#and again i have another tag to come up with

[6ronze]

CALEB, THE FARSPACE COLONEL

AT THIS SHIP YOU WILL WITNESS … current!caleb & fem!reader. warning(s) -> MDNI. [18+ only]. needy/possessive caleb, might be ooc caleb, apple as a gag(?), squírtinğ, implied créámpîes, cûm eating, multiple órgáșms, cûnnilingúś, no plot, just smut, not proofread wordcount. 1.6k (kinda short cs idk much ab him yet & i dedicated my whole púśśy into this forgive me) tags. @ljubimaya

𝐻𝐸 𝑅𝐸𝒯𝒰𝑅𝒩𝒮 with single-minded determination to keep you near him at all times. Even with a 180 degree turn of his personality during his interrogation of you before, he assures you that protocol was the only reason for his brief change. Yet in the privacy of his room, he doesn’t exactly change to normal..

You didn’t know what brought you to the current situation you were in. To be more detailed, the situation you were in included you sprawled out on his bed, shirt bunched up beneath your chin with Caleb’s body hovering above you, burying his cock into you with reckless abandon. It all started with an innocent, heartfelt confession. But little did you know that calebs’ feelings would run so deep, so intense, to the point he had to have his mouth latch onto one of your tits, eagerly suckling on a nipple all the while his hips were unrelenting.

“W-wait, Caleb, please, I can’t cum again,” you whine with a sob, hands above you clinging onto his pillow for dearlife as he brought you to the brink of your nth orgasm. Caleb on the other hand seemed better than you despite the fact he would follow you every time you came, spilling his seed into your warm channel as if in sync. In truth, he wanted to cum the moment he slid inside your wet heat, but decided against it, wanting to come with you. “Yes you can, I know you can, sweet girl,” he mumbled persuasively sweet against your flushed skin, your tits aching in the best way in his squeezing hand and warm mouth.

“Caleb, Caleb, fuck—! I feel weird,” you sobbed with a drawn out moan, hips beginning to squirm at the unfamiliar feeling in lower belly. His cock was stretching you out so good, almost too good. You thought you were on the edge of another orgasm but it felt completely foreign to you, fearing that you might embarrass yourself if Caleb kept on going like this. But Caleb himself was undeterred. Instead, a knowing smile of satisfaction crept on his face at your pleas, knowing exactly what was coming. “Of course you are, baby,” he cooed softly, hand fondling your right breast slipping down your back to thumb over the sensitive nub of your clit, rubbing it quick, tight circles that made your body arch into him with a cry.

Your legs quivered and kicked weakly on Caleb’s hip all the while he was fucking into you like it was nobody’s business, eager to push more of his cum into your already fully pussy. He could feel the heels of your feet burying into his lower back, quivering with pleasure that he knew was unfamiliar to you until now. Until he brought it to you.

his touch was precise, coaxing but going above your limits to make sure he makes your mind blank out. And true to his intentions, you cried out, loud, arching off the bed with splutters of profanities leaving your lips along with a wail pleading of his name when the pace of his thrusts into you sopping cunt quickened along with the rub and pinches of the throbbing nub of your clit.

Your lips parted in a silent scream when you felt yourself squirting all over his thick cock, yours juices surely overflowing onto his pelvis and down his balls to drip onto the sheets, making you gasp repeatedly, velvety walls spasming uncontrollably around Caleb’s pitifully hard dick, making him hiss a heavy ‘shit’ before he fucked into you more, prolonging your orgasm to reach his own. His hips jerked erratically into you, balls drawn up tight with his incoming orgasm until he came to an abrupt stop, hand previously rubbing your nub now holding you down by your pelvis all the while his throbbing cock pulsed with each pump of cum into your already filled cunt, making sure to overflow you with his seed.

Caleb’s chest heaved with heavy breaths to catch his breath, pulling away from your boneless, sweat sheened body on the bed, with his length deeply sheathed inside your warm hole still. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally pulled out, breathing out a moan at the erotic sight of his cum that made a ring around his base, your leaking slit no less sexy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot like.. Panting like a bitch in heat just for me,” caleb taunted, his own cheeks flushed red all the same along with his body coated with a thin layer of sweat like yours was on his bed, chest heaving from exertion. He couldn’t help the sly smirk that crept up his face, hand sliding down your thigh to pat the plush flesh there twice as if he was praising you, saying ‘good girl’.

Your pants died out and your breathing came back to normal, your limbs weak on the bed after a moment. Your lids felt heavy during the brief period when Caleb wasn’t doing to you, head burying into his pillow beneath your head to succumb to the sleep that called for you. But it seems like your supposed childhood friend had other plans for you.

“Urk..! Caleb.. what’re you doing now..” you slurred, mind still hazy from the mind blowing orgasm he gave you to process the tug he made on your leg. Your head lifted from the pillow weakly to see what he was doing standing off the edge of the bed, other hand moving to wrap around your other leg for another tug until you were close to the edge of the mattress.

“Shh.. get your rest. I’ll clean you up while you sleep, yeah?” the man with violet eyes shushed with a teasing lilt, reaching an arm over to grab one of his red apples nearby to bring them up to your lips, leaning forward to meet your half-lidded gaze. “Try not to be too loud.. I don’t want any of my colleagues coming over for a noise complaint,” he spoke in a near whisper, making the fresh red skin of the apple to kiss your equally succulent lips. You brought up a hand to hold the apple, letting him pull away. Yours brows furrowed at the implication that he wasn’t done, already biting down on the sweet fruit he gave you.

Leaving you oblivious, Caleb knelt between your legs that hung over the edge of his bed, positioning himself so he could lean in close to your pussy which he left in a mess, globs of his semen still oozing out to drip down the delicious curves of your ass. With eyes gleaming with unsated lust, he propped an arm under your thigh, the other hand pushing the other thigh further apart to give him access to your dripping cunt. He stopped pulling you apart when he could see your weakly clenching hole, head dipping to lick a firm stripe up the wet slit, making sure to flick over the clit too before repeated the action once more, though sloppier this time.

The evident shivers you made at his ministrations made him grin at the while he lapped up at the remnants of your juices that stained your folds, alternating between tongue-fucking your slick warm heat and sucking and biting on your sensitive nub for an extra boost of pleasure to shoot up your spine. Caleb’s gaze flickered up to your squirming form whenever he found the strength to peel his eyes off your filled pussy, scooping up his cum that he stuffed inside your used cunt to taste himself, then shove it back into you. The man could barely hear the muffled whines and whimpers you made whenever his slid his tongue as deep as it could go past your entrance, unrelenting with his pace, utterly absorbed in the act of pleasing you along with ‘cleaning’ you.

your earlier boneless body flared up again at the persistent strokes of caleb’s tongue on your wet heat, feeling his hand on your thigh knead your flesh and squeeze it tight whenever he lost himself in your depths for a long while before pulling away to get some air, only when he felt the unforgivable burn in his lungs. The way his nose grazed your neglected clit was equally unforgivable, only offering the nub a few kitten licks that nothing to sate its throbbing need for stimulation. Yet when he sensed your impending orgasm, it was as if a switch went off in his head, his focusing shifting to your pitiful clit to assault it with full force, nibbling and swirling his tongue around it relentlessly. The man was thankful he gave you that apple, or else the volumes of your cries at the delicious orgasm he was about to make you reach again would have escaped his room to the ears of his unsuspecting colleagues.

“For fuck’s sake, Caleb, slow, fuck..! Slow down..!” You thrashed your hips all over his face, grinding for dear life. You could feel your climax coming in, and it was coming in fast. You rocked your hips into his face a few more times before you brought the bite covered apple to your mouth for another full bite, throwing your head back with a hand gripping onto the pillow beside your head, an overwhelming sense of ecstasy washing over your body, barely able to overcome your sobs.

“I could make you cum all the damn hours of the day if I could, princess, fuck.. you did so well,” Caleb grinned against the damp folds of your pussy, half of his face smeared with your cum which he slurped with unrivalled eagerness. He pulled away from between your thighs to look up at you properly, curl of his lips growing only wider at the sight of your utterly passed out on his bed, his earlier praises falling to deaf ears.

[simp-ly-writes]

Wedding Night

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.12)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: After weeks of minimal contact before the wedding and from you teasing your new husband throughout the reception with photos of yourself, you and Jayce share your wedding night together.

─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADULTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

─ · · TAGS: can be read as a standalone, nsfw/smut/pwp, fem!reader, unprotected pinv (be safe please!), dom!Jayce, making out, teasing, dirty talk, size differences, groping, nipple/breast play, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), marking/biting, aftercare.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,902

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: uhhh... i'm just not gonna say anything lol.

─────── · ·

─ · · You are last to leave the restroom having finished your conversation with Mel and are happy that you waited as a pair of hand grab your waist picking you up and dragging you into a secluded corner. You can hear as Jayce moans while pressing a kiss to your lips, eyes dark as he pulls away, breathing ragged as he takes in your new look, the same dress as in the pictures, "fuck, sweetheart," his tone is raspy making your thighs clench together at the sound as you wrap your arms around his neck- feeling as one hand slides behind your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

The lack of oxygen has you starting to feel light headed as you tap thrice and pull away pressing your forehead to his shoulder and kissing his chest, "Jayce we-" you gasp, sentence cut off as his knee parts your thighs, a hand pushing down your waist making you sit against it. The sudden pressure against your clit has you biting your lip and closing your eyes hearing as Jayce feels your wetness soaking through his pant leg- groaning. You start to grind yourself upon his knee, "fuck," you whimper, trying to get more friction with Jayce's help as he rocks you against him, "yeah? feels good taking that pressure away-hm? can feel how wet you are- must have felt so sore tonight but you just had to sit still and look pretty even when you were dripping down your thighs."

"Feels really good Jayce," you breathe out, picking up your head to quickly look around his shoulder- the hall empty as Jayce starts to paw at your chest, pinching your nipple through the fabric hearing as you gasp. "M'sure it does. I'm a good husband, right? Touching you where you need, whispering filth into your ear to get you off, making sure that no one can see how easily you come undone for me in this corner like a good girl- yeah?"

"Yes Jay," you nod your head, pushing more of your weight against his leg hearing him chuckle squeezing your hip before slowly setting leg down and pushing your leg off to the side as you grip his arms- pleading, "Jayce please-I" Jayce shushes you with a kiss too quick for your liking as you try and pull him towards you again but he does not budge, simply patting your thigh and getting you to jump, wrapping your legs around his waist- eyes hopeful as you peer into his hazel ones.

"So if you're such a good girl then why..." he rocks his hips into your own as you squeeze your legs tighter around him, "...is your husband walking around with images of you in his pockets that your friends got to see? Why leave me hurting with need-hm? All I wanted was to be good to you, make sure you feel so good tonight but you're so cruel to me, darling," Jayce rocks his hips into your once more, holding you up against the wall in wait for your answer.

You feel his breaths heavy and feel your once desire-filled brain being flooded by guilt as Jayce blinks away tears of need. You can feel him shaking beneath your touch, "I'm sorry, Jayce. I'm sorry just was frustrated by your teasing," you say softly, kissing his face and lips in apology before hugging him tightly feeling as he shakes his head.

"I did it for your own good, sweetheart just knowing how good you'd feel afterwards but I know you're sorry so I'll be nice tonight since it's our wedding night... just know that I do remember what little scheme you did." You nod, not exactly caring for your future self just yet when Jayce placed you back down on your feet, helping you into his jacket and taking off your shoes before picking you up again in his arms and walking you both back home.

"I'm sorry again, Jayce," you murmured partway, Jayce only nodded, "still not going to help later, darling." You sigh, tucking your head into his shoulder with a pout, Just have to make the most of tonight then...

─────── · ·

─ · · Once inside Jayce throws you onto the bed leaving you giggling as he crawls over you and kisses all over your face, trailing down your neck to your shoulder where his breath lingers, teeth scraping against your skin as you wiggle beneath him, "my gorgeous wife," he mumbles before sucking that mark to life as you grasp at his hair at the pressure.

Feeling him pulling away you lean forwards, stealing a kiss feeling as he smiles into it, "my handsome husband," you tease back watching as Jayce's eyes light up at your words leaning into your touch as you caress his cheek before standing and loosening his tie.

You sit up in bed, head tilting to the side as you watch him slowly undress before you. Slipping out and kicking his shoes aside before gently placing his cufflinks on your vanity. He unbuttons the first button to his shirt before pausing and looking at you expectedly. Hopping off the bed you throw his jacket on a nearby armchair within the room and race over to him standing on your toes as you slowly expose more skin and scars for your eyes.

Looking up at Jayce as you reach the final one the shirt slides off his shoulders with ease as he walks forwards and you sit at the foot of the bed reaching for his belt listening to the metal click out of place as you thread the leather out through the loops and cast it aside.

"I rather liked that one," Jayce fakes a saddened tone watching as you simply shrug your shoulders, "you like your wife more," you smile up at him, hearing him hiss as your hand gently squeezes the bulge in his pants before stroking up and down his length.

"I would like my wife even more if she didn't make me finish in my pants," Jayce groans at your laugh, the sound not helping to calm his heart rate as all his senses became heightened from his building need for you. He stares down at you, eyes narrowing in a silent command as you sigh and comply- unzipping his pants watching as they fall down to his ankles and the way he kicks them aside.

Jayce motions for you to turn around as you lie back on the bed and roll yourself over. He brushes your hair out of the way, pressing a trail of kisses across your shoulder blade before slowly unzipping your dress adding more kisses down your skin with every new inch of skin he sees.

He stares for a moment at your lace undergarments as you move your head to the side, watching as his eyes widen at the sight of your garter belt connecting to your stockings. You kick your feet excitedly, feeling confident about your look, "they even have miniature bows!" Jayce chuckles, shaking his head at you, a finger traces down a strap across the back of your thigh causing you to shiver as he observers every part of the design with both his hands and eyes.

Picking up a strap on your other leg, he lifts it gently before letting go, watching as the material snaps back against your skin and how you wiggle in place in reaction. "Jayce please let me get out of the dress at least," you beg.

"So outspoken tonight, sweetheart," Jayce teases, grasping your hips and helping you to roll over, he bends down to pick up your dress and gently drapes it against the armchair with his jacket before turning back to you, biting his lip to your frontside now in view.

Your chest rises and falls in short sharp moments as you press your thighs together, "Well I've had a couple of drinks and am so desperate for you to touch me I might just combust so I apologize if I'm acting out of person because I cannot fundamentally think straight in my current state," you ramble while taking the pins out of your hair, humming out contently as Jayce helps, massaging your scalp, "thank you."

Jayce leans forwards, pressing his lips against your own in a lingering kiss as you trace the ridges of his abs, feeling every deep breaths he intakes and exhales. Jayce continues his exploration of your outfit, humming at every new ribbon and lace detail he discovers- mapping it to memory as you start to grind against his thigh in desperation.

Jayce leans forwards allowing for a better angle as he coos mockingly at your little whimpers and whines as his thumbs brush over your chest, teasing your nipples through the thin material. You wrap your leg around the back of his thigh, pushing more weight onto your throbbing core. "Need you so bad, Jay," you plead, rubbing up and down his back, scratching lightly with your fingers to feel him shiver.

The little movement stimulates your clit forcing your hips to rise and fall again with a dissatisfied huff. You can feel how wet you are, dripping down to the covers knowing that your white panties must be see-through by now but Jayce is not yet satisfied- wondering if he can make you cum without needing to touch dripping cunt.

He pulls down your bar before kissing down the valley of your breaths, tongue trailing to one of your nipples, swirling around hardened buds before grazing gently with his teeth. His hand works to pinch and twist the other as you arch your bag to the sensations, hands gripping long strands of hair before he pulls back and gives your other breast the same treatment.

You cry out in pleasure, goosebumps coat your skin as your head tilts back freeing your sobs to echo throughout the room feeling as your hole clenches around air just catching Jayce's knee as he shifts his position and you fall over the edge, squeezing his thigh as Jayce gropes your chest, praising you endlessly, "Such a good girl for me, can cum without me needing to touch her. You always look so beautiful when you let go, sweetheart, I'm sure it feels good to-hm?"

The relief was only temporary as you quickly fall from your high- the empty feeling you have afterwards has silent tears dripping down your cheeks as you shake your head, "made it worse, so much worse," you whine, hating the way the cold material of your wet panties sticks to your sex and how sensitive your nipples feel to the night air seeing as Jayce just makes no sudden movements.

"You said that you would be nice tonight, my love," you pout, Jayce bites your extended lip before kissing your cheek and reaches down to cup your sex, the intimate position oddly comforting as you lay still in his hold. "I did, didn't I... I'm sorry, sweetheart, let me make up for it?" Jayce begs, eyes wide and pleading as his fingers pinch your clit causing you to yelp and nod your head vigorously.

Jayce sits up as you crawl further back towards the centre of the bed, thighs spreading slowly apart watching as Jayce crawls after you, thumb circling your clothed clit, fingers tracing your opening, teasingly pushing inwards as far as the material would allow. "Need your fingers inside, Jayce."

Jayce complies, pushing your panties to the side as he pushes a singular finger inside, leaning down to lap at your clit, large honey eyes melt into your own as he hums at the familiar sweet taste. Your exhale is shaky trying to keep your head from falling back in the same direction your eyes roll as his fingers starts to to move in and out at a slow pace, testing how far he could bring you to the edge... and you were highly receptive, walls fluttering as he hummed with satisfaction before pulling his mouth away, watching as he slowly slid a second finger in, scissoring you open with ease from your slick.

"You're torturing me," you complain, eyes casting low to Jayce's boxer briefs that strain yet Jayce's expression seems nothing but content watching how you react from his touch, a third finger quickly followed by a forth shuts you up as Jayce curls the digits within you, pressing down on your most sensitive spot within.

You bit down hard on your lip, muffling your cries as Jayce glares at your restraint wanting you to utterly crumble beneath his touch before he fucks you. "Where did all those pretty sounds go? I want to hear you, sweetheart, while you fall apart by my fingers and beneath my eyes. You can do that for me right?" you let go, Jayce takes your moan an answer seeing as your thighs started to shake and the way in which you squeeze your chest, "Let go like I know you want to, I can feel you clenching around me, darling... you like me talking you through this, don't you? So if I said, 'cum for me?' I know you would right? Would feel so good- So cum for me, sweetheart, fall apart for me. I'll be there when you come back down."

Jayce leans back down to kiss your clit, feeling as your body tenses as you teeter on the edge before be begins to suck on your puffy clit- your left hand continues to squeeze your chest, the other rests upon your neck as you swear out upon your release, crushing Jayce's head between your thighs, squirming from the overstimulation causing it to worsen as you grind upon his face as he continues to finger you through your orgasm, humming contently against your clit before finally pulling away, licking his lips as your hooded eyes plead at him.

Jayce sighs, adjusting the band to his black boxers as you quickly pick yourself up, albeit with a few wobbles while making your way over to him. Your eyes blink themselves wide, "please Jayce, you never let me suck you off." Jayce looks up, pleading for strength as you press your hands against his length, finding and rubbing the leaking tip through the cotton, "c'mon Jay. Just for a second."

Jayce looks back down at you, knowing that he couldn't refuse you tonight, "Sweetheart you know I just don't want to hurt you-"

"Jayce Talis, I am asking you on the cusp of pleading and before you start rambling, I feel myself becoming more sober by the minutes and could care less if you finish in my mouth," you beg, hands dragging across the the band to his boxers, picking up and snapping the material against his skin in an act of revenge.

Jayce holds your stare for a moment watching as your mouth slowly opens, you listen to the way he quietly curses at the sight, "just for a-" you've already pulled down the material and are pushing on his thighs for Jayce to lie down.

Your hand struggles to wrap fully around Jayce's cock, stroking him slowly as you lick you lips excitedly, dragging your thumb across the slit of his head watching as the pre-cum drips over your fingers and down his length.

Dragging your tongue from the base all the way to his leaking tip and swirling you tongue to collect the salty taste against your tongue as Jayce feels you swallow and giggle against him.

His head reaches down to cup your cheek, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding your movements up and down as you look up feeling him heavy against your inner cheek, casting him a wink to feel him twitch. Whatever you can't fit into your mouth, your hands work, gently squeezing as you stroke up to your lips. Sighing happily through your nose as Jayce whimpers for you, "fuck, baby I-" he growls as you press more of him into your mouth, teasing your throat, "shit, sweetheart please- I want to finish inside you tonight."

You flick your eyes back up to him, sad and pleading but pull away eventually with a plop, kissing the angry tip gently before rubbing and down his shaking thighs. Jayce closes his eyes, calming himself as he threads his fingers through your hair, "later this week, okay?"

You nod before sitting up again and straddling yourself over his waist, position his cock right above your prepared entrance as you place one of your hands on his chest to support yourself, the other between your tights feeding the ache as you slowly sit yourself down, the stretch delightful- finally feeling full as you bottom out with a satisfied hum in tune with Jayce's deeper one as he rubs your waist, allowing you time to adjust.

"I missed this," you close your eyes, smiling at the feeling of your connection and slight burn, Jayce's thumbs rub into your skin softly, "missed the feeling too, so... comforting." You nod before gently picking your hips up and slowly pushing yourself back down onto his length.

Jayce helps your movements, allowing you to set the speed, his brain struggling to process the woman he has within grasp and gets to call his wife forever more. You open your eyes sensing his warm stare, "something wrong, my love?" you ask, rocking your hips again as you lean forwards, moaning out to the new feeling as Jayce rocks his hips, meeting your movements half way before pressing a kiss to a scar across his chest.

"Just thinking about how much I love you, Mrs. Talis," his tone raw, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he blinks twice at you, pupils dilating. "I love you too, Mr. Talis," smiling through your words as you continue your rhythm, the pace satisfactory at best as use use Jayce's cock to reach that point inside you before your legs begin to give out, your release escaping you sending you slumping forwards against Jayce's chest with a huff.

Jayce laughs in between his words- asking if you want him to continue. You try raising your hips again before deciding against it and admit defeat. Jayce reaches down between your legs, thumb light against your clit as he gently rocks his hips up into you. "You did so good, taking me so well, sweetheart."

Yet his words do nothing to ease your on-coming frustration from the lack of stimulation you feel. Jayce slows his pace even further as you begin to shake against his chest, confused and needy. "Is everything okay?" he asks softly, you pick your head up, shaking your head, Jayce freezes starting to pull out yet you squeeze your legs together, holding him in place, "No stay I just-" you feel heat rising up from between your legs, across your chest, up your neck and resting upon your face as you pick yourself up from his chest, sinking back down onto his length while tracing patterns across his skin.

"It's just not enough Jay," you mumble, looking off to the side. "What can I do?" Jayce asks, tilting his head- trying to connect your eyes that you squeeze shut, trying to even out your breaths, feeling yourself dripping upon his cock at the various dirty thoughts flooding through your imagination.

Jayce groans as your walls flutter around him yet remains patient, about to open his mouth to ask again before hearing your voice, "need you to fuck me Jayce, s'not enough just," you grind your hips against his, "need you to talk to me, please, just fuck me harder."

You look over to watch as Jayce's brows furrow, "but I thought-" You wiggle your hips remembering how hard he slammed himself into you in that bathroom- how he teased and muffled your cries with kisses as you couldn't stop yourself. "Jayce it was nice to start but you know better than anyone that I won't get off as much from you being so soft-" you would regret your words as Jayce slams his hips up into your if I didn't end up feeling so good- causing you to collapse against his chest at the sudden motion, "fuck," you moan as he grips your hips tighter, you can hear your skin slapping together as his pace hastens.

"My needy girl, can't get off like normal couples do?" you shake your head, not finding your words solemnly focused on the pleasurable brusing you feel around your thighs as Jayce rams into you- feeling as the way his skin sticks to your own, nipples brushing against his hard chest.

"Just need to be fucked hard and fast until you feel yourself being split in two, or am I wrong?" Jayce asks, you moan out your response hearing as he chuckles, kissing the top of your head as you nuzzle your face into his neck, smiling. "You were so talkative earlier, what happened?"

"Jayce," you strain his name, feeling as he shifts position from underneath you- gracing your cervix, your nails dig into his shoulder blades, gripping for strength as every drag of his cock into your ruined hole brings you closer to the edge.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he teases not expecting an answer just kissing the top of your head, "can feel you squeezing me, so tight and hugging me just right like you were made for me." You feel your walls flutter at his words, breaths becoming fast and short, "you like that thought huh? Being mine?- my perfect wife letting me use her hole." Your body begins to tremor, shoulders tensing with the curling of your toes, "so close," you beg pitifully, withering against your husbands chest, his pace unrelenting, bruising your inner thighs with every clap of skin that echos throughout the bedroom.

You feel every part of yourself so vividly, can imagine every bulging vein of his cock pulsing against your walls, feel his head kissing parts within yourself you'd never dream of reaching. Jayce's calloused hands grip you tight, lifting your body up and down to meet his thrusts, his breaths hot and heavy against your ear, growling as your legs lock, seeing white as you twitch and come undone, "fuck, shit, Jay-Jayce, please slow down, fuck-I-uh," Jayce fucks you through your orgasm not hearing you use your safeword or tap against him, feeling as your knees give out again as you shake for him, the mere though has him twitching within you as he withholds his release, growling into your ear, the sound going directly between your legs that quiver.

Tears cloud your vision as your words become increasingly incoherent, loosing yourself to the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rise across your hot skin- burning from his touch and gasping for air. You take in deep breaths, cold air filling your lungs contrasting your sweaty skin as Jayce slows down for a moment, still hard within you, pulling you up just enough to watch as your release drips down coating you both, the whole scene impossibly lewd as you wiggle underneath his concentrated stare.

"Got a forth one in you, baby?" he asks gently, watching your rigid movements as you try and slowly lean down, jittering with your incline towards his lips for a slow kiss, "need to lie down," you mumble, voice strained, body feeling weak as Jayce wraps his arms underneath your own, pressing your chests together as he rolls you both over, moving a pillow beneath your head.

He looks at you waiting for your nod to start moving again, you feel extra sensitive, already feeling close by the initial drags as you extends your hands out trying to pull his face closer to your own. Your tongues lazily wrap around the other as you taste yourself on him. Your noses brush in a second kiss, tipping your head to the side, feeling as Jayce moans from your nails dragging down his back before trailing up to his hair and sorting through the mass of curls.

Pulling away you sweep the strands away from his sweaty forehead as he braces his weight on one arm to cup your cheek with the other, wiping away the remnants of your earlier tears, "I love you," he mutters against your lips before trailing a line of kisses down your throat and shoulder as he rocks into you at a steady pace, waiting for your orgasm as he postpones his own- focusing on marking your skin. You close your eyes, tracing hearts across his skin, "I love you too."

Jayce listens for your breath to hitch as he works his way across your neck leaving evidence of his adoration for you like a necklace- waiting for the sound, "Jayce!" of your tone high and airy, he smirks against your skin, canines brushing against the side of your neck as he licks the spot carefully before pulling away and blowing gently watching a hundred of goosebumps coat your skin causing you to shiver and try to squirm away only to end up gripping him tight as be bites down gently, moaning deeply as your ankles lock around his lower back pulling yourselves closer together, closer to the edge.

"I'm here, its okay, you can take it," he reassures you, listening as you call out his name like a mantra- watching as your eyes slowly blink open, wide and glistening- meeting his own, "going to go faster okay? I-fuck," he growls from you casting your own mark on his neck, pulling his head down, gripping his hair tightly as your legs pull his hips closer to you forcing him deeper.

You pull away, wrapping your arms and crossing your wrists behind his head as he swallows your moans that turn to screams as he chases his high, yours falling partway as your touch loosens and you fall back- crashing against the covers, back arched as you try and crawl away yet Jayce's hips chase you, bucking into you with force as he grunts, chest rising and falling in short breaths, eyes dark as he watches your lip quiver, your chest bounce with his every thrust, listening to how your voice fills the room, flooding his ears and filling his head with nothing but you.

"A-ah fuck baby," he swears as he releases, hands gripping the covers by your head in tights fists, knuckles turning white at the sounds of your moans. His hips start slipping from their rhythm becoming increasingly sloppy with each drag through your sore walls that flutter and pull his release deeper within yourself.

Jayce shakes, muscles straining to hold himself up- mindful to keep his bodyweight from crushing you. A shared hiss comes from you both as he slowly pulls out- you frown at the sinking hollow feeling you develop from the lost weight between your legs- crossing them for comfort as your combined release drips out of your fluttering hole and onto the sheets.

You both lay there still, catching your breaths, Jayce plays absent-mindedly with a strand of your hair as you trace the various scars running up his arm. "How does a bath sound?" Jayce asks quietly into your hair hearing as you hum in approval, sitting up and watching as he stretches, back muscles flexing in the moonlight as you throw a pillow in your face to muffle your whine, get it together, you tell yourself hearing as Jayce laughs, voice horse as he speaks, "we're never getting out of here, sweetheart if you keep making those sounds."

The pillow slowly slides off your face as you glare at Jayce, chucking the pillow at him that he catches with ease, "not my fault I'm attracted to my husband," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest hearing as Jayce moans at the sight your glare and the way in which you push your chest up with your arms.

Jayce rubs his face, mumbling to himself before quickly turning on his heel, shaking his head and turning on the tap, watching as the bath fills slowly before choosing a scent.

You look back towards the air chair, seeing your dress and Jayce's suit jacket draped across it with a smile, unknowing to your husband leaning against the doorframe observing your already reminiscent eyes, "the night is still young, darling and even when morning greets us we have the rest of our lives ahead of us."

You snap your head over, eyes lighting up as he tips his head into the bathroom mirroring your smile. Jayce watches as you slip out of bed and slowly unclip and slide your various undergarments from your body before slowly walking over to him, brushing your hand across his stomach, feeling up his chest as you press a kiss to his heart before turning past in and stepping into the bath- waiting impatiently for him to join you as you splash a bit of water his direction, hitting his leg with a giggle.

Jayce's eyes crinkle at your playfulness before stepping in behind you, your back and head resting upon his front, eyes closing from the warm water that surrounds you and the feeling of Jayce's hands wrap around your waist beneath the water- holding you close before placing his head atop your head, smiling at your combined reflection in the mirror, "I love you."

"I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz @hellokittyluvr69420 @mommymilkers0526

[mojavebluez]

russian roulette - the salesman x fem!reader (18)

“Ah, there you are.” He says, a towering shadow standing before you. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

summary - he’d been following you for a while. When you finally find the courage to approach him, you wake up hours later in his apartment, tied up and completely at his mercy. He has one offer: a game of Russian roulette.

tags - gun play, age gap, kidnapping, bdsm, sub!reader, dom!salesman, sadomasochism, fingering, non-con, praise, degradation, forced insertion, no lube

a/n - I’m slightly ashamed but also not. There’s a bit of backstory so sorry to all you freaks that like skipping straight to the action.. I’ll do a part 2 if you guys enjoy it!!

4.7k words

———————————————————————

You’d seen him before. Many times. This past month you’d noticed nearly 20 encounters. The first was on the subway a while back, when you had looked up to see him staring down at you with blank, empty eyes. An instant chill was sent down your spine. But he wasn’t like the usual subway perverts: he was put-together, well dressed and very, very handsome. He had an air of assurance about him and a strange sort of dominance that forced you to stare down at your feet - just to avoid meeting his eyes.

You’d barely given him another thought until, the next day, you saw him again. This time it was in a cafe. You had felt someone’s eyes on you and glanced around until you landed on him. He was sat across the room, a lonely white teacup in front of him. He had that same soulless look in his eyes, this time paired with a faint smile. It chilled you again. Was he following you? Or was it just coincidence?

It happened again. And again. Across the street, him standing there, or in supermarket aisles, or on subway cars. Always on subway cars. You debated approaching him, asking him why he was following you around. But sometimes, late at night, you would stare at the ceiling and think about him. His perfectly symmetrical features, crisp, laundered suits - you’d gotten lucky in the stalker lottery, that was for sure. The idea was ridiculous, anyway, people like you didn’t get stalkers. You were utterly normal, boring, even. Things like that only happened in movies.

It had finally come to a head when you went out one night with a couple friends. It was the end of the first semester, so you had all decided to go out and celebrate. Turns out, you may have celebrated too hard. You were somewhere between five and ten drinks (who was counting anyway?) when you caught sight of him across the bar. You slide off your stool, the faint protests of your friends drowned out by the thudding club music. You sway on your feet slightly as you approach him, which seemed to amuse him, a smirk playing on his lips.

Once you reach him he pats the stool in front of him with a wide palm. His eyes never leave yours. The drink in your system seems to swirl the features on his face slightly, but it was definitely him. He doesn’t have a glass beside him, but his briefcase is laid on the bar, its glossy surface reflecting the multicoloured club lights.

“I was waiting for you,” he says. His voice is thick and dark. You’d never heard it before. You had imagined what it sounded like, how he might’ve said your name. Or what it would be like if he whispered closely into your ear.

“Who- who are you?” You say clumsily, surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was a different you. Confident. Abrupt.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he replies, smiling faintly. His hand, very large and covered in spidering veins, is spread on his thigh. It’s an inviting gesture. You instinctively lean into him.

“I’ve seen you before,” you say, tilting your head, “on the subway. And in the coffee shop.”

“Correct,” he smirks, altering the symmetry of his features. But the smile never reaches his eyes.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask. You press a hand against the bar to steady yourself. Everything in the room, aside from him, mixes and bleeds into incoherent colours.

“You’re very drunk,” he states, the smile never leaving his face, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m fine,” you wave a floppy hand at his face, but he abruptly catches your wrist in the air, his fingers like a vice. Your breath is caught in your throat at the pressure of his grip, draining all the blood until his fingers leave thick white marks on your skin.

“What are you-“

“Just relax,” he says, his voice a smooth purr in your ears, “I’m going to order us a drink.”

He lowers your hand, never letting go, and calls the bartender over. You can’t quite hear what he orders, but he holds up two fingers before turning back to you. Your head swims with alarm bells. The pain that floods your arm, mixed with the cold look in his eyes and your clear lack of personal autonomy - you’re very close to fight or flight altogether. He can see this. His mouth presses into a tight line and his grip on you, somehow, becomes even more firm.

“Please,” he says, but there is no pleading in his voice, “try to calm down.”

“Let go of me,” you squirm, pulling at his hand in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. He doesn’t even shift. If it came to it, you would be entirely at his mercy once he got his hands on you. The thought makes you freeze in your chair.

“That’s it. Much better. You’re a fast learner,” he loosens his hand and you sigh in relief.

The drinks arrive and he slides one over to you. His glass sits, untouched, as he urges you to take a sip of yours. You aren’t sure why, but something in his eyes makes you obey. Maybe it’s the satisfaction once you do - it fills you with a strange sort of feeling. You quite like pleasing him.

A few moments later, you try to stand up. “I need the bathroom.”

“Hm,” he says, watching you with uncertainty, “I’m not sure. You don’t look very well.”

“Exactly,” you say, stepping away. The floor seems to rise and fall like a wave beneath your feet. You stumble, but he catches you, his fingers spread across your abdomen.

“Let me help you,” he suggests, as though you could even object.

He leads you through the weaving crowds, all dancing and throwing their bodies around like rag dolls. You stare up at him, the curve of his features haloed by the spotlights. He’d picked up his suit case in the process of helping you, and it swung at his side, his other arm looped around your waist. Even in heels he towers over you. When the cold air hits your face, you realise he is not, in fact, leading you to the bathroom. You open your mouth to say something, but find that the words die in your throat. Your face feels entirely numb and your feet begin to drag behind you. He makes a small noise of frustration as he lifts you up, hooking a hand beneath your arm to hold you higher off the ground.

Your vision grows blurrier once he opens a car door and sets you down inside, sliding in beside you. Then, you finally black out.

-

“Ah, there you are.” He says, a towering shadow standing before you. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

You blink your eyes open. Instantly, your head begins to pound and you groan at the pain. Your neck falls back against something solid, and you slowly glance around to find that your limbs are bound to some sort of chair. Your wrists are pulled behind your back as well as your feet, tied to either leg with thick cord. Memories of earlier that night fly past your eyes in an instant as you struggle against the binding. But the more you pull, the more it hurts, and he seems to enjoy this fact. You squint up at him to see his face a mask of utter satisfaction, clearly proud of his handiwork.

His empty, dead eyes, black despite the vibrancy of the lighting. His thick, rough fingers curled around your wrist. You taking a deep swig of whatever drink he had gotten you. And the sound of a car door slamming. Then nothing. He’d kidnapped you. He’d spiked your drink and fucking kidnapped you and now you were going to die here, in this dark apartment and left for dead. You were just another one of those sad murdered girls that die and end up on a podcast a decade later.

“Don’t squirm,” he says, moving to stand before you. You crane your neck to look up at him. Half of his face is shrouded in darkness, the other glowing from the dim red lighting of his apartment. Atmospheric.

“What the-“ you try to get a sense of your surroundings, but the after effects of the alcohol and whatever he had drugged you with made it difficult. Everything feels hazy and undefined. Aside from him. His figure is perfectly distinguishable. You recognise his same suit from earlier: jet black, and he must have fixed his hair, too.

“You’re quite small,” he says, watching you, amused, “I probably gave you too much. Took you a long while to wake up.”

You try to scream. Your voice wavers, a pathetic noise escaping. He chuckles darkly at your weak attempt.

“There’s really no point. No one can hear you.” His black eyes glitter as he says it. God. You’ve been kidnapped by a fucking sadist.

You try again but exhaustion overwhelms you. Your eyes fall to the window, which spans from floor to ceiling. The nighttime Seoul skyline stretches across - you’re in a high rise, presumably a penthouse. Is it his apartment? The air feels hot and close, even more so when you meet his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he says. Your head whips around at the statement. A game?He doesn’t even have the mercy to make it quick.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he lifts his briefcase onto the low table before you, then clicks the latches and opens it slowly, as though savouring the moment. His every movement makes your skin prickle with uncertainty - everything about him is unpredictable. Bile rises in your throat once you see what sits inside the case. A gun.

“Russian roulette,” he takes it out carefully with two hands, the same way you would hold a precious gemstone. The steel barrel glints in the light like a winking eye.

“Oh god,” you whisper beneath your breath.

“You have heard of it. Good,” he smiles at you emptily, curling his fingers around the grip.

“Of course I have,” you say quietly.

“Then you know the rules,” he moves to sit in a chair opposite you, neatly two feet away. The table separates you, but it is low enough that he’s able to get a full view of you. His eyes rake you from head to toe, landing on the hem of your dress. It rides up slightly, but you���re unable to fix it with your hands bound. You try your best to squeeze your legs together and hide yourself.

He turns the case and lifts out a single bullet, slotting it into the barrel. Your gut twists with fear as he spins the barrel and clicks it in with a flourish that is sickeningly attractive. Everything about him is a juxtaposition. His clean suits that fit his frame perfectly, yet are eerily formal for every occasion. His hollow eyes that chill your bones but also draw you in with an odd curiosity you can’t resist. Every aspect of him leaves you wanting more. But you can’t think this way about him, can you? Not when he is so clearly dying to hurt you.

He leans forward, the gun hanging from his hand. “Your odds of survival are five in six. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to- are you some sort of serial killer?” You gasp helplessly.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m a man of business.”

“And your business is murder?” You add sarcastically, watching his face closely.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You’re different. Most people would be begging for their life by now.”

“I’m obviously going to die here. What’s the point in begging?” The words are empty as you say them. You’d already accepted your fate by this point.

His eyes glitter. “Maybe you should beg.”

You press your lips together. The prospect is tempting. “Did you still kill those other people? Even though they begged?”

“Now, now,” he twists the gun, watching his own reflection in the metal, “that would spoil the surprise.”

You don’t respond.

“Besides,” his teeth flash as he speaks, perfectly straight, “as I said, five in six. It’s more of a chance than I gave the ‘others’.”

The high odds must mean he’s holding out for you beg. For him. For your life. You watch, sickened, as he sets the gun on the table and places a large hand over it. “Now to decide who goes first.”

Your throat tightens when he grips the barrel and spins the gun on the table like a children’s toy. The sound of the metal on the glass surface sends needles over your skin. The sound of death being delivered. Round and round. Round and round. He watches it with a terrifying anticipation. The corners of his mouth curl upward, the smile finally reaching his eyes, which sparkle manically, following the gun’s movement. It slows to a halt. And It’s facing you.

You slump in your chair. He slowly looks up at you, unmistakably eager to see you squirm. But you don’t. You watch him with a steely gaze as he picks it up and points the barrel to your forehead.

“You first,” his voice sounds different. Finally, the reality of his nature seeps through. This is the real him.

“Just do it,” you mumbled, looking at your feet.

He leans towards you across the table. You glance up to watch the movement, then freeze. Utter terror jolts through you. Then something else. This is a different man.

“Are you scared?” He says so quietly you almost don’t hear it. He leans closer. And closer. The gun forms a barrier between the two of you, and you watch it steadily until it is barely millimetres from your forehead.

“I said,” you wince as you feel the heat of his breath on your face, “are you scared?”

The truth? Or not? “Yes,” you whisper, meeting his eyes. Something you can only describe as lust shines in them. God.

“You’re crying,” he says breathily. You flinch as he moves the tip of the gun, flicking away a tear on your cheekbone with it. You shiver when the cold metal meets your skin.

“Are you going to do it, or what?” You say distantly.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” his voice is almost a growl.

You debate satisfying his clear desire. Would he be merciful if you did? “Scared.” You whisper breathlessly.

He nods once. “Carry on.”

“I don’t-“

“Scared of me? Or this,” he traces the muzzle of the gun across your face, making you twitch with every movement. Tears begin to fall, thicker this time, and you fight back sobs that threaten to escape.

“Of you,” you say breathlessly. He exhales at the words, his mouth opening slightly.

“Really?” His eyes shimmer, then he pauses, bringing the gun to the center of your forehead once again.

You hold your breath, anticipating his finger pulling the trigger. Would you feel anything if it fired? He presses it down as slowly as possible, then - click. Nothing. You collapse back into your chair, chest heaving with the release of your bated breath. He leans back again, clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his chair. You don’t watch him, but you hear the click of the chamber and know that it’s his turn.

“See? Nothing to be scared of,” he says it with a cat-like smile, though you know the words hold no sympathy for you. He brings the gun to the side of his temple, his eyes never leaving yours. A strand of hair has escaped and hangs over his terrifyingly handsome features. A part of you wants to play into this fantasy - squirm around and scream for him. That part almost takes over when you see his mouth curve into a smirk as he presses the trigger down. And nothing. His self-assurance is painfully appealing.

“This is going well, isn’t it?” He stands up this time, stepping around the table and towards you.

“Please,” you can’t help the tears from falling this time, “no more, I’ll do anything. Anything.”

He tilts his head, pouting at you. “Now you decide to beg? It’s too late for that I’m afraid, sweetheart.”

The muzzle grazes the edge of your lips, cool but strangely relieving. At least it isn’t his lips. Kissing him would feel like sealing your fate.

Your eyes widen when you realise. “But you didn’t spin the barrel!”

He doesn’t stir at your realisation. “Makes the game more interesting, don’t you think?”

You tug against the cable at your wrists, not even caring about the pain of it scraping your skin. You feel small and pitiable beneath him, but you still struggle in your seat despite the futility. He just watches you squirm, the gun dangling from his hand, not even a smile on his face. You strain your voice to scream, and this time the noise carries. He tilts his head at you.

“Scream like that again and I might have to cover your mouth,” he bends down to be level with your eyes.

You open your mouth again to scream, but he grabs your chin, forcing it to stay open. You gasp at the forcefulness of his grip, and he parts his own lips. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly as the gun enters your line of sight. Teasingly, he brings it closer to your face, then slips it into your mouth. Your breath catches at how cold it feels against your tongue.

“Hmm,” he watches you curl the tip of your tongue over the muzzle, his fingers pressing tighter against your skin.

Something compels you to move, so you do. You lean forward, taking it deeper into your mouth until you feel the muzzle graze the back of your throat. You fight the urge to choke. A single tear falls from your eye, left over from your last outburst, and lands on his hand. His smile suddenly falls and something dark descends over him. He presses the trigger with no warning.

You cry out and he pulls the gun swiftly from your mouth, a string of saliva still connected. He examines the dampness that your mouth has left on the steel and inhales deeply, as if composing himself.

“That’s not fair,” you gasp, your hair falling around you as you lean forward.

He grabs a fistful of the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. He bends down to meet your eyes as he pulls your hair harder, making you yelp. “What isn’t fair, hm?” He prompts you to speak, though your heart beats so erratically you aren’t sure you can respond.

“Don’t feel like talking? That’s alright,” he brings the gun back into your eye line, but you squeeze your eyes shut, rejecting him.

He makes a frustrated noise in his throat. Then, suddenly, he forces you back against your chair, taking a hold of your throat. You choke as he presses tighter against your windpipe, forcing the air out of you until tears stream from your eyes. He takes the tears as an indication to loosen his grip, and you take in lungfuls of air when he does. He never lets go, though, keeping you flat against the chair and completely in control.

Your chest is open for him as he traces the muzzle from your neck to collarbone, ghosting over the protruding bones. You whimper slightly as he moves it even lower, the icy metal a shock against the curve of your breast. The dress you decided to wear earlier feels like a foolish decision now. The thin material is the only barrier that holds your dignity in place.

You are acutely aware of his movements. He watches the muzzle slide against your skin, making a noise almost like a purr when you react. He swallows when it runs over the bump of your nipple and you arch your back in response.

“You seemed so innocent back in that bar,” he says huskily, eyes flicking up to watch you. He continues running the gun over your nipple, the movements slow and torturous. “But you’re not anymore, are you?”

You don’t respond, too focused on the things that he is doing to you. This is his torture. He makes it so you can barely find the words to speak, then punishes you when you don’t.

He draws a cool, straight line to the flat of your lower stomach, then toward the hem of your dress. He lifts it ever so slightly with the tip of the muzzle and looks up at you. “If you’re going to beg, do it now.” The words are commanding, barely a suggestion. You watch as he pulls off his blazer, revealing his shirt which strains over his chest. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, and you catch sight of roping veins bulging from his skin. Your skin prickles with anticipation.

“Please,” you gasp, barely registering the words, “please don’t. Please. I’m begging you. I’m begging.”

You nearly scream when he bends down and pulls your legs open with one hand. You struggle more against your bindings, rejecting his advances. He doesn’t stop. You whimper as he rips your underwear down to your ankles. Then, abruptly, he forces the gun inside you. You let out a strangled noise.

“Look at that,” he says, voice deeply amused, “already wet. Who would’ve guessed you were such a whore?”

You cry out at the feeling of the gun stretching you uncomfortably wide. He tuts arrogantly, pushing it in deeper until you arch against it. Then, he pulls it out and stands up, letting go of your throat. You gasp with relief, chest heaving, and he examines the gun in the low light. Your arousal paints it, making the metal glisten.

He moves closer to you, the plane of his hips obstructing your vision. A clear boner strains against the fabric of his trousers. You collapse in your chair hopelessly, the shock of the gun entering you still present in your mind. He grabs your jaw again, pulling your mouth open.

“Taste it,” his voice is empty. Lust clouds his eyes, a dark mist. More hair has escaped, hanging over his forehead, and sweat glistens on his brow. His dress shirt has been disturbed in all his vigorous movement. His tie lays off centre and slightly looser than before.

Obediently, you stick out your tongue, running it over the barrel. But you barely taste anything. The room spins around you like a carousel and your head feels light. It must be the adrenaline.

“Good girl,” his voice is deep and breathy. His chin inclines as he observes your tongue taking in your own arousal.

You hardly register it as he bends back down to one knee. Then, all at once, your senses return to you. He ghosts the gun over the hard bump of your clit, forcing a strangled noise to escape from your throat.

“There you are,” he hums, satisfied.

You can feel the wetness practically dripping out of you. He slips his index finger inside, almost experimentally, curling his finger. It enters too easily, so he pushes in his middle finger, and you gasp at the intrusion. He’s stretching you wider than the gun now - and he knows it. You’re still aware of the gun pressed against your clit, a cold, hard pressure that raises goosebumps on your skin.

Floaters dance past your vision. You let your neck fall back over the chair, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling. Your heart hammers harder with every pull of his fingers. You hear him make small satisfied hums at the wet sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and uncurling. You feel heat pool in your stomach. You’re close, but he shows no mercy, still fingering you with ever-mounting speed. Then, he pulls out his fingers once more and swiftly replaces them with the gun.

“We’re two shots down,” he says feverishly, “what if I pulled the trigger now?”

He looks up at you to watch your expression. You open your mouth to beg for your life, but find that the words die in your mouth. He picks up speed, the gun reaching a spot inside you that makes your toes curl. The possibility that he could easily kill you now seems to make your orgasm arrive even more intensely. You hear him grunt as he pulses in and out, faster, faster-

You collapse in your chair. The release is gratifying, yet humbling. The reality of your situation dawns on you as the pressure leaves your gut, and he pulls the gun out. He stands to his full height, the shadow of his figure being cast over you. His boner strains even harder against his trousers, a clear outline now. He sets the gun on the table behind him and adjusts himself, clearing his throat and wiping his hands on his thighs.

You aren’t sure if you have an ounce of self preservation left inside you. He knows this, and revels in it. The room stops spinning, coming to a still and finally grounding you. The light reveals his whole face as he leans over you and tucks the hair behind your ears with both hands. The gesture is almost too affectionate that it feels pretend. You aren’t sure that he is capable of aftercare.

“Well done,” he says, though you don’t feel like you’ve done a good job at all. He used you, and somehow, you let him.

You can’t find any words to reply with. He leans closer, eyes on your lips, his mouth parted slightly. His breath warms your face. You suck in air as he grazes two fingers over the wetness between your legs in a final gesture. He slowly pulls your underwear back over you in a strangely gentlemanly manner. You frantically search his face as the realisation that you didn’t actually die descends over you. He let you live. Why?

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he chuckles, lips still millimetres from yours. He presses his middle and ring finger to your mouth and you taste the saltiness of his skin. Then he pulls away. Strangely, you lean forward, wanting more of him. But he doesn’t fulfill your wish. He turns his back to you and leans over the case, which is still open on the table. You crane your neck to try and catch a glimpse of what he’s doing but his back is too wide for you to see.

Then he turns to you, his previous empty smile back on his face. The pleasure you just felt is quickly replaced by fear. He stands over you once again and slips a square of card inside your dress and into the cup of your bra. You make a curious noise, attempting to move your arm and then stopping when you remember that you’re still bound to the chair. Finally, he makes an apologetic face, before slipping the needle into your skin.

Oh.

—

You wake up in your bedroom, curled up on your bed wearing last night’s clothes. The strap of your dress hangs off your shoulder, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder. You shiver. Was it really all a dream? How much did you drink last night? You have no memory of coming back to your flat. No memory of falling asleep. Only the memory of him - his perfect face, glistening with sweat and his fingers wet with your arousal. You feel sickened with yourself that you could conjure up such a dream.

Then, you sit up. Something falls from the front of your dress and flutters onto the bedding. A square of brown card. You pick it up, squinting closely to examine it. A number, written in thick black type. Your heart skips. It couldn’t have been a dream. It couldn’t. You remembered him slipping a piece of card into your bra. Where else would you have gotten this from?

Something compels you to pick up your phone. Something wrong. Something not like yourself at all. That night, what he did to you, flipped a switch inside you. That same part of you types in the number. Presses dial. Waits to hear it ring. Once. Twice.

“Hello?” You say, too eagerly. The line is silent.

Then, a voice. Painfully familiar. He pauses, then speaks: “This Friday. Ten. Be ready.”

He hangs up. You were ready before he picked up the phone.

[buck-star]

Te iubesc

Bucky, your best friend, has to confess something. But instead of just saying it out loud, he uses a little trick to help him say it.

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.337 Words

Warnings/Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pinning, love confession

Authors Note: Beta’d by my favorite person @thevillainswhore. Te iubesc, thank you so much. Also for the editing of the photos! You’re the best!❤️❤️

Events: Bucky Barnes Bingo [BO23 | K4 | Avengers | @buckybarnesbingo], Marvel-OC-Hub-Bingo [Row Two-Three | It was always you | @marvel-oc-hub]

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The sun is shining beautifully down onto the white snow that covers the ground like a fluffy blanket. It reflects the warm yellow of the sun brightening up the living room. You watch Steve and Tony talking to Thor outside of the big building, probably planning the next mission - or waiting for one of them paying less attention to land with the force of two other men in the snow.

A soft smile plays at your lips, causing the corners of your lips to twitch with amusement. Who might be the first to get a bunch of snow in their face or fly into the soft fluffy coldness you wonder?

“They will throw Tony into the snow first, dragă mea,” Bucky’s soft voice comes from behind you. You turn slowly around, watching the broad super-soldier standing in the door-frame of the living room. His ocean blue orbs are focused on you, softness and love visible in them while he has the most beautiful smile plastered on his handsome face.

You laugh softly, leaning back on the couch while you let your eyes roam shamelessly over the muscular body of your favorite super-soldier. Bucky pushes himself off the frame and walks closer to you, his steps surprisingly quiet for the wall of muscles he literally is. Your best friend lets himself fall down next to you on the couch, leaning back while he automatically spreads his thick thighs.

“Poor, tiny Tony,” you giggle, turning to the windows again to see if they already started to throw one another into the snow and the moment you turn, you see the smaller man flying into the snow. Thor and Steve give one another a high five, before Steve is the next who lands with his face first in the snow. “Steve got face palmed by the snow.”

Bucky bursts out laughing next to you, something so bare and innocent. Two years ago, you never would have thought that this man, who was only known for his PTSD and staring problem, would actually be such a soft man, who has the most beautiful and heartwarming laugh possible. But there he is, laughing like his past doesn’t exist; his nose scrunches slightly and the freckles around his eyes are more visible, making him so much cuter.

“Face palmed by the snow,” he chuckles, shaking his head. His blue eyes settle on your face again when you turn toward him, nodding softly. The brunette's metal arm slides behind your head over the backrest of the couch and he shifts in his seat. “I thought about something, dragă mea.”

“About being face palmed by the snow too?” You ask, giggling. Bucky shakes his head, letting his cold digits run over your shoulder to your neck and back down your shoulder. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and Bucky’s smile widens when he notices, letting his fingers trail south along your collarbone. His touch is light and tender, feeling like a feather tickling you slightly.

“Not really, but if it would make you happy,” he chuckles. His eyes glisten softly as he leans closer to you. Of course, he always wants to please everyone, he would agree to a lot just to make others happy — to make you happy. “You always look so excited when I speak Romanian, so I thought since it's just you and me, I could teach you some things.”

The grin on his face and the mischievous glint in his eyes has your attention for a moment. It's not just because you're excited when he does it, it's something that lights the fire of desire deep inside of him. But you nod, agreeing to his offer. Not just because you want to get to know more about the sparkle in his eyes but also because of the opportunity to listen to him speaking in Romanian for you.

He crosses his legs, keeping the soft motion of his fingers along your collarbone and up and down your shoulder. “First one, it's an easy one. Te iubesc.”

His voice sounds even softer when he speaks in another language and you enjoy the syllables echoing through your mind for a moment longer. You clear your throat. “Te iubesc.”

Bucky's heart flutters, knowing you have no idea what you just said but hearing those word makes the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, before he leans his head back and closes his eyes. It sounds perfect when you say it, maybe he should make you say it more often — of course, he should. He needs to hear you say it, over and over again. Bucky knows he could never get tired of it.

“Şi eu te iubesc, lubirea mea” he replies, waiting for your reaction. You narrow your eyes, titling your head slightly in confusion. Bucky chuckles, leaning closer, his warm breath against your neck and you shiver slightly. The brunette blows softly against the soft, warm skin of your neck, noticing the hitch of your breath. “I love you too, my love.”

You pull back slightly, looking at him with widened eyes. Bucky studies your expression for a moment, a flash of concern and uncertainty visible on his face. He keeps his hand on your shoulder, wanting — needing — to feel your warmth underneath his fingers. You keep staring at him, slowly bringing your hands to capture his face. Your tips brush the soft stubble on his face and a soft smile forms on your lips again.

“Do you mean it? I mean, do you—” you interrupt yourself, searching for anything in his eyes that it was just a joke. But there is nothing but honesty and love, not a hint that it was a joke or just some lesson in Romanian. “You really mean it?”

Bucky nods. He chuckles softly, wondering if it wasn’t obvious before. “Didn't you notice? Everyone called me out that I was so obvious,” he chuckles, leaning closer again. “I was afraid to tell you, didn't know how. You know me from the very start after being the winter soldier, I was afraid you see nothing but a victim in me.”

He takes a shaky breath, moving a strand of your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. For a moment his eyes move around, settling on the scene of Steve, Thor and Tony throwing snow at one another. He then brings his ocean blue eyes back to yours, a soft sigh escapes his plump lips.

“Steve and Nat assured me that you don't see me as just that. And I—” Bucky mumbles softly, his fingers stroking your cheekbone, while he leans further into the soft touch of your hands still capturing his cheeks. “I still didn't know how to tell you. But I thought when I make you say I love you to me then I could say I love you too.”

“Şi eu te iubesc, Bucky,” you whisper, leaning closer until your lips are only inches away from his. Bucky’s smile grows and he breaks the distance between the two of you, pressing his plump, soft lips against yours. Your heartbeat increases and a low chuckles rumbles through Bucky’s chest.

He traces his thumb along your jaw, pulling slightly back after a moment. “Înseamnă că te iubesc mai mult decăt orice pe lumea asta,” he whispers against your lips with a soft smile. Bucky then leans closer once again, pecking your lips. “Before you wonder, it means, I love you more than anyone or anything in the whole universe.”

“Şi eu te iubesc mai mult dec—” you stumble over your words, huffing with frustration. Bucky chuckles softly, pulling you closer again.

“I know,” he mumbles, his lips touching yours. “Let me enjoy the sweet taste for a moment longer and then we can face palm the snow,” Bucky laughs before he kisses you once more. And the soft feeling of his lips and his smell surrounding you lets you feel like you’re home — definiția ta a casei.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories [add yourself]

[amdiriel]

lonely

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: Reader, the second Archeron sister, finds herself overwhelmed by the sight of her sisters in their respective happinesses one day. Luckily Azriel stops by her room in time to comfort her.

WARNINGS: feelings of loneliness (real), fluff, Azriel being hot (that’s a given), slight suggestiveness at the end, first time writing

NOTE: hey, i’m diri! been sort of a silent spectator on this tag for a while but then i wrote this and thought hell why not!!

WORDS: 2.5k

main masterlist

•••

The emptiness of loneliness burned hollowly in my chest, blooming when I entered my room at last, stumbled onto my bed.

Pathetically, I just wanted what my sisters had. I didn't dare show it, but I ached to be held, loved, to love fiercely and be happily, healthily devoted to someone.

I wanted to be touched and adored. I wanted to build a life with someone. To not have to look, wish, hope, or dream about it anymore.

My knees curled up under my chin as I sat there in the nest of my bedding, looking blankly at the wall as the tears came.

I hadn't realized that I had been softly weeping until the knock came to my door. Fuck. I heard his soft, beautiful voice announcing himself, asking to come in.

When I don't reply, frozen in terror that he'll come in and see me in this state, Azriel calls my name again in question. I know he can sense me behind the door, and when I sniff, he calls lowly, "I'm coming in."

Panic sweeps through me as he pushes open the door, eyes falling on me in concern as I wipe at my face. The book he borrowed from me goes from his hand to a side table as he comes to me, forgotten. "Hey. Hey, what's going on?" he asks with the softest tenderness I've ever heard him speak. To know that it was reserved for me makes my chest ache for it even more, and another little sob slips from me. He sits on my bed and reaches for me, hands going to my arms and rubbing up and down.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, shaking my head and trying to draw back and wipe my face. He doesn’t release me.

“No,” he says firmly, squeezing my arms. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Let me help you.”

I shake my head again, can’t seem to stop, trying to wave him off. “It’s not something you can help with,” I rasp. “It’s my own shit, I’ll deal with it—“

“Tell me what’s going on.” His tone brooks no argument.

I can’t speak for a long moment, for several long moments. The words are embarrassing, stuck like molasses on my tongue. To say them would be to humiliate myself. But he isn’t relenting. I realize that five hundred years of extracting information from people as spymaster had made him patient in a way I could never outpace.

“It’s just hard,” I finally settle on, not quite processing my own words. “It’s hard seeing them—my sisters, I mean. Sorry, I think I’m just tired, out of it—“ He shakes his head with a squeeze of my arms.

“Stop trying to excuse your feelings. It’s merely how you feel,” he murmurs, watching me carefully. A breath puffs uncomfortably in my chest, but I go on.

“I’ve always made myself content in the fact that something like that didn’t really happen to people like me. I’ve never known why,” I rasp, the color finally rising in my cheeks as I gear up to admit, “But I’m—“ I choke. “I just see them and I feel so lonely.”

His expression shutters and his eyes soften. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking my arms. To hear that word from his lips is already a shock, but knowing it’s directed at me makes me fall apart more.

“I’m not one for self pity, ever,” I get out as another cry raises the pitch of my voice. “I just feel so alone.”

A huff of a sigh leaves Azriel’s lips and he draws me forward. “Come here.”

My breath shudders in my chest as I try not to lose it, try to calm myself as the tears stream hotly down my face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I feel ridiculous. It just hurts sometimes. Right here.” I rub my chest where the hollow ache is.

He hums and soon I’m in his arms. He gently scoops me onto his lap and tucks my head into the crook of his neck. He’s so warm, so strong, and smells so good that I shudder again and let myself break in his embrace.

His hushing and stroking over my hair lulls me as every bad feeling seeps out of my body. He holds me quietly until my crying ceases, until my shaking stills. Until I am merely breathing tiredly against him.

I could fall asleep like this, could die peacefully here. His hand strokes my hair again. “Feel better?” he asks, his voice a quiet rumble that rumbles in his chest, therefore mine.

I blush profusely at how ridiculous I’m being, but make no move. I nod. I can’t move, can’t look at him. I must be the silliest, most ridiculous woman—female, I correct mentally—at my age that he’s ever seen. He’s centuries old and has a better grip on things than I do. I know he feels bad for me, but any respect he had before must have loosened considerably in the minutes he’s seen me in this state.

As I’m trying to overcome my embarrassment, he strokes my hair softly and begins on a murmur, “I get this way too. I feel it right in my chest, like you said. I have for a long time.” I don’t dare breathe or move. He’s revealing very vulnerable feelings and I fear one move will scare him off. He sighs. “It is difficult—seeing everyone pair off and be happy. Just as difficult to see my brothers as it is for you to see your sisters that way. But you aren’t alone. You’re never alone.”

I sigh, whispering haltingly, “I know. But—it isn’t the same, is it?”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t,” he concedes, “But you shouldn’t doubt that you’ll find that. You’re more than deserving of it.”

A little flutter in my chest, and of all things, a smile blooms on my face. “You are too, Azriel.”

I feel his smile against my hair.

I sigh and draw away even as my body screams in argument, not looking him completely in the eye. “I really am sorry. For—this.” I gesture nonsensically between us, eyeing the wet stain at the collar of his shirt with a small wince. “I really am not usually like this,” I grumble.

His soft chuckle draws my eyes to his face, and I find him looking down at me softly, amusedly. “I know. You’re usually very formidable, self-assured. It was a surprise to see you so…” I raise my brows as he searches for the word, something he usually never has to. “Weighed down,” he settles on.

I don’t know what to say. I settle on a small shrug of my shoulder as I take my sleeve and wipe my face again, sighing as a calm settles over me again.

When I glance back over at him, he’s still observing me quietly. “What?” I croak.

“Nothing,” he says softly with a shrewd yet not unkind look in his eye. “It’s just funny.” I frown, but he continues on before I can interrupt. “You give yourself a private moment to let it out, then you reset. Like nothing happened.”

I feel a heat in my face at the accuracy.

“It’s funny because, well,” he shrugs, “It reminds me of myself.”

I glance warily over him with questioning tilt of my head. “You don’t seem like the type to deal in self-pity. Or crying at all for that matter,” I reply wryly.

His lip curls in amusement, and something hot curls in my stomach at the sight of it. My expression remains carefully composed, as it always is. “I have my moments,” is all he says.

I roll my eyes, shifting on the bed and sniffing. “Cryptic as always too.”

His laugh is quiet yet rumbling, and even though we don’t touch anymore, I feel the sound tumble deliciously through my muscles and bones, all over my body. “There she is,” he practically drawls, mirth lighting his hazel eyes. Cauldron bloody boil me.

Then he softens again. “But know that anytime you feel like this, you don’t need to wait for a private moment to yourself. Come talk to me,” he offers. Tingling warmth blooms in my chest. In my handful of years since turning fae and finding my place in Velaris, he’s been a kind but somewhat infrequent friend due to his busy nature. “What you feel isn’t anything to be ashamed of, and I’d rather you not bottle it all up.”

I eye the impenetrable Spymaster again, brow raised. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, aren’t you?”

He laughs in earnest now, and I watch in wonder as it lightens his features. And again that sound—

I’d been careful not to let my foolish mind not delve too deep in daydreaming about the silent, beautiful specter I had met in my house in the human lands those years ago. Everything about the fae then and even now had just seemed so elevated above my little life. And as hard as I worked, as skilled as I had become with my new body and abilities, I still felt like a complete novice, like a schoolgirl amongst grown men and women most days.

So no. I would not be the fool that fell for the male way above her very modest level, not when I knew he’d be too nice about it, and make me feel even more like the fool.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice breaks through my reverie. He’s eyeing me with amusement now, and a hint of fondness.

I force the heat creeping to my cheeks way down within the depths of myself, determined not to make more of a fool of myself than I already have. “Just wondering why you came in here. I wasn’t—“ A blush rises to my cheeks in earnest now. “You couldn’t hear me crying from the hall, could you?”

He shakes his head, hands creeping forward over my bedspread as though to placate me. “No, no. I just came to return the book you let me borrow,” he replies gently, and again my eyes fall to the book he had dropped on the table near my door as he came in to comfort me. Oh. Right. “You were right. I did like it.”

A small smile creeps up on my lips. “Of course I was right.” He chuckles again, and I relish that I can make him do so.

“Will it inflate your ego terribly if I tell you that you have surprisingly good taste?” he drawls. I let out a playfully indignant noise and gently shove his shoulder.

“Says you. You may be quiet, Shadowsinger, but don’t think I haven’t noticed you peacocking more than once,” I toss back. He draws closer with a little grin. Holy fuck.

“Well when I’m as talented as I am, why shouldn’t I?” he purrs, the most Rhys-like I’d ever seen him. I hold onto my composure for dear life.

“Yeah, well, you can take your peacocking and incredible talent off my bed and out of my room,” I retort with a scowl, shooing him as I fight blushing like a schoolgirl. He laughs, but slides smoothly off my bed and stands, hands raised in mock surrender.

I realize then that he had taken me from my depressive state, comforted me until I calmed, then goaded me until I smiled and bantered with him again.

His eyes go from mirthful to soft, and a beat passes where he’s looking down at me still sitting on my bed, and me at him. His lips quirk. “I’m glad you’re alright. Come to me with anything. I mean it,” he reiterates with gentle firmness. I nod my head.

He begins to leave, but I blurt his name and he halts. As soon as he looks at me again, I murmur, “Thank you.” He nods his head once, eyes kind.

I expect him to turn, to leave. But he steps toward me. I still as his hands gently hold the sides of my head, and he drops a single kiss to my hairline. I don’t move or breathe until he leaves the room with one last look at me over his shoulder.

My door snicks shut and a rush of breath leaves my mouth as my hands fly up to my face. My back finds the duvet.

I was fucked.

—

Azriel walks leisurely down the hall from her room back to his once more, musing on the hour that had just passed in her room.

He’d always found the second Archeron sister to be the most interesting female he’d ever met.

Clever, strong, funny. Beautiful, absolutely, in her own way. She was interesting to look at—that counted far more than conventionally beautiful.

The kind of person you don’t let get away.

He’d have to play this carefully. Had he had thoughts these past two-three years about the fact that they were both the remaining unmated ones of their respective sibling units? Yes. But he knew that even as it drew the two of them together in a careful dance around the line, it could also end very poorly if that was the only assumed reason that he wanted her.

Which it wasn’t.

Sometimes he curses that of his brothers, he hadn’t met her first. He could have, should have wooed her. Then, at least he could be enjoying the same felicity his damned brothers were currently enjoying with two of her sisters.

But she’s proving to be a tough one to crack.

It was no matter, he decides. He hadn’t failed to notice at least some attraction on her part. But she brushes off most things with a clever joke, much to his frustration.

Tonight had been a step forward. Even as it had killed him to see her in such a state, he thanked every bit of fate that led him to her room as she had been breaking.

So he could be the one to hold her, put her pieces back together.

He could have held her in his arms, in his lap until the day he died.

But he knew getting her to come back out, to grin and tease him again was more important than his selfish desires. And gods, what a sight she was when she did.

It was no matter, he thinks to himself again. He’d be patient. He’d be the person she’d lean on until he could make her want him. Maybe she’d allow him to touch her in the way he envisioned in his most needy moments in the dark of night. He enters his bedroom and sighs.

Fuck. It might be another one of those nights after all.

•••

NOTE: hey so uhhh if literally anyone cares i’ll make a part 2

[whysperingwoods]

I've had to block the "tarot reading" and "pick a card" and "pendulum reading" tags because otherwise the witchblr tag is completely unusable. I wish there was a way to stop those posts from showing up altogether instead of showing up but saying "this post is hidden". I also wish I could mute users without blocking them. I don't want to see AI generated crap constantly and the same correspondences posted over and over but I also don't necessarily want to ban this person from seeing my content (if there are ways to do this please let me know, I was off tumblr for a long time).

I also ran into the problem when starting to use this blog again of feeling like I needed to explain every single detail anytime I made a post, but even still someone will come onto it with an "um actually" and I feel the need to constantly justify myself with "this is MY practice and how EYE do things after 15+ years", like I can't explain 15 years of practice every single time and how I arrived at doing things a certain way.

I decided this year I'm just not doing educational posts anymore altogether. If someone has questions then I'm happy to help, and when I see questions I feel like I can contribute to I answer them, but I ended up spending so much time agonising over the perfect wording and making sure every single detail is covered so extensively that it ended up making me hate writing.

It's funny going over my posts from four years ago, there were so many actual discussions in the community and the witchblr tag was full of people just sharing their practices and talking about different methods and techniques. There was still fighting of course but it was a different kind I guess?

And there is so much constant virtue signalling it's becoming unbearable. Every few posts is calling out x behaviour or y behaviour but like I'm in the witchblr tag every day, and never see those behaviours being called out actually happening. Half the time I suspect people are making up something to be mad about or they say some ragebait thing on another site and they're posting it like it's a regular occurrence.

I think the leaning further and further into the realm of "you don't have to do anything to be a witch, as long as you feel like one" has done the community some damage. I understand this was meant to be inclusive, but at some point if you've never made a loaf of bread in your life, can you call yourself a baker? There does need to be some element of practice beyond reblogging aesthetic images in the name of a deity (I would argue that makes one more of a devotee than a practitioner?). How one practices is entirely personal, but "practice" implies there is some doing.

Maybe this is what folks are trying to do with the #advwitchblr tag? It's unfortunately still very slow moving, but I'm hoping more and more people catch on to using it. This is also why I made the Witchcraft Discussion community as an alternative to the Witchcraft community so it was focused more on discussion than memes and random stuff unrelated to witchcraft, but so far I'm the only person posting there.

Anyway sorry for rambling on your post but this has also been on my mind for a while lol

excuse my complaining but

i wish the witchcraft tags on here weren't clogged up with tarot asks and selfies and AI generated crap

bring back spells and rituals and masterposts and tarot deck reviews and people learning how to do magic for more than the aesthetic and views

please im begging at this point lmao

[quarterlifekitty]

net meet cute

aka: how they start cyberstalking you. Some of these are more on the innocent side, some are slightly more intense.

Gaz sees you pop up in the people you may know section. He most certainly doesn't know you, but you are his type. As it turns out, you have some ridiculously distant relation of people that leads to his circle of connections (you're like his sister's college roommate's wedding photographer's cousin or something). But that one little tether is enough to make him feel tugged.

Soap started following you for your artwork. He follows anyone who even remotely interests him, and he liked what you made. You become a name he looks forward to on his feed-- he feels a bit parasocial about it, he knows your body of work so well now. And one day, he sees you share a post you were tagged in: It's a photo of you with another artist, both holding up the pieces you'd made to trade each other at a convention. He'd known you were talented, he didn't realize you were gorgeous as well.

Ghost sees you in the background of a video Soap shows him. Some disgusting display where people are trying to identify liquids they're drinking. When it's your turn, your face twists and you stick out your tongue, a little patch dyed umber from the soy sauce you'd sipped. He does a little detective work, finds you have a tiny little channel of your own. Nothing with a consistent schedule, clearly just a hobby, but there are a few videos of you restoring old toys, repainting dolls faces and things like that-- usually just showing your hands, but he finds your voice so soothing and you work with such delicate precision. Pretty soon he's obsessed with you, and fantasizing about ending up on your work table.

Price has very few reasons to surf online, but he does have a guilty pleasure: r/AITA. He loves a bit of tabloid level gossip now and again, and its the perfect place for it. He can see the world's most delusional people hard at work. His favorite ones are when both sides are clearly deranged and meant for each other. But then he sees you, posting about your shitty boyfriend, and all too willing to take the blame for the sorry state of things. And he finds himself rather keen on showing you how girls like you ought to be treated, as well as kicking your current man in the teeth.

I've mentioned this before, but I think König meets you in an online game. At first, you never speak on the microphone, and he doesn't either, but you're quite good, and your playstyle compliments his rather well. So he sends you a friend request on a whim, you accept it, playing a few rounds before turning on the party-only voice chat. And once he can hear you when you thank him for tanking damage, or targeting a player who'd been flanking, or pinging a pick-up for you, he's cooked. Looking you up on every social, trying desperately to find pictures of you, because he's sure you'll be as pretty as you sound.

Nikolai find you on a movie review website. He watches movies by the dozen when he gets some time off, but he's admittedly a little bereft of discussion partners, so review suit him fine. He typically disagrees with most of them, partially because he's naturally a contrarian, partially because the majority of online reviews are made by casual watchers and not lifelong cinephiles. And he comes across you, having written one of the only full, multiple-paragraph reviews for the obscure little number he'd just watched. And it straight up made him smile. Your review was punchy, funny, addressed multiple areas including the score, cinematography, casting, and costuming, and he agreed with a surprising portion of it. What he didn't agree with, he was intrigued by. He looks at your page to see what else you've written. You've seen and shared thoughts on many of his favorites, but quite a few things he's never seen, as well. He ends up watching them all, and feels a certain perverse excitement when it comes time to read another review, like he's a teenager taking you on a third date. Before long he's wondering where you are, if you go to the cinema. If they have non-hostile airspace.

Nikto finds you on the staff of some insanely obscure wiki/ID forum. Like, you help run a website/blog that's devoted exclusively to soviet era stuffed animals produced in Sergiev Posad (formerly known as Zagorsk). You help people identify them from pictures, from vague descriptions sent in to you of something from their childhood. He doesn't know why, but he ends up searching up images from others, often from unpopular and defunct listings on marketplace/bidding sites just to send to you. Just to read what you have to say about the stitch markings and stylistic eyes and the little tab of fabric on the leg seam from where the tag was cut. Maybe he'll take it further, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll find out where you are, just to make sure you're safe. Maybe he'll have to keep you safe. People with hearts like yours don't last in this world.

[kouzih]

Freak. (pt2)

Nam-gyu ( Player 124 ) x gn!reader .ᐟ

warnings : insulting, spitting/saliva/drooling, biting, fingering, smut obviously, there's probably more but i'm too lazy to write 'em all..

tags,, @gongyoosgf , @dolion87

(cheers y'all!! 🥂) no proofread sorry, might have typos :(

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ You woke up with a headache, you hadn't been able to sleep for half the night anyway. Most people were still asleep, a good thing. You didn't see any reason to get out of your bed, your foot would naturally follow his path. Thinking back to the last night, you realize that your cheeks are starting to warm up. It's as if your sleep hasn't affected your recovery that much. But you can't get anything done by sleeping any more, so you figured you could use the bathroom.

You rubbed your eyes as you lazily threw your sheets aside, trying to walk down the metal stairs as quietly as you could so as not to wake the others. When you're at the bottom of the stairs, you arch your back to stretch. Causing a tiny whimper to come out of your mouth. You looked around to see if anyone else would stand up and go to the bathroom, but it looked like you would be the only one. At least there won't be anyone to bother you. As you make your way inside, you realize that there is no one. As you slowly close your door, you feel another hand holding, causing you to lighten your grip.

"Oh- sorry. I didn't think anyone would come." You mumbled, turning your head towards the sink in front of you. You turned on the tap,leaned over and let the cold water hit your face, hoping it would wake you up. But you couldn't hear any footsteps... except the sound of the door closing again. When you looked from the edge of the mirror, you saw Nam-gyu walking with a jumping gait, his head imitating the rhythm. You felt your body suddenly freeze there, your hands supporting themselves on the edges of the sink as water beads fell down from your face, the wet ends of your hair sticking to your face.

You heard him click his tongue, his head tilting slightly to the left side as he tucked the hair behind his ear. "You're soaked for me huh?" You squint your eyes and adjust your position so that you can see him more easily. Your eyes didn't stop watching him in the mirror as his steps approached behind you, his expression was indecipherable. Before you could open your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Don't even use your words to waste my time," One of his hands moves towards your elbow and slowly caresses it until it reaches your hand. "After last night, you didn't oven come to thank me.." The ends of his hair brushed behind your ear, making you feel smaller underneath him. "Not gonna lie, I'm hurt."

He was looking at you from the mirror and making eye contact, you felt your eyes tremble. One of his hands was lifting your cardigan up, allowing him to touch your bare skin. You wanted to turn your face to him but he didn't let you. Pressing his chest against your back, he dug his nails into your waist hard enough to make you hiss. "Nuh-uh..what do you think you're doing?" He rested his face on your shoulder, his eyes were examining your body in the mirror. His knee caressed the side of your leg, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you made room for him to reach your neck. Your eyes went to the corner of the mirror, the pinkness on your face making the man on top of you enjoy it even more.

As soon as the grip on your hand momentarily left, your eyes began searching for his hand. Only to realize he began playing with the zipper on the top of your cardigan. His hands shake the small metal lightly but his eyes weren't measuring your reaction, it was like he was busy with something else on his mind.. A barely audible sigh and your murmur cause him to lift his head. Caressing the top of his fingers, you lower the zipper, lazily brushing the fabric and hair around your neck back, revealing bare skin.

"You better be quick.."

"Relax, bitch." One finger went under your chin while the other wrapped around your throat. "You won't even realize how time passed."

You closed your eyes tightly, silently begging him to leave you alive. The hand that grips your bare skin slides up and down with such force that it touches the bones of your ribcage. He tilts your head even further to the side, forcing you to hold a very uncomfortable position. Nam-gyu's warm breath against your skin as he inhales your scent causes your body to shiver. His grip keeps you standing as your hands slip from the sink due to stress. His tongue tastes your neck, and the feeling of a few bites makes you part your lips. "M-mhm.." You couldn’t hold back your breathless moans anymore, noticing that your voice was rising Nam-gyu increased the pressure on his knee and mumbles something under his breath, but you were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t hear it at all. He starts to press his chest harder as he sucks on your neck, you could swear you felt a bone in your back.

The moment you opened your eyes, you heard Nam-gyu let out a loud moan. Definitely not loud enough to reach others. He insults himself under his breath as he removes his hand from your chin. A few drops of sweat run down the corners of your chin due to overwhelm, and you have a chance to swallow as you forcefully hold back your tears. Nam-gyu's hand goes to his own mouth, wrapping his fingers tightly around it so that his voice cannot be heard. Even if you try to fix your position, all you could was letting your forehead hit the mirror. Nam-gyu, on the other hand, took his hand out from under your t-shirt and started to move downwards.

The moment you realized that he was going to do what was on your mind, you quickly tried to lift yourself up by leaning one hand on the mirror, but when you felt a finger inside you, you could only cover your mouth and let out a muffled moan. "Y-you cant just..mhm.." Without warning you, he added a second finger, curving his fingers inside you. "Thought you wanted me to be quick..bitch." Nam-gyu takes his hand off his mouth and grabs your waist, suddenly pulling your body. The fact that you look like you're falling apart just by his touch makes him even more turned on. Hissing at you between breaths, he twirls his fingers inside you in a way that almost makes you faint.

Just a few seconds before reaching heaven, Nam-gyu pulls his fingers out while sucking on his teeth. "Don't think I'll let you finish that easily. Not before you beg me." Before you could even answer him, you lose your balance and try to hold on to him. But you only cause him to fall onto his back. You try to support yourself with your hands, your head hitting his shoulder. "Motherfucker..are you being serious." Nam-gyu moves into a sitting position as he rub his head, you still feel his hardness underneath you since you’re sitting on his lap. Your eyes drift to a pill that has fallen from the side of his pocket, and as you furrow your eyebrows, you see his hand quickly grab the pill from the side.

"Don't even try." He spits in your face before you can open your mouth as he glares at you angrily, causing your head to shake slightly. "Your ass ain't deserve this reward. Useless.." After letting out an irritated breath, you reach for the hem of your cardigan to wipe your face, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist. Nam-gyu pulls your hand down as he looks at you from below, one eyebrow raised. Throwing his head back he rolls his eyes, throwing your wrist aside. "..Fuck, you won't let me cum, will ya?" As he chews his cheek, he remembers the pill in his hand. "..Good thing you're good at being a slut." Nam-gyu changes his position slightly so that he can place one leg behind you, placing your hands on his shoulders as your confused expression follows his movements. After placing the pill on the tip of your tongue, Nam-gyu opens his mouth slightly and tilts his head up slightly, a signal for you to suck on it.

After swallowing, your grip on his shoulders tightens, and you pin your knees to the sides of his waist. As you were about to taste his lips, he allows the pill to slide off into his mouth and pushes your head tightly against his lips from the back. You respond to his push beneath his muddled moans, one hand gripping his hair as you tilt your head to the side to have more access. Even though you keep your eyes tightly shut, Nam-gyu watches you with his eyes half-open. You could swear he was smiling into the kiss. As his tongue conquers yours, you suck into his tongue. A few pieces of the broken pill pass right into your mouth. Nam-gyu smothers you with sloppy kisses without even letting you swallow before he pulls his head back for a few seconds. A small chuckle falling from his lips as he licks his lips. He uses his free hand to lean himself against the door of the nearest stall as he watches you swallow, each other’s hot breaths hitting your faces.

The slightly wet, pulsating bone between your legs makes you tilt your head down. You couldn't figure out what your next move should be as he looked at you with a passionate gaze that you couldn't read. "Hah..nevermind." You suddenly crash onto his lips after his eyes glanced to the side, towards the door. Making him gasp and let out a shaky breath, you caused him to hit his head on the stall's door. You pull away for breath after a long kissing session, your lips parted as his saliva drools into yours.

Noticing the tense expression on your face, Nam-gyu pushes you back, leaning his head against the door behind him and taking deep breaths. A toothy smile forms on his face as he lets both hands fall to his sides. "Fucking hell.." As his eyes drift downward, a loud voice catches both of your attention.

"Nam-suuuu!! Where are you bro!?" As you look at him with wide eyes, he quickly pulls you to your feet with him. Nam-gyu opens the door behind him and pushes you in. You hear the sound of clothes crinkling as he clears his throat. He quickly turns on the water and lets it hit his face. You hear him taking heavy breaths as you put both hands on your mouth to try to control your breathing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck.." Nam-gyu, who was surprised when the door opened, lefts a nervous chuckle.

"Hey."

"The fuck happened bro..look at you man!" You witnessed their footsteps and conversation for a few minutes. Nam-gyu, who had lied about the water suddenly exploding in his face, cleared his throat before leaving. You let out a shaky breath, leaning your hands on the door behind you. "If I see that guy one more time..I swear to god-" You opened the door slowly, brushing the hair that was stuck to your face, and looked at yourself in the mirror.

He really did tore you apart.

Fuck.

[oatmealwrites]

NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Gojo Satoru x F! Reader

Is it casual now?

Oncology student! Frat President! Fwb Satoru x Reader

holiday hoes masterlist here

regular masterlist here

Synopsis: Holiday season is always referred to as 'cuffing season' though he never really saw the point. Why want a real relationship when your casual affair offers everything he wants... or so he thought. Matching sweaters, gift wrapping, and sipping hot cocoa definitely isn't casual.. but it's all he wants for Christmas this year.

Tags: fwb, friends to lovers, Jealous! gojo, car sex, oral (m and f receiving), semi-public sex, helpless pinning on both sides, domestic fluff, shoko & utahime your roommates, wingman suguru, mentions of alcohol, some angst, satoru is bad communicator, making out, hickies, grinding, erection, face riding, missionary, p in v, creampie, aftercare, established relationship, fluff ending, 18+, MDNI

Word count: 11.5k (im cooking again)

a/n: sorry this took wayy to long, it's been a hectic week and a half as I get back to campus. BUT, my writing schedule should finally be stable! enjoy~

~~~~~~~

The windows of the white Mercedes have been fogged over for the past 10 minutes, and there were occasional shakes of the vehicle when you both shimmied into the backseat. The radio plays a mix of top 40 and residual holiday music while a cold winter wind howls outside. People scurry around the parking lot to enter the large shopping mall while others shuffle into their cars to avoid the harsh weather; everyone oblivious to what was happening in this vehicle. 

“Fuck… just like that princess…”

With your lips around his cock and globs of saliva dripping from your mouth, Satoru sits partially beneath you with his thighs splayed apart. Baggy jeans tugged down to his mid thigh and the fabric of his sweatshirt bunched up in his fist for a better view, the sight beneath him is familiar and heavenly. 

Taking the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hand, your head bobs up and down with your tongue laying flat. Sweet pre-cum coats your tastebuds and you can feel the swollen veins that litter his dick throb with increased blood flow. White strands of pubic hair don’t tickle your face, but surround his base; Satoru always makes sure to trim before the two of you hang out.

Sucking him off in the backseat of his car wasn’t the goal of meeting up with him on this chilly afternoon, though it wasn’t particularly surprising. A mutual agreement formed between the both of you, close friends who just happened to be a bit closer than most. 

“Nnfghh…s-shit…gonna fucking cum soon…”

Satoru winces in pleasure and his hips jerk forward to get just a bit more of his length into your mouth. Jaw beginning to ache from keeping it open and lips swollen from his abuse, your hands move to cup his heavy balls and massage them the way he always likes. A few more whimpers and curses leave his lips and Satoru moves to take another chunk of your hair away from your face and into a messy ponytail. 

“Ca–Can I come inside?”

You consider it for a moment, recognizing you had actually remembered to bring your lip gloss this time, and not minding to reapply after you swallow. There’s no verbal communication needed, you bring your mouth to his flushed tip and lick it a few times in approval. 

That’s all Satoru needs to see, bucking hips forward and guiding your head to jerk off his tip in a faster motion before furrowing his brows in pleasure. Hot ropes of semen pour from his cock and into your mouth; the salty and thick liquid a taste you’ve had several times before. 

Satoru fucks himself through his orgasm by gently guiding your head, before slipping out from your lips with a pathetic wince. Despite panting heavily with a mind half-drunk in pleasure, a warm hand cups your cheek while his thumb wipes away any cum that had missed your mouth.

You stay hovering over his softening erection and thickly swallow the semen on your tongue before sitting upright and bringing a hand through your unruly hair. Following the routine, Satoru slips himself back into his boxers and jeans before leaning up to the front console and passing you your water bottle.

The cool liquid washes any taste down your throat, and you swish the water in your mouth a few times before swallowing with a sigh. Silently, Satoru fishes his fallen sunglasses from the car floor and opens his cell phone camera to place them over his eyes and fix his own hair.  

“What time is it?” you ask, while wiping your lips with the back of your hand and pulling out your lipgloss from your jeans pocket. 

“Mmmm, almost 3:15.” Satoru slides his phone into his back pocket and confirms the keys and wallet are still in his sweatshirt pouch. “We should head inside.”

You run one more hand through your hair before slipping on your winter coat and opening the backseat car door. Wind pushes it open harder than you anticipate, and you dive out to catch it before it bangs into the very expensive car parked way too close to yours.

“Geez, tryna scratch my car?”

Satoru laughs while waiting for you to shut the door so he can lock it and walk alongside you to the mall entrance. Pulling your arms into yourself, the cool temperature makes your skin raw and pink.

“I was trying to not dent your door, idiot.”

“Hmm?” Satoru zips his parka up to his chin and smiles sheepishly at you. “That’s good. I was worried you thought I wouldn’t reciprocate and decided to take it out on me.”

You roll your eyes and increase your speed; Satoru’s step length is so long it doesn’t bother him to keep up at all. A few families and couples pass as they walk to their cars, huddled close together to stay warm from the winter wind.

Satoru leans in with a wolfish grin now splayed on his lips. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

You nudge him in the ribs and keep your head down to avoid the blistering gust that pushes your hair back. The man at your side laughs to himself, though you both know he means it. You and Satoru were in an arranged, casual, platonic, friends with benefits agreement; that doesn’t mean he ever leaves you unsatisfied though. Anytime you made him cum, he made sure to repay the favor with his tongue, fingers, or cock within 24 hours. 

“What are you even looking to buy here anyways? I thought you ordered your Secret Santa gift online.”

Satoru steps ahead of you to open the heavy glass entrance doors and pivots to let you enter before matching to walk beside you once more.

“I was going to, but all the delivery options would be too late.”

You hum in thought and head towards the mall directory to survey the stores; the shopping complex isn’t overwhelming as most people had already done their shopping before the holidays. Tracing the floorplan with your finger, you linger on floor 2 marked as the ‘home and appliance’ section.

Satoru sways next to you, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Who do you have anyways?”

“Nanami.”

Tapping on ‘William and Sonoma’, you follow Satoru’s gaze which stares at ‘Best Buy’.

“You have Inumaki, right?”

“Yep.”

You survey the time once more before starting towards the escalator. “Let’s hit your store first since it’s on the way. If we finish early, I wanna do some shopping.”

Satoru steps on the moving stair beneath you, but doesn’t need to look up to meet your gaze. “Aren’t we already shopping?”

“No, like shopping for me.”

He shrugs and the frame of his circular sunglasses slides down his nose slightly before a long index finger pushes them back up. The mall is still decorated for the holidays; seasonal music plays in the background while ornate garland sparkles with LEDs and hangs from every banister. 

“What were you thinking of buying for Inumaki anyways?”

“Well, Yuji always complains about his shitty microphone when they game,” Satoru says while following you off the escalator and into the electronics store entrance. “I figured a new mic would be easy.”

It’s actually a thoughtful gift idea; which comes as a bigger surprise than you expected. Sure, you and Satoru are close friends, but you always chalked him up to being the kind of guy who just hands you a gift card because he couldn’t figure out what you wanted. Though to be fair, you and him never really exchanged physical gifts; the both of you settled into your fwb agreement early on and only traded sexual favors and fantasies. 

“Alright then.” You look up at the signs hanging from the ceiling for a moment. “Audio equipment is aisle 7.”

Walking side by side, the two of you scan the racks of microphones for ones compatible with his PC and settle between two options. Satoru grabs both boxes and tilts his head between the two.

You glance between them. “The one on your left is way over budget. Isn’t the max like, $25?”

“Yea, but-” He holds up the expensive option. “But this one is in the color he likes.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t argue; knowing him well enough to understand budget restrictions were merely suggestions in his eyes. Satoru turns the box around and smiles when he notices there’s no obvious price tag that would make Inumaki feel bad upon receiving such a nice gift and turns for the checkouts.

“Alright, that’s one down. Where to next?”

Watching Satoru tap the gaudy metallic black credit card on the payment terminal, he shoots a wink to the cashier and smoothly slides to resume his place at your side.

“I’m thinking of checking out William and Sonoma?”

Your friend hums in agreement and follows closely at your side while you peruse the aisles of the baking and cooking equipment. Every price tag you turn over makes you wince, and Satoru isn’t particularly helpful as he skims through every cookbook he passes.

“Think you can make this one? Kikufuku sounds kinda hard–what’s that?”

Satoru cuts himself off and pads over to where you stand hovering over a very nice and very expensive Le Creset.

“It’s a Dutch oven; you can make a lot of things like bread,” you say, voice falling at the number of zeroes on the tag.

What you had figured out from your time with the man is that Nanami was an all around foodie with a particular favoritism for baked goods. Looking back, you definitely should've double checked the prices online before walking in; each one carries a price tag way out of the Secret Santa limit and your personal budget.

“$360? That’s not too bad.” Satoru flicks the price tag out of his fingers and lifts the lid of the turquoise Dutch oven. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do with it… but Nanami would probably be into it.”

“It’s a gift for him, not you, idiot.” You sigh and run your fingers down the side of the glossy finish.

Satoru doesn’t mind the nickname and tilts his head before looking around the store and noticing an array of red sale signs. Silently he takes your hand and dejectedly you obey and follow him to the far back corner of the building.

“Just buy a broken one and fix it. Good as new.”

You raise an eyebrow before examining the clearance racks ahead of you; Satoru is already reaching on the higher shelf to pull down a pale yellow Dutch oven that was missing a handle. Same brand, though slightly smaller. He pops the lid off to reveal the unattached handle that simply needs some sanding and super glue.

“Woa… you’re a genius.”

“Yea, well, it’s no mystery why I'm at the top of the oncology department.”

“Hm? Suguru told me that you definitely bottom.”

Satoru scoffs and shoves your shoulder, murmuring about how you of all people should know how well he tops you. You pay no mind to his complaints; turning the ceramic instrument over and settling on the reduced price of $35.99 to be justifiable considering the budget.

The two of you head for the checkouts and return to the walkways of the mall, satisfied with your timing so far on the shopping trip. You lean against the glass railing and pull out your phone while Satoru mirrors your position and scrolls through a few messages.

“Can I come to your place after this?”

You hum absentmindedly and respond to the DM Shoko had sent you earlier. “Sure, why though?”

“Suguru is having Choso over for a board game and smoke sesh. Plus I don’t have any wrapping paper.”

You roll your eyes at his lack of preparation, but accept his self-invitation. Pulling up the roommate group chat between you, Shoko, and Utahime, your pulse stops at the most recent messages.

Sho(e)ko: He’s gonna be at the party @ y/n

Utahimeh: huh?? Who?? 

Sho(e)ko: that guy from the law dept. I think his name’s Higuroma?

Utahimeh: Higuruma. And he’s not part of greek life i thought?

Satoru waits for your response to his follow up question and finally looks up from his phone to see you immersed in yours. The lack of attention given makes him nudge your forearm down.

“Huh?”

The white haired man lowers his glasses to raise an eyebrow at you. “I was asking what other store you wanted to see. But–,” he makes a swipe at your phone but narrowly misses.

“–Hey!”

Now any other time Satoru would shrug and continue talking about whatever was on his mind. Any other time. It’s not rare for you to ignore to wave off his loud mouth, but seeing you so absorbed in something without letting him in on it was rare. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t reply, and instead slip your phone into your front pocket to avoid his advances. Satoru raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs in suspicion before turning his attention to the rest of the mall. “Alright… Now let’s finish this up. I hate crowded places.”

Without pressing further, you both make your way to a department store near the main entrance and you waste no time going through the after-holiday sale racks. Satoru lingers at the men’s cologne section before wandering back over to you and leaning against the metal clothing racks in boredom.

“Why are you shopping anyway? I’ve seen your closet…. There’s no room.”

You roll your eyes and keep dragging hangers down. “I have nothing to wear for the party.”

Satoru audibly groans at this and slinks further onto the rack; arching his back like a shrimp. With a couple more slides of the articles of clothing, you pause. Mistakenly placed on the woman’s racks was a clearance turquoise men’s cashmere sweater.

With wide eyes, you slide it off the the rack and hold it up to guess how well the size would fit.

“You’re gonna wear that to the party?”

“No.” You roll your eyes at him and hold the article up. “What do you think about this for Nanami?”

If Satoru was barely paying attention earlier, he sure was locked in right now. 

“Huh? But what about that other thing you bought? The… danish stove?”

“Dutch oven,” you correct before shrugging. “I dunno. I could always keep that and give him this. It’s like his signature color.”

Satoru eyes the sweater and then glances back at you for a moment; peeking out from under your coat was a knit turtleneck collar of nearly the same color. In the moments waiting for his answer, you don’t see the way his brain is working out a million different scenarios; all of which create an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

“Nah, go with the oven. A sweater is too much.”

“Too much?” You spin it around and eye the price tag of $27, still out of budget, but closer to the goal. 

Satoru shrugs and looks off at the other racks. “Yea like vibe wise. Don’t we need to find something for you to wear before you shop for him?”

Blinking a few times, you slide the sweater back into its new home on the women’s clearance rack and sigh lightly; though not having to buy a new gift does help the stress on your wallet. Satoru watches you now slide through the racks while an indescribable feeling washes over him as you still keep glancing at the men’s sweater in consideration.

You’re still working it out in your brain and Satoru can read it all over your face. Suguru was up late last night listening to music and smoking with Shoko; the lack of sleep and overstimulation from such a busy place is how rationalizes the thoughts going through his head. 

“Let’s get matching ones. For the party.”

The hanger on the rack screeches to a halt as you look up at him with confusion knit in your brows.

“Huh?”

Satoru licks his lips and speaks a bit slower, “Matching sweaters. We should get some for the party, it’ll be hilarious.”

Raising an eyebrow at the man, you drink in the way his glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose slightly and reveal his pale blue eyes. The electricity in them leaves you momentarily speechless as his proposal slowly works its way through your brain.

“Why though?” You look around the clearance racks as if you’re really considering it. “We won’t even find a matching set here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer your first question and instead ducks his head to point out the holly red cardigan you were currently hovering over. “We’ll match colors then. Nice and easy.”

You blink and look down at the sweater you were just considering and chew the inside of your cheek; before you can ask again why he wanted to match, Satoru is already making a beeline for the men’s section. 

Shifting through hangers himself, he wastes no time pulling off a cashmere luxury-labeled sweater in the same bright red color. A light jog to catch up to him, Satoru takes the cardigan from your hands and throws it over his forearm with his own sweater before looking for the checkouts. 

******

The ride back to your apartment was as normal as it could be. The radio played top hits in the background while you and Satoru talked about whatever came to mind; gossip about the newest pledge Yuji and his brother(?) Todo, updates on the amount of subscribers on Inumaki’s twitch, and jokes about how Yuta still couldn’t beat Maki at any drinking game they played.

By the time you turn the key in the lock and are greeted by the sound of music playing on the tv and the chatter of your roommates, you’ve forgotten all about your stupid matching sweaters.

“Hey guys!” Utahime waves from her spot on the floor in front of the wrapping paper. “Back already?”

“Yep! Got our Secret Santa gifts~ so no peeking!”

You smile at her and kick off your winter boots before shimmying out of your coat and placing the brown shopping bags on the small kitchen table. Satoru follows suit and makes himself comfortable opening your pantry in search of something sweet.

“Oh, you’re here?” Shoko wanders out of her bedroom and directs her attention to the only man in the room.

“Ya, Choso is over to smoke with Suguru.”

She shrugs at the reason and joins him in the kitchen to fill a glass of water and eyes the bags on the counter before looking at you.

“What’d you get?”

You unwrap the scarf from around your neck and place it with your coat on the hooks. “Secret Santa gift, and a sweater for me.”

Shoko takes a sip of the water from her glass and peers into the bag; raising an eyebrow, she turns to you again.

This time, Satoru finally pulls out a small canister from the pantry and shoots her a grin. “Oh! We’re gonna be matching– it’ll be hilarious!”

You scoff while Shoko fishes out one of the sweaters from the bag and raises it slightly. “It’s not an ‘ugly sweater’ though… so why’s it funny–”

“Hot chocolate anyone?”

Satoru cuts her off and slams the pantry closed before tapping the lid of the powdered beverage container. Shoko processes slowly, shoots him a knowing glance that you can’t quite read, and releases the fabric into the bag again.

Shoko walks over to grab some wrapping paper from Utahime, Satoru takes out a few mugs from the cabinet, and you stand beside him to grab a big enough pot to begin boiling some milk. The moment is calm and familial as you both work on following the simple printed recipe while your roommates prepare their last few gifts before the party.

“Mmm this calls for 2 tablespoons per person… Satoru you definitely put in too much.”

“It’ll taste better that way.”

You hum and stir the simmering pot regardless while your friends on the floor whisper amongst themselves. Satoru pays no mind to them either, fishing out marshmallows and whipped cream and placing them next to the mugs.

Despite the small shake of her head to stop Shoko, Utahime sighs and watches as the woman leans against the couch and waves her phone.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You murmur a hum and nudge Satoru’s arm to not spill while he ladled the hot beverage into each mug.

“You never answered us earlier! Higuruma was asking about what to bring to the Secret Santa.”

Time stops and you release from Satoru’s arm to spin and face Shoko with eyes wide open.

“No way? He texted?”

Shoko smirks and nods slowly while Utahime is looking between her and the man behind you with a worried expression. Sure, you thought Higuruma was hot, hell who didn’t? But to ask if you wanted anything for him to bring made a giddy feeling wash over you.

The way you seem at a loss for words and begin sheepishly trying to work out the logistics of the Uber ride with a questionable amount of liquor bottles, you miss the way Satoru stops dividing the hot cocoa and stares at you. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as an unfamiliar emotion builds in his guts. 

No. 

It’s not unfamiliar; he’s felt it before a million times over, even earlier at the mall. Satoru swallows thickly and reaches to coat the top of his hot cocoa with a thick layer of whipped cream and chocolate syrup before reaching to pass you a mug.

“I can drive you guys, if you want. It's gonna be at my and Suguru's apartment anyways.”

You immediately pause from your position hunched over your phone to compare rideshare app prices for a larger vehicle and look up at the man; his hand reaches out to pass you a serving of hot cocoa. 

“Huh? It’s fine if we,” Shoko motions between herself, Utahime, and you, “ride together. Aren’t you and Suguru going early to set up decorations and drinks?”

Satoru shrugs and replies as if it were simple. “Nah, that’s new pledges jobs this time. I don’t mind swinging by to pick you up. Besides–” he swings an arm around your shoulder. “-there’s no point in matching if we don’t show up together~.”

“Seriously?” you sigh to him.

“Yep.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and hover your lips above the rim of the mug to blow steam away before taking a sip. Shoko keeps a knowing glance on Satoru, which he returns, before slinking back down to the floor and assisting Utahime with adding the finishing touches to the present in front of them.

You move slightly to confront him once again and ask why he would drive you and your roommate so suddenly, when he slides to grab the paper shopping bags and moves to the apartment floor. Music continues playing in the background as you watch the way your roommates shuffle over to make room for the man as if he deserved a permanent seat.

The wind picks up even more, and you cozy into your sweater a bit more before padding over and taking the seat next to him. Silently, he pulls out the Le Creuset you had purchased while Utahime gets up to pour herself a mug and grab a canister of super glue for you to fix it.

While the group wraps gifts and chatter amongst yourselves, Satoru remains fixed at your side, his thigh resting casually against your own.

~~~~~~~~~

“Has anyone seen my hair straightener?” Utahime calls out from the bathroom while rummaging through the drawers under the sink.

“No, but I call dibs on the bathroom in 5 minutes!” Shoko yells from the window where she finishes her cigarette.

You pause in front of your bed surveying the various outfits that match the red cardigan that sits in the center. Dresses seemed too formal considering it was still a frat function, despite it being more intimate than their usual big blowouts. 

Dragging your index finger over a variety of different length skirts, you settle on a black mini and tight white cropped tee to go on top. Paired with black opaque tights, said holly colored cardigan, and cute black boots, you step out into the living to do a full spin.

“Hey! I said 5 min– woa.” Shoko bangs on the bathroom door holding her makeup bag in one hand and pre-game drink in the other while smirking at you, “Hot.”

“Thank you, thank you~”

You do a small 360 and move to the kitchen table to finish up the last few steps of your own makeup routine, laughing when Shoko wedges the door open to squirm inside. Utahime tries to nudge her back outside, but the two wind up elbow-to-elbow in front of the mirror to finish getting ready.

Satoru had texted an hour ago saying he’d be there by no later than 7 to pick you all up and looking up from your compact as you apply the finish touches to your lip gloss, the microwave clock reads 7:38 pm.

“I need more room! Does the back of my hair look even?” Utahime spins around to show it definitely wasn’t even and Shoko replies with a chuckle.

Before you can butt in to prevent an argument, there’s a set of knocks at the door. Keeping an eye on the two of them, you only glance away to peer in the peephole and unlock the door. Satoru shuffles inside, twirling his car keys on his fingers and kicking off his shoes.

“Oh, a new record. Only 40 minutes late this time.” You cross your arms. “And what’s with the sunglasses? It’s dark outside.”

Satoru wiggles off his coat and pushes his frames back up the bridge of his nose. “Did you miss me that much?”

You roll your eyes and walk back to the kitchen table to retrieve your compact while the man giggles a bit before finally drinking in the scene in front of him. He stands motionless at the front entrance still, watching the way you slide your compact into a small purse and stand to whisk together another pre-game drink.

Every curve accentuated with your outfit, your hair looks glossy in the warm light of the floor lamps, and your makeup is done perfectly to compliment your natural features; Satoru’s seen you dolled up a handful of times before, but this time the matching colors you both adorn make pause.

“Did you want one or not?”

“Huh?”

You look up from the pitcher of an assortment of soft drinks and hard liquor with frustration. “I asked if you wanted one like 4 times now.”

“O-Oh,” he says and shuffles into the kitchen a bit closer. “Sure, but a small one; I’m still driving after all.”

You nod and spin back around to pour half a cup while Satoru slowly walks forward at your side; dressed in the same holly red with a cashmere sweater and straight leg jeans, he can’t help but admire your outfit.

“Listen, Y/N–”

“–Don’t use up all my setting spray Shoko! Or I’ll– oh, you’re here.”

Utahime comes from around the corner and pauses when she notices the designated driver has finally arrived. The white haired man at your side laughs lightly and gives a wave while your roommate flattens out the rest of her outfit and moves to stand at your side to pour herself another glass.

“Are you gonna make it to the party if you keep drinking this much?”

“Yea.” She turns to you and takes the first sip of her third drink. “This is just precautionary in case it’s lame.”

Satoru moves his mouth away, despite being about to take a sip, and rolls his eyes. “It won’t be lame. It’s not the same as the usual open-house function we do, but it’s still a JJK party.”

Utahime seems indifferent at the response and takes another big sip while Shoko emerges into the kitchen as well. “Oh? Looks like our ride, or y/n’s ride, has arrived.”

You roll your eyes and take a few gulps of your beverage while Satoru watches your reaction with a gaze you can’t quite decipher. Utahime shivers at the joke and moves to collect her Secret Santa gift from the living room. “Please, stop putting that image in my head. I don’t want to imagine our roommate and him banging in this apartment.”

With a sigh, you move to grab your own Secret Santa gift and pass Satoru the one he had wrapped and left here. Shoko chuckles a bit and assembles her things while sliding out her phone. “Ah, we really should get going.”

Utahime shoots Satoru a glare and wraps an arm around you while he stares in a slight confusion as the conversation pivoted against him. You had agreed to the fwb after all, so why was he the bad guy in this?

Shuffling on shoes, combining liquor and wine bottles into one cardboard box (which Satoru is forced to carry), and triple checking everyone has their gifts, you all head out of the apartment. Light chatter amongst you and your friends as you walk through the lobby while Satoru fishes out his car keys, holding the box with one hand against his side, a clean white Mercedes sits in the resident spot near the front.

You raise an eyebrow and open the trunk for Satoru to slide in the box. “Why are you parked here? The visitor spots are open, and you don’t have a resident tag.”

“Hm?” He ducks and places his hand on the top of the trunk, ready to shut it. “I always park here?”

If he was telling the truth, you couldn’t hide the surprise. Has he always parked here? Before you can question it, Shoko has leaned up from her spot in the back seat to lean against the car horn and begin yelling through the open crack in the window.

“We’re gonna be later than we already are! Make out when we get there!”

You knock against the window to shut her up while Satoru lets out an honest laugh. “Well, you heard the woman. Wouldn’t want to keep her or you waiting.”

You shove his shoulder lightly and he lets out one more chuckle before walking around to sit in the driver’s seat while you take your place in the passenger seat next to him. By the time the car leaves the parking lot, your roommates are bickering amongst each other about song requests and bets on who the rest of the group had for Secret Santa.

Satoru’s hand rests comfortably on your thigh, drawing an array of shapes with his fingers as he handles the steering wheel with the other hand. The feeling is familiar, though the gentleness of the action is new. He wasn’t exactly discreet when it came to wanting your attention or physical touch, but it usually came before you two got down and dirty.

The lightness of his touch while his eyes remained fixed on the road was so casual it almost wasn’t. When Shoko and Utahime shift to talk about Higuruma once again, you don’t bother to join the conversation, and Satoru’s eyes finally leave the road to glance over at you.

~~~~~~~~

“Oh, only an hour and 15 minutes late this time, Satoru. I’m glad I told you the party started at 7:15 and not 8:30.”

Suguru laughs from the kitchen island of their shared apartment while you all shuffle in through the door and remove your winter outwear. Maki and Nobara sit on the sofa in the living room while Inumaki and Yuta mix a few drinks and Yuji and Megumi organize the group’s gifts on the coffee table. 

You, Shoko, and Utahime branch off to greet Nanami and Higuruma in the kitchen while looking around for the rest of the group.

You dig around in the cardboard box Satoru had carried and take out a bottle of prosecco before passing it to Higuruma to open.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Higuruma places a careful hand on the cork and points it away from you as it pops. “Choso is smoking on the balcony and I think Haibara went with Todo to pick up Mai and the others.”

You hum in acknowledgement and open a few cupboards in search of a flute for the drink whichHiguruma fills up without needing the question as soon as you present it.

Across the room, Suguru and Satoru idly pour themselves a drink while the final preparations are being made.

“Soooo, you talk to her yet?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and finishes his pour of the sweet concoction of fruit juices and rum before turning to his friend. “Who? And what about?”

Suguru cracks open a beer and shoots his friend a sideways glance with a ‘seriously?’ look on his face.

“Oh come on. If you’re gonna keep y/n at a distance, you can’t be all moody when another guy tries to make a move.”

Satoru scrunches his eyebrows and raises the cup to hip lips. “Huh? No one is making a move… and I’m not moody!”

“Yea you are.”

“No–”

“You’re gonna break the cup in a second if you keep gripping it that tightly.”

Satoru pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath; the plastic cup dents and creaks as his pressure lightens. Laughter rings out in the air as you, Higuruma, Utahime, and Nanami all crowd around the kitchen island giggling about something. The way your eyes shut with a large smile on your lips catches his attention before he notices the way the other men in the circle look as starstruck as he does right now.

It shouldn’t bother him; he doesn’t get to be upset when he was the one that proposed all those late night flings you’ve had were completely casual. When the two of you first hooked up months ago during a party, it was the first thing Satoru muttered once you both came down from your highs. Looking at his own reflection with the beverage in his hand, he can’t even remember why he had said it in the first place.

Sure, it was great to be fwb; he gets to know you in and out of the bedroom without any of the ‘responsibilities’ of being a boyfriend. Though watching you lightly shove the arm of a coyly smirking Higuruma, all the ‘obligations’ of being your boyfriend merge into benefits. He could be over there with an arm around your waist telling every guy in here to fuck off, he could be the one to take you shopping rather than shopping for other men, he could be the one you would wear matching colors with on campus, rather than as a lame party gag.

“You done moping yet?”

Satoru lifts the drink and take a few big sips, his eyes never leaving your figure.

“I fucked up, Suguru.”

“Ha!” The man at his side throws his head back and laughs, “I know. We all know.”

Satoru looks over to the balcony entrance, catching the way Shoko peers back at him with her arms crossed with a knowing glance; she only looks away when Choso taps her for a light.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m the one that made it casual to begin with.”

It’s weird to see him so upset, and Suguru drops his smile at the melancholy feeling emitting from his best friend.

He places a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel. For real this time.”

“What if…” The plastic cup in Satoru’s hand crinkles again at the pressure and he drops his voice. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A loud sigh can be heard from Suguru’s lips as he shrugs. “Well that’s part of the whole thing; real relationships are scary like that. But–” He looks at the mess of emotions on his friend’s face. “That’s better than whatever you’re feeling right now.”

Satoru swallows thickly and nods slowly in agreement; he had been putting this off for too long now. With a long gulp of his beverage and supportive pat on the back from his best friend, he takes off to the kitchen with his sights set on you.

“No way? You guys went to the holiday market?”

Higuruma nods and motions to Nanami. “Yea, Yuji thought that would be a good place to introduce us.”

Nanami nods and takes a sip of his drink. “It was great; the food stalls were very impressive.”

You look between the two men and almost salivate at the thought of such good food before a heavy arm is thrown over your shoulder. Dragged into the side of Satoru, you look up and shoot him a confused glance.

It isn’t by accident or through a casual greeting for this display of physical touch. While you may see it as Satoru being his usual self, the two other men in the conversation understand the hint. Matching sweaters and his arm around you; Nanami and Higuruma don’t move any closer and pause to change the conversation.

“Hey,” you nudge into his side with a whisper-yell, “what are you doing?”

Satoru looks between the group, which is now immersed in another conversation, before dipping down to your ear. “I needed to talk to you.”

“So?”

“So–” His arm falls down to grab your elbow. “I need to do it in private.”

Raising an eyebrow, you take in the way he leans his head in closer before rolling your eyes and shoving his hand off of you.

“Seriously? Now? You can’t last another day or at least until my conversation is over?”

Satoru purses his lips and watches the way the open group has now isolated you both and turned into a three way conversation between Nanami, Higuruma, and Utahime.

“It’s over. Let’s go.”

You scoff at the brashness but don’t stop him as Satoru pulls you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. 

“Hey where is–”

“Yuji! I need your help with the music; the others will be here soon.”

Suguru pulls Yuji to the side and shoots his best friend one last look before pivoting to push the younger man back into the living room.

By the time the door closes and locks, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently at Satoru while he busies himself with awkwardly cleaning up his room. Awards from his research in oncology hang on the wall alongside an array of photographs from high school to present day.

Satoru shuffles to his bed, some dirty laundry sitting at the foot on the floor. A light gray comforter sits messy atop navy blue sheets, and the ikea paper floor lamp creates a familiar warm glow across the room.

“What’s this about Satoru? You couldn’t wait?”

“Yea.. something like that.”

The atmosphere is awkward and different than any other time he’s pulled you aside. Usually, he’d sweet talk you a bit and get a bit touchy before dragging you into somewhere more private and slamming his mouth on yours. The way he uncomfortably sits on his bed and can’t quite make eye contact reminds you of the first time the two of you ever had sex. Before it was casual.

He rubs the back of his head in thought while the tension makes you squirm where you stand. It occurs to you that this feels more like a friend in need of support rather than the physical prowess who you’ve come to associate with meaningless sex.

Your voice softens and you shuffle to sit beside him on the bed. “Hey… are you ok?”

“Yes– no…” he sighs and looks at his feet. “I don’t know…”

Your heart strings tug at the vulnerability in his voice and the sullen clicking of the vintage clock radio on his desk. “Ok… take your time Satoru. I’m not going anywhere…”

A mix between a chuckle and a scoff escapes his lips and the pained look he gives you is pitiful; he looks down for a moment more before slipping off his sunglasses and dropping them onto the bed.

“I want to end this.”

…. Huh?

“...What?”

“I want to end this.” He meets your gaze and motions between the both of you. “Whatever this is, or was, it’s done.”

You pause and blink at the man, worry and sympathy quickly becoming replaced with anger, embarrassment, and frustration. All the months tangled between the sheets and moments of genuine happiness in his company come crashing down.

“What..? Why?”

With eyebrows furrowed, there’s no way to hide the cold tone laced in each word you spit out; Satoru winces and shuts his eyes before taking a deep sigh.

“I just…. We have to, ok?”

“No, not ok.” You stand up from the bed and make some distance, hands curled into fists. “Not until you give me a real reason.”

Satoru looks at you with tired eyes and glances back at the floor. “There isn’t one…”

“So what then? I was just something to fuck until you got bored?”

He shoots his eyes up and frantically shakes his head. “What? No! That’s not it all.”

“Is there somebody else? Just kept me until you could swoop in and get in a real relationship?”

“N-No!” Satoru stands from the bed and raises his voice to match yours, an argument breaking out.

From down the hall, Suguru winces and motions Yuji to increase the volume on the speakers and offers people fresh drinks to stall for a bit longer.

“I know we’re casual, but I thought I at least meant something to you as a friend.”

“You do!”

Your brows twitch in frustration and hot angry tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Then why are you ending this–”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

…what?

You pause and pant to catch your breath, the silence deafening as Satoru stands pathetically in front of you tugging at his hair in frustration.

“I’m in love with you, ok?” He pushes chunks of it back, only to have it cascade right back down. “That’s why… we can’t do this anymore. It’s not casual.”

You breathe in and out slowly while your pulse shoots through the roof. Standing in the center of his room, the one you’ve been in a million times before, suddenly feels suffocating. When you don’t answer, Satoru peels his eyes off the floor and scans your face with a worried expression.

“Say something… please…”

You swallow and look at him cautiously. “Why… why didn’t you say anything that night?”

Satoru winces and looks back down again before rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands with enough force he’s seeing stars. That night. Why couldn’t he just man up enough that one night all those months ago?

It was the night he had finally mustered up the courage to ask you to a party as his date after months of pathetically trying to find a way to ask you out. Music blaring and alcohol flowing, the sight of you wrapped around his arms dancing was heavenly; the sight of nearly every other guy ogling you was hell. 

Liquid courage flowing through you, you had pushed him back to his bedroom and connected your lips to his. Matching the intensity, he had wasted no time in kissing you back; before anyone could wonder where the two of you had gone, you were making love in between his same navy blue sheets.

When the both of you came down from the high, it was the first thing out of Satoru’s mouth.

Let’s keep this casual, ok?

It hurt so bad to hear, and it hurt him even worse to watch the way your face fell in a dejected response. 

“That night…?”

You grab at the fabric of your skirt in an awkward and anxious energy. “Yea.”

“Because–” Satoru finally looks back at you and sighs, “I don’t think I can make you happy in any way that isn’t physical. I don’t bake bread with ceramic ovens, I don’t practice law and know how to get stupid corks out of wine bottles… I don’t think you would be emotionally happy with me.”

There’s another long pause as the anger fully slips out of you; your hands fall flat at your sides and Satoru finds solace staring at the white shaggy rug that lays beneath his bed to the middle of his room. 

“And you decided that without ever asking me?”

The sound of your voice makes him look up, and he winces, fully expecting you to reject him and tell him to fuck off forever. You take a few cautious steps forward and sigh lightly; taking his hand in your own, you tug at him to meet your gaze.

“Satoru, why do you think I said yes to being your date at that party?” A dry laugh escapes your lips and you watch the way your fingers intertwine with his. “I had been waiting months for you to ask me out… Shoko and Utahime laughed at me so much when I came home and told them you finally did.”

Satoru stays silent for a moment and creates a crease in his forehead from the way his eyes portray nothing but regret and sadness. “And I ruined everything, didn’t I? Pushed you away, and now there’s two great guys out there that would never make the same mistake I did.”

You look up at him and glance between his eyes before smiling gently. “I mean… probably.”

Satoru nearly releases the grip on your hand, but you keep your fingers firm. “But… the guy I like is in here.”

“In here?”

“Mmhmm.”

Satoru’s eyes widen and he searches your face for any sign you’re about to say it’s some sick joke before you lean up to capture his lips with your own. Your lipgloss smearing slightly against his mouth, Satoru’s lips chase after yours when you take a slight pause to breathe.

Hmpfh– 

The force of him stepping forward to continue the kiss has you walking backwards until your legs are plush against his desk. He leans in with more force and cups your cheeks to keep your mouth perfectly aligned with his; strands of white hair fall down at the angle and tickle your face.

The kiss is similar to the ones you’ve shared before, and it makes you wonder if every time you and Satoru had sex, he was hoping it was something more meaningful than a fwb. Lips against your own, his hands fall to grip your waist and keep you still against him; an erection hardening in his jeans against you. 

“F-fuck… Satoru..”

In the brief moment you escape his lip to whimper out, he meets his mouth against yours again and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. Parting for access, the hot muscle eagerly explores your mouth and leaves the fruity taste of pineapple juice on your tongue.

The sensation sets your skin on fire and causes arousal to pool in your panties while his hips rut pathetically against yours. His tongue rubs against your own and the messiness of the kiss leaves saliva dripping from both of your mouths; unable to move from being squished between Satoru and the desk, the pressure of the moment leaves your mind dizzy.

With one last exploration of your molars, Satoru disconnects his lips from yours and immediately moves down to the sensitive skin on your throat. Open mouth kisses litter the flesh under your jaw to the base of your collarbone before the man in front of you pauses and leans back slightly. 

“Is it… is it ok?”

Neither one of you had either left a hickey on the other person, having deemed it too intimate to leave claiming marks when neither of you were entitled to exclusivity. The question he poses has more weight than if he can leave a few bruises; he’s asking if you can be his.

Hot breaths leave his panting lips and you shiver from the sensation; looking up at the man, you take in the pink on his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils.

“Y-Yea.”

Knees nearly buckling forward, Satoru nods once and stumbles forward to latch his lips and teeth onto the delicate flesh of your throat. A surprised groan escapes you, and he sighs before sinking his canines into your skin and sucking the tender spot into his mouth. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain that courses through you at the sensation, one Satoru mirrors as his aching erection painfully pushes at the fly of his jeans.

He’s never been so hard in his life. Sure, he always remembered to thank his lucky stars every time you and him were intimate, but the idea of doing this as a committed pair makes his hips jerk forward in desperation. 

Lips releasing the flesh with a ‘pop’, his mouth moves to suck the pulse point under your jaw while his hands move from holding your hips to hovering just below your tits. Satoru’s mind goes fuzzy when he can feel your pulse on his lips and when your hands rest on his to push his palms to your breast.

The feeling of his mouth sucking dark bruises on your neck and the way his thumbs already know where to push down to grind your nipples through your bra leave you feeling drunk. When his erection grinds against your pelvis again, you lean your head further to the side and groan.

“S-Satoru..”

His lips ‘pop’ off your pulse and trail to find the next spot just under your ear. “Ye-Yea, princess?”

You shudder at the pet name and clench pathetically around nothing while his hands continue kneading your tits.

“Use your words”

Any other time the command might’ve made you a bit embarrassed, but leaning against the desk at his mercy while raging with desire, you don’t really care.

“I want you.”

Despite saying the words before a handful of times when the moment was intense, Satoru doesn’t miss the new implication and weight of them. He leans down to connect your lips again, whimpering when you tug at his hair impatiently.

“God, I could kiss you forever.”

“Ok, then do it.”

He smiles and leans down once to peck your lips again, before backing up and making room for the both of you to walk over to the bed. You're barely on the mattress when he pushes you flush against his pillows and splays your thighs apart to make room for himself. 

Sitting on your elbows, you drink in the sight of Satoru lifting his arms above his head to pull off the sweater and reveal a torso sculpted from marble. An array of scars litter the skin, some from stories you’ve heard and others from ones you’re sure to hear one day; a particular faded scar by his navel remains unknown.

“Sukuna fucking hit me on his stupid bike.”

He notices the way your eyes linger on his torso and pays no mind while his fingertips pinch the hem of your shirt to tug the cardigan and fabric off.

“Really? How?”

“Said he was gonna teach Megumi how to ride.” He drops your red cardigan on the floor to match his sweater and throws your t-shirt haphazardly behind him. “Fucking idiot clipped me and sent me flying to the pavement.”

Your fingers graze the scar once before dropping to outline the hem of his jeans and tracing the outline of his erection. Satoru sucks in a shallow breath and moves to release the button and zipper.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yea– felt like I got split in half. But..” He shimmies the fabric down and kicks it to join the other clothes before reaching behind you to release the metal clasp of your bra. “I’m feeling really good right now.”

You laugh slightly and pull him to another kiss, which he happily leans in for, before you part to wiggle your skirt and tights down. Both of you left in your underwear, the tightness of his Calvin Klein briefs leave little to the imagination.

Pre-cum staining the gray material darker, the tip of his cock is nearly pushing through the fly of the fabric from the intensity. Satoru isn’t sure if he feels light headed from the lack of blood flow to his brain or from the fact that your red panties are stained with arousal.

He pauses and sits back for a moment to peer over the bed and finally notice the way your bra had been the same shade. Gun to his head, if anyone had asked him the color of the fabric earlier, he would’ve been dead.

“F-fuck… did you match this, f’me?”

You wet your lips and nod once while Satoru feels as if he could die happily. The girl of his dream, matched her bra and panties to his outfit? In a silent vow to never fumble the bag ever again, he leans back down to capture your lips.

Leaning against his soft pillows and wrapping your arms around his neck, a squeak escapes you when he tugs to flip the positions over. Hovering over him now, his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and gently push you forward.

“W-what?”

“Get up here and sit.”

You pause and look down at Satoru who tugs at your thighs with a face drunk in desire; his biceps scoot you up higher until you’re hovering his face. Fingers wrapped around the base of your panties, you lean forward to grab his headboard while he slides them down your legs and off each ankle. 

He bundles the wet fabric into a little ball and reaches up to tuck it underneath one of his pillows.

“H-hey! Give it back, perv.”

“I will.. After you sit.”

His hands reach up to your hips and push you down onto his nose and mouth; the sensation immediately makes you gush in arousal. Satoru’s pointed nose nudges your puffy clit while his lips suck at your entrance before his tongue slithers in. You groan and curl your toes for a moment before trying to tense your thighs and stand; his hands immediately hold you still.

Leaning back for a moment, the scene beneath you is filthy. Satoru’s lips are swollen from the suction and your slick coats his mouth and chin; he looks up at you as if you had taken away something so very dear to him.

“Hey, get back down here.” He whines up at you, his eyes nearly black from the size of his pupils.

“B-but… i might crush–”

He pulls your thighs down lower and breathes hot against your pussy, licking a long stripe and peering up once more. “Then go ahead and crush me. As if I’d want to die anywhere else than under your fucking cunt.”

With one last tug, he pulls you down onto his face once again and continues his ministrations; the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Tongue pushing into your sopping cunt with a disgusting french kiss while his nose lifts to grind against your clit once more. 

It takes one more tug of your hips before you take a deep breath and grab the headboard firmly, ready to finally grind. One sway of your hips instantly amplifies the pleasure; his nose rutting with perfect pressure before your effectively fucking his face.

Whimpers escape your and Satoru’s lips, the vibration further making your mind fuzzy. His tongue presses against the fleshly walls of your cunt in desperation to drink in every drop of your arousal while his hands freely knead the flesh of your ass as you grind. Hunching forward, you can vaguely makeout the scene beneath you; Satoru’s hair plastered his forehead with sweat while his eyes are screwed shut in concentration. The redness of his face makes you wonder if he can even breathe properly. 

“Ahhh… S-Satoru… gonna..”

He gently pushes up on your thighs and takes several deep breaths while trying to form a sentence.

“On my…cock… gotta cum on my cock… please princess..”

You whimper at the lack of stimulation after getting so close to the edge and peer back to notice the angry way his cock throbs against the fabric. The pre-cum patch even larger than before, you turn back around and nod once before swinging your thighs over his head to sit on his comforter.

Your arousal still coating the entire lower half of his face, Satoru runs his tongue over his lips to savor the taste before capturing you with a kiss once more. His tongue feeds you your own slick and, with a fuzzy mind, you barely process when his mouth leaves yours.

You watch the man slide off the bed and open his night stand drawer for the familiar box of condoms before dropping it.

“Shit. There’s no way…”

He leans in to reach around again before pulling back empty handed and dropping to his knees to feel around his jeans for his wallet. Unfolding it open, he sighs when there’s no foil in sight and runs a hand through his hair in desperation. 

“Guess my luck had to run out eventually.”

You sit on the bed and watch the scene unfold before raising an eyebrow. “Well… can’t we just get the morning after pill?”

“Huh?” He looks up and approaches the bed. “You’re ok with that?”

You’re so horny you’d be ok with anything right now; and the thought of missing out on orgasming again has you going feral. Satoru thanks his lucky stars when you nod in approval, and climbs back onto the mattress to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

He guides you to shimmy down and lay on your back while he reaches into the drawer to pull out a small container of lube; Satoru finally shimmies out of his briefs and kicks them to the floor to let his erection stand freely. It’s a sight you’ve always loved, a tidy bush trimmed at his base while a cock longer and thicker than any guy you’ve been with twitches with anticipation.

Pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand, Satoru gives himself a few generous strokes and massages the flushed tip of his cock before tapping it against your clit for good measure. Splaying your thighs apart with his knees, your legs lift to wrap around him while he crawls forward and slowly slides in.

“Nnnghh..fuck–”

 The burning stretch is one your pussy can never get used to, and your hands on his shoulder blade leave your nails digging into the flesh. Satoru slowly continues pushing in until his pubes are tickling your skin and he’s completely bottomed out inside you.

“Oh my go— fuck princess…. Ha… might cum just from feeling you…”

He sucks a new bruise into the side of your neck, giving you time to adjust while your cunt flutters around him pathetically in an attempt to accommodate his size. Waiting a moment, he finally slides out before pushing back in, with a light ‘tap’ from the headboard into the wall. 

The feeling is insurmountable, and any resolve Satoru had to take things slower seeps out of him as he thrusts in and out of your cunt with a bruising tempo; his tip slamming into your cervix. Legs still hoisted around his waist, the pubic hair on his pelvis grinds forward into your clit with each stroke.

“Aahhh Sator– mpfh”

His hand moves to cover your mouth while he continues bullying his cock into your snug cunt.

“Shh princess… can’t– haaa… can’t have them hearing you..”

Despite his attempt to cover your moans, there’s an audible ‘plap!’ plap!’ plap!’ from the sound of his heavy balls smacking your ass and the banging of the headboard into the wall. The wooden frame creaks uncomfortably, and Satoru bites back down onto your neck to avoid groaning.

Shit. Considering it feels this good without a condom, he would get a vasectomy if he meant he could always hit it raw.

“H-huh?”

Oops. Did he say that part out loud?

His hips snap into yours and long scratches make their way down his back, the pain only heightening the pleasure while his cock drills into you. Noticing the way your hips arch upward in search of more friction, Satoru reaches to grab a pillow and pull it under your waist.

The angle tilts your waist so perfectly, each snap of his hips grinds further onto your puffy clit while his tip bruises your g-spot. Your cunt gushes at the sensation and Satoru is left thinking a million different images to avoid cumming. Boring oncology classes, midday traffic, Yaga teaching said boring classes; his hips twitch pathetically at his impending orgasm.

“Y-you’re trying to milk me dry? Ha~.. gotta make sure you cum soon ngh too..”

He snakes a hand forward to rub mean circles on your clit and the feeling makes you throw your head back and groan exceptionally loud. The coil in your abdomen grows tighter, and you lift your hips to meet his thrusts in an attempt to reach your high.

“ahhh … S-Satoru, I’m gonna… c-cum..”

Satoru falls forward and continues hammering into your abused cunt while you scrunch your eyebrows and moan as your orgasm washes over you. His hips keep pumping his cock into you as your body twitches to ride out the high and tears prick at your eyes from the intensity. 

Your legs feel like jelly and, before they can drop, Satoru holds onto the plush underside to keep them up and grinds his pelvis up against yours a few more times. Before overstimulating can make you squirm, his pace gets erratic and he shudders desperately as hot ropes of cum pour into you.

Fucking himself through his orgasm, he snaps forward a few more times to ensure every last drop is out, and the sensation makes you feel borderline bloated. His erection softening, Satoru slips out with a wince and watches in a daze as his cum slowly drips out of you; without thinking, he dips an index forward to catch it and push it back in.

“Satoruu,” you whine from your fucked out position on his bed.

The man snaps out of his trance and reaches forward to grab a handful of tissues to wipe you both down. Semen leaks out of your cunt and onto the tissue while another piece absorbs the cream ring that was on the base of his cock. In silence, you both catch your breath and take in the moment.

Aside from condoms, it’s the first time Satoru’s ever been inside you without a barrier, and also the first time he’s fully cum in you without protection. Panting slightly, he lays against the bed and pulls you from your seated position and into his arms.

You trace invisible shapes on his pecs before looking up and realizing he was already staring at you.

With a light scoff you flick his forehead, “You’re staring, weirdo.”

“Hmm? Can’t stare at my girlfriend?”

The word makes you pause, the way it slips off his tongue so naturally makes you feel as if the title had been reserved for the whole time. You pause and take a deep breath.

“About that… I think we should keep this casual, Satoru.”

He sucks in a breath from above you and his eyes widen in shock and hurt; pretending to look off in the distance as if his heart wasn’t breaking, he shrugs in a forced manner.

“Gotcha~”

You sit up to lean over his face and capture his lips in a kiss before running your hands through his hair to push it back. Satoru sits up and shakes his head with a whimpered sigh. “Don’t do that! I already said I was sorry!”

Giggling slightly, you pinch at his arm to release you, but he makes no move to lighten his hold. 

“We have to get dressed and go back–”

“Call me my real title first.”

He nuzzles into your neck and places gentle kisses while his biceps keep you pinned into his chest. With a giggle you sigh and lean against him.

“Ok, can my boyfriend let me go so we can get dressed?”

“Hmmm, he’ll think about it.”

You shake your head and Satoru lifts his own to place a soft kiss against your lips, chasing after them when you part for a quick breath. It’s gentle and slow, one you’ve never shared until right now.

With a defeated sigh, he lets you stand up and dig through the clothes to find your bra and snap the clasp back on. He admires the sight before standing up and grabbing a fresh pair of underwear for himself and you from his drawers.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna give me back my own?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and bounces on one leg to slide into the pant leg of his jeans. “What? I don’t remember you wearing any earlier…”

Knowing it was a battle you were never going to win anyways, you slide on his spare boxer briefs and throw your t-shirt over your shirt. Satoru reaches for his sweater while you shimmy your tights and skirt back on; he gives a few sprays of the cologne he knows you like and leaves his sunglasses on the bed.

Giving you a moment for one final smooth of your outfit, Satoru opens the door and takes your hand to guide you down the hallway back towards everyone.

“Why can’t we start already? I wanna know who has meee,” Yuji whines from the loveseat.

Suguru stands in the center of the living room trying to calm the crowd only pausing to notice the way his best friend saunters into view with you latched onto his arm.

“Oh, sorry for the hold up.” He slides onto the couch and tugs you into his arms to sit beside him. “My girlfriend and I had to get something sorted.”

He looks around to see the reactions of the crowd and raises an eyebrow when no one moves from excitement. Megumi rolls his eyes beside Yuji while Yuta and Inumaki cough awkwardly. Even Choso sits idly next to Todo as if Satoru were reporting the weather to the group.

“Did you hear? Y/N and I are dating–”

“We know.” Shoko interrupts and pours herself another glass of wine from the kitchen.

Satoru whips around to stare at her while the look Utahime gives you makes you want to instantly disappear; you tug on your boyfriend’s sweater but he takes that to mean you want to hold his hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“No, we’re like… together–together”

“WE KNOW!” the group yells in unison.

You slink into the sofa and wish to disappear while Satoru blinks in confusion and looks among the group. Suguru rolls his eyes and moves to sit beside you on the other side of the couch. “We all heard you in his room.”

If there was ever a time for a bomb to go off, it would be right now. Nobara and Maki snicker to themselves while Higuruma, Haibara, and Nanami stand near the window and shake their heads slightly. 

Suguru leans over to you both and shrugs. “I could only stall for so long; they got suspicious when the headboard was louder than my speakers.”

You squeak and sink into your boyfriend’s arms while he sheepishly scratches at the back of his undercut. “That loud huh?”

“Yep.”

He leans away from his friend and runs a reassuring hand over your shoulder to relax, the mortifying moment leaving you wondering if you could ever show your face on campus again.

“It’s ok, we just gotta be quiet next time–”

“Her neck is also completely purple with hickies,” Suguru interrupts once again before leaning back and taking a long sip of beer in the process. 

With one more curt nod, and cutting his losses, Satoru claps his hands and eyes the mountain of gifts piled on the coffee table.

“Well, now that you all know about my and y/n’s sex life and committed relationship, let’s get this Secret Santa started!”

A mix of groans and ‘ooos’ emit from the group; Utahime stands up to begin the process while Satoru keeps a comfy arm around your waist as you partially lay into his chest.

“I know the holidays have passed, but now that we’re all back on campus from break, I figured it would be best to do the exchange now. Is everyone ready?”

Yuji and Todo pump their fist up in excitement while Mai grimaces at the loud outburst. With the gift exchange beginning, you nestle into your boyfriend’s arms and rest your head on his shoulder.

A chaste kiss is placed on your forehead and Satoru runs his thumb absentmindedly across the skin on your thigh. 

“What color are we doing next?”

“Hm?” you hum, peeling your gaze from the excited look on Inumaki’s face as he revealed a new microphone, and focusing on the man beside you.

“For the first day of class, what color should we match with then?”

A grin breaks across your face and you admire his eyes for a moment. “Maybe sky blue?”

thank you so much for reading this installment of holiday hoes! i had so much fun writing this gojo one hehe

i have suguru -> yuta -> choso next before this mini series ends & i'll be doing chapters for my longer fics (L, Aizawa) in between

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated

-oatmeal

✌︎('ω')✌︎

[zeroducks-2]

tags by @nicky-olives

I strongly agree with this point, however I think it's important to note that what's being discussed here is the fact that there is an effort from DC's part to erase every form of found family dynamic and non-heteronormative relationships from their stories, which is a different topic from the ship and let ship conversation.

What I mean with this is that of course everyone can ship Bruce and Dick, regardless of the circumstances. If Dick was Bruce's biological son there would be nothing wrong with shipping them, because it's not real and it's just people having fun playing with dolls. However queer people from all over the world have been identifying with Bruce and Dick's relationship, especially during a time where gayness and gay relationships were way more taboo and dangerous to actually perform than they are now. Queer men especially identified with how the trauma of the loss of their families makes Dick and Bruce similar (and having an estranged family was very frequent among queer people, back then even more than today), but they choose to find another family in each other. Bruce and Dick share a secret that is one of the most important parts of their life, and they can freely be themselves with each other, no need to lie or pretend. And despite the respective escapades to keep an appearance of normalcy when it comes to their "public life", they are each other's most important person, the one they could never part from,

Again, this is not something DC did *on purpose*. But queer people read into it and then DC caught on, and and for this and other reasons they started pushing the narrative of "they are father and son, and you're gross and weird if you ever think for a second that they could have THAT kind of relationship! You freak of nature! Degenerate!" And lots and lots and lots of baby queers keep nodding to this, and they shame fellow queers by repeating this same rhetoric because it works.

It's not just about ship and let ship because it's fictional, it's about a very important part of queer history which is getting flushed down the drain to protect the sanctity of a "family" which is not real and is not even a family, and about how DC itself has been complicit with this for years, same as it is complicit with pushing narratives such as how nuclear family is the only possible kind of family, biological family is more important than adoptive family, and how two people who have even just some sort of vague relationship of cooperation are "brothers" and cannot therefore have a romantic relationship.

More on that point, think of Tim Drake is now out as bisexual and has a canonical boyfriend. It would be legitimate to wonder if his first crush was Dick Grayson, or even Bruce Wayne, while growing up and seeing all these very handsome boys in skintight suits. And so DC avoids this conversation by doubling and tripling down on how Dick and Tim are BROTHERS, and how (implicitly, pushed by their own fans who are queer themselves) thinking that Tim might have a crush on him is something only a freak of nature would do. Same goes for Tim and Bruce, because they are FATHER and SON.

Of course we can ship whatever we want regardless of the dynamic. But DC has been doing this for years and a huge, HUGE chunk of their fans are lapping this narrative up, and using it to hurt other fans. It's at this point a vicious cycle.

What's up with batman and the erasing of queer history? Sry I try to interact with fanon as little as possible

There is no simple or short answer to this but to try and not make it a wall of text - Batman/Robin has always been a staple of the queer community, so much so that to this day there are "brudick" graffiti in big cities and lots of older gay couples have been using them as a reference for solid partnership which endures in spite of adversity.

Originally there was no indication anywhere that Bruce and Dick were in the roles of father and son, rather they were partners against crime, one the shadow of the other, and they would share everything both when it came to crime fighting and in their everyday lives. They're shown sleeping together, going on lake trips together, finishing each other's sentences and Dick being viciously jealous every time Bruce would "replace" him with any of the women he used to have flings with such as Talia or Selina.

Did DC mean for them to be read as a queer couple? No, of course not. Bob Kane and others wrote a partnership, an unbreakable bond which would allow these two men to overcome any obstacle together, and queer people read into it as queer people always do.

Someone else read into it though: Frederick Wertham, who called Batman a pederast and used Batman and Robin as an example of how the evil comics would corrupt young minds to send them on the way of perdition and sin. He wrote all of this and many more infuriating shit in his book Seduction of the Innocents, which was then the major influence in creating the Hayes Code, which is the reason why we never had queer characters in comicbooks and movies and anything really for decades (and we're still struggling today).

Wertham and the Hayes Code did not stop the queer community from loving Batman and Robin though, therefore what started happening was the more subtle shift towards Bruce and Dick having a father and son relationship rather than a partnership. You can see this clearly with Jason Todd for the first time: Bruce takes Jason in and treats him as his own son, the narrative calls them father and son, and there is no doubt in the mind of who's reading that Bruce perceives Jason as his child. It all went steadily downhill from there.

Nowadays, writers have Dick say character assassinating things like "I love you dad" to Bruce, Tim saying "we will save our dad" to Damian, and everyone in the fandom acting like this has always been the case and actually you're weird and you should be sent death threats for shipping Brudick, because "UMMM that is literally his son?!??!?!?". DC has been pushing the idea that these folks are a nuclear family for a while now, but whoever has actually read the comics knows it's not the case, and it used to be very different before.

Brudick, among queer people, used to be entirely uncontroversial. While Wertham raged about how it corrupted the minds of young men and the Hayes Code prevented queerness to be anything but vaguely hinted and coded in the text, queer folks didn't care and kept having matching Batman and Robin shirts.

Today queer people will call you a pedophile and a groomer and try to doxx you for posting Brudick art because apparently they're doing the fascists' job for them, either because they are genuinely misguided or because they think that if they're enough morally pure they will have a spot among the chosen ones, hell if I know. What I know is that they'd suck Wertham's cock and balls if he wrote Seduction of the Innocents today, and it's DC's fault too with their erasure of every found family dynamic among the batclan, and the way they've been pushing the idea of a "batfamily" instead, in which everyone has a strict role of son or brother or father, and shipping them makes you the antichrist.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Making Me Crazy

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, the tiniest amount of fluff, just pure, raw smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, overstimulation, thigh riding)

Title from Cola by Lana Del Ray.

Summary/Warnings: Request from @little-wicked10! Ben overhears you doubting his generosity in bed, and immediately sets out to prove you wrong.

Author's Note: Top ten horniest things I've ever written. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.5k

Supes should be required to announce their presence whenever they walk within earshot of other people. If they were, you wouldn’t have snapped at Butcher that, for the last time, you were not sleeping with Ben. You wouldn’t have scowled and hissed that maybe you made come fuck me raw eyes at him, and maybe you liked him as more than a semi-reformed—you’ll call it about 70%, which was a passing grade—supe teammate, but you weren’t going to fuck him, because he was probably selfish in bed, and your lack of self-worth did not extend to falling to your knees only to get nothing in return.

But Ben hadn’t shouted a warning that he could hear you, and now you were gaping at him—standing at the foot of your bed with a cocky smirk—and trying to find a way out of this. Figure out whatever lie you could tell him that would make him just shrug off what he’d heard and walk away.

You weren’t really confident you’d find one. 

“We’ve, ah, we’ve been over this, Ben. I’m not having sex with you-“

“Not now.” He waves you off with firm words that shouldn’t be settling that deep in your core. “But you will.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re awfully confident given I just said no-“

“But you’re going to say yes,” Ben drawls your name, lowering himself down to hold your gaze. “Because I am not a fucking pussy who can’t get a woman off. And I’m going to get you off, over and over until you’re fucking screaming for more, until you’re so fucking cockdrunk you only know my name.”

“Ben-“

He smirks. “Good, you’re already starting-“

“Shut up.” You snap, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m not fucking you just because you say you’ll get me off, or so you can proved some sort of point-“

“I don’t have fucking shit to prove.” He shrugs. “And I would get you off, baby. Christ, I’m doing you a damn favor-“

That makes you laugh. “It is not a favor to have sex with me. I could go downstairs, flash my tits at Butcher, and even his ass would jump on me-“

“Butcher couldn’t handle you.” Ben snaps, and you’re suddenly very away of how he’s towering over you, how he’s broad and muscular, how big his hands are, how soft his hair looks, how there’s a bulge in his pants that has to be padded to look bigger-

You swallow, forcing your eyes to his focused, darkened, almost dizzyingly lustful ones. “Ben-“

“I could handle you.” He smirks at you, leaning down until his nose bumps yours, and you can smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath and something heavier that’s musky and heady and might just be him. “I could fucking ruin you, doll. Make you never want another cock again.”

“Oh.” He must have slipped you something earlier, or there must be a gas leak, because there’s no other explanation for why you nod, lean forward a little further, a little cautiously, and whisper an agreement against his lips. “Okay.”

Then Ben crashes into you, tangling broad fingers in your hair and kissing you with a bruising force that makes your head spin, and you know exactly why you agreed. For this. For Ben, and a chance to taste if he was really that good.

And goddamn him, he was. He was better than good. He was a demanding tongue down your throat and firm hands pulling and rubbing at this skin of your hips and waist. He was a massive, warm body lowering over yours and forcing you to crawl backwards on the mattress. 

He was a fucking sex god, and you feel like you’d just committed the worst sin of all. You’d doubted him. And—as his knee shoves between your thighs and you start to see spots when his kiss only deepens—you know you’re about to repent. 

And when Ben rips off your shirt and bra in one brutal movement, kisses a sloppy line over your jaw, down your neck, and right to your breasts—kneading with one hand as he pulls your nipple into his mouth—you decide that whatever he demands, you’ll offer. This is already mind-numbing pleasure, and if the only relief he’s offered you is grinding against him and his mouth swallowing every whining moan, you’ll take it.

Then he moves his leg away, chuckles at your needy sound from the loss, and you know he’s onto you. That he’s got you bent to his will. 

“Don’t lose your mind yet,” he mutters against your skin, nipping at your breast. “We’ve got a damn long way to go before you can afford that.”

“I’m not, fuck-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as Ben tears off your pants, teases two fingers over the wet spot on your panties, and shoves them aside to expose your bare pussy to the air. 

“You’re fucking wet, doll.” He rises back to your face, kissing and sucking all over your face but your lips, where you’re gaping and gasping his name. “All of this for me?”

“It’s- Ben-“

Your voice turns to a squeak as he spanks your cunt once, running three fingers over your folds as the sting fades to pleasure.

“And don’t fucking think about lying.” He hisses in your ear. “I’ll know.”

You swallow, your voice soft and hoarse. “It’s for you.”

“You think I’m fucking hot?” Ben shoves one finger into your pussy, grunting as you squeeze around him. “Fuck, baby, you want me to make you feel good? Want me to prove to you how fucking wrong you were?”

“God, yes.” You squeeze your eyes shut, arching your back as Ben adds a second finger and begins to pump. “Ben, fuck me, please-“

“Tell me what you want, doll.” He picks up his pace, scissoring and crooking his fingers deep inside you until you’re writhing below him. “Say it, say you want my cock-“

Ben rubs right against that spongey place inside you, dangling over the edge of what you need—what you might die without—and you moan. “Fuck, I want your cock, Ben, I want it so bad-“

“Good girl.” He mutters against your skin, his teeth grazing right at a sensitive spot behind your ear. “But you’re still going to need to fucking earn it.”

You have a brief moment of lucidity where you realize what he’s said, and your eyes fly open. “What the fuck do you mean, I have to- Ben!”

He starts to fingerfuck you at a rapid, almost frantic speed that’s made of lewd sounds, desperate, breathy pleas escaping your lips, and a quickly growing bomb of fire in your gut that’s set to burst so soon-

“Cum of my fingers, doll, fucking soak my hand-“

You scream as the bomb goes off, and you’re overwhelmed with your orgasm. It floods your body and launches you into space, higher, higher, and when you fall easily back down to earth you realize Ben hasn’t stopped. His pace has increased to furious, and you’re already on the edge again. You’d be embarrassed by how quickly you came apart for him—how wrong you were—if Ben was slowing down.

But he’s not. He’s dragging you closer and closer to vaulting back into blinding release, and it’s right on the edge of pain and pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough, and God, you just want him to fuck you-

“Ben,” you gasp, grabbing pointlessly at his wrist. “Fuck, I need you, need you so bad-“

He pulls your lower lip between his teeth, his fingers bending and pressing right against that spongy spot inside of you, and this orgasm is only more powerful. You can barely hear his low, growled promise right in your ear.

“Fucking earn it.”

When you regain your head, your pussy is clenching and fluttering against nothing and strong hands are gripping your waist, maneuvering you with no effort at all. And when your vision returns from a hazy blur, Ben’s below you. Holding you on his lap, your legs tight around his thigh.

You stare at him with wide eyes, and he chuckles, rolling your hips with a firm grip as he starts to bite and suck along your collarbone.

“Fuck yourself on my thigh, baby.” He growls, licking right up your throat like a fucking animal, drawing a high whimper from your lips. “Make yourself cum like the dirty little cockslut you are-“

You start to grind on him like he’s flipped a switch in your body. You’re overwhelmed with orgasms, and your cunt is sensitive and raw, but fuck that’s nothing compared to the sheer want for Ben in your body.

So you throw your all into it. Soaking his jeans with your needy cunt, grabbing at his shirt until he tears it off for you to scratch uselessly at his chest. Fuck, you even put on a show for him. Wiggling and rolling your body in his hold, watching him through lidded eyes, diving to kiss at his neck and drifting a hand down to touch that huge cock, straining in his pants-

“Fuck-“ Ben yanks your hand away, his voice stern and low, and you whine. “I’m not fucking done with you, doll, you need to fucking control yourself-“

You just moan, tugging at his hair in a silent please, and his face falls into one that might be—if you didn’t know better—awe.

“Christ,” he mutters your name, running a rough hand up your back to grip at your throat. “You need to my permission to cum, babydoll?”

Babydoll. That does things to you that you’re past trying to hide.

You’re past trying to hide most everything.

You nod, making a choked plea that’s meant to be Ben, but comes out high and feral, and Ben smirks, gripping your hips until you’re sure he’ll leave a mark.

But his words are low on your skin, and his dick is pressed right on your clit, and God, you hope he marks you. Maybe then you’ll feel like this forever.

“Cum,” Ben growls your name in your ear, and there it is. You scream as you reach another, higher state of euphoria, and you’re so close to just exploding when Ben hauls you up his chest and tosses you down onto your back, rising onto his knees and lowering his face between your thighs.

You don’t get warning when he shoves his face right into your cunt and starts to eat you out like he’s never eaten anything before. Like you’re the sweetest fruit or candy, or saltiest and most carefully crafted meal, or just straight fucking heroin into his bloodstream. He goes down on your with his whole fucking face, pulling your raw, swollen clit between his lips before flicking it with his tongue until you’re a whining frenzy, keeping your thighs split open with his hands and barely flinching as you start to buck and fly off the bed, the orgasms falling through you like rain. One hand even sneaks between your legs, and Ben focuses his sinful mouth on your over-attended clit as his fingers plunge back into your cunt, and you destroy yourself on his everything.

You must have squirted somewhere in there, because when Ben finally rises up his beard is shining with your arousal. 

But it might also just be that. This might just be so fucking good, Ben might be so good, that you could flood a desert with how much you need him inside you right now. Really, properly inside you-

Ben must read your mind, because he smirks at you, prowls over your loose and fucked-out body, and drags you into a long, slow, shockingly soft kiss that makes you sigh into his throat, his hand rubbing a comfortingly patten on your waist.

“You’re being such a good girl,” He says your name against your lips, and you think that alone sends another small, shuddering orgasm through your body. “Good girls deserve some cock.”

You make the most needy, lustful noise you’ve ever made in your life, gasp slightly as Ben rises over your body, and scream when his cock slams into your dripping, aching cunt without warning.

“God-“

“I’m not God, babydoll.” Ben’s words are spoken against your lips with a smug satisfaction, and you almost blackout as he rolls his hips. “I’m fucking better. Hold on.”

You obey blindly—spun out and faded on how he’s splitting you open, filling you up more than you’ve ever been filled—and wrap your arms around his neck as he starts to fuck you. 

This is heaven. God, you hate how right he was, but you might be ascending. You were already ruined from his hands and mouth, and this is being razed. Fucking decimated. This is Ben’s cock hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed, and his hands grabbing and pulling at your tits, his balls slapping against your skin and his mouth leaving little marks wherever he can reach skin, his fucking fingers rolling your nipples and his thumb rubbing on your raw clit until your mouth falls open, and you cum without sound.

He doesn’t stop. You’re drooling, making high, gasping moans of his name, and completely wrecked under him, but Ben doesn’t slow down. He’s grunting and groaning in your ear, chasing his own release deep into your pussy, and you want him to have it.

He’s really fucking earned it. Especially as his thrusts start to stutter and the bed starts to shake in a way that makes you think it might break, and the low, primal noises that leave him as he comes inside you drag one last, smaller orgasm from deep in your core.

He’s going to brag. When Ben pulls out, you’re sure he’s about to mock and taunt you about being right, but he just sets you down carefully between the sheets, walks into the bathroom, and returns with a damp, warm cloth to clean up the mess he left between your thighs. 

Then he looks up at you, and now he’s going to grow cruel. To keep dirty talking or fucking you until you’re in a daze you don’t know how to return from, when you just want to rest. Or maybe he’ll just leave you to deal with the soreness of your pussy and throbbing on your skin from all his biting and sucking, and you’ll never speak of this again.

But he doesn’t do either of those things. Ben’s eyes meet yours, still guarded but not hardened, where you can see deeper into him, and he’s a little more human in there. Like you’d worshipped and repented, and now you get your true reward.

And this is it. Green eyes meet yours, he blinks at you with a frown—like he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at—and then crawls back over you. Ben settles at your side, and your body against his own warm, solid, one. He doesn’t speak, but he touches you carefully, like you might break, and it’s louder.

And you might have had a few other things about him wrong as well.

Because Ben doesn’t move through the night, and you wake up still in his arms.

End Note: Found a way to make it emotional too. Am I even me if I don't?

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@sthefferrete @lyarr24 @deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n

@globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr @youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

@panicking-outside-the-disco @ambiguous-avery @elle14-blog1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde

@heyimolive @alwaystiredandconfused @kamisobsessed @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007

@ackles010378

[it-was-summer]

Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You)

A/N: Basically, it's a broken-up little fluff piece! This is after Season 15, but I'm pretending that he is a full-time professor who occasionally assists the team with cases. Most of the time, professors DO NOT sub for each other, but hey its fanfiction man. THESE ARE MY BARBIES!!! I hope you enjoy it!

Link to the Ao3: Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You) Link to the: Yee olde masterlist You are on: Enemies (if you can call it that) -> Friends (Associates at best) Tags: Use of She/Her pronouns (I apologize), slight enemies, genuinely a short and sweet little slice before y'all let me cook, mentions of victimology, violence, forensics mentioned FOR A MOMENT, ugly Christmas sweater? College talk? Embezzlement mention guys!

Genre: Slight Enemies to friends to lovers. ForensicsProfessor!Reid x ForensicsProfessor!Reader

Plot: Your new coworker, Dr. Spencer Reid, has a talent for avoiding teaching responsibilities, thereby leaving the duties to you. However, forgiveness is easily given when he makes a little effort.

Word Count: 2,966

Enemies (If You Can Call It That)

You didn’t like this new professor. It wasn’t because of change– you usually welcomed change, especially if that change was a new person coming into your life. People typically describe you as kind, passionate, and empathetic. But you strongly disliked fickle people, fair weather, and unpredictable people never sat right with you. You arrive at events on time, and the older you get, the more you view tardiness as a sign of slight disrespect. But this was on another level. 

From your understanding, three professors were teaching Victimology 6113 this Fall semester: you, Dr. Matthew, and Dr. Reid. Sometimes, you would teach introductory courses— Criminology, Criminal Justice, the basics. However, this Fall semester, you were only teaching three: Victimology 6113, Violence and the Family 2184, and Psychopathology 6104. 

Dr. Reid and Dr. Matthew taught their Victiomology courses on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You had opted for the other, slightly longer option, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sure, you still had an influx of graduate students, but not as much as your male counterparts. Your classes were an hour longer to compensate for the lost time of only having classes twice a week instead of three. 

You liked that kind of schedule, the ability to have more time on Fridays or Mondays to grade papers or fix lesson plans. You had kept it consistent since taking up the position two years ago and were happy to keep it that way. 

So… when Dr. Matthew asked you to fill in for one of Dr. Reid’s Victimology classes on a random Wednesday, you were initially happy to help. You didn’t mind helping out your slightly new coworker. He had done seminars at the university in the past, and when he left the Behavioral Analysis Unit, he took up a position teaching Forensic Psychology. That was all you knew about him, though, other than his name and BAU reputation. 

His graduate students were learning the same material as yours, so it wasn’t difficult to fill in– this one time. 

Then, Dr. Matthew asked for assistance again—this time for an afternoon Friday class. The last time you covered for Dr. Reid, you assumed it was a one-off— a coworker needing a hand. You didn’t think of it when you agreed for the second time. 

Then there was a third…, a fourth, a fifth, and eventually a sixth. You had tried to get out of the fifth time, deciding that enough was enough and that Dr. Reid would have to find his own substitute and not let Dr. Matthew do all his dirty work for him.  However, when you used the excuse that you were behind on lesson plans, Dr. Matthew simply said you could borrow some of his material if needed. 

It wasn’t even halfway through the fall semester, and by the end of September, you had covered at least fourteen classes for this man– your coworker with whom you barely had a relationship. It was getting ridiculous. 

Consistent behavior reflects character, and all you could think of as you walked to his classroom that fifteenth time was Dr. Reid’s character was lacking consideration. It almost seemed cruel at this point. 

At first, you thought you were being dramatic, but then it hit you. You were doing extra work for a class that wasn’t yours—answering questions for students who weren’t in your cohorts. You had every right to be upset with the situation! So, it was natural that your feelings for your supposed coworker were… cold. 

When you did see him, in faculty meetings or passing, you kept your gaze off him with a fast pace in your step. A small, more rational voice in your head suggested that you were being rude or petty. But the more you thought about it, the more you decided that you weren’t. You were a graduate professor with your PhD, the same as Dr. Reid. You had the same amount of classes as him, similar students, and experience in the field (though, in this case, yours was forensically based, but experience nonetheless). You could keep a schedule; you were rarely tardy and rarely canceled classes unless absolutely necessary. Why couldn’t he do the same? 

When October faded into November, you prepared for busier office hours. You were unaware that Dr. Reid did as well. You were also surprised that his office was across the hall from yours. His blinds were closed, but his light was on, and you could see the occasional shadow of him and a student. 

Bitter thoughts surfaced as you stared at the shadows in his office. His students would indeed have questions; he was never teaching! You bit the inside of your cheek at the nasty thought and hung your head for a moment, instead trying to focus on a small stack of ungraded papers. 

Lost in thought, the knock on your door frame made you jump. With wide eyes, you found yourself staring at one of Dr. Reid’s students, and behind him was Dr. Reid himself. “Excuse me,” the student said gently, entering your office. “You mentioned some victim advocacy programs in DC the other day while subbing for Dr. Reid, and I was wondering if you could recommend a program?” 

You pause, thinking briefly before your lips form a slight ‘o’, and nod, “Yes, of course!” You grab a pen and sticky note, writing as you speak, “DC SAFE has a great volunteer program!” You smile as you write the number of an associate of yours who primarily talks with the volunteers. 

Walking around your desk, you hand the sticky note to the student. “Just call that number and tell them I sent you,” You smile as the student thanks you and walks away, but after a brief moment, you realize Dr. Reid is still in the hallway, just staring at you. His big brown eyes seem more hazel under the fluorescent lights of the hallway, and he’s very tall. Was he this tall the last time you saw him? Then again, you don’t think he has ever been close enough for you to notice. 

You force an awkward smile, “Can I help you?” 

He swallows, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face. “No, I mean, yes. I didn’t—" he sighs softly. “I was unaware that your office was near mine—your office hours differ from mine.” 

You draw your lips into a tight line, nodding as your hand motions to your desk. “Yes, we appear to be neighbors.” 

Then, more silence. You watch as he nervously shifts his weight on his feet, his brows knit together, and he opens his mouth to say something when one of your students pokes her head around the corner. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I… go over some material with you?” 

You feel your tight chest lighten as you nod, barely glancing at Dr. Reid as you reach for your door. “Have a nice day, Dr. Reid.” You mutter as your student shuffles past you, and the door shuts in his face. 

The knot in Spencer’s stomach twists as he stands outside Dr. Matthew’s office. All those months ago, all Dr. Matthew had told him about his first absence was that he had it covered. For some reason, Spencer assumed that Dr. Matthew would teach his classes if the BAU needed a consultation. He did not know that it had been you. 

He wasn’t bothered that it was you, no. You were brilliant, competent, and courteous. He observed that his students were grasping concepts well, even with his absences, which he could now credit to your teaching abilities. You excelled at your work. He had praised Dr. Matthew when it had been you all along!

The student visiting him during his office hours had revealed it to him, and everything started to make sense. You were polite but obviously avoiding him. He had taken note of it in September but thought he was simply overthinking it. 

He bites his lip gently as he waits for the door to open. His eyes meet Dr. Matthew’s, and the older man frowns. “Spencer, is there a case? I’ve told you before, that you needn’t—” 

“No,” Spencer says, holding up his hands. “I just wanted to talk to you about who’s been covering my classes.” 

Dr. Matthew looks bewildered as he mutters your name in a confused tone, asking, “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, technically, there isn’t a problem.” Spencer watches how Dr. Matthew’s face relaxes, “I was just unaware she was covering for me.” 

“Ah, well, not to worry, she’s very good– wonderful!” He fixes his last choice of words and repeats it, “Wonderful!” Before Spencer can say more, Dr. Matthew shakes his finger– an idea brewing. “You know, she’s around your age! I’m sure the two of you could be great friends– might have plenty in common.” 

“Right, well I–” 

The sharp ringing of the older man’s phone cuts Spencer off. Pulling it out, he frowns and holds up a finger before saying quickly, “Sorry, I have to take this.” Then he retreats into his office and shuts the door behind him, leaving Spencer alone in the hall. 

Spencer finds himself frowning at the dark oak door before returning to his office in defeat. By the time he’s back in his office, he can see you’re gone, and his apology will have to wait another time. 

It’s a Wednesday, and you can feel it in the air—the dreaded anticipation of Dr. Matthew knocking on your door and asking for another favor. You struggle to find an excuse. You’re ahead of grading, lesson plans, everything. You puff out your cheeks as you enter the lecture hall, passing empty seats as you approach the front of the room. 

Setting your bag on the desk, you pull a chair up and get to work setting up. Then… you spot a yellow sticky note stuck to the whiteboard. At first, you brush it off as another teacher forgetting to clean up after themselves. Your fingers pluck it away from the whiteboard, ready to toss it in the trash, and then you see your name written in messy handwriting. 

Your eyes narrow as you bring the note closer to read it. Your name is scrawled in the top left corner, followed by a comma and ‘I truly appreciate you stepping in to cover my classes right before finals. Though it may not be much, there is a chocolate croissant in my office fridge with your name on the bag.– Dr. Spencer Reid’

You blink, then reread it, and again, and again. Then you find yourself briefly smiling, then frowning, then shaking your head, and tossing the note out. Your eyes briefly stay glued to the note in the bin before you finish setting up for class. 

Spencer is happy to see that said chocolate croissant is missing from his mini-fridge when he’s in his office the next day. He moves to sit at his desk when he sees a pink note on the back of his chair. 

‘Dr. Reid, Bribery is low class– no matter how delicious.’ 

Spencer feels his lips quirk up into a smile, holding the note in his hand as he sits. Then, he finds himself doing something surprising, saving it. He places the pink sticky note in his desk drawer, pulling out his yellow sticky notes while he’s at it.

His foot taps under his desk momentarily, and his pen hovers over the colorful paper. He writes a quick message and finds himself quickly waltzing over to his door, opening it, peaking his head to scan the hall, and gently sticking the note on your office door as fast as possible. 

Friday, the construction near your apartment makes it too hard to concentrate, so you head in to get some well-needed work done. When you see the yellow note, it’s barely hanging onto the door, but you can now place the messy handwriting as Dr. Reid’s. 

‘What form of corruption is considered high class?’

You huff out a laugh as you open your office door, tucking the note into a drawer without thinking. You’re eager to turn on your desktop, but as you grade assignments, your mind wanders. 

Your eyes trail over to the pink notes on the edge of your desk. You glance at your screen, then the paper. Your intrusive thoughts win, your fingers wrapping around a pen as you scribble an answer to Dr. Reid. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip as you run across the hall to place the note on his door. 

Spencer finds himself, surprisingly, excited on Monday morning as he spots a pink note on his office door. He doesn’t even unlock his door. Instead, he stands reading the note with an amused smile. You wrote the word ‘Embezzlement’ in large, neat letters and nothing more. 

However, due to the lack of words, he finds it unnecessary to write a note back. Though, he supposes he’s not obliged to. He tucks the pink note with the other one at his desk and works on some end-of-semester grades. However, his mind occasionally wonders about the office across the hall and if you’re inside. 

At the end of the year faculty ‘party,’ Spencer finds himself feeling rather tongue-tied. Dressed in a thick grey sweater, he finds himself stuck to the wall. He misses the team, and for a second, he debates texting Penelope or Emily to see if they can save him from this situation. But he knows that he needs to get to socialize despite it never being his strong suit. Personally, he thinks that he’s gotten better at it. 

His spot against the wall makes it easy to spot Dr. Matthew and his wife as they discuss something with another couple. He gives up on that route and searches for his friend in the philosophy department. Instead, his eyes land on you. 

Unlike most staff, you’re happily dressed in a festive-looking sweater. He swears that he can see bells and tinsel hanging off it as you talk with another woman excitedly. Spencer lets out a short laugh; it reminds him of something Penelope would wear. 

You’re covering your mouth as you laugh, your eyes sweeping across the room as your giggles shake your shoulders lightly, landing on Dr. Reid for a second. Maybe it is the approaching holidays or the relief that you’re getting a break; you find yourself gracing him with a bright smile. 

Spencer feels a smile spread on his face at the sight and starts approaching you. When he gets to your side, you’re alone. “Hello,” 

You tilt your head up to look up at him, “Hello,” 

This is more awkward than you thought it would be. 

Spencer finds that he didn’t think this through, a surprising development, as he quickly says, “Ugly sweaters originated in the 50’s,” 

Your shoulders fall with that, eyes going soft as you mutter a quiet, “You think my sweater is ugly?” 

“What? No, no, that’s not–” He panics, his cheeks flushing slightly before he sees the growing smirk on your face. “You’re messing with me.” 

“And enjoying it deeply,” 

“You’re cruel,” 

“Payback, I suppose.” 

Spencer feels a stab of guilt in his chest with that, and he sucks in a light breath, “I do appreciate all your help this semester. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, I will gladly do it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Then, the conversation dies off for a second. You watch as Spencer glances around the room, reminiscent of how you looked two years ago. You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don’t hate you,” you sigh out, defeated. 

You were easy to please, and he had done just that– pleased you. You didn’t hold grudges, and even if you did, watching him now–talking with him really– you knew he didn’t mean any harm by it. 

His eyebrows shoot up, hazel eyes looking into yours, “Did you?” 

You let out a soft ‘mm’ as you flip your palm up and down, “Perhaps, briefly, pre-croissant.” 

Spencer let out a groan, eyes casting downwards as he nods, “I deserve that,” 

“Water under the bridge,” You decide, watching his hazel eyes leave the ground and meet yours with a hopeful glint.

For a moment, you focus on the color of his eyes. A deep honeyed color at first glance, but hints of cool-toned greens prove that idea wrong. Spencer swallows, wondering why he keeps finding himself without words when he’s around you. Perhaps he is scared of saying the wrong thing, further fractioning your relationship. 

“Would it be alright if we exchanged numbers?” You say, watching his eyes go wide. 

“For?” He hates how the question sounds coming off his tongue but relaxes when you smile. 

“Dr. Matthew saved your ass,” He’s still confused, and you can tell by the way his eyebrows furrow. “He told me that you occasionally lend a hand to the BAU, thus explaining the absenteeism.” 

He lets out a quiet ‘ah’ as you stare at him. "But I’d like to communicate better with you in the future. Hence, I am requesting a number exchange.” 

“I don’t plan on repeating–” 

“Nevertheless, just in case,” You insist softly, taking your phone out of your pocket and opening it for him. “I’m not the biggest fan of surprise classes.” 

Spencer nods as he carefully takes the phone out of your hands, careful not to touch your hands. “Of course,” he says, returning the phone after sending himself a hello message. 

You tuck it away as you nod, catching him smiling at you playfully. “What?” 

“Does this make us friends?” 

“Acquaintances, associates at best.” 

“Noted,” He says with a short laugh, watching you shake your head with a broad grin.

[spiicii]

the usos / guard dogs (part two)

x fem!reader  word count → 4.3k summary → after the last incident at the bar, the twins have become even more territorial. despite keeping a close eye on you, a stranger crosses a line. can you stop the twins from losing their temper? do you even want to? links → masterlist / guard dogs (part one) tags → possessive behavior (lowkey toxic, but you love it), public displays of affection, hickies/bruises, violence, blood and gore (yes, the twins are feral), light dom/sub, praise kink, the twins are only submissive for you, some of its dark but i had a vision ok?

The bass from the music was vibrating through the dancefloor, making your eardrums rattle and your head thrum in time with the beat. You felt drunk, and maybe you were, though whether it was from the alcohol or Jey’s hands on you, you weren’t sure. His touch was intoxicating, his hands roaming your body as you both danced, your body pressed to his as you enjoyed the night. 

You leaned back against Jey’s strong chest and closed your eyes, your hips still swaying in time with the music as his hands gripped your sides. You felt his lips ghost the shell of your ear, slightly breathless from how long you’d been dancing. He was saying something, but you could barely hear it, the music drowning out everyone and everything. The only thing your senses could zero in on was how warm his hands were and how sturdy he felt behind you. 

The song began to wind down and your body slowed, Jey’s voice now much clearer in your ear. 

“You feelin’ good, baby?” 

You nodded, your limbs gooey and warm from the shots you’d taken early in the evening as you reached an arm up to wrap around his neck. When your eyes met you saw that they were almost black, his pupils blown wide with desire as he looked down at you. 

“Our pretty girl,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your lips. His touch, combined with the feeling of his strong arms around your waist had you moaning, though the club was too loud for anyone else to hear it but him. 

He chuckled and the sound rumbled in the large expanse of his chest, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes flickered to the right and you already knew he was looking at his brother. 

You glanced over and met Jimmy’s equally hungry gaze from where he sat at the bar, drink in hand as he watched the two of you with interest. Even from here, you could see that his eyes were just as dark as Jey’s, his heated gaze taking in every inch of your body as you continued to grind against his twin. You knew he would come over to join the two of you when he was ready, but for now he was content to sit back and watch, enjoying the show. 

The music picked up again and you felt your hips roll in time with the music, Jey’s hands still warm against your sides as he kept you close. You heard yourself laugh, the sound carefree and happy. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had this much fun, the alcohol making everything fuzzy while your vision swam with bright colors and flashing lights. 

You felt yourself get pushed closer to Jey and you realized that the dancefloor was becoming more and more crowded, the spaces between bodies closing as everyone squeezed themselves together. Your cheeks were flushed, sweat beading your forehead, but you didn’t mind, pressing yourself against Jey and feeling his clothed erection nudge against your hip. 

You felt another body move against you and your first thought was that Jimmy had finally abandoned the drink he was nursing to join the two of you. You leaned into the new body on instinct, your vision still hazy as the brightly colored lights pulsed around you. 

A hand was grabbing your arm, but it didn’t feel right. It felt too small, too soft to be Jimmy’s. You looked up and quickly recoiled when you met a stranger’s eyes. He was smiling, saying something to you, but you were disoriented now, quickly wrenching your arm from his grasp once you realized that he was trying to hold you. 

Alarm bells were going off in your head, your skin burning from where the stranger’s hands had been. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever laid a hand on you besides the twins. It felt uncomfortable. Strange. Wrong. 

“Aye, yo, what the fuck, uce?”

Jey seemed to finally realize what was happening, no doubt too distracted by the noise and movement around you to catch the man before he’d gotten too close. He was quick to yank you away, instinctively placing his body between you and the stranger.

The stranger seemed unconcerned and you quickly realized that he was drunk, his stance unsteady as he faced off against the much taller Samoan. 

“Come on, dude. I saw her first.” 

He reached out towards you again and Jey was quick to shove him away, his eyes burning with rage. 

You were sobering up quickly at the sight, your mind flashing back to the last time the three of you had gone out. You remembered the sickening crunch of bone beneath Jey’s fists, Jimmy’s manic laughter and wild eyes as he licked blood off his knuckles. The night couldn’t end like that again. Not if you could help it. 

“Jey,” You murmured, curling your fingers into his arm in an effort to get his attention. “Come on. Ignore him. It’s no big deal.” 

Jey didn’t seem to hear you, though you were unsure if it was because of the noise in the club or his own blood roaring in his ears. He had his fists clenched at his sides, that predatory gleam back in his eye as he stared the drunken man down. He had his body between you and him like a bodyguard, the grill on his bottom teeth glinting in the flashing lights of the club as he curled his lip in anger. 

“Jey.” You pleaded, the grip on his arm tightening. “It’s alright, really. Please, don’t make a scene.” 

But Jey wasn’t listening, his knuckles blanched from how hard he had them clenched. He took a step forward, his eyes burning with such hate that you felt your heart drop at the sight. You were beyond relieved when Jimmy pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed his brother’s arm, his face a mask of concern. 

“Come on, uce. Relax. It’s alright, man.” 

Jey whipped around to look at his brother, now enraged by the interruption.

“Let me go.” He snarled, attempting to jerk his arm from Jimmy’s tight grasp. 

“Yo, uce, chill.” Jimmy insisted, tugging him back to his side in an effort to keep him close. “We can’t get kicked out of another bar, man. Besides, you know our girl don’t like it when we fight. Just let it go, uce. Come on.” 

Jey’s eyes met yours and you could see that although his gaze was still angry, there was something else there too. His brow was furrowed, his eyes almost pleading as he gazed at you. He wanted more than anything for you to remove the leash and let him cave the man’s face in, his hands itching for something to hit. Something to hurt. 

You shook your head in response, taking his much larger hand in yours.

“Please, Jey,” You murmured, noticing that he was practically trembling in rage. “Just let it go.” 

Jey’s jaw tightened in response, but he didn’t dare disobey. Instead, he whipped back around to face the drunken man, who by now had finally realized the gravity of the situation, watching with wide eyes as both Samoans turned the full brunt of their anger and attention back to him. He stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with fear. 

“Hey, hey, my bad, guys,” The man stammered, his hands raised as if he were surrendering. “I’m just a little drunk. That’s all. I’ll…I’ll leave you alone now.” 

“Good.” Jey snarled, hate in his eyes. “You put yo’ hands on what belongs to us again and you gon’ see what happens.” 

The man was nodding in understanding, nearly tripping over his own feet in an effort to leave. “You got it, man. Understood.” 

And then he was gone, swallowed up in the crowd as if he had never existed. 

*****

You wished things had ended there. 

The twins had been quick to check on you, their hands roaming your body as if they were searching for injuries. You tried to reassure them that you were fine. That he had barely even touched you and that it wasn’t anything to get worked up over. Jimmy didn’t seem convinced, his hands running down your arms as if to rub away any evidence that you’d been tainted by another man’s touch while Jey kept your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as he mumbled apologies in your ear.  

You knew that the twins were protective, but sometimes you forgot just how deep their devotion to you ran. After the last incident at a bar, their protectiveness had turned more into possessiveness, barely letting you leave the house unless one of them was by your side, leaving bruises on your neck to satisfy that primal urge to mark you as theirs. 

Even now as both twins kept you close, their bodies shielding you from the other people on the dancefloor, you were reminded of just how territorial they’d become. And perhaps it was getting out of hand now. Maybe they were doing too much, going overboard on what they deemed as protection (you couldn’t bring yourself to call it jealousy). Perhaps it was time to…

All thoughts flew from your head the second you felt Jey’s mouth on your neck, his teeth sinking into his favorite spot below your ear. He’d kept that bruise there for months now, ensuring that it would never fade - a reminder to everyone that you were his. That you were claimed. And when Jimmy leaned down to worry his teeth into the similar bruise he kept on the other side of your neck, right under your jaw, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the loud pulse of the music to hide your groan. 

Your knees felt weak, something dark simmering inside you as they kept their mouths to your neck, the smallest prickle of pain blossoming beneath their lips. You felt wetness forming between your legs at their ministrations, your eyelids fluttering as one of the twins reached up to tangle their fingers into your hair, tugging slightly just to hear a surprised gasp fall from your lips. 

They loved doing this to you. It was a game to them, seeing how much you’d let them get away with in public just so they could fuck you into the mattress when you got home. And even though you knew you should push them away, maybe make some comment about reducing public displays of affection, you couldn’t deny just how good it felt to have their hands on you, the feeling addictive. 

They released their mouths from your neck at the same time, their movements perfectly in sync as they leaned back to stare at you. You felt dizzy meeting both sets of dark eyes, grateful for their strong arms keeping you from melting into a puddle on the floor. You felt one of them chuckle, another’s lips brush across your forehead as they held you close. 

“You wanna go home, baby?” Jimmy’s voice was smooth in your ear and you could hear the smile in his words. He knew, just as his brother did, what they were doing to you. They knew how badly you needed this. How badly you wanted this. 

You nodded, allowing them to lead you from the dancefloor, hovering almost protectively around you as you walked on unsteady legs back towards the bar. They were quick to pay the tab, their hands gentle as they urged you towards the back door where they had, no doubt, already called an Uber. 

“Hey, asshole!” 

Looking back, you could almost laugh at how you immediately knew the words were directed at the twins. You didn’t know what it was about the Usos that made other men so eager to pick a fight, but you couldn’t say you were particularly surprised. You let out a long-suffering sigh as the twins stopped dead in their tracks, already turning around to look for the source of such open disrespect. 

The man was tall, but not as tall as the twins, his face a mask of anger as he approached the three of you. He was flanked by two other men, one of them vaguely familiar. Ah, yes. The man who had grabbed you on the dancefloor. He was hanging back behind his other two friends, his eyes narrowed as he met your unimpressed gaze. 

The twins were quick to push you behind them, placing their bodies protectively between you and the others. Jey’s fists were already clenched again at his sides and you knew it was taking all of his willpower not to attack the men on sight. Jimmy, on the other hand, already had his lips quirked into a smile, the tell-tale sign that he was secretly pleased by the confrontation. You didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched as he adjusted his jacket, no doubt just as anxious as his brother to draw blood. 

“Heard you fucked with my friend.” The taller man was saying, his cheeks splotched with color as he approached the twins. You watched him with interest, undeniably curious. Was he brave or just stupid? 

You reached out and closed your hand around Jey's arm, giving it a gentle tug. It was a reminder. A small pull on the proverbial leash. You didn't want a fight.

“Aye, I don’t know who you think you talking to, but you better go on and get the fuck outta my face, uce.” Jey’s words were scathing, his eyes burning with that familiar rage as he stared the group of men down. Jimmy was already chuckling, the sound low and sinister as he moved closer to his brother, almost protectively. 

The lead man, who you now decided was just stupid, stepped closer. “Nah, you put your hands on my dawg. Now we got problems.” 

You fully expected Jey to lunge forward at his words, but he didn't. He had felt your hand on his arm and knew you didn't want him to, so he had obeyed. For now.

Jimmy’s laughed at the man's words and the sound was cold. “Oh, we got problems?” He looked over at his twin incredulously. “You hear this shit, uce?” 

“Yeah, I hear it.” Jey’s voice was nearly a growl. “But he got about two seconds to get the fuck outta here before I whoop his ass.” 

The man’s face went crimson at his words and you were quickly reminded that not everyone wore anger as beautifully as the twins did. 

“Oh, you wanna fucking go?” The man seethed, spit flying from his thin lips. “All this over some stupid slut who-”

He never finished his sentence. The second the insult left his mouth, both twins’ fists connected with his jaw. You’d never seen a man collapse so quickly, his legs immediately giving out as he lost consciousness. His head hit the floor with a sickening thud, his eyes rolling back into his head. His jaw was twisted at an awkward angle and you knew it was broken. It was a miracle he wasn’t dead, but the bloodthirsty look on the twins' faces had you thinking that maybe he would be if you didn’t intervene. 

Jimmy wasn’t laughing anymore, the sight of his anger making your blood run cold. Normally he laughed as he fought, obsessed with the feeling of bones breaking beneath his bloody hands. This was different. You rarely saw him like this, his dark eyes burning the same way his brother’s did, his lip curled in hate. 

Jey was already moving forward towards the other two men, his face twisted into something hardly recognizable. He was snarling like an animal, his gold teeth flashing as he lunged forward. The smaller man threw up his hands in a pathetic attempt to protect himself, but Jey was already bludgeoning him, blood spraying from a broken nose as the man cried out in pain. 

Before you could stop him, Jimmy was moving forward too, his fist connecting with the final man’s face with enough force to send him flying into the wall, his body crumpling on impact.

You wanted to stop them. You knew you should - it would be the right thing to do - but you didn’t. These men had touched you. Disrespected you. Threatened you. The twins were your protectors. Who were you to stand in the way of this? 

You felt something twist inside you, something dark and primal at the sight of the twins splattering blood across the tile floor. In that moment, you realized just how devoted they were to you. They were willing to kill for you. They were willing to die for you. You felt breathless, your heart thundering in your chest at the thought. 

It was sick, yet you couldn’t deny the feeling curling at the base of your spine, something so dirty and wrong that you didn’t dare give a name to it. You tried to find the part inside of you that was good and kind but all you could think about was how beautiful the twins looked: wrathful, furious, and covered in blood. 

You heard a woman scream and you were suddenly very aware that you were in a club full of witnesses, people backing away in terror at the sight of the twins’ murderous expressions. You felt fear grip your throat. This was more than just a bar fight. The twins fully intended to massacre these men, blood already staining the floor red. They’d go to jail if you didn’t leave right now. 

“Jimmy.” His name came out of your mouth barely a whisper, your voice small. You pressed your fingers to your lips and you realized that your hands were shaking. You felt powerless to stop them. Powerless to deny them this. It wasn’t until your brain conjured the ugly image of the twins being led away in handcuffs that you finally felt the courage to step forward, your voice much stronger now. 

“Jimmy!” You hadn’t expected your voice to come out so commanding and neither did he, immediately stilling mid-swing to stop and stare at you. That righteous fury was still there, but he seemed more hesitant now, his fist clenching and unclenching as he resisted the urge to complete the punch he’d reeled back for. He seemed to be waiting for you to speak, waiting for your next command. 

Meanwhile, Jey was still landing blow after blow to the unconscious man on the floor, his knuckles bloody. You watched in horror as the man’s eyes fluttered, blood trickling from his mouth. You took a step forward. 

“Jey, that’s enough!” Your tone left no room for argument and Jey instantly obeyed, releasing his grip on the unconscious man and allowing his body to fall back to the floor. Jey was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face as surveyed the bodies at their feet. But when he met your gaze you were surprised to see that most of the anger was gone now, his eyes almost remorseful. 

You motioned for Jimmy to drop the man he still held in his grasp and he did so immediately, no hesitation in his actions. You tried not to lose your courage as both twins kept their dark eyes on you, seemingly awaiting your next order. 

“We need to leave.” You said, forcing your voice not to shake. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

You saw movement behind the twins and knew it was only a matter of time before club management and bouncers arrived, no doubt with the police in tow. You extended your hand, motioning for them to follow you. 

“Come on.” 

The twins obeyed, stepping over the unconscious bodies they’d left on the floor without so much as a backwards glance. They seemed completely docile now at your side, their bloody hands on you instantly as if to reassure themselves that you were alright. That you were safe. You took both of their hands in yours in an attempt to comfort them, trying not to react to the feeling of blood squelching between your fingers. 

“It’s alright.” You murmured, tugging gently on their arms to lead them out of the club. You tried to ignore the horrified gazes of the remaining patrons of the club, keeping your eyes steady on the twins as they obediently trailed behind you. “It’s going to be alright.” 

You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more: them or yourself. 

*****

The Uber driver hadn’t said anything about the blood, though you were sure he wouldn’t be leaving Jimmy a five star rating. Regardless, you were just glad the car had been there waiting for you, a quick getaway from the violent scene the twins had left behind. You tried not to think about if anyone had been recording. If there were cameras. If anyone had recognized them. 

As you sat crammed in the backseat of the Uber, you felt both of the twins lean into you, nuzzling against your neck and pressing sweet, chaste kisses there. They were both completely nonverbal now, though you weren’t surprised. They sometimes got like this after a particularly brutal fight, adrenaline and anger mixed with shame and remorse: a delicious, terrible combination. 

You knew if they had the words they’d be apologizing right now. About how they lost their temper. Again. How they’d jeopardized their careers. Again. How they beat some random strangers black and blue. Again. You’d heard it all before. 

After leaving the driver a fat tip and leading the twins back up to your apartment, you found that they were practically clinging to you, dark eyes searching your face for your approval. They seemed desperate for reassurance, their touch almost hesitant against your skin, as if they wanted to be greedy but were holding back for fear of your rejection. 

When you made it back to your shared bedroom, you watched as the twins sat you down on the bed, their eyes still wide and searching as they stared at you. You weren’t sure what to think when they both knelt at your feet, Jey nuzzling his face into the inside of your thigh while Jimmy leaned against your leg, his eyes hopeful as he looked up at you. 

You felt tenderness swell in your chest at the sight, reaching out to cup both of their cheeks with your hands. Jey’s eyelids fluttered, leaning into your touch, while Jimmy pressed a sweet kiss to your palm, his forehead brushing your knee. They looked so cute now, more like docile puppies than the menacing attack dogs you’d seen at the club, meeting your touch with eagerness. 

“It’s alright,” You heard yourself murmur, watching as the twins perked up at your words, their brown eyes sparkling. This is all they had wanted: a pat on the head. A simple word of praise. Some knowledge that they had pleased their master. 

“You did so good.” You continued, scratching your fingers into their beards just to watch them preen with happiness. “So good for me.” 

You kept your one hand in Jey’s beard, continuing to scratch there as he made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, his eyes shut in contentment. With your other hand you reached up to comb through Jimmy’s long hair, scratching gently at the scalp until his own eyes were fluttering, bringing his cheek to your lap.

It felt strange to have this kind of power over them. Normally you were the one weak to their touch, the reins of control in their very capable hands, but tonight was different. They needed your soft touch and praise, something warm to appease that cold, violent hunger inside them. You knew them too well. 

You gave Jey’s beard a gentle tug and his eyes flew open in response, his pupils swallowing the soft brown of his eyes. He looked up at you with adoration, his mouth parting slightly as you tugged again, a small gasp escaping. You’d never heard him make that sound before and you were enamored at the sight. 

“Kiss me.” You whispered, but it was a command. One that Jey was happy to obey. He quickly leaned up to press his full lips to yours, the kiss desperate and urgent. You heard Jimmy make a mournful sound beneath you and when you looked down you saw that his eyes were pleading, as if he too wanted to kiss you but would only do so if allowed. 

With your fingers still in Jimmy’s hair, you were able to curl your fingers close to his scalp and tug, watching as his back arched in response. He felt pliable beneath your hands and the feeling was new. Empowering. 

With the slightest incline of your head, Jimmy was leaning up beside his brother, capturing your lips in a kiss of his own. It felt just as desperate, just as needy as his twin. And when he pulled away you saw that his own eyes were blown wide with desire, dried blood speckling the warm copper color of his cheeks. 

“Good boy.” You murmured and Jimmy made a pleased sound, leaning forward to kiss you again, desperate to make you happy.

They were gentle as they fucked you, taking turns sliding into the tight, wet warmth between your legs. Their kisses were wordless apologies, each thrust inside you a plea for forgiveness. They atoned for their sins the only way they knew how, worshiping at your altar to be cleansed of their wrongdoings. 

But you knew it was only for tonight. Once the guilt and remorse had faded, you knew it was only a matter of time before their temper flared again. That hunger inside them was insatiable, that craving for violence a fire they couldn’t put out even if they wanted to. They would cross the line again, triggered by that primal instinct to protect you, and you would allow it. Maybe even encourage it. How could you not? You belonged to them. And you would allow them to kill whoever they wanted to prove it. 

[frost-queen]

Russian roulette (Reader x Salesman)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers,  @alex--awesome--22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower

You stared anxiously at your phone. For two minutes now you had been trying to call Gi-hun. Two minutes with no results. Each time you dialled his number it kept ringing till it went to voicemail. At  first you left a message or two, now you were getting desperate. There was a deal. When he missed a call, he would immediately call back. That was what worried you. He should’ve heard you had been trying to call him for Twelve times now.

His phone literally blowing up with messages. Each time you heard his voicemail, you hung up just to call again. So why wasn’t he calling you back. His phone went to voicemail again, making you groan loud in frustration.

Ready to throw your phone at the ground. – “Gi-hun, you bastard.” – you panted out. Freaking out that he was making you worry so much. After having received the message that the salesman was found, you had been trying to call him. Knowing the vendetta he had with the man in suit and tie.

He wouldn’t? Suddenly crossed your mind. You tried dialling him once more, getting in motion. After a few second of hearing nothing but the beep tone, you hung up. Coming from under the shelter into the pouring rain. Sprinting to get back to the motel where Gi-hun’s room was. Hoping he wouldn’t go face the salesman on his own. You just needed to see if he was still back at his room. Needing to know that he wasn’t going to do anything foolish.

The phone lit up once more, another message popping up. Gi-hun looked down at it. Only for a brief second before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. The salesman. The salesman chuckled deeply, his gun laying out in the open on the table, just underneath his hand. – “Someone is eager to reach you.” – he said with a wicked smile on his lips. Gi-hun kept his expression stern, staring with hatred back at the man.

The salesman came leaning over the table to read the name that had been calling him numerous times. – “Y/n.” – he whispered out, sitting back down. He tilted his head a bit, narrowing his eyes. Trying to decipher the connection between the two of you. – “Chingu?” – he tried seeing Gi-hun barely give any reaction. – “Ani, ani.” – he called out waving his hand across. The answer being silly.

“Girlfriend?” – he questioned. Paying a close attention to Gi-hun’s expression. Gi-hun swallowed deeply as it made the salesman smile. – “Ani.” – he repeated with another wave of his hand. Dismissing the connection. – “I thought you wanted to play a game?” – Gi-hun spoke to send him back on his tracks. The salesman brought his finger to his lips, shushing him. He brought the gun up, scratching the back of his head with it. Intrigued by this little game to torment Gi-hun even more. He riled himself up over it.

The salesman placed the gun back down. Leaning in closer. Hands folded together. Observing every micro-detail in his expression. Seeing how Gi-hun started to get nervous. Maintaining eye-contact with deep breaths. Till. His eye-contact broke off. Letting his gaze glide to the side as it made the salesman curl up a smile. – “Sister.” – he whispered out. Smiling even more at the right answer. Gi-hun’s gaze flashed back to the salesman. This time with slight horror in his eyes.

The salesman started to laugh. Laugh loud. Manically, hysterical. – “Are you done?” – Gi-hun called out, having enough of his games. The salesman inhaled deep, stroking a hand through his hair. He looked briefly down at his jacket, taking out a phone. Placing it down with much care. – “You are familiar with Russian roulette?” – he asked, meeting up with Gi-hun’s gaze.

The salesman pressed a button, playing some instrumental music from his phone. Gi-hun swallowed nervously when he started to explain the rules. Emptying his gun from all bullets. They came clattering down on the table. One of them rolling over the edge, onto the floor. The salesman took a bullet, putting it back in. He let it roll so he wouldn’t know when the bullet would be fired.

He then placed the gun back down in front of him. – “Who knows, when I’m done, I might look for your sister and put her into the games.” – he let out, leaning back in his chair. – “You wouldn’t dare!” – Gi-hun called out, his fists trembling on the table. The salesman curling up a smile at how emotionally he was reacting now. He definitely had the right answer. – “Shall we?” – the salesman took the gun, pointing the end at his head.

Smiling tauntingly at Gi-hun before pulling the trigger. Click. Gi-hun swallowed deeply as the salesman removed the gun from him. Laughing loud. Gi-hun stared at the gun laying in front of him. Cheeks trembling with his nervous breathing. When he said he wanted to find the salesman, this was not what he had in mind. Torture  based on luck. – “Scared?” – the salesman spoke to make him even more nervous. Gi-hun reached with trembling fingers for the gun.

Picking the weapon up and feeling the sudden heaviness of it in his palm. Staring down at the machinery, designed to kill men. The salesman leaning back in his chair. Smiling with crossed arms. Enjoying the fear rushing through Gi-hun’s body. Gi-hun moved his hand to his head. Letting the cold tip touch his head. – “If you die, I’ll make her scream.” – the salesman spoke with a grin. – “Shut up!” – Gi-hun shouted loud. Having enough of his taunting.

The salesman’s eyes twinkled with delight. Harvesting the way he could easily manipulate people and get under their skin. Gi-hun closed his eyes, squinting shut as he pulled the trigger. Click. He released a loud breath, he had been holding. The gun quickly placed back down. – “Your turn.” – Gi-hun called out with a gesture. The salesman took the gun. Getting up from his seat. Leaning in over the table, making Gi-hun lean more back to keep his distance.

He held the gun against the side of his head. Laughing manically as he pulled the trigger. Click. Gi-hun’s cheeks trembled with fear. A nauseating feeling harbouring inside of him. The salesman came sitting back down. That man was a maniac. Gi-hun thought. Not even death seemed to scare him. Perhaps because he had nothing to lose?

“Gi-hun!” – you panted out, the door slamming with force against the wall. Looking up, you grabbed the railing. Running up the stairs to his level. Legs carrying you, heart beating rapidly to give you enough fuel to continue. Feeling your body getting worn out, yet you couldn’t give up now.

Not now while you feared the salesman had found him and did something horrible to him. You took big steps, missing a few steps to reach the next level faster. Arriving in the long narrow corridor, you start running. Running towards his apartments door. Needing to stop yourself in time or you would’ve ran right past it. Grabbing the door handle firm, you swung the door open. Barging in, not sure what you would find.

The door slammed hard against the wall as it made them both jump out of their skin. Gi-hun’s eyes widening as you had forced your way in. Coming to a stop to pant loud. The clicking of a gun, made you widen your eyes, hands automatically going up. – “You must be the sister.” – the man let out with a big smile.

Gi-hun turned his head in terror at the salesman. Not sure what he was about to do, but for the love of everything, he hoped he wouldn’t shoot you in front of him. – “We were just playing a game, why don’t you come joining us?” – the salesman spoke still pointing the gun at you.

He gestured with his other hand for you to come over. Gi-hun shaking his head with fear at you. Feeling as if you could only obey him, you did so. Coming closer to the table. Grabbing one of the chairs at the side, ready to pull it back. – “No.” – the salesman spoke, gun still up to you.

You flashed your brother a frightful glance. The salesman scraped his chair back over the floor. Revealing his lap. Patting his knee invitingly. – “You sit right here.” – he said. You shuddered out a breath, looking back at your brother with trembling knees. He slowly nodded for you to do as he says. Knowing this man was so unpredictable, he didn’t want to see you get shot in front of him. You went around the side, coming to sit down on his lap. The salesman exhaled satisfied. He admired your features. Curling up a smile whilst grabbing your chin.

Gi-hun moved forwards, ready to launch himself at the salesman. If it weren’t for the sudden gun pointed at him. Gi-hun sat back down, hatred clear in his eyes. The salesman tilted your chin upwards, leaning in to give your neck a good sniff. Wanting to know how good you smelled.

“Your turn.” – he said without looking away from you. Looking luringly at you. He placed the gun on the table, moving his other hand to your face. Letting it brush down your jawline. Gi-hun took the gun with a firm grip. The salesman curled up a smile, turning you to the front. One arm wrapped tight around your waist.

His other hand holding you by your chin. Forcing you to look at your brother. – “Go on, pull the trigger.” – he spoke to your brother. Gi-hun moved the gun up with a shuddering breath. – “Close your eyes, Y/n.” – he said, not wanting you to see it if the gun went off. You were trembling, eyes swelling up with tears. You squeezed your eyes shut with a loud sob.

“Open them!” – the salesman shouted loud behind you. It made you force them back open. A few tears finding a way down. – “I want you to watch. Watch how your pathetic brother will join the trash.” – he called out. – “Gi-hun…” – you cried out, sobbing loudly. – “It’s alright….” – he reassured you with a calm motion.

Shaking uncontrollably on his lap, you felt him give your hip a good squeeze. Somehow enjoying all of this. Finding it ravishing that he had such power over the two of you. Gi-hun closed his eyes, exhaling deep and pull the trigger. Click. He quickly put the gun back down with a loud exhale.

You fell forwards, crying loud at how close that could’ve been. Forehead resting against the table. Your loud sobs filling the room. The salesman pulled you back up against his chest. Taking the gun from the table. – “Your turn, Gaesaekki!” – your brother cursed out.

The salesman hummed out a chuckle. Moving some hair of yours out of the way. He tauntingly pointed the gun at you. Making you shudder out breaths with a loud yelp. – “No!” – Gi-hun shouted loud. – “This is between you and me.” – he made clear that he wasn’t allowed to shoot you. The salesman chuckled moving the gun away from you.

“We’ll play a different game then, love.” – he turned you back more to him, away from your brother. – “I get to do whatever I like with you and if your brother as so much moves, I shoot you.” – tilting his head to the side, to flash you a devilish smile. – “Like what?” – you asked nervously. – “Like this.” – the salesman began, grabbing you by the back of your hair.

Pulling on it so that your head got pulled back. Revealing more of your neck to him. He flashed his gaze at Gi-hun before pressing his lips deeply into your neck. Gi-hun’s jaw tensed, hands balding into fists on the table. You closed your eyes, tightening your muscles at his sudden touch. His lips tender on your skin. A rush flooding through you, one that you didn’t want.

“Alright that is enough!” – Gi-hun said, needing to restrain himself with much difficulty. – “Oh but that was just a preview.” – he answered. The salesman grabbed you firm by the back of your neck. Making you release a surprised gasp. He brought his face closer to you, making you squint your eyes shut.

“Gaesaekki!” – Gi-hun called out, slamming his fists on the table. It made the salesman move the gun up to your brother. – “Final warning.” – he warned that if he interfered now, he would shoot you in front of him. – “Don’t make me shoot your pretty sister, Gi-hun.” – he reminded him again. Gi-hun clenched his fists even harder. Glaring angrily at him for what he was about to do.

“She might enjoy it.” – he added just to toy with Gi-hun that bit more. He grabbed the back of your neck once more. Pulling you closer as you had squinted your eyes shut once more. The salesman breathed out a laugh admiring you for a moment before proceeding.

His lips pressed deep onto yours. Settling there for a moment till he parted your lips roughly with his. Forcing you to kiss him back. To follow his sudden rougher kiss. Pressing his chest deeper against yours as his lips trailed yours with indecency. All for your brother to watch. – “Enough!” – Gi-hun called out.

Blinking baffled at the salesman holding his finger up for him to wait. Not ready with devouring his sister with his kiss. After a few more moments, he pulled back out of breath. Licking his lips clearly to your brother. You looked shy down, afraid to look your brother in the eye. Not after this man had just kissed you so dangerously. The salesman moved the gun to his head.

You watched in horror as he shamelessly pulled the trigger. Click. Laughing hysterical as he shoved the gun over the table to your brother. Gi-hun took the gun, pointing it forwards. Making the salesman laugh amusingly. – “Do you really think you are such a good shooter?” – he let out, moving you more in front of him. His chin resting on your shoulder.

“You wouldn’t want to shoot your dear sister now, would you?” – he spoke. Gi-hun lowered the gun, knowing he couldn’t. He brought the gun to his head. – “Wait!” – the salesman let out, hand up. Gi-hun opened his eyes once more, confused. – “There are only two more possibilities. Either you die or me.” – he spoke. Gi-hun looked down at the gun, having not counted the rounds at all.

“I’ll like to favour the game with your sister before we continue.” – he announced. – “Like hell!” – Gi-hun called out, pointing the gun back at him. The salesman hid behind you, laughing loud. – “Want to proof just how good of a shooter you are?” – he taunted till your brother lowered the gun once more. You gasped loud when the salesman turned you back to him. – “Now I want you to kiss me.” – he demanded from you.

“What?” – you called out in a panic. – “I want you to kiss me Y/n.” – he repeated, holding your wrist firm. – “No!” – you let out. The salesman’s smile dropped, his hands finding a way to your neck. – “I can make you gasp for air so easily.” – he said giving your neck a slight pressure. – “Alright!” – you called out, pushing his hands away. He smirked.

You exhaled deep, letting your hands slide up his chest to his neck. – “I’m sorry Gi-hun.” – you said before kissing him. You started kissing him as it pleasured him. Eyes briefly widening as he took over. Grabbing you firm by your cheek.

Kissing you rough with pants in your mouth. You wanted to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. Kissing you with every might. Gi-hun slammed his fists hard on the table, startling you. The kiss got broken off as Gi-hun quickly held the gun against his head. Staring murderously at the salesman. Click.

He exhaled relieved, sliding the gun over the table back to him. The salesman chuckled, knowing the last bullet was for him. He knocked you off his lap. Falling backwards on the ground. He then grabbed the gun, putting it in his mouth. Tasting the metal hard. His gaze fiercely on your brother. Bang.

-------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[shivayagojo]

PORSCHE'S GIRL part 2 | F1

masterlist

fia

NEW QUALIFYING RULES: THE BOTTOM 6 DRIVERS WILL BE ELIMINATED FROM Q1 AND Q2. Q3 WILL CONTINUE TO REMAIN THE TOP 10 DRIVERS.

f1

Old Drivers, New Teams. Old Teams, New Drivers. The stage is set for the qualifying in Melbourne. Who will take the first pole position in 2025?

tagged: lewishamilton, carlozsainz, avaflorence

see comments below

batteryacid: Florence's whole winter aesthetic in the Aussie heat is a MOOD

> foksmash: the lack of PR training be hittin' different

> aussie: Gives me Oscar vibes. no f's given.

lewis44: Man, seeing Lewis in red still does not feel right

> totosfav: Ikr!! I was looking at that Ferrari in FP3 was like that's Carlos Sainz- nope, Hamilton.

> plottwist: Manifesting a Ferrari 1-2 today!!

chuckleclerc: Lowkey excited to see how Hamilton and Leclerc gonna shake things up this season 👀🔥

> carbuff: Ferrari's about to serve some serious looks with that darker red livery

f1memes: Carlos getting pole here after getting sacked by Ferrari would be the funniest thing

> sainzstan: praying Sainz coming for that championship with THAT energy 👑

> fastlane: Guys, he's in a Williams. I love him, but please 🙏

Porsche F1: Ava Florence

Admin: Before we head off to your first Grand Prix, the fans want to get to know you a bit better. So let's introduce you to Australia. Firstly, what's your name and what team do you drive for?

"My name is Ava Florence and I drive for Porsche Penske... ah sh** its Martini right? Damn. Porsche Martini Motorsport Racing."

Admin: The F.I.A might penalize you for swearing.

"Ah I won't show up to community service anyway. Unless he did. If he did, I want pictures please."

Admin: What track are you looking most forward to?

"Spa. Literally grew up five minutes away from it. If I don't win there, I might cry. Suzuka would be cool too. Another home race."

Admin: Who was your racing idol?

"Dunno. Never had one. Of course I watched Vettel and Hamilton and Alonso when I was younger, but never really had someone I wanted to be like. The closest... Michele Mouton. She's amazing."

Admin: What's your relationship with Sebastian and Daniel?

"I love them. Seb is kinda like father. And Danny is big brother. Though I think I'm the smarter one... don't tell him that."

Daniel (Off-Camera): You're welcome!

"And he's flipping me off. Love you Danny!"

Admin: Lastly, what's are you looking to accomplish in your first Grand Prix.

"Win."

AUSTRALIA GRAND PRIX: Once again, Melbourne will host the opening round to a Formula 1 season and the excitement is high. McLaren are looking to capitalize on their massive improvements from last season, defending their crown. Red Bull fell off a cliff at the end of 2024, but they still think they can put a fight with their new driver line up. Ferrari has the most hype around them as they've signed Sir Lewis Hamilton, while Mercedes will try to pick up the pieces after Hamilton left.

         Q1 was a heated session and you could've sworn that this was 2023 all over again. Max Verstappen goes fastest, setting a 1:16.643. Only two other drivers cracked into the one minute sixteen margins. Lando followed Verstappen with a 1:16.720, but Charles narrowly took that second spot with 1:26.715. Both Mercedes out high performances in 1:17 and Lewis Hamilton set the fastest of that bunch of 1:17.062, landing him P4 in the first session. Porsche's were the dark horses, setting times for P5 and P7.

          AVA ROLLED INTO the pit lane, her voice teething on the radio:

FLORENCE I have no pace on the straights. Sector 2 is a joke.

HENRY Understood, Ava. Bring the car into the pits, we'll have a look at the front wing.

FLORENCE Where's Seb?

HENRY He's 5th at the moment. He's running a different set up than you.

THUS the issues began with every new team. Sebastian got the "preferred" set-up, a high suspension to increase speed on the straights and allow him to pick up time during qualifying. But Ava had done it before. She's raced with terrible setups and she's always found a way through... and F1 was her dream. If she was gonna be with Porsche, she was gonna have driving done the beautiful way.

          Q2 was a mixed batch of drivers on top. Verstappen fell off his dominance, but he managed to stay in for the next round at P8. Lando once again topped the timing sheets, but Oscar and Leclerc were catching up, Oscar now cracking into the 1:16 times. Hamilton also managed to break in, but still couldn't manage to stick himself in the top 3. It was Sebastian turn to fall to P9 after fumbling Turn 1 and Turn 3 of his laps. Ava settled herself behind the 7x champion in fifth. Coming into the pits, she remained quiet. She hated every second right now. Sure, fifth was a great start to her first EVER F1 race, but she had to fight the car through every corner to get it to where it was. For that effort, she felt she deserved more. She put on footage from Lando's qualifying lap and waited for the final session to begin.

          LECLERC HAS GONE OFF — he spun is car around in Turn 1 and sent it straight to the gravel, failing to set a time for the final session. This was Lando's chance. With competition from Charles gone, he easily snatched the top timings, but Oscar was there; first sector, green, second sector, yellow, third sector - hard brake, attacking the apex, carrying that momentum into the final chicane - purple. But was it enough?

Oscar Piastri : +.097

OSCAR WAS DEVASTED. P2was a great lap, but to know he was only nine hundreds off pole in his home Grand Prix hurt. However, that wasn't the only salt to his wound.

"We ride on board with Ava Florence as she's about to begin her lap. Martin, why don't you give us some insight."

"Certainly, Crofty. She's just gonna come up on the final corner and activate the DRS and down she goes for her lap. Picks up speed to 8th gear, breaks at the 100 meter mark, down to third, hits the apex, up to fifth. Late braking into Turn 3, a little too late, bad exit off the corner. Nicely hugs the apex into Turn 4 and flat out for Turn 5. Faster than her pedal best by a tenth."

"Now, Ava Florence, that is, the Porsche driver. She was complaining about the bad speeds on the straights. We can see that right here on Turn 5."

"Absolutely, and she's gonna have to make up as much as she can in the corners.. here, she crosses the DRS detection zone, it's a yellow second sector. Turn 9, a hard braking zone, she angles her car beautifully, attacking the apex, but being cautious on the curbs. She carries that momentum into Turn 10 - just look at how fast she is in those corners. DRS Zone now... down to third gear, wide entry into Turn 11, just what she needs and she stays smooth on the throttle in Turn 22. Back into third gear for Turn 14 and beautiful exit out of Turn 14 as she hits the DRS."

"And it will be Ava Florence who will take P2 away from Oscar Piastri. She goes purple on the final sector."

"Unbelievable final sector from that rookie. Like you said Crofty, having to fight that car all day and certainly not an easy afternoon for the lady, but she's made it work. As here comes here teammate Sebastian Vettel climbing up to P6."

HENRY That is P2 for tomorrow. P2. Well done, Ava.

FLORENCE YES! Oh I hated this qualifying so much, but happy with this result. What's an Aussie thing I can say for the fans?

f1

The eyes of our top three in qualifying. Time to hit the grid hard on Sunday. 👊

tagged: lando, avaflorence, oscarpiastri

see comments below

delulu4ferrari: Another year, another season where Ferrari plays with my heart.

> chuckleclerc: Charles going on in Q3 gave me France PTSD.

teamLH: How did Lewis not manage to get a single top 3 placement in any session?? Rigged!

> lululemoncalled: Hear me out... maybe he's new to the team?? Just saying.

> oscarpastry: Only TeamLH and Mad Max fans can look at a P4 qualifying and say it was rigged against them.

florence4ever: No hate to Seb, but they gave mama the worse setup and she cooked.

> delusion: How many letters in Formula 1?

visacashapptookmymoney: Piastri fans, how we feeling?

> pawastri: chill

> piastri_leclerc: dead

> leos.brother: trynna stay sane

2025 Australian Starting Grid

Lando Norris

Ava Florence

Oscar Piastri

Lewis Hamilton

George Russell

Max Verstappen

Sebastian Vettel

Nico Hulkenberg

Andrea Kimi Antonelli

Charles Leclerc

Gabriel Bortoleto

Carlos Sainz

Liam Lawson

Fernando Alonso

Yuki Tsunoda

Esteban Ocon

Ollie Bearman

Lance Stroll

Alexander Albon

Pierre Gasly

Isack Hadjar

Jack Doohan

porschef1

View from the top of Australia is so good you can see Stuttgart from here.

tagged: avaflorence, sebsatianvettel

see comments below

vettel_forever: Sebastian P7 to podium, calling it now! 🏆

> florence4ever: Porsche 1-2 from day one 💯

racingnews24: Audi: "We're joining F1!" Porsche: "Hold my beer" 🍻

> f1_memer: The German Civil War continues

> delulu: Out qualified both Audi's and Ava had the worse set up. Queen shit.

audif1: Enjoy the view while it lasts. See you on race day.

> hulk: Get Nico a podium and then talk!

> shoey4ricc: I want Hulkenberg on the podium so badly, but Audi kinda dug themselves a grave by doing all this.

SUNDAY CAME FAST, and the grid was lined up for the 2025 Formula 1 season. The nerves and expectations were on everyone. Lando couldn't manage to dethrone Max in 2024, but everyone said he can do it this year. He had the fast car, he had the pole position, and all he needed was to maintain it. But Ava was right behind. Rookie or not,  she stole P2 from the second McLaren, arguably the fastest car on the grid right now. Speaking of him, Oscar wanted this race win badly. Every driver dreams of winning a Grand Prix, but many dream of winning their home race. This race was crucial for Oscar, not just for the championship, but for his pride.

          NEXT YEAR IS OUR YEAR was Ferrari's slogan for the past 17 years. This year had to be the year though. They had two mega-star drivers. They invested everything into Leclerc. They invested everything into Hamilton. They were just a millimeter away last year. They want to a mile ahead this year.

"Welcome along to the first round of 2025 Formula 1 Season. We are in Melbourne, Australia at the beautiful Albert Park circuit to kick off the start of what is surely going to be a spectacular season. We've got 58 laps ahead of his round, a 3.28 mile circuit and the lap record, set by Charles Leclerc in 2024. 4 DRS zones here, more than any other circuit, around 14 corners. Let's take a look at our grid."

"It was a wild qualifying this year, like it is every year. The lap record holder spun off in Q3, landing him 10th on the grid. But if any driver can make a comeback, it is him. Drivers to watch out for - obviously, we have the pole sitter, Lando Norris. He's been on fire all weekend. Can he finish the job today?"

"We'll certain see, Martin, but the driver behind him isn't going make it easy. Ava Florence, the rookie for Porsche, stunned everyone yesterday. She'll sits P2, only seven hundredths off Norris' time."

HENRY Okay, Ava. Don't worry too much about your start. Our goal is to make these tires last longer than the competition.

"And that Ava certainly will do. She starts on soft tires for the Grand Prix, but she's running a higher suspension than the rest of the top 10, so she might be out on the track for a long time before she comes into the pits. The question is: was that the right call?"

"Only time will tell, Martin, but now the drivers finish up their formation lap... IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! Immediately, Ava gets a good jump, she's right on Lando, Max in the back passes on Russel as we head down to the first corner AND AVA GETS TO THE APEX FIRST, SHE LEADS IN, AND SHE TAKES THE POSITION. Once again, Lando Norris will not get to the first corner from pole in pole. Oscar right behind Lando, can't get away-

"The Williams just hit the Aston Martin. Who is it? Debris is going everywhere. Pierre Gasly gets through the disaster, but that's... that's Albon and Stroll there. Stroll's car is beached on the gravel."

"Up ahead, Ava continues her lead into Turn 5 heading for end of the first sector. Behind is Lando, Oscar, Hamilton, Verstappen, Vettel, Russell, Hulkenberg, Antonelli, and Leclerc to round out the top ten.

"We saw Verstappen pass Russell at the start, but looks like Vettel passed him too. He's put into sixth. Let's have a look at crash. Albon is still racing, but car is limping on the road. He's desperately trying to get to the pits. But Stroll... Yeah, he's getting out of the car. Lance Stroll is out of the race. So, first corner, first lap, and we already have our first retirement of 2025."

"Such a shame, especially with Newey entering the Aston department to help them with their new 2026 Honda engine deal. Not the start Aston Martin wanted for their first race. But at least Alonso is still in the race, he's climbed up two places into P12. And here as he are about to finish up the first lap, Ava is still the driver leading into Turns 13 and 14. The gap to Lando has extended, but not to Oscar. The Australian staring at his teammates rear wing. No DRS yet, but in due time, he just might be able to get ahead of Lando."

Lap 3:

TURN 1 - LAW overtakes SAI on the inside lane, sweeping in to take P13

TURN 8 - LEC passes ANT on the outside to take P9

Lap 6:

AVA FLORENCE SETS FASTEST LAP : LEAD +1.350

LAP 9:

TURN 7 -  PIA passes NOR on the inside to take P2

OSCAR PIASTRI SETS FASTED LAP : GAP TO P1 +3.545

LAP 10 - 12:

WHEEL-TO-WHEEL BATTLE:

"Max Verstappen closes the gap with DRS. He's right on Hamilton's gearbox. He makes the lunge into Turn 1 on the inside. But Hamilton just holds on to the position. Verstappen and Hamilton, wheel to once again. They've shown thrilling battles before, but they've also know some jaw-dropping incidents. Verstappen makes the move on the outside. Can he make it stick? They're so close into Turn 4. Verstappen has to back off. Hamilton, defending that P4 with all his might."

"Back into the opening straight and DRS with Verstappen. He makes the lunge once again. He is denied once again. Hamilton continues to defend the position. Up ahead, Florence extends her lead to four seconds. And behind, Leclerc passes Hulkenberg. But all eyes are on these two. Who's going to come out on top?"

HENRY Hamilton and Verstappen are occupied with one another. We're happy to pit now. Your choice.

FLORENCE I think I can extend this stint.

"For the third straight time, Verstappen tries it on the inside line. This time, he gets it to stick, just a sliver ahead of Hamilton. And that is all the space Verstappen needed to get ahead in P4. Behind, Sebastian Vettel has caught up with the two. From fighting one 4x time Red Bull champion to another."

LAP 14:

AVA PIT STOP : 3.1 SECONDS | P6

TURN 5 - LEC passes RUS to take P7

LAP 16:

AVA FLORENCE SETS FASTEST LAP : GAP TO P1 +12.345

TURN 9 - ALO makes a clean pass on ANT for P10

LAP 20:

TURN 3 - BOR overtakes HUL on the outside to claim P9

TURN 7 - SAI and LAW engage in a brief battle, with SAI maintaining P13

LAP 25:

AVA FLORENCE PIT STOP : 2.8 SECONDS | P4 

"Ava Florence emerges from the pits in P4, right behind George Russell. And She's immediately looking for the attack, looking for a way past the British driver. She tries to make a move on the inside of Turn 1, but Russell aggressively defends that position. Not much she could do there.

"Turn 1, and Florence fancies her chances on the inside, but Russell's having none of it. He's defending like his life depends on it! Through the next corner, it's anybody's guess who'll come out on top. They're so close you couldn't slip a piece of paper between them!"

"And now, Turn 3, Florence bravely goes for the outside line. It's a bold move, but- OH MY GOODNESS! CONTACT BETWEEN RUSSELL AND FLORENCE! SHE'S OFF THE TRACK! What drama we're seeing here, ladies and gentlemen!"

RUSSELL Nothing I could do. I had no space.

FLORENCE Someone tell this f***** that he's not Hamilton at Mercedes.

HENRY Any damage?

FLORENCE No damage. Just trying to say sane. What's Russell saying?

HENRY Russell is reporting front wing damage.

FLORENCE Karma!

"She doesn't so happy, does she, Crofty? That was quite a rip on Russell. But the Stewards will be looking into that incident and surely, that's a penalty for Russell. He was on the inside lane, Florence gave him plenty of room. No need for him to push her off the track like that."

"He will see the result of that penalty indeed, but right now Florence has lost crucial time and position. She's rejoined right behind Gabriel Bortoleto."

"I will say. Gabriel Bortoleto, the driver from out of Brazil, has done phenomenally well in his first race. I think we knew had talent, but were wondering what to make off it since he was starting in Sauber. But then Audi announced they would the join the early. And look at how its played out."

"Indeed, it's gone great for the team. Of course, the team they were directly responding to is right behind him."

LAP 28:

TURN 1 - VET makes a daring move on HAM, briefly taking P4 before HAM reclaims it in Turn 2

LAP 30:

"AND HERE WE GO! It's an absolute THRILLER between Florence and Bortoleto battling for P5! OH MY GOODNESS, WHAT A FIGHT WE'RE SEEING!"

"Look at the precision, the commitment from both drivers. Both sides are respecting the space for the other drivers, but neither side is giving up any sort of room. It's strange how that works, but that's an F3 and F2 champion fighting right here. Florence is showing tremendous tactical awareness ."

"INTO TURN 3 - BORTOLETO DEFENDS! HE'S HOLDING THE RACING LINE! BUT WAIT - FLORENCE ISN'T BACKING DOWN! SWITCH TO THE INSIDE FOR TURN 4 - SHE'S DONE IT! FLORENCE MAKES THE MOVE STICK! LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY SHE GOES! WHAT A MAGNIFICENT PIECE OF RACING!"

"Brilliant overtake. That's the kind of move that separates good drivers from great drivers. Clean, calculated, and absolutely decisive. Many said that if Florence continued to race in F2, she'd give Bortoleto a run for the title. And this right here shows it."

LAP 35:

LANDO NORRIS PIT STOP : 2.7 SECONDS | P4

LEWIS HAMILTON PIT STOP : 3.6 SECONDS | P6

AVA FLORENCE MOVES UP TO P2

LAP 40:

TURN 9 - ANT and HUL battle for P10, with ANT holding on by mere tenths

LAP 48:

"Florence has been relentlessly chasing down Piastri. Look at that - she's right on his gearbox, the gap closing down faster than a pit stop. Florence goes for the inside, but Piastri - what a defensive move! He covers it off brilliantly."

"Piastri has made a big jump in his defensive ability. We saw him defend Hamilton on the start and he's doing a beautiful job here."

"She's not giving up yet. She feints to the outside... cuts back to the inside. They're side-by-side through Turn 1, neither driver willing to give an inch! This is wheel-to-wheel racing at its absolute finest!"

"Piastri has the inside line for Turn 2, but Florence is hanging in there."

LAP 49:

TURN 3 - LEC makes a bold move on NOR, taking P4

TURN 8 - BOR defends P8 from a charging ALO

LAP 50:

"Florence has been calculatingher next move for laps. When will she unleash? Oscar Piastri is waiting, ready to defend. Look at this - she gets a phenomenal exit out of the final corner, using that slipstream down the main straight DRS wide open, and she's pulling alongside Piastri - they're NECK AND NECK into Turn 1! Florence brakes later, takes the inside line, and MAKES THE PASS STICK! WHAT A MOVE!"

"Absolutely spectacular, Crofty. That's how you make a race-defining move! She knew she had slipstream, she knew exactly the kind of space Piastri was going to give her and she took advantage of it. Brilliant. Brilliant racing."

LAP 52:

TURN 3 - LEC overtakes HAM, taking P3

LAP 58:

"Ava Florence hasn't been in Formula 1 for long, but she's already made history. The first female driver on the grid since Giovanna Amati in 1992. She will become the 9th driver to stand on the podium in their first race. And the second driver since Giancarlo Baghetti in 1961 to win their first ever Formula 1 Race. AVA FLORENCE WINS THE AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX!"

HENRY Congratulations, Ava! You've freaking done it!

FLORENCE OH MY GOD!! SIGN THIS, TAT IT, STICK ON A NOTE AND PUT IT ON MY HELMET! I DON'T CARE! I JUST WON IT!!

RUDI Okay, that's P7, Seb. Good job. Welcome back to the grid.

VETTEL Yeah, a little rusty. But amazing feeling. Thank you guys

RUDI And Ava won the race, by the way.

VETTEL Hah, really? Amazing. Gute Arbeit!

AUSTRALIA GRAND PRIX RESULTS

1. AVA FLORENCE (+25)

2. OSCAR PIASTRI (+18)

3. CHARLES LECLERC (+15)

4. LEWIS HAMILTON (+12)

5. LANDO NORRIS (+10)

6. MAX VERSTAPPEN (+8)

7. SEBASTIAN VETTEL (+6)

8. GABRIEL BORTOLETO (+4)

9. FERNANDO ALONSO (+2)

10. GEORGE RUSSELL (+1)

11. ANDREA KIMI ANTONELLI

12. NICO HULKENBERG

13. LIAM LAWSON

14. CARLOS SAINZ

15. YUKI TSUNODA

16. OLLIE BEARMAN

17. ESTABAN OCON

18. PIERRE GASLY

19. ISACK HADJAR

20. JACK DOOHAN

21. ALEXANDER ALBON [DNF]

22. LANCE STROLL [DNF] f1

SIGN THIS, TAT IT, STICK ON A NOTE AND PUT IT ON HER HELMET! WE DON'T CARE! AVA FLORENCE WINS THE AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX!

tagged: avaflorence

see comments below

f1_memer: Audi watching this like 👀

> totosheadphones: Absolutely cooked Bortoleto in the race 🔥

madmax: That's how you make an entrance in F1! Welcome, Porsche!

racing_queen: George's front wing is probably still shaking from that incident

> chuckleclerc: inchident

boomerhumor: George "He turned into me" Russell strikes again😅 What a race!

florence4ever: Ava probably some of the best radio messages here: "someone tell him he's not Hamilton at Mercedes" 😭

> goatifi: She stole Fernando's "KARMA" 💀

AUSTRALIA POST-RACE INTERVIEW

Interviewer: Congratulation, Ava. Your first race in F1 and already a win in your bag.

Ava: Hello~ How are you? Thank you so much. You look fantastic.

Interview: I think you look better than me.

Ava: Oh shut up. Tell me where you got that dress from. I need to grab something before I leave the land down under.

Interview: I'll let you know after this. Tell us, what are your emotions on your win? Guide us through this race.

Ava: Yeah, I mean... To be honest, even though I was P2, I thought a win was far away. You know, we ran a bad setup on the car. I struggled in qualifying to even get into some of the sessions but you know, we got P2 in the end. And so then I had to convert that to something in the race. Norris I saw had a slow reaction on the start, so I took the opportunity to get past him into turn one and then from there 1st put stop, you know, pretty good. But then the 2nd pit stop... came out right behind Russell. I thought, you know, I could go for this overtake And, he thought to be an idiot and turned into me when I was on the outside. So I don't know what happened there. I'm not complaining with the end result, but definitely was complaining on that one. Then I had a little fight with Gabriel. I got past him. Norris went into the pits, gave me the second position that I needed. And on Piastri, I was just waiting for DRS to kick in. And I knew that was going to be my opportunity and I got it.

Interview: So, Oscar, you were very close to winning your home Grand Prix. What are you feeling here?

Oscar: Yeah, tough. I was leading for a while. Confident I could get the race win. And then Ava came behind me and it was tough to keep her away. P2 is a strong position. Helps me, helps the team. But I definitely wished I got first.

Interview: Charles, after that spin in Q3, you started 10th on the grid. You worked your way up to the podium. How was it?

Charles: It was good. The car had pace. Obviously, not as much as we wanted, but I made some good overtakes. We had a solid strategy. By the time, I passed Lewis, the McLarens were too far ahead. Overall, strong result for the team. We'll look into the data to see where we can improve because we're definitely faster than what was shown today.

HOWEVER, all that aside, the fans of F1 wanted to know one thing and one thing only. What did the drivers think of Ava Florence? She was the first point scoring woman in F1 history. The first race-winning woman in F1 history.

Oscar: She's very quick. She's a tough racer. It was very hard to defend against her. She's pretty relentless.

Lando: She's crazy good. I mean, first race, first win. You don't just do that randomly. So, she's proven herself.

Charles: I think the race showed it. She has the pace and the racecraft to compete with the best. Very strong qualifier. Strong pace. Not many flaws I would saw. For a rookie, that's incredible.

Lewis: It's amazing to see her race. Not only is she crazy fast, but she's representing women out there in motorsport. You know, when I was growing up, there wasn't any driver that I could look to and say, "He's like me." I got the opportunity to be that kind of driver for others. And I'm sure she's now going to be a huge inspiration for women all over the world. Major props to her.

Max: She's fast. I mean, that's the basis of what you need to compete. And she has it.

Sebastian: Ava is an incredible racer. Porsche has a lot of trust in her and for good reason. She's a strong driver, and a strong person too. She doesn't let the comments get to her. And her character is one of the best out there. Happy for her. Congrats on the race win. Hopefully, many more will come.

Gabriel: The same as before. Competing against her in F3 was definitely one of the most challenging moments of my life. And now we're both on the highest level of racing. Yeah, that's it. She's fast. She's tough. She's great.

Fernando: Fantastic performance. She definitely stands out and she has great race pace, great awareness, overall just fantastic for motorsport as a whole. I don't really care if she's a woman or not. She's got the speed to compete with everyone else.

George: I think, for a rookie, it's a impressive performance. But you're going to have the rookie mistakes that everyone makes. You know, a lot of them are overly ambitious.

Carlos: She's great. Very good race she had today. Happy to see representation on the grid. I hope the best for her.

avaflorence

Australia, whatever you were, I hate you and I love you. First race, first win. Thank you. And I seriously recommend some eyewear for some of these drivers.

see comments below

f1_fanatic92: Love-hate relationships are the best! Congrats on your first win, Ava! 🏆💖

> throughgoeshamilton: "Love-hate relationships are the best." Serious question, are you okay?

ausgp: Come back next year and maybe you're mind will change 😉

motorsport_daily: "I hate you and I love you" - the perfect description of F1!

> delulu: average ferrari fan

landonorris: Congrats... I guess

> avaflorence: No need to be salty honey. Australia is already surrounded by an ocean.

> florence4ever: 😭😭

vettel_forever: First race, first win, and already throwing shade?

> team44: Rusell was fuming in the post-race interview 💀

> hamland: Bro def saw her radio message. He's cooked.

alldatime: She stole Fernando's "yoke", "karma," and his celebration. El Padre 2.0?

> avaflorence: El Madre ❤️

porschef1

We kept the receipts. Double points finish in Australia.

tagged: avaflorence, sebastianvettel

see comments below

lululemoncalled: Someone check in on Audi. I don't think they're doing so well.

delulu: Ava was fighting with the McLarens and Hulkenberg was struggling with Antonelli 💀

vettel_forever: Schumacher 🤝 Vettel joining a German based team after retirement

> schumi: Bro was really copying his idol to the max.

audif1: See you in China.

> porschef1: 🧾

WORLD DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP

WORLD CONSTRUCTOR CHAMPIONSHIP

taglist: @freyathehuntress

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION I.

(a/n: Hey everybody, back with the continuation! 🙋‍♀️ as you can see from the title this is only the first version of my bllk manager 'story' meaning there's more to come ^^ The current plan is to write with multiple players a similar episode like the one below. So I hope you enjoy it!! ❤️)+if u see any grammatical errors let me know tyy

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.4 k words, so buckle up cause it's gonna be a looong ride again sry T_T

ALSO: requested tags ❤️-@ttheggrimrreaper @god-is-disappointed

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…1, Itoshi Rin.”

'Player number one, Itoshi Rin. Player number one, number one…number…'-the words rang in your head like a mantra as you tried to process the information over and over again.

“PLAYER NUMBER ONE?!”-you exclaimed once realisation hit you in the face. Perhaps, a little too loudly, earning yourself quite a few envious looks and surprised glances. Standing in the room for a few seconds, you didn’t move due to the shock of what just happened. You might have stayed like that forever, if one of the girls who were still waiting for their turn, hadn’t shouted at you.

“Yeah, we heard that the first time!”

Rude. You thought, before snapping back to reality and heading towards the door that had the ‘MANAGER’ label on in bold, black letters. Stepping into the room, to your surprise, was Anri waiting there, sitting at a desk with neatly arranged papers, folders, and all kinds of pens on it. Sensing your presence, she stood up, and when you got there, she extended her hand, saying “Congratulations” with a bright smile. You thanked her before she turned around, searching through a pile of booklets before stopping her finger on the with your name written on the cover.

“Here. It’s kind of like a little guide, it will be very helpful for adjusting to your player. This thing contains your new routine and some useful information as well.”-she said, handing it to you.-“Good luck and welcome to Blue Lock!”

She then directed you to Team A’s soccer field, where the boys were currently training. Walking your way there, you felt your hands starting to sweat, heart beating a little faster than normal, and the feeling of excitement from earlier coming back. After all…

Imagine being THE Itoshi Rin’s manager, who’s the best in Blue Lock with his jersey number confirming his position.

Itoshi Rin, with whom your first meeting couldn’t have gone worse. Who, after only 5 minutes, tells you with a straight face that:

“I don’t need a manager.”

Leaving you stunned at his plain attitude and bluntness. Seeing as you stare at him, without another word, he turns around and starts to walk away, which causes you to panic. Not knowing what to do in this case, you call out his name multiple times, hoping he stops. That doesn’t seem to work, so you decide to shout at him the first thing that comes to your mind.

“ARE YOU ITOSHI SAE’S BROTHER?”

The moment those words slipped out of your mouth an incredibly awkward silence fell over the room. Oh. My. God. This was probably the dumbest thing you could have said, but in your defense, it did make the boy stop in his tracks.

Catching up to him, you apologized, saying this was just a slip of the tongue. Rin looked unfazed, but the way his body tensed up told you that you probably touched a sensitive topic there. Before you could open your mouth again, he sighed and gave you a nasty stare, walking past your figure without sparing a second glance.

Great first impression.

——————

•Rin, who after that incident starts ignoring your presence. Whenever you hand him a water bottle or try to strike up a conversation, the only thing you get back is an uninterested look. Your apology the day before was also left on heard.

•Learning it through the hard way, but working with him meant keeping his brother’s business or any news or posts related to him out of your mouth. Even mentioning the famous footballer's name was forbidden territory, and although you never questioned his strange behaviour towards the older one, you do wonder what happened between them.

•Rin, who has a particularly strict routine that he follows without a break, doesn't expect you to be near him, but when the opposite happens with you sticking around, like an annoying fly 24/7, he wishes to find a way to somehow get rid of you.

•He doesn't know that you work your butt off, spending your free time watching every single match he has previously played in as well as analysing and taking notes of his every move. From waking up earlier than the player himself to prepare his yoga mattress and drinks for the morning to staying up until midnight to help him collect the footballs he shoots for late-night practices and cleaning up as soon as he finishes.

•However, it takes weeks until he finally talks to you, his first words being "Move over!" because you were standing in front of the weights he was gonna use. Over time though, even if it's just a short yes or no, a huff or an ugly look, but he starts to answer the many questions you ask every day out of concern or curiosity.

•Rin, who’s stoic and not a man of many words, silently starts to appreciate the way you have his daily routine and training engraved in your mind. You, who's always within arm’s length making sure he doesn’t overwork himself to death or forget his meals. You, who never knows when to shut up, sticking to his ass all day to confirm he’s alive and well, complaining or scolding him for being rude and unfriendly to his teammates, and showering him in compliments from time to time like:

•“You were amazing on the field earlier!” or “I’m jealous of your eyelashes!” and then there’s his favorite line that goes -“Isagi looked soooo shocked at your goal!” (it’s not a compliment, he thinks it is)

——————

•After weeks of working together, you’ve mastered the art of reading his microscopic facial expressions to know what he wants or thinks without him having to tell you directly. You’re busy, work schedule being fully packed, but still making time to accompany him in the evenings to rewatch and analyse his games before bed.

•However, sometimes too tired to stare at the screen, you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, making him complain to you the next day to quit drooling on his uniform and get a grip. He doesn’t want you to 'slack off' he says, but ultimately the underlying message is to take care of yourself.

•Rin, who works ten times harder during the preparation for the U20 match, training to face his brother on the field and making you constantly remind him to: “Get some rest” or “Relax, otherwise you will get injured before the real match!”-your words being ignored as usual.

———————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Rin’s popularity skyrockets following the victory of Blue Lock, yet he always manages to respond in a raw, unfiltered way at press conferences and interviews, that leave many reporters and paparazzi speechless.

•His newfound fans, on the other hand, adore his cold demeanor, and the comment sections are each time filled with either compliments about his plays or looks and never the ridiculously simple answers he gives to the media.

•Joining the team of PXG also makes the teal-eyed boy change in many ways, but surprisingly his attitude towards you somehow remains the same.

•Rin got 'new' teammates, a new coach/mentor, and new training routines. Everything is new. Better. Yet, he’s somewhat relieved that you're still his manager. The one who’s not afraid to call him out or nag at him. Knowing when to leave him alone at times. Letting him focus on his goals without getting in his way. Keeping him away from Shidou Ryusei outside the field as much as possible. Shoving down his throat the meals made according to his diet and making sure he sleeps exactly 7.5 hours.

•He hates to admit it, but you’re perfect…for being his manager of course. The only problem he finds is the way you make his heart move a little when you come to his games, supporting him with his jersey on, proudly wearing the name Itoshi Rin and number 10 across your back.

•Heck, these days he also can’t seem ignore the way you stare at him for an unnecessary amount of time during his warm ups and stretches, the slight shade of pink covering your cheeks every time he runs to you after a match, covered in sweat asking for some water and his towel.

•He notices your flustered state when he bends down a little to hear you better, or the way he sits just a tad bit closer to you during your French tutoring. It’s distracting. Not only to you, but to him as well. Yet, he doesn’t mind it nor does he do anything about it.

•Maybe in a few years, he thinks, if you'll still have some affection left for him, he could allow something other than just a strict, professional relationship between to two of you.

•However, currently, there’s no place on his priority list for you since football is his number one goal after all. He knows you understand that, that’s what he loves about you. Besides, you’re going to stay by his side for a long time, so what’s there to rush?

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(Gosh, my eyes gave up after rereading this for the third time 😭 hope you guys enjoyed it, let me know if u think this was a little too long and tyyy for the support ❤️ (★‿★)