to understand.

You could leave him at any time. Everything he had could be taken away in an instant. He should cherish you, adore you, cling to you and live in constant fear of abandonment.

The problem is, Satoru is smart.

And after enough times... he's starting to learn.

No matter if he's drugged, tied up, locked in a padded room, bound and gagged, all while left alone with no word of your return - however much you escalate, Satoru has deduced one crucial fact:

You always come back.

"Hey! At least leave a TV in here or something! I know you're listening."

You nip at your lip, staring at the surveillance screen. It's uncomfortable enough, how certain he is about it. Let alone the fact that he's completely correct.

"I get that you didn't like being woken up like that, but this is just boring."

Boring - that's all your punishments are to him, now. They're supposed to modify his behavior, instill fear. They're supposed to be a threat you can use to make him feel how he should feel about you.

And the great irony is, you didn't dislike how he'd woken you up. His cock buried in your cunt, arms lashed tightly around you. Whispering your name higher and higher with every tight, feverish thrust that inched him closer and closer to the edge. Knocking you into consciousness with a throb of pleasure as he drove into your g-spot with mechanical precision and persistence.

A wicked, sinful part of you shivered in delight that he wanted you so badly. That he couldn't keep his hands off off you.

But if you let one thing pass - if you let him think he can do what he wants - he'll think he can do anything. He'll think that you're here for him, instead of the reality that he was born for you.

"At least get out some whips and chains or something!" Satoru's voice grows nasal and whiny, "This is just sooooo boring."

As if. You're not stupid. He'd enjoy the whips and chains, and how would that be a punishment?

"Pleeeaaaaase? I promise I'll cry and beg for you to stop like a good boy."

Ugh. He probably would, but with that tone in his voice? You suspect he might have to hide a sardonic smile while 'pleading for mercy', if he bothers at all.

And what would be the point if he hid his face while he begged? That's the best part!

"Listen, I know you're bored, too! You're just waiting, counting down the minutes until you can come back and see me again. You want your apology head, right? Let me go, I'll go down on you so good~"

It's by far the worst thing about him. That he's right.

Every time you leave, it's frustrating. You have to count down the minutes. Engage yourself with inane distractions and hobbies.

Trying desperately to forget the fact that a Satoru who loves you, who wants you around, who talks to you and touches you and enjoys you, is just sitting there waiting for you to come back. You can just go and see him whenever you want.

Sometimes you have to distract yourself by pulling up camera feeds of the actual Satoru Gojo. Is this an addiction? Who knows. When you see the original, it's a completely different experience - there's no more yearning, no more of that bone-deep pull and ache in your chest screaming for you to get closer to him.

For all that it's worth now. Somehow, the clone Satoru is behaving so much like the original, the cocky, self-assured, cheeky special grade sorcerer who had once called your heart his own.

And then of course, he had summarily discarded it, with an awkward laugh and an even more awkward rejection.

That's now how this is supposed to go. It isn't how any of this is supposed to be.

It's something that instills no small amount of panic in your heart.

Satoru - your Satoru - is singular in his existence, the only clone you've produced so far. You have a prototype, an alpha version - that one passed away in vitro.

Even once you had the embryo that would become Satoru, you didn't know it would succeed. You were still experimenting; different embryonic fluid mediums, different tissue samples, new techniques - nothing else had worked.

After Satoru had come out as a success, you'd tried to replicate the process that created him, as exactly as possible.

Inside this lab - the same place where your surveillance center is set up - are the results of those attempts.

The urge is there. Deep down. Itching at you.

You did it once, right? You could do it again.

It's funny, after all. How obsessed you were with Gojo before, how utterly devastated you were when he turned you away, the way every part of your being craved him like a drug.

You'd watched him, recorded him, looked up everything about him and related to him. It's not like you don't recognize how insane that all was.

And then suddenly, once you'd decided to clone him, all the feeling was gone. That face, that beautiful face, the one that made your heart skip a beat; even that does nothing for you when you watch Gojo.

Now, you only care about your Satoru.

Your Satoru, who whines and complains when you leave him behind. Who knows that you watch him on cameras. Who promises to make it up to you when he does something bad, because he doesn't feel guilt for disobeying you, not at all.

And why should he? He's Satoru Gojo, cut from the same cloth. He's beautiful and he knows it, knows exactly how much you desire him. He's good at making you feel good, and he knows that too.

Your Satoru has never felt ugly, or undesirable, or unwanted in his entire life, and that's all your fault.

If he knows just how much you want him, what's to stop him from deciding when you get him? From telling you no? From thinking he can decide for himself, want a life outside of you?

You look down at your hands and you realize that you're shaking.

He sounds just like...

"Well, well, look who's finally showing her face! If it isn't my favorite little stalker, in the flesh."

Satoru has no reason to like you other than the simple fact that he's never known anything else. Now he's grown cocky, confident, assured of your love.

"You're not that cute, but honestly, I thought you'd be way uglier. Listen, I know how you feel, so I'll just save us both some time and you some embarrassment, right?"

It makes you want to throw up. A wild, sudden urge to race into that room and slap that wide grin off his face. Choke the teasing words off his throat. Claw at his bare chest, dig your fingers between his ribs and rib his sternum open so you can finally take hold of his heart like you deserve.

Your name sounds off on the monitor. Satoru is calling for you again. "Come on! I know you're listening! Two apology heads! No, make it three - I'll do it until you fall asleep even! Just come in and let me go already!"

So willful. Full of bargaining and spirit and energy.

Untamed. That irresistible, delightful charm that was so innate to Satoru Gojo, the one that drew you in - it's gone too far. You need to do something about it.

You need to take back control.

"So you're finally letting me see what's up here?" Satoru rolls one of his shoulders. Probably stiff from the restraints.

He follows along right behind you, obediently, but that doesn't mean he's loyal. He's curious.

And when you put that curiosity to rest, he'll have more questions. Scarier ones.

You open the door wordlessly, leading him into your lab. Full of screens.

Some of them show your studies, test results, security systems. Others show specific locations, but there's one or two that follow their subject around.

He stares at the screen. Bright blue eyes dilating, focusing -

"Who is that?"

"Satoru Gojo," You respond, sitting down in a chair.

"I'm Satoru -"

"No," Your voice is cool, hardened, "He is Satoru. You were named after him. I took genetic material from him to make you, along with all these others."

"Others..." Satoru doesn't ask, though - his eyes dart around the room. Over the test vials, the vitro chambers, embryos at different stages of development.

"This is also Satoru," you say, striding over one tube. Placing a hand over the glass as you walk across to another, more developed on, "And so is this. You were developed exactly the same way."

You stare at the developing embryo in the chamber as you speak.

"Pure DNA extracted from genetic material taken straight from Satoru Gojo himself. Catalogued, sequenced, replicated. I developed stem cells first, and then an embryonic structure, which I had to grow in one of these vats."

Finally, you raise your eyes up to him. Satoru is still staring at the chamber, at the thing inside it. Eyes flicking over to the screen.

"You're one of many experimental subjects," You say, louder, enough to catch his attention. Locking eyes with him.

"And if you can't serve your purpose, I'll just start over with another one. Again, and again, until I find one that can."

Your gaze is cold, unwavering.

You don't want to start over. You're not even sure if you can.

The samples you're showing him, all your attempts to duplicate what you did with him - none of them were viable.

You want your Satoru, the beautiful, lovable creature right in front of you, to adore you like you adore him.

"My purpose?" He says, almost musing. Licking his lips while he glances at you.

It takes everything in you not to flinch. "You're here for me, Satoru. Not the other way around."

"Oh?" There's a faint smile on his lips, "With everything you have up here, I'd say you're a little bit obsessed with me, actually."

That's the problem with him. Being right. That look of knowing on his face.

"I'm obsessed with Satoru Gojo." Your tone becomes icy. Frosted over. "And you're not the only Satoru Gojo. You weren't even the first."

That gets to him, you think. He keeps looking back at the screen, at Gojo, who looks to be mid-exorcism.

The camera can't capture curses, but the light emitted from his curse technique - Blue - colors his surroundings, and by extension, the lab room.

"He is. That's the original Satoru Gojo, and because he has better things to do," you can't keep the bitterness out of your voice, "I replaced him."

Satoru stares at the image of Gojo, striding around, carefree. Dodging invisible curses, casting Red and Blue like child's play.

His face has lost its expression, all notions of teasing, of playfulness gone. Those too-blue eyes reflect the light of the screens, the test tubes, nearly glowing in the low light. Taking in every ounce of information.

"Satoru," It comes out firmly enough for him to blink, looking back to you. "I need you to understand."

Satoru stares at you. Silent.

It's not like him. Then again, you had just upended his entire existence. Maybe this is what it's like for him, to realize what he is. That you can replace him with an identical copy at any time.

Of course, you can't actually do that. But Satoru doesn't know.

"You were created for me. I can always create another. What will you do, if I no longer want you?" You deliver your question with a heavy, expectant finality.

Even as confident as he is, Satoru doesn't have anything in his life besides you. And you've already replaced one Satoru Gojo.

It shouldn't be an easy bluff for him to call. Even if he does know you far too well.

"What will I do...?" He repeats to himself, quietly, running his eyes back over the rest of the lab in a final sweep before he looks back at you.

And it's piercing. In a way that chills you to the bone.

In a way that makes your heart jump. Painfully. Because he is, after all, still your Satoru.

Slowly, very slowly, a smile lifts up at the edge of his lips. It goes all the way to his eyes, which still reflect the screen light so heavily they looks like they could be glowing.

"Oh, don't you worry," Satoru says, not taking his eyes off you, "I see it now."