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seichira · 1 year ago

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is it just me?

itoshi rin is tormented by the lingering ghosts of your tragic breakup. he is cold and he lives with the burden of missing you. he wonders if you are hurting too, or is it just him?

pairing : itoshi rin x reader

content : hurt and comfort. exes to lovers. messy breakup. accusations of cheating (no actual cheating). insecurities. mentions of alcohol. cursing.

it’s one in the morning and rin is surrounded by his friends and acquaintances but still, he feels cold. even with the alcohol in his system that he drank to purposely warm him, it’s cold.

it has been this way for nearly a year now. eleven months and a couple weeks, if anyone is counting. a few days more and it would be the anniversary of your breakup.

the nearer it gets to twelve months without you, the colder it gets. right now, even with the perfectly working heater in one of his teammate’s penthouse, rin shivers.

it’s cold.

he never thought it could be this cold.

rin knows why he feels like this. he knows exactly why he wakes up and goes to bed alone. the reason why his life is dull and empty is not a secret to him—he just won’t acknowledge it.

he refuses to admit to himself that the reason why he has been suffering for the past eleven months of his life is because you’re not here.

how could he admit it? how could he ever address that your absence it what causes his pitiful state, when he brought it upon himself.

it was his fault that you’re not here. he wanted this. well, he had thought that he wanted this.

there is no way he could welcome the thought that he misses you when he was the one who drove you away, right? there is no use.

it’s too late now. all he could do is go out with his teammates on nights like this and pretend as if he wasn’t freezing from the inside out.

“damn, this is so boring,” seishiro sits down beside him on the sofa and rin tenses at the presence of the white-haired boy.

he does not know what to do because among everyone else in this crowded room, you are most connected to nagi seishiro. your best friend. and he has long been your best friend before you and rin even got together.

how is rin supposed to act around the person who is still in your life while he himself isn’t? this man seated next to him knows where you are right now and what you have been doing, while rin has absolutely no idea how you are.

“didn’t think i’d see you here, itoshi,” nagi speaks again. rin hums in acknowledgment, “thought it wouldn’t be so bad to come.”

there is this unspoken understanding between them, that both of them are thinking about you. after all, aside from soccer, all they have in common is their connection to you.

nagi debates whether he should tell you that he saw rin tonight or keep it to himself so as to not instigate negative feelings from you.

rin wonders if he should start asking about you. he decides against it and pretended to busy himself with his cellphone to avoid further conversation with your best friend.

he convinces himself that he does not care. he acts like he doesn’t want to know how you are. he tries to make himself believe that as long as he can fake it, it will somehow be true.

jokes on him, really.

meguru approaches nagi next to him and rin is planning to ignore him like he usually does, but the words that comes out of meguru’s mouth made that utterly impossible.

“nagi! i saw y/n by the bookstore earlier this afternoon, didn’t you ask her to come? i invited her but she said you didn’t mention anythin’ about a party!”

the mere mention of your name makes rin’s heart stop. it has been a very long time since he heard someone mention your name casually around him. now that your name has been dropped, everything comes crashing down on him, and he cannot breathe.

“oh, damn, i’m sorry—“ bachira seems to notice his mistake upon not seeing rin next to nagi. they know not to carelessly throw your name around because at first, it affected his performance. now, it is apparent that you affect him in and out of the game.

“excuse me.”

rin is cold. it’s like ice is running through his veins as he stands up and rushes to leave the suffocating penthouse.

rin runs out to the street and for the first time since he lost you, he names the sinking feeling in his stomach that won’t go away.

for the first time since you walked out the door of your shared apartment, rin finally admits it.

he misses you.

he is longing for you like how the moon misses the sun but never meets it enough. it burns and it is freezing all at the same time because when you were here, he felt nothing but the assurance of your love.

he runs, and runs, and runs. it’s dark and it’s cold, but he runs. he runs in hopes that he could change the past. he runs with the burning desire to correct his faults and take back all the hurt he inflicted on you.

maybe then, you’d be here.

maybe then, it wouldn’t be so cold.

“are you seriously accusing me of that, rin? are you hearing yourself right now?” the hurt was evident in your tone as you watched the love of your life with all of his guards up.

his glares were accusing as if what he saw was an unforgivable betrayal. he had seen you talking to his brother, sae, and rin was quick to act out of pure rage and jealousy.

“you were flirting with my fucking brother!” he spat out, and he knew it was irrational.

he knew he was wrong about and that you would never be able to do that to him, but his years of pent up frustration and hatred towards his brother made it impossible to remember his trust in you.

“and i already told you i wasn’t, rin. i was talking to him. i bumped into him at the coffee shop while i was getting your usual morning drink when he saw me and i sat down for a little chat! that was all, baby. believe me.”

you deserved an award with how well you held up, with how patient you were with him despite his hurtful accusations towards you.

no one else understood him like you did, and you knew to be more patient with him in times like these. you were aware of how his brother affected him and how he just needed someone to stick with him through it.

“well, fuck that! you shouldn’t have been with him in the first place! sae wants everything that i have and now, he’s tryna get you too!”

it almost made you flinch, with his tone rising and his voice getting louder. he is furious, and you try to disregard the sting of his words now that his fury is directed at you.

“i’m sorry, alright? it wasn’t my intention to hurt you, rin. he’s your brother and i thought it would be nice to ask him how he is and—“

rin cut you off like he couldn’t comprehend a word that you were saying. “that’s bullshit and you know it! just fuckin’ tell me the truth! that like everyone and everything else, you’re gonna leave me for him!”

it frustrated you that he blocked all your explanations out. you were growing weary with the accusations thrown at you, but you continued. you continued to reason with him because you knew him. you knew he needed someone to stay. and above all, you tried further because you were in love with him.

you loved rin three years before you finally got together. your two years together made that five. that was five years of your life being deeply in love with someone whom you thought was going to be your husband and the father of your kids.

that amount of time may not be much when viewed through the generations of people who loved each other, but for the both of you, those five years were enough to build a life and create an ideal future with the other.

so, yeah. it never occurred to you to give up in that argument. there was no chance in hell that you would leave him high and dry.

“it’s not like that, rin. i am never going to leave you for anyone, much less for your brother! i need you to listen to me! we talked! that’s it!”

“you’re lying to me. i know it.”

you shake your head in exhaustion. “i talk, and i talk, and i talk—and you don’t hear a thing.” a lone tear falls from your eye without realizing.

his sharp stare does not falter. all he could see was red. the scene of you and sae together replayed over and over again in his mind.

you, the person he loved most, with the person who took everything away from him. it killed him to imagine a future where it is not you and him, but you and sae.

“i’m in love with you. only you. i cannot see myself with anyone else and i thought you knew that, rin. i get that your brother strikes a vein in you but don’t i at least deserve to be heard? we’re better than this.”

“yeah? and i thought you’d be better than acquainting with sae like that. you knew how i felt about him, and you did this? fuck that.”

rin walked out on you that night without another word. it felt like he also walked out on your relationship because he started training more. this meant leaving before you even woke up and going home when you were fast asleep.

during those weeks when rin avoided you like the plague despite living under one roof, you felt completely alone and isolated. you were lonely. he spoke to you in words, and he treated you as if your encounter with sae was enough for him to give it all up.

until one day, he comes home to a living room full of bags and boxes. you were there, waiting for him with a tired smile on your face.

for the first time, rin realized that the black circles under your eyes have grown where they weren’t before. he noticed that you are all cried out and now, you’ve got no tears to shed as you leave him.

“w-what’s all this?”

“i’m leaving. i’m sorry for not getting out of your hair faster. it was really hard to look for another apartment that was within my budget but don’t worry, i figured it out.”

“leaving? leaving me? leaving… this house?” which one is it? or fuck, is it both?

“mhm. i f-figured it’s not healthy for us to live under the same roof after everything. i wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable in your own space just because i’m here, so…”

did you really think he wanted you to leave? he wanted to explain. he wanted to tell you that he only acted that way because he was hurt and he was guilty! you don’t have to leave!

but he’s frozen from where he stood. the sight of all your stuff packed up and ready to go was a little bit too much for him.

you stood from where you were seated among the bags and boxes, and you stop in front of him. again, you smile gracefully, in contrast to the breaking heart that almost killed you.

“and rin? i’m sorry again for what happened with sae. i should’ve known better than to do that to you, and i understand that you don’t want to do anything with me because of that.”

he shook his head but you missed it because you walked past him with some of your bags in your hand. “y/n, no. i—“

you hear it and for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that he will ask you to stay. but he doesn’t continue.

he stops because how could he ask you to stay after how he treated you? it was his fault for not listening and in the end, it was you who apologized? in what fucking universe do i deserve this angel, huh?

he doesn’t stop you from leaving because in that very moment, the thought of you finally escaping from him and his hurtful treatment towards you didn’t seem so bad.

“so, i guess… i’ll see you around. nagi will be around to grab my remaining stuff, so try not to kill each other, yeah?” you try to play it off cool, mask the fact that inside, everything is falling apart.

rin nods but he stayed with his back facing you. until the end, he did not have the guts to face you. to face what he had done to you and your relationship.

suddenly, everything grew cold. everything lost their color. the empty corners of where your warmth used to be mocked him.

for nearly a year since then, he has lived and suffered with the mistakes he did. he didn’t know what to tell people when they started asking about you. he didn’t know how to ride the train without holding your hand. he didn’t know how to be soaked in the shower without letting his tears flow freely.

he wondered endlessly as he daydreamed of speaking to you again: are you hurting too, or is it just me?

his endless running brings him to your street where you moved when you left him. his feet takes him farther than he expected because this street is on the opposite part of town from your shared apartment, a telltale sign that you tried to get as far away as possible.

evidently, it is not far enough because on your way home from the convenience store, you run into your ex-boyfriend. rin is first to notice your presence, and instead of freezing up like he did when you left, he walks up to you.

“rin?” you are confused and nervous. after all, the last time you had seen him was almost a year ago. you never tried to see him again.

“it hurts.”

the two words he just confessed are two words that he has never said together in a sentence ever in his life. itoshi rin never admits it when something is hurting him. he never tells anyone when he is in pain.

for him to say that now, it is a cry for you to soothe him in a way that only you could, and you know this because you know him better than the back of your hand.

standing a meter away from you underneath a street lamp, itoshi rin confesses his truth.

“it hurts, y/n. it hurts without you. it feels like i can’t breathe. it is so cold without you. it hurts so badly. i thought i could live with it eventually—but i can’t. it only gets worse.”

rin sees your shoulders shake in your attempt to conceal your sobs but you are failing miserably, and so does he. you don’t say anything and rin figures that’s fair.

you already tried to talk. you already told him everything you needed to hear on the night of the fight that ruined your relationship. it’s his turn to tell you everything you deserve to hear.

but he isn’t as good as you when it comes to words. he thinks about how he accused you of cheating on him. he thinks about how he shut you out and left you feeling lonely. he thinks about every day that he could have chased after you but didn’t. he thinks about all of that and he thinks about how he’s sorry.

and he manages to get that last part out, hoping that you would get it. hoping that the deep-rooted connection between the two of you is enough to let you know what he means.

“i’m sorry.”

you drop your groceries to the ground and you close the meter of distance between the two of you. you welcome him in his arms but he wraps his arms around you tighter than you welcomed him, because he is afraid that if he doesn’t, he will lose you again.

“that is all i needed to hear from you, rin. i never wanted much from you. just you and your love. i just needed to know that you still felt that for me, and when i didn’t… i had no other choice to walk away.”

rin nods against your neck and you feel his tears staining your shoulder. “i’m sorry. forgive me, please. i love you. i love you. and i trust you. more than anyone, baby. i promise.”

“you know i could never hurt you like you thought i did—“ you recalled, but rin cuts you off because he can’t bear another second of you defending yourself when you shouldn’t be.

“i know. i know.”

his embrace around you tightens, and he does not care if anyone could look out from their windows and see the soccer star practically begging for you in the middle of the night. not when he is in your arms again after months of only dreaming about it and wishing for it.

“it hurt too much without you too, rin. i had to remind myself that i can’t run to you for warmth. i took everything in me not to throw away my dignity to beg you to bring me back.”

that answers his question.

in his absence, you were hurting too. your separation killed you just like how it killed him.

“no. no—don’t have to beg for it, baby. i should be on my knees to thank you for even taking me back like this because—shit—i swear that i wouldn’t have lasted another day.”

you run your hands through his hair before briefly pulling away to cup his cheek in your hands, and he fondly leans on your touch.

“for the entire year, i thought it was just me who longed for you, rin.”

you couldn’t be any more wrong.

“i begged the stars and the skies for this very moment. it wasn’t just you.”

#⏳ — lumi’s fics!#is it really seichira if it’s not angst #it’s a signature at this point #blue lock #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #blue lock fics #bllk #bllk fics #blue lock fluff #blue lock angst #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin fics #itoshi rin angst #itoshi rin fluff

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rewh0re · 2 years ago

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SLEEPING ON THE COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT

Ft.: Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji

Angst but with fluff at the end. Just my boys kuroo and Akaashi and sleeping on the couch after an argument. Reblogs + interactions are highly appreciated!!

༊ KUROO

Kuroo cannot sleep. It's nearly 3 in the morning and he's twisting and turning on the bed for about an hour now, unable to fall asleep. The other side of his bed seems unnaturally cold and empty due to your lack of presence. You both had gotten into an argument about 2 hours prior. You had tried to convey your thoughts across to him about how worried you were that he was overworking himself and in his state of tiredness he was definitely not in the mood for your nagging. He took out his annoyance on you which resulted in some back and forth yelling before you decided to give him some space and sleep on the couch. But it had been hours and however much he denied it, Kuroo could not sleep without you. So, deciding to swallow his stupid pride he went out to the living room just to find your shivering self on the couch. You had a thin blanket on and it was a cold night.

"I know you're not sleeping," he whispered as he knelt by the couch to look at you.

What he saw broke him, there were dried tears on your face. He always fell apart when he saw you cry.

"Look I'm really sorry for what I said. Half of those things, I didn't mean them and neither should I have uttered them in the first place. It has happened now and as much as I wish I could change it, I can't. So, I'm asking you to forgive me y/n. I'm really really sorry. I love you so much ," he stroked your cheek and you could not pretend anymore. You slowly opened your eyes to look at him.

"You do?" You asked silently.

"More than you could ever know, love. You're the best thing that's happened to me. You're not nagging when you worry about me. I'm sorry for saying that. I was annoyed and irritated and tired and I took it out on you like a fool. I've said hurtful things and I feel terrible for it. Forgive me please," he looked at you with so much love and adoration as he asked for forgiveness that you broke again. You sniffled a little before cracking a small smile.

"I've said some hurtful things as well. Things I shouldn't have said. I'm sorry," you whispered to him.

"It's okay. Come back to bed now love. Tomorrow, I'm taking the day off and we'll do whatever you want to do. Sounds good?" He smiled at you, stretching his hand towards you for you to take it.

"Sounds perfect," you smiled as you took his hand in yours.

༊ AKAASHI

Arguments with Akaashi were rare. Most of the time, you both would talk things out and solve the problem rationally rather than lashing out. You both tried to be logical and tried to communicate no matter how tired or angry you both were. But sometimes however, that was just not the case. Sometimes, things got out of hand, anger overpowered your more rational sides and things got ugly. Tonight just happened to be one of those nights. Honestly, you don't even know how the argument started. You just knew that both of you were exhausted from work and on top of that things had been rough in your personal life lately. These reasons probably got to you and an argument took place. You both had verbally hurt each other to the extent that Akaashi decided to sleep on the couch, unable to fight anymore. He left you in the bedroom alone and fuming. But the moment he picked up a blanket and went to the couch, regret immediately filled you up. You ran after him to the living room where he laid on the couch. God, he didn't even have a pillow under his head, his neck would hurt like crazy in the morning.

"Keiji," you called out his name and as you expected, there was no answer from him.

"Keiji I'm sorry," you sat at the end of the couch where his feet were propped up on the hand rest.

"I let my anger and frustration take over me and said some pretty shitty things. I'm sorry I really did not mean them. I would never," at that, he looked up at you to see your eyes getting teary as a frown took over your face.

"Don't cry y/n," he sat up and brought himself closer to you.

"I don't know what took over me. I'm so sorry. I always try to be calmer and more thoughtful while speaking but today I don't know. Work has been stressful and I probably took that out on you. Something I shouldn't have done and something I highly regret," you took his hand as you looked at him.

"I said some pretty awful stuff to you too, you know. You're not entirely at fault here. I'm sorry. Next time, I'll try to be more thoughtful and I'll definitely not yell at you again," he gave you a small smile as he opened his arms for you to hug him. You gladly did.

"Me too. Come to bed now. You didn't even bring a pillow with you. Do you want your neck to hurt?" He laughed a little at that.

"Always thinking about me aren't you," he hugged you tighter.

"Mhm. Keiji?" You started as you broke the hug to look at him. "We're okay right?"

"We will be, love."

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wri0thesley · 6 months ago

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my heart a frozen thing (I of III)- capitano x reader

the tsaritsa's handmaidens are enviable indeed; perfect, chaste, and honoured beyond measure. a well-oiled machine. but you do not quite fit in. lucky, then, that the tsaritsa herself has intervened, to find you a position that befits who you once were - to arrange your marriage to one of her most trusted lieutenants.

cw: arranged marriage, mentions of death/freezing to death, corpses, weird religious themes, bullying. reader is referred to as a 'handmaiden', wears a gown, but no pronouns are used. wc: 5.4k. sfw.

a/n: capitano and his little handmaiden are a little thing i've wanted to explore for a while; i don't usually do series, but i have a very clear idea of where this is going and i hope i can get it there! in my head this ought to run to three parts, but here is the first! i had a lot of fun just making up background for this honestly fbgnkjgbfn.

The halls of Zapolyarny Palace have never felt so cold.

They are halls that you have walked a thousand times, at the behest of your Goddess; chambers that you have traversed for as long as you can remember. You learnt yourself here - so much so that the person you once were, the family you once had . . . that has faded to nothing. You have been a ward of the Tsaritsa since you were six years old, and you would not have had it any other way.

After all - are you not one step down from divinity? Do you not follow in her wake, untouchable and lovely? Do you not provide her with anything she could need? You see the Fatui members who walk these halls, the Harbingers - their hands are stained with blood up to the elbows, their figures stooped from war, their faces twisted with their troubles. They have clawed their way up the ranks -

And you? You have done no such thing. Something about you had called out to the Tsaritsa and she had welcomed you to her bosom and you had accepted, allowing yourself to be draped in furs and glittering crystals, to stand proud and haughty, to kneel for her and ensure her skirts are never dirtied, her every whim is met . . .

Until today, you suppose.

Her lips had felt like ice when she had kissed you on your forehead, and you had known then that you would walk from her chambers freezing cold and stripped of everything you held dear. You have always known that your fellow handmaidens did not like you; that they had envied you the Tsaritsa’s favour, that they have whispered that you are unworthy. Such things are easy to ignore when you know that you are cherished, though - and you had ignored them. You had ignored how they had ripped holes in your stockings and sent you on wild goose chases and errands, how they whispered behind your back when you fell into formation looking harried and rushed and imperfect because you had not been able to find your hairbrush in the morning.

But the handmaidens of the Tsaritsa are supposed to be a unit. You are all supposed to see one another as siblings; to think of nothing more than Her, and how you may serve Her. It is this that the Tsaritsa had said to you in your private meeting, as you had shivered and burned with the cold ice of humiliation.

“I love you,” she had said, with her voice as lovely as shattering crystals, as she had pressed that traitorous kiss onto your forehead. “Do not worry, little one. I shall ensure that you will not be thrown to the wolves.”

And then she had told you exactly how she was ensuring that, and you had had no choice but to stand before her, trembling, chin jutting proudly up - and pretend that you agreed with her decision.

There is nobody in the dormitory when you go to pack what little things you have; you are glad of that, at least, so that those who have brought you down to this station in life cannot gloat at you. You do not have many things of your own; of course, the handmaidens are given fine clothes, but they are more uniform than ordinary wardrobe. You pack your hairbrush, a book, a few other creature comforts - but you are supposed to be a homogenous unit, after all, and to make yourself too individual would simply not do.

One of the Tsaritsa’s servants is waiting outside of the door for you when you emerge. You shiver in the cool air, but try to keep a thread of your calm; give her a trembling smile. She looks at you with curiosity in her gaze, but she does not pry; that is not the way of things here. You soon lose track of where she is taking you.

In Zapolyarny Palace, there are paths that you walk every day; to the chapel, to the Tsaritsa’s chambers, to the hallowed halls and meeting rooms and anywhere else a handmaiden may be needed. But you do not wander freely beyond that. You know there are offices and spare bedrooms and studies and libraries galore - it is a most magnificent work of architecture - but you are not at liberty to explore them. So you soon lose your bearing as the servant brings you through hallways you’ve never seen, past doors you never knew existed. You feel your heart begin to beat too fast in your chest, anxiety crawling up your throat.

You do not know what is to happen to you now.

You know in theory what the Tsaritsa expects to happen, and you ought to believe her - find her infallible, as your Goddess and Archon surely is - but you have learnt, today, that nothing is infallible. You do not think any handmaiden in the history of Her Majesty’s service has ever been let go like you - and, too, you know none of them have suffered the humiliation of being--

You can barely even think the words. You think of the first Harbinger again, the one directly beneath the Director; the looming presence, the always-worn mask, the whispers that follow in his wake . . . you cannot imagine yourself on his arm. Cannot imagine yourself in his bed. Cannot imagine yourself standing beside him at an altar, promising him eternity--

“We’re here.” The servant’s voice is timid; even though she must surely know that you are disgraced, there is still - in your bearing and in the fine white furs and silks you wear - the reminder of what you were before disgrace came knocking at your door, and she has been taught that the Tsaritsa’s handmaidens are pure and perfect and precious. How you wish you felt that way.

“Thank you,” you say to her, swallowing to try and clear the dryness in your throat, trying to summon a smile. She bobs an awkward curtsey and inclines her head before she scurries away down the corridor, no doubt to whisper to someone about the scandal that is unfolding within the palace’s halls.

You look at the door to your new life. It is carved with swirling snowflakes; a solid impenetrable wooden shield from the rest of the palace. You do not know if it will stay your door, but you have nowhere else to go now. You cannot go running back to the dormitory of the handmaidens; surely, by now, they will all have been told exactly how you have been disgraced--

Your gloved fingers fasten about the doorknob as you force your traitorous heart to beat evenly. You must take things as they come; there is no point getting too frightened just yet. Some of the Harbingers do indeed keep quarters in the Palace - Pantalone, you know, has a wing set aside for his use. And Pulcinella, too, needing to be near the beating heart of Snezhnaya, has rooms here.

It is in the nature of a handmaiden, you remind yourself, to be calm. To keep their wits about them. It is proper of you to maintain an even voice and a pretty face, to be ready to be called to your service at a moment’s notice; and though you are not, really, a handmaiden any more . . . your entire life has been governed by these rules, and such things do not desert one so easily. So you keep your head held high as you step into the room, your chin jutting out, your eyes wide, your face proud--

And you do not let the tears fall, like your life is collapsing into the sea around you and leaving you adrift with no safe harbour (your beautifully designed ice sculpture of an existence), until the door is closed and nobody but you and the sharp coldness of the mirror mounted on the wall opposite is there to see it.

ii.

You are expecting to be brought before him, as would befit a man of his status - a status that now far outranks your own. You are expecting Fatui grunts or serving maids to come and fetch you from the neatly appointed little room of the Palace, to drag you before the Harbinger you are to become reliant upon, and to have every part of you scrutinised. Perhaps he will find you wanting, you think bitterly; perhaps he does not want to be a part of this mockery any more than you do. Perhaps he will snarl beneath the mask and despite the Tsaritsa’s attempts to save your life, will have you banished to some cold unfeeling corner of the Palace where you will freeze to death and nobody will find your corpse.

(It would hardly be the first time such a thing has occurred in Snezhnaya).

You are not expecting that the first of the Fatui Harbinger, he of the war glories, second only in the chain of command to the Director himself, would lower himself to come to you.

But come to you he does.

The room that you have been given is lovely if impersonal; a bedspread patterned with sprigs of blue flowers, an ornate mirror, a wardrobe and a shelf of knick-knacks. You, as a handmaiden, have never had cause to tend to the guest rooms - that is for those whose service is less important, whose place in the world is less holy - but you do at least know enough to know that is what this is. And you suppose, too, that is what you are now too.

No longer somebody who truly belongs in the Palace; no longer one of a flock of beautiful befurred doves, cooing and twittering over who will be granted the honour of smoothing Her Majesty’s dress, of combing her hair. Simply a guest - a person waiting to see what the next step in their life will be. Perhaps Zapolyarny Palace will be a pitstop; perhaps your new betrothed will have somewhere else to put you like an ornamental doll.

Perhaps he will take you to his camps, his fields of war, install you in his tent until you have forgotten the luxury of silks and glass and the blood he sheds stains your white furs red. Your nails dig crescent moons into your palms at the thought of it; of all of the ways your life could spiral into decay and dirt when it has only ever been pristine and beautiful before.

You are sitting on the bed when the knock comes, when the door is opened before you can even call out. You see the faintest outline of some Fatui soldier, before his bulk is silhouetted in the doorway and your breath is robbed from your chest.

Seeing him pass by you in hallways, or at the table when you have been called to the Tsaritsa’s side, does not do the man justice. He seems to tower over you; his presence in the room makes it seem like a dollhouse more than anything functional. Your eyes flitter, afraid to rest upon him too much lest you see something terrifying staring back at you.

You cannot describe it, but your entire body seems to go into a freeze response; you sit there, exactly like the ornament you are so afraid of becoming, your gloved hands neatly balled into fists upon the luxurious fabric of your handmaiden’s gown, your eyes wide with surprise and fear.

You expect him to stride in; to take what he has been given, self-assured as only a member of Her Majesty’s most esteemed lieutenant can truly be. Thoughts flash through your head; of him throwing you upon the prettily patterned bedsheets and having his way with you, of him grabbing you roughly and letting his hands explore the merchandise he has been granted.

Certainly, the visual of him makes those seem the most likely course of action. The massive stature, the shadows that his shoulders throw across the room. The impassive iron mask; the armour that he dons, whether he is on official business or not. Your shoulders draw up against your ears, preparing for something, though you know not what. You catch a glimpse of eyes, bluer than the hottest fire--

And then Il Capitano sinks to one knee in front of you and reaches for your trembling, gloved hand. Your breath catches in your throat as he draws it closer to himself - but then, he presses his mask against the fabric in an echo of a kiss, and from beneath the helmet he wears comes a voice like an echo in an iron chamber.

“Little handmaiden,” he says - and then, “I regret not coming sooner.”

“I--” Your tongue will not work around the syllables. It trembles in your mouth; only your willpower alone stops your teeth clacking together like some awful grisly musical instrument. “My Lord Harbinger, I . . .”

“Do not worry,” he says, his voice still a strange echo - you cannot imagine getting used to it, cannot imagine it whispering words of love into the shell of your ear. You can imagine it, though, booming across a battlefield, and the thought makes your heart seize in your chest. “I have no intention to hurt you. I am . . . most honoured by the privilege that has been entrusted to me.”

You realise with a start that you are the privilege; that this is punishment for you, but it does not seem so to him. The thought gives you pause.

Even the word . . . ‘privilege’. He does not call you a reward; does not act as though he has been given you as some Archon-won right, to do with as he pleases. For the first time, you let yourself wonder if perhaps your fate is not to be as cruel as you had feared.

“Thank you,” you say to him, your voice a thready little mouse-whisper of noise. Capitano does not move from his place before you, kneeling upon the parquet flooring of the room - his hand does not let go of yours for a moment, as if he cannot quite believe that you are real flesh and blood there before him. You cannot properly see his eyes behind the helmet - only that bluefire suggestion, the glow of something behind the ornate visor - but in your time as a handmaiden of the Tsaritsa, you have grown used to the sensation of being looked at, and that is certainly what he is doing.

“I intend to do this properly.” He tells you, with the door still open, with the Fatui soldiers who had accompanied him still stationed outside of the door listening to every word that he says. “I intend to make you mine in the eyes of the Tsaritsa and everyone else who matters.”

You think once more of the altar; you think of your uniform of pure white furs, traded for something lacier and gauzier, something more of a wedding gown than a ritual dress. You think of being chained to this man for all eternity--

And though he has been kind to you in these few brief moments, though your Archon had said she wished to see no harm come to you . . . once more, you think of Capitano’s reputation. Of the war fields and the bloodshed, of his victories and his spoils, of the way you have heard he throws himself into conflict like it is the only thing that keeps his blood pumping through his veins.

But you cannot say a thing.

“Tomorrow,” he tells you, and he says the word like a sacred thing - a prayer on his breath. “Tomorrow, I will marry you, and I will take you home.”

He does not leave his words in a question; there is no space for you to reply. You swallow your protestations as he stands back up and bows his head like a gentleman, though you know he is stained with blood in a way you had never expected to be yourself.

(You think of his hand on yours; imagine bloody fingerprints where he had clung to you. Marked. Soiled. No longer pristine and pure; no longer one of the Tsaritsa’s favourites. You stand upon the precipice of becoming something else, and it terrifies you).

“Tomorrow,” you echo, but the door has already closed behind him.

iii.

You cannot sleep.

The bed is fine; finer, perhaps, than the one in your dormitory that you have slept on for decades. The blankets and coverlets, with their pretty patterns, are warm (warmer than you are used to; the handmaidens are kept close to Her Majesty, and coldness permeates the air wherever she dwells. You had not realised just how cold you were used to being until you had slipped into this bed in a guest-room of the place you thought of as your home).

But your mind will not quieten.

You cannot stop thinking of Capitano, and all that his future entails; cannot stop the whisper of his voice, constrained as it is by his helm, when he says the word ‘home’. What is a home for you, now? At this moment in time, ousted from Her Majesty’s Service and not yet yoked to the first-ranked Harbinger, you are a creature that has nowhere to lay down their roots.

If you slipped out of this room, and out into the cold Snezhnayan winter . . . you would be another nameless person, another corpse frozen to a block of ice. You have not been out amongst the general populace in some time - that is not a duty that befits one of the handmaidens - but what memories you do have, before six, remind you that you would hardly be the first. Indeed, finding some poor soul frozen into the next life is an occurrence that happens to all citizens of Snezhnaya, eventually.

A memory rises unbidden to the forefront of your mind; another child, who looks like you but older, concentration writ clear on their face as they try and unbend fingers from a poor man rimmed with frost with lips of pale blue. An older woman, shouting - a sickening snap--

You squeeze your eyes shut and force the memory away. There is nothing, you remind yourself, before the Tsaritsa’s tender care. If there ever was, it has gone the way of snowstorms and blizzards; there is no use remembering. It has been so long that all of the figures in your memories, too, are perhaps no better than markers in the frozen ground.

If you cannot sleep, you tell yourself forcefully, you are not going to allow yourself to be haunted by nightmares of your own making. You will lie here, in this lovely little room. You will let yourself think of the warmth that seeps into your bones; you will let yourself remember it.

One final night; the first night you can truly remember where you are free.

And as for what tomorrow holds - as for the thought of standing beside Capitano, as to the thought of his home - be it tent or wing of rooms or little shack or anything in between - you will not think on them. You will think of how, if you wished, you could toss and turn and no other handmaidens in the dormitory will hiss anger at you beneath their breath. How you could sing in this room, like a pretty bird, and nobody would shout for you to shut up as they throw their pillows at you.How there will be no ringing bell in the morning, no sidelong glances from your fellows who do not think you deserve to play the role you are given.

There is blissful silence; the luxury of having a bedroom to yourself, of being an individual when you have for so long been an entity made up of so many.

You do fall into sleep, eventually.

You dream of being a beautiful white horse, your hooves leaving distinct prints in the snow, blending alone into the barren landscape of your homeland.

When you awake, there is a dress hanging on the wardrobe opposite the bed.

You do not question it; how they found time for your measurements, who made it, whether it is Capitano’s design. Your training does not fail you; things happen, and you must accept them. The easy freedom of last night is gone, and the weight of what you are to become settles like a mantle around your shoulders.

It is still service, you tell yourself, as you bathe in the little basin in the adjoining room. The soaps and potions that are lined neatly up on shelves are scented like something fresh and clean and floral; the kind of flower that makes you think of rolling hills and ticklish breezes. The handmaidens used toiletries scented with spearmint and frostflower, as the Tsaritsa had chosen - you wonder if these bottles here are the choice of your betrothed, or merely coincidence.

You perform your ablutions and ignore the fact that you are preparing yourself for something you do not fully understand. If you stop to think too hard upon what it is you are primping and preening for, you do not know if you will be able to keep the thread of your calm - as it is, your hands are shaking when you step into the gown left for you.

It is undoubtedly a wedding gown.

It is not cut in the Snezhnayan fashion; there is no trimming of pale blue diamonds, of furs or feathers or warmth. This is the gown of a beloved maiden in a tower; something to be worn whilst dreaming of gardens, all pretty eyelet lace and delicate embroidery. Wearing it, after being so used to the garb of one of Her Majesty’s attendants, feels almost like being naked.

There is nothing for your hair; you leave it unbound. There is no other ornamentation; you suppose, when you think about it, your glimpses of Capitano have never suggested him to be a man of excess. If it were one of the others you were to wed - Pantalone, perhaps - you have no doubt you would be draped in jewels.

If it were Pantalone that you were to be wed to, you think, he would not have been satisfied with a mere ceremony, rushed through the next day. You know from gossip he is a man who thinks he deserves better than the world has given him, that he would never take less than excess. A brief gladness that it is not the Regrator that your Archon has given you to flashes across your mind--

And then you remember Capitano, the size of him, the mystery of what lays behind his mask, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

There is a serving maid at the door, holding a bunch of flowers in her hand - they are delicate things, white petalled and lovely, scattered with pink roses. You breathe in the scent to calm yourself and recognise them as the same scent that lingers on your skin and in your hair - and the serving maid gives you a small, nervous smile.

“They’re Cecilias,” she tells you. “from Mondstadt. The Captain asked for them specifically.”

She says his name in the same way so many of the citizens of Zapolyarny Palace do; with respect, and reverence. There is none of the fear that edges those who whisper of other Harbingers in her voice - you have heard horror in the tones of those who speak of Dottore, the Doctor . . . But Capitano seems to command awe and respect. You want it to be comforting - but you cannot help but wonder if it is merely that those who know his true nature are quieted by his sword.

“Thank you,” you say, for you cannot make your voice shape any other words. Your tongue has grown leaden in your mouth, the moisture gone from it completely, and you know the thing that has sapped your ability to speak is fear. She gives you another smile, and looks at you in your gown.

“You’re beautiful,” she says to you, as if to reassure; perhaps misunderstanding your terror of your bridegroom as the normal nerves of someone about to tie their life to someone else’s in matrimony. The whispers of your dismissal have had time to grow their own stories, after all; few things move faster than gossip in a place like this. “Come. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

You’re helpless to do anything but let her lead you. The hem of your gown trails on the floor behind you, but the Palace is spotless; it does not gather dust or dirt. You pass through the halls like a ghost, and you wonder if that is how you look.

As a handmaiden, you had moved with purpose, with the assurance that you were Somebody. As the betrothed of a Harbinger, you move like somebody sentenced to execution, your heart pounding in your throat. The halls seem silent around you. You wonder, if given the chance to do it all again, how you would stop all of this so you would not find yourself in this position, walking to what could very well be your own doom.

“Here,” the serving maid whispers, stopping by a door. You look at it with dumb terror in your heart, but you keep your face an impassive mask as you have been taught to do. You know where you are; you know this chapel to be the Tsaritsa’s most sacred place. You have been given access only a handful of times; the handmaidens who serve your Archon here are far more senior than you. In time, you had hoped you would become one of her most trusted, one who could sit with her in prayer in this private sanctuary--

You suppose that is a dream that will never come to fruition now.

You give her a smile - a trembling thing, but you have been taught how to behave - and as she opens the chapel door for you, you square your soldiers and summon all of the courage you have (what little there is; courage is not a thing that is encouraged amongst the handmaidens, amongst those who must move and act as one), and you place one foot in front of the other as you begin your walk down the aisle.

You tell yourself you will not look at the pews - hewn of glass, the more to resemble the Tsaritsa’s beloved ice - but as you begin a walk that feels as though it lasts forever, you cannot help it. The chapel is still a sanctuary; it is almost empty, in fact, but for a few faces sitting at the very front.

The Tsaritsa herself presides, and you immediately lower your eyes to the ground. You have seen her before, of course - have tended to her when called - but it would not be proper of you to stare. She is still your Archon. Your fingers tremble where they are wrapped around your bouquet.

Capitano stands, as patient and as still as a massive statue, at the altar. He is dressed still in his armour; the only concession he has made to the idea of a wedding is a buttonhole tucked into his chest, of matching roses and Cecilias to your own. You can see that burning bluefire from across the room, and as you walk closer and closer to it you are hit by the urge to laugh at the thought that perhaps you are simply walking into hellfire.

And a few other familiar faces fill the first row; that is Pierro, you know. The Director. He sits ramrod straight, the second-largest man in the room, his cloak serving to highlight the severe lines of his face. There is The Knave, too - in her beautifully-cut suit. There is the smallest smile playing on her lips, as she looks from you to Capitano and back again.

Not all of the Harbingers have come to see this spectacle - you are silently glad of the absence of the Doctor - but there are enough there that you feel sweat prickle down your spine, gathering in the small of your back. You force yourself to swallow and to breathe. This chapel’s aisle has never felt so long before.

But even though it feels as though the aisle will never end, end it does - too soon, too quickly, and you are at the end of your last walk as somebody free and unmarried. You are standing beside Capitano, ready to pledge yourself to him as your Archon has demanded you do.

You wonder if he is smiling beneath the helmet. Your own face, you’re sure, must have the look of a deer staring down a bow and arrow; wide, frightened, terribly aware suddenly of its own mortality. But there is nothing a doe can do when she is a hunter’s quarry, and there is nothing you can do now either.

So you say the words, after they issue forth from the Tsaritsa’s lovely voice and she commands you to repeat them. You listen to Capitano make the same oaths, his voice still a strange echo. You do not hear them, not really - but it does not matter, because they are binding in the eyes of your Archon and it is your Archon who has witnessed them being said.

Your hand is shaking when Capitano takes it to slide the ring upon it. It is plain, too; a silver band, etched all over with some decorative scrollwork and words in a language you do not understand.

You have never seen a marriage. The handmaidens do not do such things - they are chaste, and pure, and when they are done with the service of the Tsaritsa they remain so even when cast back to the powdery snow. But you have read books, and you know that a marriage usually ends with a kiss; a sealing of the pact that two people who love one another have made.

You steel yourself, then, to see below Capitano’s mask. You try not to dwell on possibility; the idea of him being monstrous or disfigured or perhaps even just perfectly ordinary. You try to prepare yourself for the feel of another’s lips upon yours.

But the Tsaritsa never decrees that it is time for Capitano to kiss his spoils.

Indeed, Capitano takes your hand - his own like a massive claw, yours delicate and tender in his grip - and leads you back down the aisle. He does not look at you as he does it; but you have the strangest sensation that he is . . . uncomfortable, with the way that everyone is looking at him. That such pomp and circumstance is perhaps not something he would generally choose.

In fact, when the door closes behind you - when you and he are briefly, briefly, briefly along in the corridor . . . something in him seems to unknot. He lets forth a rattling breath, his shoulders sagging just a touch, that would perhaps be invisible to any other eyes but the eyes of a frightened, lonely little mortwal who has been torn from what they thought was their purpose in life and thrown to the whims of somebody that may yet be a monster.

“Little handmaiden,” he rumbles, from somewhere low in his chest, and you wonder if it is indeed relief that makes his tone seem almost comforting. “The formalities are done with. You are mine, and I am yours.”

He tilts his helmet, and that bluefire burning behind the visor finds your own eyes; almost imperceptibly, perhaps because he sees the terror in your gaze, he seems to soften at the edges.

Hesitantly, he reaches out a gloved hand; just as hesitantly, he cups your face, the metal cool against the softness of your cheeks. He turns your face towards him, with a grip that you expect to be rough and possessive but is as gentle as the first layer of snow upon a shooting leaf.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

Home brings to mind your dormitory; the identical rows of beds, the identically dressed handmaidens, the comfort of routine. Home whispers in the back of your mind of something cooking in the oven, of a rowdy family gathered around a battered old table, of three children older than you and three children younger than you.

You cannot return to either of those places.

So all you can do, then, is smile for the man who could be captor or lover or liberator, but is now, inarguably, your husband.

And let him lead you home.

#genshin impact posting #writing #capitano x reader

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bluecollarmcandtf · 9 months ago

Text

Dads, Dads, and more Dads

I did something I shouldn't have! My buds all bailed on our night out, so I hit the bar and got hammered by myself. Somehow, I ended up blackout drunk in a fortune teller's shop. I remember crying about how much I wanted a fatherly figure in my life. She did this weird ritual to make me feel better. I thought it was a joke at the time, but I know now it wasn't...

"Buddy, get out of bed! Breakfast is ready!"

A pang of guilt empties my stomach. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling with absolutely no urge to eat. It's been two days since that fortune teller put a curse on me, and I have no idea how to live with myself. I obviously can't pretend her little ritual wasn't real anymore.

"Hey, Josh," I nervously answer, stepping into the kitchen to look at my roommate.

"Can't sleep all day, buddy. Eat up!" Josh gives me an endearing smile that sends shivers down my spine.

A few days ago, Josh was a lazy, rude asshole who was only good for paying his part of the rent. We were chill enough roommates, but he only ever talked to me when he wanted a second opinion on girls he saw at the gym. The guy was easily the biggest douchebag in our friend group, always showing off and making someone else the butt of his joke.

Looking at him now, I'd laugh! If only I didn't feel so guilty for his personality's erasure.

"Look at the time! I better get moving. That yard won't maintain itself!" Josh flashes the brand new watch on his wrist. The thing is clunky and old: the kind of wristwatch you'd expect a dad to wear.

"You know we're only renting this place for the semester, right?" I search his expression for any trace of the slimy old Josh, "The landlord is supposed to take care of the yard!"

Josh just chuckles and mutters something about wanting to impress the neighbors. He even has the audacity to reach out and tussle my hair. My face gets hot as a guy, only a month older than myself, treats me like a child.

That curse really screwed up his brain. When Josh found me the morning after, something just broke in him. He immediately jumped to my side and promised to help me nurse my hangover, and it didn't stop there. After he tucked me in for a nap, he drove straight to the mall, buying a whole new wardrobe of cargo shorts and polos. I thought he was just hitting the gym like usual, so when he came back dressed up like the suburban father he hates, I barely even recognized him.

"Have a good day, buddy!"

Josh ignores my protests and plants a big smooch on the back of my head before marching out of the kitchen. It was bad enough my roommate was calling me buddy! Does he really have to kiss me like that too? It makes me uncomfortable to see my scummiest friend infused with such insane paternal instincts, but this is kind of what I asked for. Right?

I slam the back door shut and look at my rusty old bike. Today is already getting on my nerves and I'm not in the mood to peddle all the way to class. Maybe, that guy next door hasn't left for work yet...

"Oh, hey there, Kiddo!"

The deep voice of my neighbor makes me relax a little. I see all six and a half feet of him climb out of the car and stare at me with the same look Josh had on earlier. He's a father of four, but ever since my night out, he looks at me like I'm him his only real son.

"Hey, Mr. Jones," I mumble back.

"Glad I caught you, Kiddo. I was just about to pull out of the driveway," he explains, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You want a me to drive you to class today?"

I push aside my feelings of guilt and manage a smile, "That'd be great."

Mr. Jones beams back brilliantly. He claps me on the back, which knocks me a bit off balance. Before I know it, he's guiding me into his passenger seat and asking me to hold his briefcase.

"Just let me text work to let them know I'm coming in later than normal," he adds while texting on his flip phone, "How are classes going, kiddo?"

I shrug off the question with a one-word answer. Now that everyone's forced to act like my dad, I get asked about my classes like twenty times a day. My thoughts drift, but Mr. Jones keeps up the conversation, lecturing me about good grades or something. I don't know how a guy who barely knows me can have so many opinions about my academics!

"You know what!" I cut him off just before he starts reminiscing on his own college years, "Just drop me off at this cafe."

Worry lines form on his forehead, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you the whole way?

"No. Just give me some cash."

Mr. Jones gives me a look of disappointment before shimmying his wallet out of his khakis. He counts off forty dollars and hands it over.

"Can I have a little more?" I press quietly.

Look, I know it's wrong to abuse this bizarre new dynamic between us, but I'm a poor college kid! If he doesn't want to give me his money, he can just say no. It's not like I'm holding a gun to his head!

"Sure thing, kiddo," he gives me a dry smile and pulls out a couple more twenties, "Don't spend it all in one place!"

"Ok, bye," I awkwardly announce and hop out.

"Wait!" his husky baritone calls from the car window, "You want a ride home after class?"

"Nope! Just go back to your own life," I yell stiffly. Even though I don't turn to watch him drive off, I hear his car pull away. It's just a car, but it somehow sounds disappointed in me too. I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat and step into the cafe for some much needed coffee...

"Morning, young man. What can I get you?"

The lump in my throat seems to get bigger when I see the waiter. He's a lot hotter of a man than I expected to find in this little cafe.

Already, the way he looks at me is shifting. That curse is transforming whatever thoughts he'd just had in his head. He's feeling more and more protective and responsible for me with every second he looks at me. At this point, I've grown accustomed to the mysterious effect I have on older guys. It's only been a few days, but I've seen so many random dudes go through this psychological transition. It's like they're discovering a new purpose in life: me.

"Uh yeah, I guess a cappuccino would be nice," I mutter with a dry mouth.

"You got it, young man!" he gives me a friendly wink, "Anything else I can get you?"

I know I shouldn't push my luck, but I can't help myself with this guy, "A hug would be nice! I've been feeling a bit isolated lately..."

The waiter instantly puts his pen and paper down and holds out his arms. His welcoming smile is gone, and a look of genuine concern waits for me, "Come here."

I practically leap into his arms, and he eagerly accepts me, pulling me into his chest like it's where I belong. It feels amazing to be held by this man, even if I don't know him at all. I could stay here all day if he'd let me.

"Seems like you're enjoying the hug," the waiter eventually chuckles into my ear.

For a second, I'm confused, but then I realize I'm fully erect and the waiter can definitely feel it poking into his waist.

"Sorry!" I jump back, searching for any other witnesses.

"Hey, don't be!" he assures me, "It's a completely normal part of life, ok?"

"You're not mad?" my voice comes out more timid than I expected, but I can't help myself. I just accidentally boned up someone who was trying to be nice. What makes it worse, is that he's probably only trying to be nice because of my ridiculous curse.

"Of course not," he affirms, "I can help you take care of it, if that's ok, young man?"

"What do you mean?" My face burns red hot.

"Oh, let me show you," he grabs me by the hand and leads me away from the table, "There's no need to be ashamed of any part of your body! In fact, this part can be a lot of fun."

I'm left speechless as the waiter gives me another fatherly wink, but I can't linger on what he's said. I'm being pulled into the men's restroom. I hear the click of the door locking behind us as he pulls me in front of the mirror, sliding up behind me. I can feel his chest on my back and his thighs against my ass.

If I was hard before, I'm practically bursting now!

"It's time you had the talk, young man," he calmly speaks in my ear like this is a completely normal thing for a waiter to do.

He starts droning on about men, women, sex, and where babies come from, but I'm not listening. I obviously know what sex is, and I think I'm having it right now. His hands slip under my arms and wrap around my waist to unzip my pants. My rock-hard cock bursts out of my jeans the second they're open, and a moan of surprised ecstasy fumbles over my lips just when the waiter gets to his point on male anatomy.

Does the waiter really believe a dad should do this for their sons?

He starts talking me through how to jack off. He must think I've never masturbated before, and I'm sure as hell not telling him that I have! Hearing him narrate every wrist movement, every ball tug, every nipple pinch is just too much fun! Before long, the waiter has me violently shooting on our reflections in the mirror.

"And there you go," he pats me on the back while I stand there stunned. The waiter steps back and looks at me like he's proud of the great life lesson he'd just taught me, "Now you know how to get rid of those boners of yours. Let me go get your coffee started."

I stand in the bathroom, collecting myself, as the waiter finally tends to my coffee order. This dad-curse the fortune teller gave me might be more fun than I originally thought. If I can get one daddy to randomly jack me off, then who knows what else I can do! Rushing out of the bathroom, I already have so many ideas flooding through my head...

"Excuse me, sir!"

"Sorry!" I shout.

In my excitement, I almost crash into the cafe's porter. A little less graceful, and I would have sent every single dish crashing to the floor. Glancing at the face of my would-be victim, I almost moan when I see get a good look at him. I can tell his head is already filling up with the same artificial need to be my father.

"No damage done," he assures me, lingering back to stare at me like I'm some lost puppy.

"Don't you...um...have to bus some tables or something," I breath nervously.

"Oh yeah," he frowns, "Sorry to get in your way."

He shakes his head like he's trying to lose the strange new thoughts in his brain. I stand there frozen like a deer in headlights as he walks away. He glances back at me before turning his attention to a cluttered table.

"Wait!" I yell, "Come back!"

The busboy drops the tub of dirty dishes and rushes back over like his life depends on it. The sight of this worried hunk running back to me makes me hard all over again.

I grab him and pull him into a hug, but his arms quickly take over and support me. Once again, my boner is rock hard and poking into the body of some random guy I just met!

"You have a car?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"You want to drive me around?"

"Of course!" he yanks off his apron and puts a hand on my back.

The waiter comes back around and hands me my coffee, looking at his coworker in utter confusion.

"Cover his shift," I demand, "He's driving me to school."

The waiter nods with an open mouth. He does look completely confused, but there's also a hint of jealousy in his stare. I think he's mad the busser gets to chauffeur me around: poor guy.

The porter doesn't seem bothered to be walking out of his job. He's busy smiling at me like I'm his whole world. I slide into his humble car and tell him where my class is. Before long, he's pulling out of the parking lot and driving me to school. I use our time to get to know him. I'm honestly not all that interested in learning about his life, but I do enjoy watching him talk. It doesn't take a while for us to get to campus, but before I get out I grab his hand and put on my best puppy dog eyes.

"I don't know when you get off work, but I'd love it if you came by my apartment. My roommate is trying to clean it up, but he could really use the help of someone more experienced."

"I love housework!" he just answers, "I'll be there!"

I snicker and slam the car door shut. I might be an hour late, but I'm finally here for class. It's time to give my professor a visit...

"Yeah, I can unbutton my shirt!"

My professor fell under my spell just as fast as the others. He had a look of anger when I walked in; probably from me skipping his class, but that expression quickly warped as he looked at me. Within seconds he was rounding his desk to give me a big old hug. Apparently, he "forgave" me for being so late.

"You like what you see?" he asks, gesturing to his hairy chest, "Trying to check out your old man?"

"You're my old man?" I ask, kind of surprised by the goofy smile on his face.

"Well, no," he bumbles, "But I am a strong male influence in your life! I'm like your dad!"

I nod my head like he's just made a really good point, "Oh. Then you probably want to treat me like your son. Right?"

"Yeah!" he holds his arms out to animate his enthusiasm.

Professor Reid has a reputation for being stiff and demanding in the classroom, so his new personality completely contradicts his true character. The man I know would never smile at a student, let alone bare his chest to them.

"So, I'm off the hook for missing today's class right?"

"Well," he pauses, "Sure."

"Can I skip the rest of the semester?"

"What, no. I want you to have a good education, my boy!"

I creep up to him and place my hands on his hairy torso, feeling the fur and the weight of his body. Professor Reid sure has a lot to hide under all those dress shirts he always wears.

"I'm just so lucky to have a daddy like you," I purr, "A daddy who's willing to do everything he can for me."

My professor grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. With a serious tone, "I am willing to do everything for you, my boy."

"Alright," I smile, "You should give me private lessons then..."

"What a great idea," he's back to grinning like an idiot.

"...and you should always do it in your underwear!"

"I can do that. From now on, I'll be stripped and ready before you come in!" He smiles at me like this is the best decision he's ever made in his life.

"Alright, now pull the rest of your clothes off," I command, "I want to see what the rest of my daddy looks like."

Mr. Reid doesn't hesitate to start stripping in front of his favorite student. I could probably get this guy to do anything now. I can already imagine our private lessons; me lounging in his leather armchair and him on his knees with his mouth full. Maybe that curse isn't a curse at all. Maybe it's actually a gift...

"Hey, buddy! How was class today?"

Josh looks tired from a long day of yardwork, but he still seems excited for me to come home. The lawn looks immaculate compared to our neighbors', and I have my roommate to thank for that.

"The grass looks great, dad."

"Dad! Woah!" Josh yells ecstatically, "Buddy, I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that."

Josh sweeps me up in his arms. Apparently, it doesn't bother him to be the father figure of a guy only a few months younger than himself. It doesn't bother me anymore either. I kind of like that he smells like aftershave and bacon now instead of weed and sweat.

"Let's go inside, buddy. I'll cook something up for dinner," Josh says with a hand on my back. I'm already growing so accustomed to being guided around everywhere.

"Actually, I invited a guy to come over," I admit, "He can cook. You should relax. You got a lot of work done today, dad."

"I did, didn't I?" he smiles proudly, "Let me grab a beer, then. We can watch TV."

"Actually, I thought there might be something else you'd enjoy."

"You know me so well, buddy. What are you thinking?"

"You could bend over the couch..."

Josh cringes and shakes his head. Once again, it's like he's fighting the foreign thoughts entering his head.

"...I know how much you like to make me happy, and I really want to pound ass right now."

For a second, a look of horror flashes over his face, but it's gone in an instant. A bright fatherly smile spreads between his cheeks.

"That sounds perfect, buddy. Enjoy yourself."

Josh doesn't look away as he unbuttons his cargo shorts, smiling at me with love and devotion the entire time. He seems completely relaxed as he bends over the couch, and he only seems to become more comfortable as he spreads his cheeks apart.

Once again, I'm rock hard as I stare at one of my dads. This curse might have made me feel guilty before, but Josh said it himself.

I think I will enjoy myself.

Thanks for the ASK, Vebrendos

#hypno story #gay mind control #gay hypnosis #hypnotized #gay ai art #gay dad and son

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pacifymebby · 1 year ago

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Cuddle fucking with Alfie Solomons pls

It started slowly. Really slowly.

You woke up to the cold early morning, the sun not yet risen, the sheets half kicked off you leaving your shoulders exposed. You were cold, skin scattered with goosebumps, shivering just a little as you tried to shrink back beneath the quilt and press your body against Alfie's. His body was warm, you knew it would be because Alfie was your personal walking furnace and you were welcome to come snuggle against him whenever you needed warming through.

Half asleep you pressed your body against his, relaxing into the heat which radiated from his restful self. He was still asleep, at least you thought he was because his breaths were slow and lethargic, peaceful. But when he felt your back pressing against his chest, awake or asleep, your presence stirred him enough that he let out a quiet groan and shifted, raising his arm and wrapping it around you, squeezing you tighter to him, possessive as he was.

So, instinctively, you pressed yourself back against him a little more, wanting to be as close as possible to your man, wanting to feel the warmth from his chest radiate through you. And you did. Alfie had such a lulling, calming power over you and as you began to warm up in his tight embrace your eyes fluttered shut and you began to drift off.

There was only one thing keeping you from drifting off completely. The closeness between you, the feeling of his arms gripping you tight, holding your body tight to the curve of his so that not a milimeter of space remained between you. So that the pressure of his morning glory digging into your soft bottom was unignorable.

You were trying your best to think of anything else, to focus on anything else. To settle and go back to sleep even, but that slight pressure, the warmth of his erection, was impossible to tune out of. Perhaps if it had been anyone elses it would have been easy to drag yourself away from the bed, forget about them for the rest of the day and go about your business, but not when it was your Alfies. Not when only last night you'd come undone on it, his cock burried deep inside you, fucking into you even after he'd cum and his milky liquid was oozing out of you.

Not when you knew just how easily he could undo you all over again.

But he was sleeping. And Alfie liked to live slowly these days. Now that he had you. Now that he knew he could spend every morning with you wrapped up, naked, in his arms. Now that there was no rush he didn't like to rush. No. If there was one thing Alfie liked to try and teach you, it was patience.

So despite the instinctive roll of your hips, the way you wriggled against him, only almost subconsciously, he didn't stir. Instead he lay there, enjoying the feeling of your needy little wriggles, the way you tried to pretend at innocence when you rubbed your bottom against him and tried to feel a little friction. Instead he just lay there, still holding you nice and tight and snug, making sure you couldn't move too much, making sure you were still close enough to him that every move you made he certainly could enjoy... He wanted to make you wait. He wanted to leave you to your imagination for long enough that your thighs would be sweet at sticky before he'd moved a muscle.

And the more you wriggled and tried to get closer to him the harder he got, the heat between you almost as torturous for him as it was for you.

And even when he did decide to give you a little more, he didn't say a word and neither did you. You smiled to yourself as his calloused fingers teased over your skin, caressing first your shoulder, down your arm, then your waist. He tickled over the soft curve of your belly making you squirm against him, enjoying the way a giggle escaped your lips and ruined your pretence at sleep. He smirked to himself doing it again just for good measure, struggling to hold back the sigh of pleasure when your wriggling hips pushed back against his cock.

You squirmed again, enjoying the feeling of him digging into you, the pressure increasing as he got a little harder with your every move.

And when his hand moved over your breast and squeezed a handful, it was all you could do not to hum in pleasure and push yourself back closer to him once more. You needed him to touch you elsewhere. The more his fingers trailed over your hips and thighs, the more he massaged your breast and pinched at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb abd forefinger absentminded and behaving as if he had no idea the effect on you he was having, the more you needed him. Your core beginning to ache for him. A pulse circulating between your thighs which forced your hips back against him in a gentle, needy motion. Your persistent rhythm pleasing him more than he was letting onto you.

You could feel your arousal between your legs, sticky and desperate, gathering quicker than you'd have liked to admit had this been anyone but your Alfie. But this was your Alfie and your heart was racing in your chest because you knew that sooner or later he was going to take you somewhere no one else could.

You let out a devestating little whine when he hooked your leg with his and dragged your thighs apart, trapping you with your thighs split so that for a moment you were tortured by a breeze glistening over your sticky core, your clit shivering with the cool air stirring your senses.

You bucked your hips against the air and heard him chuckle, he was enjoying your frustration and naturally, that only frustrated you more.

But this was his favourite way to spend a lazy Sunday morning. Teasing you. Working you up into a needy, sticky mess between the sheets so that he could revel in the sight of your shivering body shaking with ecstacy when he finally gave you what you wanted.

He always told you that was his favourite view. Looking down at you bundled up in his arms, your fingers clutching at him as you shivered with your orgasm, moaning and whimpering into his chest. And even though every time he told you that you got embarrassed and blushy, shying away from him, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck, that only made the sight even more spectacular to him. Because he had all that power over you, and in that moment you needed him so much, holding onto him like your life depended on it, little tears of pleasurw gleaming in your eyes.

That was the sight he hoped to work towards that morning as he teased and toyed with you. Enjoying the way his touch left a trail of goosebumps wherever he traced his fingers.

He carried on wordlessly, listening to your breathing and smirking to himself when he recognised how shallow and needy you were beginning to sound. How when he took your hip in his hand and squeezed, when he rubbed his hand firmly over the curve of your bottom and massaged you, taking his time to feel every inch of your body, your breath hitched and you struggled to hide how desperate you were getting.

Because he'd been making a point of avoiding any real pleasure points. Had skimmed his fingertips briefly over your nipples but refused to give you any real satisfaction. Had let his fingers stray close enough to your core to remind you what you really needed, but hadn't so much as ventured to test how wet you were. Then again he didn't need to test that. He knew you well enough to know that by now your arousal would be slick and shining on your inner thighs, that when he did finally glide his fingers between your folds he'd feel that thick warm juice overflowing from your needy little cunt, just the way he liked it.

And he did. When he finally gave you a taste of what you'd been desperate for all this time, he dragged his lips over your shoulder and kissed a trail of warm notes up your neck, his breath tickling your skin, teasing your senses. His fingertips sliding slowly from bottom to top drawing a line between your lips and then finally brushing over your clit. Not enough pressure to truly satisfy you but enough to leave your heart racing, your whole body jolting with the shock of it.

You couldn't help the gasp which left you, sharp and, if he was being honest, music to his ears. You couldn't help the way your hips bucked forward to press yourself into his hand, your cunt rubbing over his two fingers, begging them to touch you harder and longer.

You wanted to whimper and whisper to him, beg him to stop teasing you, but that wasn't how this worked. It was an unspoken rule between you, that you didn't speak. That you kept that sleepy charade up until you were both exhausted and satiated, holding onto one another as you came down from your high.

So even when he really tried to torture you, dragging his fingers in a slow teasibg circle around your clit only to trail them up and away, painting a sticky sweet line of arousal along your naval to your belly button, you didn't say a word. You just closed your eyes and ground your bottom back against his cock, feeling its heat radiate through you, feeling the push as Alfie responded instinctually, grinding harder against you, scraping his teeth over a sensitive patch on your shoulder, kissing you there with his open mouth so that the pleasure washed over you from several places at once and left your head spinning. Your whole body tingling with that need, that desperation to satisfy your desires.

You whimpered again, your mouth open in a little oh as he trailed those two fingers back down your belly, back down your hips, returning to the warmth of your thighs. He held you in his rough palms, massaging your thighs, forcing your legs open a little wider so that your glistening core was left exposed and vulnerable. Throbbing between your legs. The draft torture. The way you bucked your hips and and met nothing but cool air driving you to despair so that when Alfie took your cheek in hand and made you look silently up at him, he saw those tears of desire in your eyes and he couldn't resist you any longer.

His fingers found your clit and pinched, your body jumping so that you wound up pressed even closer to him, him holding you tight and secure, pushing you down into the mattress beneath him. He propped himseld up to get a better view, looking down at you with lustful eyes which trailed the contours of your body slowly and took every inch of you in. He didn't just love you, you were his own private slice of heaven and on mornings like this he wanted only to devour you. Only to send you to heavenly places himself.

He rubbed you slowly at first, watching your breasts as if hypnotised by them, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your body began to shiver and tremble eratically when he rubbed you hard and then soft, slow and then fast. He touched you in a quick, slippery circle, his fingertip rolling over your little pearl over and over so that you began to lose control of yourself and your body quickly. The cascade of whimpers and whispered needy moans music to the older mans ears. You were coming undone for him so so easily and the sight was truly something to behold. Your trembling body spurring the ache inside him, his cock twitching against your soft curving ass. He wanted nothing more than to slip into you there and then, bury himself inside you.

And you needed to feel him inside you too, he could tell because your head had tilted back, resting on his shoulder, your eyes rolled back as the first intense wave of pleasure began to radiate through you. He'd hardly had to do a thing, barely had to touch you and there you were shaking, firework static pleasure errupting inside you, your skin tingling all over with the power of your orgasm. It left you feeling weak, needing him to keep you held together, your body pressed hard against his as he held you firm and secure and scattered hungry kisses over your neck. But he didn't stop, didn't bring you down from your high gently. Instead he acted almost as if he hadn't noticed your cumming at all. Instead he carried on playing with you, rolling your clit beneath his fingertips, rubbing your juices all over your perfect cunt, letting his fingers tease your opening so that you felt yourself clenching and twitching needily for him.

You could feel his cock digging into you from behind, so hard and hot, the heat teasing you, the weight of it as he took it in his hand and let it fall back against your glistening wet thighs, tormenting you because all you wanted then was for him to use it. To ruin you with it. Fill you up and fuck you until your sleepy little body could take no more.

His whiskers tickled your back as he nuzzled into you from behind, trailing his fingers over your thighs as he pushed your legs apart and adjusted you. You whimpered and gasped at his every movement, your senses heightened and over stimulated by his touch. His warm wet trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, his cock rubbing between your folds, collecting the slick of your cum, his fingers flicking your swollen clit. Everything he did took you a little closer to the edge and even though you'd barely caught your breath from your first orgasm, you could already feel the tension in your abdomen as he built you up to another.

And then finally you felt the warm relief, the ache in your core finally satisfied as he pushed his cock into you slowly from behind. You were so sensitive that you were convinced you could feel every detail of his erection brushing up against your walls, stretching you out. Your pulse and his pulse racing together as he let out a low sleepy groan, one laced with desire.

He held himself there for a moment, pushing his hips against your bottom, burying himself as deep into you as he could. He held you still too so that although you were desperate to push back against him, to writhe against him and revel in that delightful friction, you couldn't. All you could do was give into him, let him do as he wanted with you, let him hold you there, your cunt clenching and relaxing around his throbbing cock.

Every now and then he flexed it inside you and you couldn't help the needy whimpers which escaped you. Couldn't help the little tears in your eyes. He was driving you to despair because it felt so good but it wasn't enough. You needed more of him, you needed the push and pull. And again you almost started begging, almost said Please, Alfie, please... But instead you whimpered, let out another trembling little moan and let him slip his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them to silence yourself as he used his other hand to carry on playing with you.

He groaned when, as he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them mercilessly, you moaned over his fingers and your cunt clenched and squeezed his erection. Your whole body flinching, still trembling and shaking. He could feel your heartbeat in his chest, his racing in time with yours as finally he began to thrust in and out of you. He took it slow, he wanted to go gently, wanted to fuck you slowly and draw your shared ecstacy out for as long as he could.

He held you so tightly against him, digging his hips into you from behind as he pushed deeper inside you. His tip brushing your gspot with every thrust he made, the returning pleasure rolling over you like waves. It was heavenly and you could feel the tightening of another high winding inside you like a coil as Alfie rubbed his calloused fingers over your clit, the roughness of his touch against your swollen bud bringing you that burning pleasure, hot and almost unbearable.

You had that feeling like you could cry, like you just felt so good that that was all you could do, you could feel it building inside you like a sob that needed to escape but instead of crying your second orgasm drew only the sweetest tumble of moans and soft cries from you as Alfie overwhelmed you with kisses and pushed his fingers a little deeper inside your mouth, moaning into your ear as you trembled on his cock.

You'd never understand just how gorgeous you looked, how heavenly you appeared to him when you were all blissed out like that, delirious with pleasure. Your eyes closed, your chest glistening with a pretty sheen of sweat. Your whole body quivering, jumping and starting at every kiss he pressed to your skin, every flick and swirl of his fingers around your clit.

It was a sight he almost felt he was being robbed of, having you facing the wall and not him so he pulled out, chuckling at the pretty little whimper of dissapointment you let out when you felt his cock leave you, dragged out of you so suddenly.

But he was only turning you around, rolling you over so that your face was burried in his chest, the hair on his body tickling your cheeks as he wrapped his arms around you and held your head cradled in his hand.

He didn't need to tell you what to do and no sooner had he lifted you up to his eye level, one hand squeezing your bottom, holding you firmly in place, had you wrapped your legs around him. And it was easy for his cock to find your hole then, it was like a magnetism drawing you into one another, his tip rubbing over your folds, pushing between them gently as you ground against one another needily.

You looked up at him with your sleepy blissed out ayes, your lips catching his chin first and then his lips. And just as your lips conected he pushed himself all the way into you, burying his cock into you and catching you by surprise so that your mouth opened onto his, your moan vibrating against his tongue as he pushed between your lips and kissed you hungrily.

You felt so close to him then, so dependent, so in love. You felt like this was the only place you ever wanted or needed to be. Balanced on his cock, clinging onto him for life, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he fucked you slow and tender.

He kissed your hair, holding you tight and keeping you tucked up beneath his chin. His legs tangled with yours as he thrust into you at a dreamy lethargic pace and you closed your eyes nuzzling into him. Breathing in his scent, his familiar musk mixed with the salty smell of your sex.

With every thrust those relentless pleasure waves kept rolling through you, your head dizzy from your numerous highs. You screaped your teeth over his skin, nipping and kissing his shoulder as you tried to control yourself. You could feel yourself on the brink of letting go completely and you knew that this time, when you came once more, you wouldn't be able to keep any shred of composure. You'd let it all out the way he loved you to and then you'd collapse completely overwhelmed by him. Unable to let go, the two of you holding onto one another for dear life.

You could tell he was getting close now, his pace speeding up just a little, his breathing growing heavier, hotter against you as he burried his face in your neck and used his hands beneath your bottom to shift you up closer to him. Even the sensation of his skin on your skin was enough to send sparks shooting all over your body and when he groaned in your ear, you bit down on his shoulder and moaned low and sweet into his neck. The pressure building up inside you too only to come washing over you in slow, glowing waves seconds later when you felt his cock swell inside you before letting out a stream of thick, warm cum. You felt him filling you up, felt his cum seep deep inside of you as he carried on fucking you slowly, fucking his cum deeper and deeper as his cock shot another jet into your cunt. You clenched around him, squeezing him tight as he moved inside you and the two of you began to slow down together, bringing one another out of your high slowly and gently.

But he didn't pull out. Instead he remained burried inside you, holding his cum and your cum inside you, occasionally twitching inside you or pushing up into you, his hips grinding against yours as you whimpered and sighed with contentment against him.

He held your face in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb across your rosy cheek. You had that beautiful blissed out dizzy expression on your face. Your eyes sleepy and glazed as though he'd fucked every last thought from your brain. And you honestly believed that he had, because when he bowed his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead before letting out a yawn and pretending to stretch, saying "mmm, good morning zieskiet, sleep well? You look like youve a head full of very lovely little dreams..."

You couldn't reply, all you could do was look up at him with your hazy eyes, your lips still quivering, your voice shaking when you whispered a little good morning to him too.

AN/ I have a tallest now and you can add yourself here

#peaky blinders imagines #alfie solomans x reader #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons fanfic #peaky blinders smut #Peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons

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weneeya · 4 months ago

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HIIIIIIIII omg i love ur writing style so much☹️☹️💗💗 anywssyshahshs hehe can u plspslspsls feed me some msby content (like literally anything msby ☹️) 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM BEGGING U PLZ i love msby so much omg theyre so adorbs 💘💘💘 ILYYYY BAE

acts of love w/ hinata, atsumu, sakusa, bokuto m.list | rules

note. OMG ofc I can do that I love msby boys sm they're my sweet boys I'm in love with the four of them!! I have so many ideas for them so never hesitate <3

Hinata as kissing the tip of your nose

You were asleep in the room you shared with your boyfriend. You never slept better than when he was with you. You were breathing slowly, when you felt a touch against your hair. You slowly opened your eyes, and the first thing they saw was the sweet face of your boyfriend, Shoyo.

He smiled at you, and you felt his gentle touch against your cheek. You slowly sat in the bed, and you were about to say something when you felt his lips against the tip of your nose. You closed your eyes for a second, before you heard his voice.

“I made breakfast,” he said, and you looked back at him with a smile on your lips. He was always so sweet with you, and kissing the tip of your nose was probably his favorite thing to do.

Atsumu as spinning you around

The match had been more intense than even, as they were against the Adlers. Of course, Hinata and Kageyama were always taking this so personally that the others had no other choice but to match their energy. So when the Black Jackals ended up as the winners, they were more than happy.

You had been watching the match from your special place, your eyes on your boyfriend the whole time. He was impressive, as always, and you couldn’t focus on anyone else. Sadly, it was awful for you to be able to join him at the end because people were going crazy everywhere.

Atsumu was answering some questions from a journalist with Sakusa, obviously showing off proudly. At least, until he heard your voice from afar. He looked in your direction, and you were waving at him. You just had the time to arrive near him when you felt your feet leaving the ground. In a second, he was spinning you around with this large smile of his.

He was always like this, happy for his victory but also happy to be able to celebrate it with you. You were his greatest gift.

Sakusa as noticing any detail about you

You ran out of perfume this morning so you decided to go find a new one in the afternoon. You needed some change but not too dramatical, so it was probably the best idea. It took you some time but the lady from the store helped you find something which matched your energy very well.

When you met Sakusa later in the afternoon, you didn’t expect him to even notice it. But when he came closer to leave a kiss against your cheek, he stopped here. He took a deeper breath, close to your neck, before standing straight again. He met your gaze, tilting his head to the side.

“Did you change your perfume?” It caught you off guard, and you blinked a few times before nodding at his words. “You noticed it?” You asked him, and he rolled his eyes, looking away from you.

“You really think I wouldn’t?” And his reaction made you smile softly. Of course he would notice it. Kiyoomi was always noticing everything about you. Your hair, your clothes ; and even your perfume. He cared so much more than what he was pretending.

Bokuto as giving you his jacket

You were walking home with your boyfriend, his hand in yours. He was talking about many different things, as always because Bokuto wasn’t a focused man. You felt a shiver down your spine because of the cold, as the wind was slowly pushing your hair back.

The grip you had on Bokuto’s hand slightly tightened, and he noticed it almost immediately. He looked at you, eyebrows raised ; and it quickly went to his brain. He took off his team jacket to put it on your shoulders, before smiling at you like it was nothing.

You glanced at Bokuto before hiding a little more in his jacket, a hint of a smile on your lips. You could always count on him to give you his jacket when you were cold. He would never let you stay in the cold without doing anything.

thank you for reading!!

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h4ndwr1tten · 7 months ago

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

featuring: roommate!satoru x reader

cw: fluff really, strong language? kinda suggestive.

the sudden, thundering sound of what seemed to be a crash had you jolting awake. you immediately sat upright and reached over to your lamp, switching it on and scanning your room on high alert. glancing over at your digital alarm clock, you found that it was only 1:03 in the winter morning. what kind of asshole would partake in destructing something this late?

the first person to come into mind was satoru, your roommate. he tends to stay up as late as possible doing the most random and stupid shit he could thing of. once, you caught him trying to fit himself into the shared washing machine at 3 am. but you remembered that earlier, you were going to confront him about how he left his used boxers and socks on the bathroom floor after his shower. when you stormed into his room, however, he was surprisingly in deep sleep.

so if satoru was slumped, where did the noise come from?

you debated leaving your bed for your safety or staying there, also for your safety, but ultimately decided on quickly checking the apartment for something unusual. quietly groaning, you forced yourself out of bed and into the hallway.

you hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, making you firmly believe it was an inconsiderate neighbor. nothing felt off and you weren't experiencing any sense of doom, so you returned to your bed and knocked right out.

only, an hour later, you woke up freezing. your room felt like pure ice and your body felt like you had been dipped into an ice bath. when did it get so damn cold? you thought, pulling your blanket higher up your body. it was snowing outside, but the cold shouldn't have been able to be felt with the heater on.

you tried to go back to sleep, but you only found yourself shivering despite the blanket. you rubbed your legs together in an attempt to warm you up, but it didn't seem to work. you huffed, irritated and uncomfortable by the temperature change.

getting up for the second time, you threw your blanket over your shoulders and went into the hallway to check the thermostat. there, you found satoru, also checking the temperature.

"cold?" he asked, his voice raspy from probably having been woken up to the same thing.

you hummed in response, watching silently as he tried to figure out what was wrong. he tapped at a few times, pressed the buttons every second, until he noticed that the temperature of the heater wasn't changing.

"it's broken."

oh.

"what? the thermostat?" you question, a little densely, but to be fair, it was 2 in the morning.

"no, the heater," satoru replied, tapping at his lips in thought.

that made a lot more sense. the weather from antarctica couldn't have just magically moved in with you. but did this have to do with the loud bang from earlier?

"satoru," you begin, "i woke up an hour ago because there was a bang, but i checked and nothing seemed broken inside here."

satoru hummed, turning away from the wall and to you. he opened his mouth to speak and you anticipated it, but instead, you watched as his eyes trailed down your frame, eyes falling onto your body. he was silent for a few seconds, visibly gulping. his face felt warm. could you see his pink-tinted cheeks in the dim lighting?

clearing his throat, satoru turned away and pretended to observe the thermostat, mumbling, "yeah, that might have... that might've been it."

confused, you look down at your body to find what elicited his behavior. it took you a second, but you noticed your hardened nipples poking out through your shirt. you forgot that was a thing. your eyes widened and you quickly folded your arms and blanket over your chest, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

"what do we do now?" you asked, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

"how many blankets do you have?"

fuck, they're all in the laundry.

"one."

satoru side-eyed you, slowly turning to face you, his face deadpan.

"they're in the laundry!" you raised your hands in defense, effectively dropping the blanket to the ground.

it seemed to have caught satoru's attention because of the way his eyes moved down to the ground. then slowly up your figure, as if drinking in every part of you. your arms were still hiding your chest and you didn't look all that great right now, considering you were only in pajama pants and a baggy tee. but the way he looked at you made you feel like it was more than just the attire.

you shifted your weight onto one foot, warmth creeping up your neck. you had always felt some sort of attraction towards your roommate, but considering how insanely attractive he was, you thought that he would never even think of seeing you the same way.

but gosh, the way he eyed you like the most valuable treasure there ever was. the way there seemed to be a sort of want, desire burning in his eyes. that was enough to make you question his feelings.

"satoru?" you call, growing antsy under his gaze.

"sleep in my room," he suggests casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"what...?"

he sighed, probably wondering if you were stupid, or deaf, or both. "the heating's down, and it's only going to get colder from here. i say that because we are both mature, grown adults, we sleep in the same bed because right now, shared body heat is likely the only thing that's going to keep us from freezing."

you were stunned, to say the least. that's the most and longest sensible thing to come out of satoru's mouth ever. had he thought of this before?

"i guess you're right," you mumbled, face flushed. "but wouldn't it be awkward?"

"it'll only be awkward if you make it awkward," satoru retorted, opening the door to his room and waiting for you to enter. "we're mature, right?"

you walked into his ridiculously messy room, sighing, "i am, but i don't know about you."

"hey!"

you flopped down onto satoru's bed, a lingering warmth around it from before he got up. your heart began to beat a little faster as he approached the bed, the fact that you were actually about to sleep with someone you've dreamed of sleeping with before.

"y/n?" satoru called out, breaking your stare at the floor.

"yeah?"

"that's my side of the bed."

you blush furiously, scrambling to the opposite side, muttering, "oh, sorry."

but once you were there, satoru goes, "that's also my side."

you snap your head at him, glaring. "what do you mean, this is also your side?"

"i sleep in the middle."

"are you serious?" you sigh, growing uncomfortable.

"yep," satoru said, popping the p and sprawling out across the bed like a starfish. his once (and extremely rare) seriousness was gone, and he was back to his irritating antics.

you sat at the very edge of the bed, nearly sliding off, uncomfortable in the silence. satoru's eyes were closed and his breathing seemed to have relaxed, and you wondered if he was asleep. you wondered if he really meant what he said by sharing the bed too.

"satoru?" you murmured, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"mph?"

standing up, you uttered, "i can just go back to my room, i don't wanna bother you. i'll get warm eventually."

you weren't lying. even though sleeping in his bed felt like a really good idea, both for your comfort and desire, you would hate to be a bother to him.

peeking an eye open, satoru reached for your hand and grasped it, pulling you back down.

"i'm joking, y/n," he sighed, slightly muffled by his pillows. "get in here."

he fixed his position, then opened his blanket to beckon you in. you frowned, snapping, "you basically just said there's no room for me after suggesting we share the bed."

despite that, you still found yourself crawling into the warmth of his sheets. you kept yourself at the edge, though, still afraid of taking up his personal space.

it's quiet for a moment again. you raise the blanket just up to the underside of your nose, nervously picking at the pillowcase. his scent engulfed you; a mix of his cologne and natural musk, with a faint hint of detergent. you realize this is real.

satoru sighs, and to your surprise, he throws his arm around your torso and pulls you into him, your back now pressed against his front. he doesn't take off his arm, but instead, gently runs his cold hand along your stomach as if comforting you.

"i was just messing with you," he mumbles, drowsiness in his voice. "but i'm sorry, you big baby."

realizing what he said, you elbowed him in the ribs, but not too hard to actually hurt him. satoru let out a fake whine, both of you laughing quietly after.

silence fills the two of you, the only noises being shared breathing and city noise from outside. it's quiet, but it's comfortable.

you roll over onto your other side to face satoru, finding him with his eyes already shut and brows barely pinched. even in the dark, you can still make out the outline of his perfect features, from his long lashes to his cold-nipped lips. you'd trace them if you could, but you refrained out of fear of waking him up and the fact that you were in no position to be touching him like that.

"i can feel you staring at me," satoru mumbles, fatigued huskiness in his voice.

you blush, grateful for the lack of light in the room, whispering an apology.

satoru opens his eyes, a faint smile sitting atop his lips. "i know i'm insanely handsome, but sleep," he teased.

"i was actually looking at that fat, glow in the dark pimple on your forehead, but okay," you snort, scooting in closer to satoru's warmth.

his hand darts to his forehead, yelping, "actually??"

you giggle, "no. sleep."

"you suck," he sighs, chuckling before bringing his hand back to around you.

you slowly slide your arm under his and wrap it around his torso, your nerves and hesitation fading when he doesn't make a move to remove you. satoru whispers a goodnight, lips ever so slightly brushing against your forehead. you whisper it back, and sleep comes over the both of you.

maybe the heater should stay broken...

note — gave up on my layout D:

m. list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff

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theholypeanut · 1 year ago

Text

♪ You Belong with Me ♪

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Isagi Yoichi, Kunigami Rensuke

Cw: stalking, fake dating or is it?, fluff and a tiny lil angst, mention of Barou not getting bitches (pov he goes to the same school as Isagi) , mention of Otoya being a horny perv (Otoya slander as always love u Eita)

Plot: Being a football star is not an easy task, being popular can really get on your nerves when someone goes too far. That’s why he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to make all of this unwanted attention to go away highschool au, fake dating trope, afab!reader, ~800 words each

Bachira Meguru

Bachira was never very popular with girls, so when he started getting anonymous love letters, he was excited. Someone is crushing on him? However, as time passed, it seemed like this person was more obsessed than in love - writing about how cute Megu looks under the shower (how do they know?) and thirsty messages about how amazing he smells - it got very uncomfortable, especially when you don’t know who is sending you all of this. So he asked you if you could pretend to be his partner, just so the stalker would leave him alone.

Fake dating Bachira was actually a lot of fun. Since you were close friends, so you essentially did the same things, except his hand was wandering on your back a lot, around your waist, in your hair. He started to call you Bumblebee in front of others, making you blush with his affectionate behaviour. To be clear, he was clingy before, but now Bachira Meguru was just a menace. However, it didn’t take you long to get used to wearing his sweatshirt when it was cold, and holding hands around his teammates “because you’ll never know if the stalker is seeing or not, so we have to be like this all the time”. But as time went on Bachira started to be more bold. At first, he kissed your hand occasionally while you walked home, and eventually, he moved on to kissing your forehead goodbye. He didn’t care if it was around people or not anymore. You couldn’t control the butterflies in your stomach every time you felt his lips on your skin.

Obviously the creepy stalker sent some nasty stuff to Bachira about being heartbroken, however after two weeks you got a familiar envelope in your shoe shelf. Scared that it might be some threat, you opened the letter with shaky hands.

“Take care of him well. I can see how much he loves you”

It caught you off guard, but without a second to think about it, you felt familiar hands around your waist. “Good morning baby” Bachira’s face was right next to your ear as he planted little kiss on your cheek. And just as you looked at him you thought: god, I really don’t want this to end.

He saw the envelope in your hands and got angry at the spot. “I really hope they don’t even try to mess with my-” you shook your head and showed him the letter. “It’s good. You are good” You stopped for a second with a sad look on your face. “I guess if it worked we don’t have to-” the bell starting classes stopped you from ending the sentence. But Bachira knew what you wanted to say and he hated it.

You spent morning classes thinking about Meguru way more than usual. The silence on his part was frightening you, because what if for him it was really just an act? What if he doesn’t mind to come back to things as they were?

On the lunch break you felt your phone vibrating.

Megu: Can we talk? Come behind the gym

Without answering you just stood up and went feeling anxiety taking over your body. When you arrived and saw a familiar silhouette, your heart skipped a bit. Meguru came closer and pushed you gently against the wall and put his forehead on the crook of your neck. Feeling his breathe so close to your skin make you shiver.

“You are right, you don’t have to pretend anymore” he said, and your throat got dry as you felt like tearing up any moment.

“But if we stop pretending, and do it for real, does that mean I can kiss your lips too?”

Isagi Yoichi

Isagi was your best friend since childhood, the best neighbour, an amazing companion to play board games with. And of course, you were always the loudest fan cheering on all of his matches.

Isagi got very popular when he became one of the best players in his high school and girls and boys finally saw the side of him you saw all along: a very athletic, nice and cute boy. And a very, very handsome one.

At first it flattered him that so many girls came to see him play; however, the louder they screamed, and they squeaked every time he looked in their direction, the more annoying it was to him and distracted him from the game. “Isagi, control your fun club” he heard from angry Barou.

But to be fair, he had no idea what he could do with this issue. He was simply too kind to snap at them, and too shy to stand up to them either.

“Maybe they’ll stop if you date someone?” Bachira mentioned in the locker room after practice. Then he whispered right to Yoichi’s ear: “You have someone who you want to date for some time already, right, Isagi?”

Isagi blushed. Of course there is only one person he would even consider to date: you. But how could he ask you to date him because of something so stupid? He couldn’t do that for years now, so how will he grow a pair now?

“Maybe just get a fake girlfriend” he heard Aiku speaking. “If you are such a virgin you can’t actually get one.”

So obviously, when he asked you, if you could pretend to be his partner to get rid of unwanted attention, how could you say no?

And that’s how you two ended in this situation: holding hands with your childhood friend while going back home together. His hands were so warm, and big, and for the entire route you felt hyper aware of his presence.

“So… how was the practice?” You asked to fill the silence. Normally you’d talk for hours and joke all the way home, but apparently Isagi is also not used to holding hands.

“It was very good… I think the fan club might get more and more discouraged” Yoichi barely could make a full sentence, that’s how much he focused on the way your hand felt. If he knew he could hold your hand everyday, he would ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend years ago.

Pretend. Yeah.

However is it still pretending if you are doing that on your way home with no one around?

“So… what are your plans for the weekend?” He asked trying to get himself together. His team didn’t have to play any matches this week, which was a rare occurrence. And gave him some time for himself.

“Well, I don’t have any particular plans” you started holding his hand tighter. He blushed. “I was thinking maybe I’d study some, watch a movie… on my own”

Oh?

“Do you maybe…” he started while looking away, so you won’t notice his embarrassment. “Want to watch it together? Or… or study together?”

You looked on the ground. Isagi started to regret his boldness - what if you don’t actually like him this way? What if you are actually embarrassed to hold hands with him and it makes you uncomfortable, and you only let it happen because you are a good friend? With growing silence he started overthinking everything and started taking his hand back, just to not make you feel more uncomfortable.

But you held it tighter and raised your brow.

“And what do you think you are doing, huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was very stupid” he started. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, you are already spending so much time with me because of this whole situation, just tell me and I’ll stop bothering you so much”

For a football star he was really insecure, but what could he say? He crumbled under the idea that you might be annoyed with his touch or by his presence. Even if he’d have to keep his feelings for you forever, he’ll do it if that mean he gets to keep you as his friend.

“Yoichi” you started quietly. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. You could never bother me, you know? I actually…” you felt the feelings stuck in your throat. “Missed you a lot, since you are so busy with your football career. I missed spending time with you. Just us”

Isagi felt adrenaline was rushing through his veins just like before he was about to shoot a goal. This was an occasion he was waiting for so long.

“Do you maybe want to go on a date together?” He said without hesitation. You blinked a little surprised.

“You mean like, a fake date?”

“No. A real date. Just us. We can go to cinema, or maybe for a picnic, or we can just study together too…” he held your hand so tightly his fingers turned white. You smiled.

“Yeah, I’d love that”

Kunigami Rensuke

Saying that you and Kunigami were very good friends would be an overstatement. You were a manager of his football team for a year now, and you had a massive crush on him, but you never really talked regularly.

Kunigami was always a very polite guy, thanking you for every towel, every water bottle, always helping you with tasks that require strength, but he wasn’t very talkative, so you just assumed he was doing it out of simple generosity - he was a truly decent person. No wonder so many girls were swooning whenever he was on the field, it was always like this. His physique, handsome face, manners - you sometimes felt jealous over girls who could just openly state their feelings for Kunigami, because in your position it would be inappropriate. So you kept it nice and hidden.

Until you regretted it deeply.

There was this one particular fangirl who was on every match, cheering the loudest, always bringing Kunigami food “with lots of protein just as you like”, made herself a shirt that looks just like his football jersey. She was indeed very annoying and most of the team would either find her unbearable, or, as Otoya, were always staring at her ass in this very short skirt she was wearing.

And then you heard one day as you just arrived to school, that Kunigami has a girlfriend. It was like time stopped for a second. Till now you never expected your crush to date someone else, so in split seconds your heart was aching. Was this that girl? Did she finally succeed in her obnoxious tries?

The whole day at school felt like a fever dream. “Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve” was all over your brain. Maybe you should’ve confessed? Be more aggressive in your tries for his heart? Could you even have any chances?

You took your lunch out and tried to find a quiet place to eat, so you can spiral into your teenage depression a little more. But while going around school you passed the girl’s bathroom, just to hear The Short Skirt crying to her friends. You stopped right behind the door.

“He said that he has a girlfriend… and that I should stop coming on the matches… because it’s not okay towards her…” she took breaks to sniffle.

“You shouldn’t cry about it, we know you are way better than this half-ass girlfriend! There’s no way he got someone better than you!” - her friends were seriously doing their best.

Your brain was working fast. So it wasn’t her? You never saw Kunigami talking to any girl outside of you and her. Does he have a girlfriend outside of the school? Actually, Kunigami gives this vibe “neighbours to lovers” or “childhood friends to lovers”, so it wouldn’t be that far off.

You went to think about it in silence to one of the quieter wings of the school, and was just about to eat your sashimi, when someone aggressively entered the room.

“Oh, good. I found you.” you could see Kunigami was running just seconds ago. He was breathing just as he just ended a marathon. Was he that desperate to tell you that your presence bothers his girlfriend too? “Can I sit with you?”

“Sure” you only let out. He took a place meter away from you and didn’t say anything for a while. It started to get a little awkward, so you brought your bento closer to him.

“Do you have any lunch? Want some sashimi?” you went into your manager mode. If your players don’t eat well, how can they play well? Kunigami considered your offer for a split second.

“No, thank you” As always, you thought, Man of few words.

“So…” he started, while looking at the wall. “I don’t know if you heard the rumours yet”

You tried your best to keep your composure. “Yeah. You have a girlfriend? Congratulations” probably the lack of enthusiasm sold you away. At worst you can always pretend that you are just worried that he will play worse if he’d date, right? Because he is a valuable player.

“Yeah this one. So I kinda wanted to talk to you first, before you hear it, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “Yeah I should have told you yesterday. Sorry”

Oh? You frowned your brows. It’s not like you are such good friends that you would be the first person he’d say that he dates someone? Again you barely talk outside of practice. “Yeah I don’t think you owe me anything. Again good for you, Kunigami-kun”

“No, I don’t think you understand what I mean” he said quickly, like he was afraid you’d leave. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” You felt a little lost now.

“Actually…” he started, still not looking directly at you. “When I told this cheerleader girl that I have a girlfriend, I did it just so she would stop acting like this. It’s not true”

Oooooh. You blinked. Well, now the day started to get a little brighter. “And you wanted to tell me that… why?”

If you sit closer, you’d see how Kunigami’s ears were bright red. “So Bachira said, that maybe I should ask you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a while, so we would be sure that it looks realistic” he paused and finally looked at you. You never saw him looking so vulnerable. “Of course you don’t have to do anything. I was thinking that maybe I would walk you home, and we would eat lunch together, and we should exchange phone numbers…” With every word he looked more and more red. Could he be any more adorable than in this moment?

You smiled, and then dramatically sighed.

“I don’t know, Kunigami-kun. That is a lot of heat I am taking on myself - you have quite an aggressive funclub” you could feel how he freezes in fear, afraid of where are you going with this. Just like a scared puppy. “I think lunch and walking home are not enough. You owe me at least one date per week, where we go to the cinema, or to the arcade…” you thought for a while. “Honestly if you will not after every goal look at me and obnoxiously scream THIS ONE IS FOR YOU BABY, I don’t know if this is worth it. If I’m gonna get murdered by this witches, at least I wanna know you embarrassed yourself enough to compete with Shidou’s cringe. ”

You could feel how all of the stress just disappeared from his shoulders. He really had all of his little speech prepared.

“Okay” he said smiling. “But I’m not saying anything sexual, some things Shidou screams during the matches are seriously nightmare’s material.”

“Ah shoot, no INTO THE WOMB?” You decided to tease him some more, as he is technically now your boyfriend.

“Please stop”

“Then we go to the arcade twice per week”

“If you skip the embarrassing screaming, I can even win you plushies on every outing”

And just like that, you kinda wished The Short Skirt will never be fully convinced about you two, so you can spend time like this for long enough, so it will just become real.

And so did Kunigami.

By slowlyholypeanut please give credit don’t translate and don’t steal love u

Bachira is the best wingman for both Isagi and Kunigami 🫶 (and for himself) what an icon

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months ago

Text

Play Pretend

Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.

Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4909

Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him.

He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together.

He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.

There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close.

It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own.

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?”

He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’.

You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?”

“Hmmhmm.”

For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that?

“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold.

“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?”

You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants.

“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.”

You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.”

“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.”

You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it.

He shivers. You know what you’re doing.

“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle.

“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary.

While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him.

He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him.

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words.

“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.”

“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say.

He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake.

“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.”

The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers.

“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?”

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince.

“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.”

Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”

You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.”

He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.”

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”

You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.”

He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?”

“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.

“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”

“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease.

Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter.

“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.”

You grin and kiss his nose.

“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning.

“You want me to…?”

He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”

You smile cheekily. “You watch?”

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Almost all the time.”

“Almost?”

“99.9%.”

“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice.

“I’m sleeping.”

His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly.

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again.

“You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

“Steven won’t care.”

Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.”

You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment.

“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.

He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.”

You tut.

“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.”

You poke your tongue out at him.

Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.” He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction.

You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive.

“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?”

Jake nods once.

“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily.

You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins.

“But, humour me, yeah?”

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.”

“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.”

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?”

“Jake.”

“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”

You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective.

He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth.

You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous.

He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips.

“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked.

“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his.

You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants.

You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you.

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck.

You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing.

Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly.

You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down.

Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time.

The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him.

Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue.

You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.

He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy.

You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold.

Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing.

You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.

Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides.

You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue.

He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth.

“This okay?” You ask between licks.

“Yes, ah, yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds.

You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily.

“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air.

His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat.

He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush.

Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly.

Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips.

“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth.

He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you.

He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around.

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.”

You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches.

When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering.

“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?”

You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning.

“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.

You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.”

He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture.

“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside.

“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy.

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?”

“You.”

“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head.

You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls.

He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.

Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you.

“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back.

You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore.

You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on.

He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal.

He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock.

He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.

Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge.

“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time.

A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat.

He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again.

You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain.

“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly.

He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly.

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace.

When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch.

He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear.

You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises.

You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.

Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-

Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair.

“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words.

He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air.

His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity.

“Please what?” You whisper.

Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.

You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips.

With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”

“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before.

“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”

You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his.

“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down.

Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside.

He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still.

You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?”

He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.

But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”

He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly.

He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage.

His fingers don’t falter though.

The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second.

You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.

His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour.

“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly.

You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still.

You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans.

“Amor…”

“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same.

He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace.

The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin.

Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again.

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it.

You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”

“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.

The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”

It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants.

You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend.

He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe.

And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe.

“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you.

He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.”

You snort. “Oh, do you?”

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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multific · 2 years ago

Text

Be Paw-Sitive

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Inspired by @rilakeila's work

Summary: You are an animagus who can turn into a cat. But one morning, you wake up to an unpleasant surprise.

You were majorly screwed.

How were you supposed to go to classes like this?!

Seem like your private lessons with Professor McGonagall didn't pay off as well as you thought.

Now, here you were stuck with a pair of ears and a tail!

You must have tried to turn in your sleep and somehow got halfway stuck. That wouldn't be the issue. The issue was that no matter what you tried, you couldn't make them go away.

And your first class was with Snape... great.

No student knew about your abilities. Some professors knew but that's all.

You wanted to call in sick, pretending you were ill, but you also knew no one would believe you.

One last attempt you turned fully into a feline before turning back but the ears and tail were still there. You knew you had to go to class. You knew you couldn't reveal your secret.

You let out a sigh before grabbing your robe to hide your tail and a hat for your head. You thanked the winter at least it will be passable on the hallways, maybe not inside the class but you will deal with that later...

"Miss Y/L/N... I thought you were aware that it is rude to wear a hat inside my class."

Of course, Snape couldn't just let it pass, but you were a great actress.

"Of course, Professor, I got ill last night and I am shivering as it is, if you could allow me please to keep it on, I learned so much for today's test, I didn't want to miss it." Snape gave you a look but let it pass. Just this once.

After class when everyone left, you stayed behind.

"Professor, I do apologise for the hat."

"You are not sick." his voice was so monotone.

"No. I woke up this morning and..." you took off your hat and showed him your ears. "And I also have a tail..."

"I'll talk with Minerva. See if she can help, for now go to your next class." you smiled and turned to leave.

You always liked Snape. There was something about him, something behind his eyes, he was hiding his kindness and you saw that.

Your day went on quite well, pretending to be sick so you could keep your hat on. Professor McGonagall unfortunately, had no idea how to change you back, she said she will read some books and get back to you as soon as possible.

Later that day, you sat defeated in a hallway. It was rather quiet since no one really used that hallway.

You let out a long sigh before trying to return to your book.

"Here you are. I have been looking for you." came a voice and as you looked up, you saw Mattheo walking over to you. "Here." he handed you a small brown bag and you looked at him confused. "Take it, it's not going to explode!" Mattheo and you barely spoke before. He was a friend of yours, you would say.

You took the bag and opened it, only to find medicine in there.

"The lady at the store said these are the best for a cold." he explained as you looked back up at him. "You said during many classes today that you feel ill."

Was he worried about you?

"Thank you!" you yelled after him as he walked away. He raised one of his hands to wave goodbye.

You felt your heart swell.

You might have just developed a crush on Mattheo Riddle...

---

Two days later and you had the same issue.

The professors had no idea how to help you and every possibility you tried out failed.

Dumbledor decided to officially give you an exemption from classes for the time being. He respected your decision that you didn't want to share your secret with the students.

Everyone was told that you were sick.

You truly didn't like lying to others, especially your friends, but you were also not ready to share that you are an animagus.

There was a sudden knock on your door.

"O-One moment!" you yelled, getting into bed and covering your head with your hoodie. "Come in!"

It was Mattheo, the last person you expected.

"Hi." he said as he closed the door behind himself.

"Hello."

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm a little better thank you." you smiled as he looked around your room.

He noticed the books scattered around the place. Everything looked and smelled like you.

"What's this?" he said as he walked over to your table, finding the bag he gave you days ago. "Y-You didn't take the meds I gave you?"

"Um..." but you saw him rolling his eyes.

"Are you serious? I thought you were different from the others! You could have told me, I know I am the Dark Lord's son! But I am not like him!"

"What?" you asked, confused.

"For fucks sake! You didn't take these because you hate me just like the others right?!" he yelled before running towards the door but you were also fast. You grabbed his arm and turned him towards you. He was angry.

"I-that's not why. I don't hate you." you said but he rolled his eyes.

"You don't even look sick. Did you lie to the teachers?!" he asked as he looked at your face.

The hatred in his eyes made you scared. Scared that you will lose him.

"I didn't."

"What is going on here?"

"I can't tell you and please stop yelling."

"I yell if I want to Y/N! You made me worry for you that you were sick! I got you medicine and now two days later I find out that you didn't even take them! Is this because I'm a Riddle?! Why did you lie?!"

"I didn't... I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me?! Y/N, I thought you were better than that. I thought you could see beyond a last name, not like the others. Looks I was wrong." he moved to get to the door but you stood in his way, leaning against the door, not letting him out. "Move out of my way." but you shook your head, no. "MOVE!" he yelled louder than before and it really irritated your ears. You covered your face as you slid down against the door, tears running down your face.

"I don't hate you, please don't hate me." is what you said but he yelled again, this time it was your name. And just like that, you were gone.

Mattheo's eyes nearly fell out of his head as he now saw a cat where you were previously. The cat ran under the bed and Mattheo stood there, frozen.

His brain tried to function but he just couldn't move or think.

Took him a good minute before he knelt down on the floor and looked under the bed.

"Come out please." he said with such a soft voice, it even surprised him. He tried to reach under the bed but you moved away, out of his reach. "Come on, Y/N." but you didn't budge. He let out a sigh. "I don't hate you. I really don't. I was just angry, I'm sorry for yelling. I really like you, Y/N. So, my mind went into a spiral when I thought you hated me, but I get it now, please come out." but you didn't move.

Mattheo moved to sit on the bed, deciding to give you time and space.

You moved from under the bed. Getting out and looking at him as he kept on staring at the wall. You didn't turn back, deciding to stay as a feline for now.

You jumped up on the bed and this is when he noticed you. You sat with your tail moving around you, you were thinking as well.

"I didn't know you were an animagus. I guess no one else knows." you shook your head, no. "Do the professors know?" you nodded, yes. "Ah, makes sense. You are a really cute cat you know. You look very fluffy and... sorry." He tried to reach over possibly to pet you but stopped. Still sitting on the bed, you took a deep breath before turning back.

"Please don't tell the others. They would tease and bully me." you begged as you moved closer to him. "I didn't go to classes because I can't make my tail and ears disappear," you said pointing at your head. "I'm sorry for lying. I never expected you to buy me medicine." he nodded.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I really like you too, Mattheo. I felt really bad for lying, but you understand why I couldn't tell you." he nodded before he looked at you, smiling a little.

"Your eyes are also... um... cat-like?" you let out a long sigh.

"Professor McGonagall said it is normal for a young animagus to have certain characteristics like that. Eyes are normal but ears and tail... not so much."

"I think it's cute." he reached up, touching the ears on top of your head. "Would you purr if I scratched here?"

"No, I bite."

"You are not a nice kitty then." he smirked and you smiled.

"I don't plan on being one." you played along with him and it made him smile. "I am a very bad kitty especially when someone who isn't my boyfriend touches me."

"Oh, you have a boyfriend now?"

"I do."

"Lucky fella."

"Yeah, he brings me medicine when I'm sick but he is rather bothered by his last name."

"I'm not! People are." you smiled as you moved even closer to him, and he moved his arm around you. "I'll try and get you some notes from classes." his hand ran up and down your back, it found your tail as he flinched away a little but you moved it back to his hand.

"Next time, please don't yell at me. I hate it when people argue and my hearing is sensitive."

"Sorry, Darling." a comfortable silence filled the room. "I'm glad you are not sick at least. I was rather worried."

"I still have a tail and ears..."

"They are at least cute." you looked at him before moving your head to his neck.

"You are cute." you said as you yawned a little.

"So... should I leave before your boyfriend comes back?"

"He is a big scary Slytherin so... you might want to." you smiled as you moved back to sit.

"As soon as your ears have disappeared, I will take you on a date."

"We don't have to wait! I can wear my hat!" you smiled as he watched your eyes shine. He gave you a nod before you jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom.

"Kitten, take it slow please, I still have a class."

"Oh... will you skip?"

"I mean it is... of course I will." you smiled and resumed brushing your hair.

You were really excited about this new chapter in your life.

A boyfriend who accepts you and didn't judge you for being an animagus.

Part 2 SMUT

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gravitycavity · 6 months ago

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Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 6 - Radiant

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @blukiar

Vanilla and dried leaves and crisp morning air.

Ragatha savored the feminine aura that enveloped her, hands shivering as they strangled the silky fabric of Pomni’s tunic. She leaned in, pressing harder. A delightful, breathy sound snuck out of the corners of her mouth as Pomni’s lips yielded to hers. They were soft. Sweet. The warmest thing she’d ever tasted.

“Pomni…” Ragatha drifted at last from the cozy embrace, breath shuddering in sync with the rest of her body. Her good eye peeked open just a crack. Her hands turned slack and listless. One-by-one, her fingers lost their grip on Pomni’s tunic until, inevitably, she felt herself falling.

Pomni caught her, of course — Ragatha knew that she would.

Safe and secure in the arms of her fearless knight, Ragatha pulled her legs toward her core, making herself small. Her eyelids dragged fully open. It had felt like an eternity since she’d last looked at that gorgeous face, and she couldn’t stand to wait a single second longer.

Pomni’s hesitant smile, framed by her perennial blush, regarded Ragatha from up above. Ragatha’s face bloomed to match it. The jester brightened, too — just a little.

God. Radiant.

“Um…” Pomni’s expression dimmed again as she swallowed, her pupils wandering here and there. “How was that?”

Wonderful. Absolutely, unbelievably, impossibly wonderful. Ragatha had never felt this particular kind of rush before — the kind that made her head feel fuzzy, that made her limbs start to tingle, that made her heart beat so quickly and unendingly that it actually hurt.

If any of her past romantic rendezvous were any indication, Ragatha had been sure that all those romance novels she used to read on her lunch breaks had been exaggerating. She didn’t think it was actually possible to become breathless at the mere thought of another person. Or that a single pair of eyes could actually make the whole world cease to exist — yet here she was, cuddled up in this little woman’s big, strong arms, stupidly in love.

There was no chance in hell she’d actually say any of that sickeningly-saccharine fluff out loud, though. Goodness gracious, could you imagine? No, Ragatha’s love language was a little bit more subtle than that — and, contrary to her usual way of conducting herself, a tad meaner, too.

“Hmph.” Ragatha crossed her arms, pointing her face toward the ballroom’s lofty windows. She pursed her lips to conceal a sly smirk. “Just as I suspected…”

Pomni crinkled her brow. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! Just…” Ragatha spun her ankle, “Nevermind.”

“Nevermind!? What do you mean ‘nevermind’? You can’t just leave me hanging like that!”

“I just did.”

“Ragatha!” Pomni stamped her foot, “If you’ve got something to say, then say it!”

“Well, alright. If you insist,” Ragatha pretended to force out a hard sigh; in reality, she was barely able to contain her boisterous laughter. Teasing this girl would never, ever get old. “Don’t get me wrong. Kissing you was a dream come true, but,” she paused, “and please don’t take this the wrong way—”

“Spit it out, already!”

“— I wouldn’t call you a particularly…gifted kisser.”

Pomni thrashed backward; her face was fully boiled. “WH-WHAT?!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Sweetheart, but I’m too nice to lie to you. That kiss could have gone better.” Ragatha smirked, seizing hold of Pomni’s tunic once again. She tugged her body closer, utterly captivated by the nervous panic spreading across the jester’s cute little face. “I have a lot to teach you…”

“W-Well…!” Pomni squirmed, sweat beading on her brow, “You are pretty good at that! Teaching, I mean…”

“So I’ve been told~” Ragatha laid down a trio of smooches across Pomni’s cheek, giggling all the while. With each gentle embrace, Ragatha’s lips treaded closer to Pomni’s until, at last, they briefly met again.

Pomni squeaked.

“Now, then,” Ragatha broke off her smooch, “We’ll start with the basics, and work up from there. How’s that sound?”

Pomni was as red as a tomato. She responded with a dazed, stilted nod. “S-Sure…”

“That’s the spirit.” Ragatha bopped Pomni on the snout, despite her steadfast efforts to resist. This girl was just too cute. “First things first. Your kiss was great — very warm, very passionate, very genuine — but I have to say, you seemed awfully nervous.”

“Nervous…?”

“Way too tense. It’s a kiss, Sunshine, not a job interview. Just relax, hold me close, and press your lips to mine. That’s all there is to it.”

Pomni chewed on her lip for a few silent moments. Soon, her dominant hand was wandering up the length of Ragatha’s back, settling firmly between the ragdoll’s shoulders. Then, exploiting her new leverage, Pomni moved her face closer.

Ragatha was fully prepared to swoon, but something strange — the slight pang of discomfort simmering behind Pomni’s eyes — gave her pause.

Ragatha drifted away, consciously or not. Her face reflected Pomni’s uneasy mask.

The brightness with which Pomni’s eyes had shined mere moments ago had dimmed almost completely. Was it anxiety? Reluctance? General melancholy? Was Pomni just playing the part of her usual worrywort self, or was something the matter…?

No, no. Don’t overthink it. It was probably just nerves. That dorky new girl just had her first kiss, after all — people always get that stupid look on their face their first time.

Ragatha’s train of thought skidded to a halt, however, as Pomni clumsily shoved her lips into hers. Twice as quickly, and thrice as ungracefully, the awkward jester tore her mouth away from Ragatha’s like her very life depended on it.

“Th-There.” Pomni wiped her mouth. Her eyes diligently avoided any contact, “Better?”

Ragatha cleared her throat. Somehow, that was even worse. Maybe even the least satisfying kiss of her entire life. How to let her down easy…?

The dolly helped herself to a few patient breaths. “Let’s begin with the positives. You took the initiative this time, which was nice. And there was less, um…” Ragatha squinted, “...suction. Always a plus. As for the things you could improve…”

Ragatha rocked her head back and forth, starting, stopping and re-starting the same sentence a half-dozen times before finally finding the right words. “Sweetheart,” she finally said, “do you think you could try giving me a little bit…more?”

“More…?”

“Look, I don’t mean to split hairs, but that was more of a peck than a kiss, don’t you think?”

“I… guess so.” Pomni deflated, looking more like a lost puppy with every passing moment. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I should’ve never even asked to kiss you in the first place—”

“What? No, no, no! It wasn’t bad, Pomni! I just wished that it had lasted a little bit longer. You pulled away so quickly, I barely had any time to enjoy it.”

“Y-Yeah…” Pomni sighed.

Ragatha tilted her head with a soft, reassuring smile. “Let’s try again. I’ll lead, you follow. Before you pull away, try counting to two in your…”

…her voice trailed off, suddenly distracted by a strange sensation. Pomni’s arms were trembling. Trembling hard.

“Oh, dear,” Ragatha’s mature voice cracked with compassion. There was something wrong. “Pomni, what’s the matter? Your arms are…”

“N-N-No, th-th-that’s-s-s n-n-not m-m-me!” Pomni stammered — and for once, her pesky nerves weren’t the ones to blame. Wobbling on one foot like a clumsy cartoon character, she craned her neck forward, trying to see the ground over her hefty armful.

A dissonant aria of creaking wood sounded as a slight, but persistent tremble shook the stage. A handful of musician’s chairs toppled over around the girls, solidly-crafted frames harshly smashing against the weathered timber floor. A half-dozen music stands fell over next — a prelude to the disjointed melody that disgraced the air as a handful of musical instruments crashed, clanked, and clanged against the floor.

But in no time at all the quizzical trembling was all said and done.

Pomni just stood there in the aftermath, utterly dumbfounded, wearing the world’s most clueless expression. Ragatha did much the same.

“Well,” Ragatha scratched her temple, “that was weird—”

A second, dramatically stronger earthquake — so strong that the stage beneath the girls suddenly crunched in half — rocked the digital plane.

“Pomni!” Ragatha yelped like a frightened kitten, clinging to Pomni’s waist as needle-thin splinters sprayed forth like wooden shrapnel.

“D-Don’t worry! I’ve got you!” Pomni held Ragatha as tightly as she could, planting her legs in a wide stance. Taking a moment to find her balance, she dashed away from the swarm of timber shards, leaping off the collapsed stage with total confidence.

Unfortunately for her (and by extension, Ragatha), that confidence was in no way earned. It was far easier to leap than it was to land, and Pomni, not exactly being the athletic type, did so in a heap, skinny frame roughly impacting the hard marble dance floor.

Ragatha grunted in pain, feeling a few more stitches pop as she tumbled out of Pomni’s arms. She rolled across the floor and came to a rest a stone’s throw away.

Eventually, the world stopped spinning, and the dazed dolly blinked her eyes open. For a moment, she was seeing double — but a quick rattle of her head cleared up her topsy-turvy vision.

Pomni practically launched toward Ragatha. “Oh my gosh!” she fell to her knees, “Ragatha! Are you okay!?”

Unable to stand up by herself, Ragatha could only lie on her back, staying motionless like a discarded ragdoll on a playroom floor. Painfully aware of what made that hilariously sad, she tried not to laugh, staring up at Pomni’s panicked face from her upside-down point-of-view.

“Ragatha! Hello? Are you alright?”

“I am now.” Ragatha ended up laughing anyway, twisting a red curl around her finger. Maybe the blood was rushing to her head — or maybe she just felt like doing it.

Pomni’s face was red. “Be serious!”

Ragatha snorted. “I’m okay! I promise you.”

Pomni let out a huff, brushing away a thicket of splinters that had embedded themselves into the many folds of her padded musketeer costume. Thankfully, none of the fibrous projectiles had managed to pierce through to the skin. “I’ll probably be a little sore in the morning, but I’m okay, too.”

“Well, that’s…good.” Ragatha stretched her arms and legs. “Hey, Pomni?”

“Yeah?” Pomni scooted closer.

“Your greatest fear wouldn’t happen to be earthquakes, would it?”

“Trust me. If I was bothered by earthquakes, you would know by now,” Pomni rubbed her chin, looking pensive, “To tell you the truth, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Nope. My fear is centipedes. It’s always been centipedes.” Ragatha shivered, quickly discarding the thought. She examined the carnage around her — a stage split in two, dusty clouds sulking about, a hostile sea of shattered ceramic and broken glass drowning the dance floor. It didn’t add up. “So, then…what’s going on?”

“Maybe the earthquakes are just set dressing? There’s lots of things we’ve encountered that had no real significance beyond confusing us or creeping us out. Remember that room with the theremin-player?”

“He really did just sit in the corner, doing his thing.” Ragatha nodded — she had to give her that one. “But what if the earthquakes aren’t just incidental? What if they have something to do with the key puzzle? We still haven’t solved it, have we?”

“Oh!” Pomni perked up. “Oh.” Pomni frowned. “Oh…” Pomni’s face twisted into an exaggerated caricature of itself. “Like… maybe the room is telling us we did it wrong? Or maybe we’re running out of time, and the room is collapsing in on us?! Oh, God! And maybe—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” The ether trembled, disturbed by the ghastly vibrations of a familiar, haughty voice. “Are you lot really that daft!?”

Pomni and Ragatha let out a yip and a yelp, respectively. Both heads swiveled on a dime.

Who but Margarethe MacGuffin — the malevolent matriarch of MacGuffin Manor herself — could be looming overhead? Practically snarling, the ghostly socialite cocked her signature book parallel to her face, ready to chuck the hefty tome through — not at — the nearest head.

“You solved the puzzle! The. Door. Is. OPEN!” she shrieked like a ghoul, “It’s been open for five minutes! If you two sapphic scoundrels would quit necking each other long enough to look up at your surroundings, perhaps you would know that!”

Pomni nearly fell over backwards, hands splattered all over her beet-red face. “Uh…! U-Uh!”

Meanwhile, Ragatha squealed like a stomped chew toy, waving her hands frantically across the marble floor, “Miss MacGuffin! I don’t know what you think you saw, but we weren't—’ she stammered, “We aren’t—”

“Save your breath.” Margarethe squared her tome against her hip. “I couldn’t care less about your love life — what do I care about is my brooch, and I’m growing quite tired of watching whatever awful soap opera you two are dead-set on re-enacting. I mean, forgive me, but it is just terrible. Absolutely horrifying.”

Ragatha’s entire face contorted in horror. “You were watching us?!”

Margarethe wagged her finger in Ragatha’s face, barely missing the ragdoll’s triangular snout. “Hold your tongue. I’m not finished.” Another small tremor shook the mansion. “I humbly suggest that you two pick up the pace before I end up kneeling before the gates of hell, begging to be let back in. And before you end up failing this entire mission.”

“Failing?” Pomni shot a panicked glance toward Ragatha, then flung her gaze back toward the phantom. “Wait, we can fail?! No one told us we could fail!”

“Hmph! So typical — absolutely no accountability taken.” Margarethe tutted, “Really, it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have expected some pampered whelp from the swing generation to have a grasp on personal responsibility.”

Pomni squinted. “What year do you think this is?”

“Change the subject all you want, it’s not helping your case.” Margarethe casually inspected her monstrous manicure, “nor is it going to change anything about your deliciously-dire circumstances.”

“What circumstances!? What case?! You’re not making any sense, lady!”

“Pomni!” Ragatha raised her voice. “Were you raised in a barn?! Mind your manners!”

“What are you, my mom?”

“If I were, I’d be ashamed.” Ragatha crossed her arms. “Now quit running your big mouth before we get into even more trouble!”

Ragatha took a moment to compose herself before turning her attention to the ghostly hostess. The fact that she was still laying on the floor didn’t seem to phase her. “Miss MacGuffin,” she said with a calm, controlled cadence, “I’m afraid we don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Why exactly do we need to hurry?”

Pomni rolled her eyes. “Kiss-@$#.”

Margarethe lifted her chin approvingly, cracking open her spellbook. “...See, I could try explaining with words, but your little pet here seems to be a few cents short of a dollar. How about I just show you — that way, her little peabrain has something exciting to look at while the adults are talking?”

Pomni’s mouth warped into a sharp-toothed grimace — but Ragatha, thinking fast, deftly raised her voice overpower the string of swears that came barreling out. “Gosh, th-that sounds like a wonderful idea, Miss MacGuffin! Whatever would we do without such a hospitable hostess?!”

“Oh, heavens. Don’t talk me up too much, now.” Margarethe batted a hand, beaming with pride. “There’s a good reason hell doesn’t want me.”

Licking her finger, the phantom flipped through the pages of her voluminous tome before finally planting her nose inside. She squinted. Her voice took on a low, scratchy timbre as she uttered the hex inscribed upon the yellowed paper.

“Hallowed spirits beyond the pale!” she bellowed, unable to defy the programming that commanded her to ham everything up to the highest degree, “Hear my call!”

The lights went out all at once, plunging the ballroom into complete darkness. One by one, they flickered to life again. A wave of rollicking flames lit the retinue of charred wicks garrisoned throughout the room — the candelabras upon the tables, the towers of wax planted in the sconces, the tea candles suspended beneath the chandeliers in little glass bowls.

Ragatha rubbed her eyes. The light show was impressive, if nothing else.

Margarethe’s spell continued on its course. “Oh, wise spirits, on this most terrible All Hallow’s Eve, lend us the unparalleled, awesome power…” the phantom cast a single, outstretched hand straight into the air, “...of the developer console!”

“The—” Ragatha did a double take, “The #$@&ing what?!”

Like magic, an old-fashioned film projector — paired with a matching typewriter — popped into existence in front of Margarethe. The cobweb-covered machines floated freely in the air, bobbing with a slight, satisfying rhythm.

“Display…adventure…stats,” Margarethe thought out loud, her long, ghostly fingers loudly tapping the typewriter’s keys. With one final, dramatic keystroke, a lengthy list of dull statistics was projected onto the wall in black-and-white.

“There we are!” Margarethe draped her arm across Pomni’s shoulders; her ghostly aura dragged the temperature down by at least fifteen degrees. “Let’s have a look, shall we? Team one: Zooble and Kinger — Adventure status: Complete. Time elapsed: 3.9 hours,” she quoted the list aloud, “Team two: Jax and Gangle — Adventure status: Complete. Time elapsed: 5.3 hours.”

Ragatha glanced at Pomni. Pomni looked down at the floor-bound dolly, waving with an awkward half-smile. Ragatha felt her face take on a warmer hue as she returned a flirtatious wave of her own.

“Ah, look! Here’s you two!” Margarethe pointed, cackling precisely according to her villainous programming. “Team three: Ragatha and Pomni — Adventure status: Incomplete. Time elapsed: 13.1 hours.”

Ragatha balked. “Thirteen hours?!”

“Huh?” Pomni winced like she’d just stepped on a nail, “Is that bad!?”

Margarethe snapped the makeshift computer out of existence, replacing it with a rusted, palm-sized pocket watch. “Well, it certainly isn’t good.” she remarked matter-of-factly.

The mansion shivered with another soul-churning tremor as Margarethe calmly examined the watch’s ticking hands. Ceramic shards and broken glass showered the floor as the ballroom’s finely-set tables toppled over two-by-two, three-by-three, four-by-four.

“I really have to spell every little thing out, don’t I?” the phantom clicked her tongue. “Ladies, thanks to your incessant indolence, your persistent procrastination, your dormant dilly-dallying…” she thumbed the timepiece closed, “I’d give you about one hour, give or take, before this whole mansion comes crashing down.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Pomni snapped, “There’s a TIME LIMIT!?”

“So sorry to disappoint~” Margarethe batted a hand. “As much of a treat it is to haunt — er, host — you two, all good things must eventually come to an end. And I’m afraid our time together is fast approaching that inevitable conclusion.”

“But! But that’s not fair! You can’t just—” Pomni grunted. She grabbed Ragatha by the waist, holding up the ragdoll like a human shield. “Ragatha! Tell her!”

“Well-l…” Ragatha cleared her throat to make way for her ‘teacher’ voice — the gentlest, most placating delivery she could possibly manage. “I appreciate your passion, Pomni. I really do. But to be fair, I did mention this once before…”

Pomni shoved her face closer to Ragatha’s. “You did?”

“Well, just that there’s a time limit. I never explained why.” Ragatha said. She would do her best to explain it in simple terms. “The Digital Circus is a computer game — and not a particularly well-coded one. If I recall correctly, the game’s internal logic suffers from something called a ‘memory leak’, and because of that, adventures can only persist for a certain length of time.”

Pomni seemed intrigued. “Memory leak…?” she said, finally getting around to actually picking Ragatha up off the floor. She hooked one hand beneath woman’s back, one beneath her legs.

“I think that’s what Gangle called it.” Ragatha replied. Closing her eyes as she was lifted off of the ground, she took a moment to organize the ins and outs of her explanation. “I’ll put it this way — think of a computer’s memory like your desk at work.”

“Ugh.” Pomni rolled her eyes, now standing fully. Once again, Ragatha was cradled safely in her arms. “Can we not?”

“No.” Ragatha huffed. “We’re going with the desk analogy, so listen up.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you. Now consider this — you only have so much space on your desk to keep your things, right? If you run out of space, things pile up, and it becomes harder and harder to keep track of everything you need. Your staple remover gets lost, then your extra box of staples, then the stapler itself. You have to resort to binding documents together with paper clips like some kind of deranged lunatic, but then even those get lost in the shuffle.”

“Wow…” Pomni closed her eyes. Her breath ebbed and flowed at a gentle, meditative pace, “It’s like I’m really there…”

“The point is, you get overwhelmed trying to keep track of everything.” Ragatha said. “Computers work the same way. A well-designed game would free up the ‘desk space’ — or memory — it uses the moment it’s finished using it. But Caine’s adventures don’t do that. AI, physics, lighting — it all just piles up, never getting cleared away, until—”

“Until the adventure crashes?”

Ragatha nodded, wincing a little. “It’s not an issue as long as adventures get completed in a timely manner, but around the 13 hour mark, things start to become unstable…”

“And…” Pomni bit her lip, “And what happens after a crash?”

“I…don’t really know, to tell you the truth. It’s never happened to me.” Ragatha glanced up at MacGuffin Mansion’s resident ghoul. “Miss MacGuffin?”

“Well, don’t look at me.” Margarethe crossed her arms, “13 hours ago, I didn’t even exist. How on God’s green Earth should I know?”

Another tremor rattled the mansion’s foundation. Windows shattered. Furniture fainted. A hairline fissure flashed across the western wall and began a slow, deliberate crawl toward the ceiling.

Holding Ragatha closely, Pomni peeled her shoe off the checkered marble, retreating by a single, wobbly step. “N-Not good…” she mumbled. Her pinwheel pupils tightened toward the centers of her eyes, smothered by a sea of white. “Not good, not good…”

“Ah! But fear not, honored guests — you may just complete this terrifying adventure yet!” Margarethe flew into the air, punctuating her announcement with another flamboyant spin. “For I, the great Margarethe MacGuffin, have graciously decided to lend a helping hand. A shortcut, if you will.”

“Shortcut…?” Ragatha placed her hands over her stomach — her stuffing was stirring.

Margarethe winked. She snapped her fingers. In the blink of an eye, Pomni, Ragatha, and their ghostly hostess were zapped out of the ballroom. A split-second later, they reappeared in an entirely new environment: a long, dark corridor, lit only by the moonlight peering shyly from the windows.

Pomni flinched. “What?!” Her head snapped here and there as she tried to make sense of her new surroundings. “Where are we?”

“Why, we’ve skipped to the good part, darling.” Margarethe’s cheshire grin stretched all the way across her ghastly visage.

“G-Good part?”

“You see, I had some other rooms planned out for you two, but at the rate you’re going, you’d never, ever make it through them in time. So,” she shrugged, “seeing as you’re likely going to fail anyway, I might as well get some free entertainment before this pathetic attempt of yours crumbles to pieces…” Margarethe’s eyes lit up as another shiver shook the mansion. “...literally.”

Cracking up at her own joke, Margarethe keeled over, shattering the corridor’s windows with a high-pitched cackle of masochistic delight. “I’ll see you on the other side, darlings! That is…” she snickered, cupping her cheeks with childlike glee, “…if you survive!”

In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

///

My Ko-fi - Tips are very much appreciated! :)

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter]

A bit of a shorter chapter this time! I decided to just post the one scene I had finished as chapter 6 and push everything else I had drafted for this chapter into chapter 7. So, on the bright side, Chapter 7 is almost finished, too! :)

Anyway, thank you for reading!

#pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #ragapom #buttonblossom #jesterdoll #pomnitha #the amazing digital circus #tadc fanfiction #tadc sunshine #pomni #lesbian #tdac pomni #tadc fic

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sp1der-w3bs · 2 months ago

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Bull-hybrid x farm owner reader

This probe rally could have been smut if I wasn't so scared to write it

You push the barn doors open with a gentle creak, the morning sun flooding the musky place with a golden glow. The familiar sounds of your farm waking up greet you—cows lowing, birds chirping, and the faint hum of the wind through the fields. But one sound stands out, as always: a deep, cocky chuckle coming from the other side of the barn.

"Hello darlin' ," teasing voice drawls. "And here I was thinking you'd sleep in today, give us a break."

You roll your eyes before you even turn to face him. "In your dreams, You've got work to do, maybe u can sleep in on the weekend if your good."

There, leaning against the side of one of the stalls, is your bull hybrid. He's tall, with strong, muscular limbs, his thighs are thicker then ur waist, his horns curling back from his head. His tail swishes lazily behind him as he grins at you, showing off his perfect, cocky smirk.

"So what's on today's schedule?" He steps closer, his heavy hooves smashing down on the barn floor. "Because right now it seems like you just came out here to admire me?" He says smirks, as he poses for you, flexing his muscles.

You snort. "You wish. Now, are you going to help me or just stand there looking pretty?"

He laughs again, a deep rumble that never fails to send a shiver down your spine, though you’d never admit it. "I’m good at both, but if you insist, Boss."

As much as he likes to tease, is a hard worker, and it's fucking hot to watch. His muscular body, nearly covered and glistening in a thick coat of sweat. He strides across the barn, grabbing a heavy bag of feed with ease, his muscles flexing as he lifts it onto his shoulder like it weighs nothing. It’s a sight you’ve grown used to... sort of. No matter how many times you see him working the farm, his strength and confidence still have a way of drawing your attention. And he KNOWS it.

He shoots a glance back at you, catching you staring. "Like what you see?" His grin widens. "Don’t worry, darlin' you’re not the first to fall for the charms of a bull."

"Get over yourself," you huff, grabbing a bag of feed for yourself, even though it’s half the size of the one he’s carrying. If you were horney enough you think you could come from just watching him throw things twice your side around like they were nothing.

But as you walk past him to start on the far side of the barn, he moves quickly, blocking your path. His large frame casts a shadow over you, and you can feel the heat radiating off him in the blistering morning sun.

"You know," he says, his massive frame hoovering over you in a way that's makes your panties dampen, "you’re a tough woman, but I can’t help but think... You think about me in a way... Not work appropriate. Do you get of on watching me work?"

Your heart skips a beat, your face flushing bright red, and you curse internally at how easily he gets under your skin. His bronz eyes lock onto yours, full of playful mischief and something... more. It’s the same teasing dance you two have been doing for months now, ever since you hired him on the farm. At first, you’d chalked it up to him being overly confident, he doesn't want you, at least not in the way you want him. It's his personality you tell yourself, even when his boner is blatantly obvious.

"Seriously," you say, though your voice isn’t as steady as you’d like. "Move"

He steps back, but not before he flashes you another grin. "As you wish, Darlin'. But don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our little... Games."

With a swish of his tail, he heads back to his work, leaving you flustered and, as usual, trying to regain your crumbled composure.

Throughout the day, you fall into a rhythm. The flirtation is constant—whether he’s making innuendos about your "authority" or taking a firm grab at your ass every now and again. But he gets his tasks done, and at the end of the day, when the sun starts to dip low on the horizon, you both find yourselves back in the barn, finishing up the last of the chores.

You’re stacking bales of hay when he approaches again, wiping the sweat from his brow, his body glistening with sweat and dirt. He uses his strong body to pin yours, the rough hey scratching at yuor back.

"You know," he starts, his voice lower than usual, "I don’t play with just anyone. You’re VERY special, Darlin'" His voice gets quiter at the end as his calloused hands glide over you body.

Before you have time for a response he leans down, lips catching slightly on your cheek as his breath hits your neck "see you tomorrow darlin"

#i should like go outisde or something insead of doing this #i hate this #bull hybrid #bull hybrid x reader #farmer reader

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magicalbats · 6 months ago

Text

Situational Awareness (Dan Heng x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,928

Warnings: afab!reader, some gendered language, shower sex, intercrural sex, thigh fucking

A/N: I've been working here and there on a few different projects (including my long overdue Kinktober pieces, worry not!) but in terms of standalone fics I figured this one was done so I may as well post it. Am I doing so at six in the morning when no one is awake to see it? Absolutely. lol I'm not a plumber so please don't come at me about the shoddy pipe excuse btw, haha

⭐

The unmistakable evidence of all your fooling around is laying across the floor in the form of hastily dropped, rumpled towels. They’d hit the ground in a disarranged heap after the fall, but were still clean as far as you could tell. Not that you could really ask for more on the off chance that they weren’t considering the fright you’d just given the staff but …

Hanging your head, you make the conscious effort to draw a deep, calming breath and come down from the strange high you’d slipped into. You were sweating rather profusely, you’re a bit surprised to find. What had gotten into you? Hotel devils? Surely that was about as absurd as someone climbing into an oddly inviting but no less strange closet as if they’d been personally summoned into its dark depths by some higher force, and yet that was exactly what you’d done. There must have been something seriously wrong with you.

Perhaps it was the Stellaron inside your body causing problems with the electrical signals in its flesh and blood prison. Or maybe you’d hit your head somewhere along the way and the side effects were only now starting to manifest themselves. Your bet was on the tail end of that showdown with the Doomsday Beast back on the space station.

Either way, you desperately needed to get it together.

Straightening up, you send a wary look at the closet in question. Its doors were still thrust open from where you’d leaped out of its (frustratingly inviting) maw some moments ago and there was no denying the faint tug of invitation you could feel trying to coax you back inside but you refused to heed its call. This wasn’t the time or even really the place. You’d let it get the better of you once and that was already more than enough.

“Relax.” You remind yourself as you inch closer to the closet. Resolutely, you reach out and shut the doors. The compulsion slowly fades to nothing and you’re once again left to your own devices. It comes as a great relief.

A harried sigh escapes you as you bend to retrieve the fallen towels next. Perhaps you should leave a note of apology out for the staff. Who knows what they were saying about you right now, the strange girl who likes to hide in closets and scare the living daylights out of unsuspecting workers. On second thought, though, maybe you should just pretend like nothing at all had even transpired here today. Admitting to your own strange behavior in writing would rob you of any plausible deniability, wouldn’t it?

Turning that over in your head, you carry the small bundle of towels into the attached bathroom. Set them down on the sink and almost walk right back out before realizing that you should probably take a shower before bed. Not only were you covered in a fine sheen of perspiration from your time spent getting all worked up inside the closet but you were also freezing. You hadn’t noticed it when you were still running hot on adrenaline and nerves, but now you were gradually starting to shiver.

Just how long had you been crouched inside the cramped dark like that? You really had no idea, as if that part of your memory were an empty cavernous void. It could have been only a few short minutes for all you could tell, or it could have been an eternity. It was impossible to say.

Pivoting, you reach over the tub and wrench the faucet on. The modestly sized room is instantly consumed by the sound of running water as you step back to shrug out of your jacket and take off your gloves. A moment later you test the temperature with your fingers only to snatch them back with a hiss when you find it still ice cold. That certainly wasn’t going to do.

In total you spend about twenty minutes fiddling with the steel knobs, trying them in this and then that position to no avail. No matter what you did the water never seemed to get any warmer, finally leaving you with no choice but to simply turn the damn thing off. You almost give up right then and there. In fact, you consider it very, very hard.

But what ultimately stops you from crawling into bed with nary another thought to the matter is the shuddering chill that’s fallen over you without any of the fast pumping excitement to keep it at bay. You weren’t just cold in the way curling up with a thick blanket could help with. It felt like you were right on the verge of slipping into hypothermia. The thought of laying awake all night shivering nonstop did not sound like the best start to this Trailblaze expedition so you decide to try your luck next door with March.

She opens up on the third knock, wearing her blue bunny pj’s.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night? I thought you were room service or something!”

“Sorry.” You offer her a weak smile, fighting to stop your teeth from loudly clattering. “I think there’s something wrong with the tub in my room. All I can get to come out is cold water.”

March’s brows take an expeditious trip up to her hairline. “No way, you’re having problems too? I thought it was just me but I didn’t want to be a negative Nelly about it!”

Her arm lashes out like a striking serpent, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you inside.

The door bangs shut with a certain amount of indignation as she turns to look at you, worry flashing across her expression when she takes in the faint shudder making your shoulders bunch up. Standing this close to her, you can see that her hair is damp.

“Were you able to take a shower?”

“Not a very good one! The hot water only lasted for about fifteen minutes before it started to come out freezing cold!” Huffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “This place sure does look fancy but I’m so not impressed. What kind of operation do they think they’re running here, huh? Belobog is way too cold for them not to have working hot water tanks!”

You consider that for a brief moment. “Maybe that’s the problem? If a bunch of people are trying to bathe at the same time and using up all the hot water - -“

“Then they should’ve thought of that before they opened up a hotel! I mean, come on. That’s just common sense, right? And more importantly what’s up with you? You’ve been shivering non stop since I opened the door.”

Don’t tell her about the closet. Don’t tell her about your exploits inside the closet. Whatever you do, do not tell her about that damned closet.

“I think the chill is just starting to catch up with me.” You tell her, cool as … erm, ice. “I didn’t notice it too much at first but now I can’t stop shaking. I’d really like to take a hot shower.”

“I bet.” She murmurs. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Come on, let’s see if mine wants to work!”

Taking your hand in hers, March guides you over to her attached bathroom where she flips on the overhead lights. You’re impressed to find it’s an almost identical copy of yours, just mirrored. Actually, they looked like they were directly adjacent to one another and situated along the same wall. But would that in turn mean … they were sharing the same series of pipes? No, that couldn’t be. Such an obvious structural design flaw would have surely raised some questions, wouldn’t it?

Your attention thoughtfully drifts towards March as she bends over the side of the tub and smacks the faucet on. A familiar sense of deja vu comes over you when the gurgling sound of running water rushes in to dominate the air but she doesn’t seem to pay it much mind so neither do you. A few seconds pass before she tests the water, clicks her tongue in annoyance and draws her hand back before trying again just another few seconds later. Truthfully March’s impatience had never been quite so glaring as it is right now.

“Well, isn’t that just ridiculous!” She at last scoffs, evidently deeming the whole endeavor futile and turning the faucet off again. “It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this place wasn’t so cold. How is anyone coming in off the street supposed to get a good night’s rest if they can’t even have a warm shower?”

You ponder that question with the same weight and consideration as the last one she’d posed. “Maybe they don’t get many visitors? Just think about it. How many times have we heard now that Belobog is the ‘last bastion of humanity’? They probably don’t get much in the way of tourism.”

Turning, March pins you with an exceedingly strange look. “I don’t think you’re wrong about that but … wouldn’t that mean they’re mostly just keeping this place running for the sake of it? What a waste of resources.” She gives her head a quick shake. “Wait, that’s not important right now. We need to get you warmed up and safely tucked into bed! Do you want me to go down to the lobby with you to check what’s going on?”

“No, that’s okay.” You quickly wave that off, feeling more than just a little self conscious about causing her any trouble. “It’s already getting late and you need your rest for tomorrow. It wouldn’t make sense to waste so much time helping me with this when you could be sleeping instead.”

“Hey, now. The same goes for all three of us. We’re in this together and you’d better not forget that! I don’t mind lending a hand. We are crewmates after all!

“Thank you, really. But I’m sure I can figure something else out.”

“Fine, if you’re sure … but at least stop by Dan Heng’s room and see if he’s in the same boat as us. If not, maybe he’ll let you use his shower tonight?”

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Consideringly, you start to turn and March follows hot on your heels as you step back out through the doorway. “He went into the room right across from yours, right? Since they’re on opposite sides, maybe I will have better luck.”

“That’s the spirit! See, you just gotta’ keep your spirits high and everything will work out fine in the end. Isn’t that what they call trusting the process?”

Pausing in front of the door, you pivot to look back at her. “I don’t think that particular saying applies here.”

“Oh, whatever. Just go check in with Dan Heng and if he isn’t having any better luck come grab me again, okay? We’ll go down and talk to the receptionist together if we have to!”

You smile, even though you try very hard not to. “Thanks, March. I really appreciate it.”

Her voice follows after you as you open the door to see yourself out, a cheerful parting of ‘good luck!’ following you out into the hall. Of all the warm welcomes you’d been greeted with upon boarding the Express, hers was easily the warmest of them all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to properly repay her for that but you were certainly going to try.

Out in the long carpeted corridor, you take a measly three steps to cross over to the opposite side and rap at the heavy wooden door. Dan Heng surprises you slightly when he opens up at the very first knock, almost like he’d been waiting just within.

“Is something the matter?”

The stark difference in your two companions' greetings makes something warm flicker to life inside your chest. You’d only known them and the rest of the Astral Express crew for a short while now but it was very much in line with what was quickly becoming comforting and familiar to you. March had been proactive and eager to know what you were doing while Dan Heng seemed to have concluded that something must be wrong if you were coming to his room like this. It was oddly reassuring, in a way.

“This is probably going to sound like a strange question but have you taken a shower yet?”

A vague look of confusion flashes across his face and then camps there. He was far from the most animated character you’d met on your journey thus far, but there’s no mistaking the look he levels on you now.

“I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet.” He says slowly. “I was just jotting down some observational notes in my phone to input in the database later. Why?”

“I don’t have any proof to back it up but I think March may have taken all my hot water. Our bathrooms are right next to each other.”

Dan Heng’s expression shifts and settles into a perplexed scowl. “Is that why you’re shaking? You’d think a place like this would understand the importance of resource allocation …” Sighing, he steps to the side. “Come in. We can check it together.”

Feeling the pitter patter of hope skip across your ribcage, you step inside with him. He closes the door and turns the lock in place (paranoid or overly cautious?) before leading you over to the bathroom. None of these hotel rooms are particularly big and the two of you are soon crowding around the porcelain tub together.

A steady turn of his wrist has the water gushing out, the same scene playing out for the third time in a row. Except it doesn’t take long at all for steam to start rising up from the faucet this go around and you feel like you could just collapse in relief. He still had hot water. You weren’t going to freeze to death after all.

“There,” He murmurs, straightening to his full height again. “Go ahead and take your shower in here. I’ll be in the other room so just give me a shout if you need anything.”

Dan Heng starts to turn, making your eyes go big and round with surprise. “But what about you? I don’t want to take up all of your hot water.”

“It’s fine. I can just grab one after you're done.”

“No, that won’t work.” You insist, reaching over to smack the faucet back off with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “March said she only had about fifteen minutes before the water started coming out cold. I’m not sure how long ago she took hers but when we checked it was still out of hot water.”

“Hmm,” He appears to hesitate at that, his gaze taking on the thoughtfully introspective look you were starting to recognize as the gears in his head turning. “Could it be that they get so few guests staying here that they just closed off some of the hot water pipes to ensure they don’t keep running? It’s not quite cold enough in the city for them to freeze so I don’t think it would hurt anything …”

“Right?” You lift your brows in emphasis. “If Belobog is the only human settlement on this planet then what’s the point in keeping an entire hotel up and running?”

“That’s a good point and I wondered about it as well. Unless this hotel was at one time meant to …” Humming softly under his breath, Dan Heng gives his head a slow shake. “No, there isn’t any point in speculating on that right now. We don’t have enough information to start making inferences. Figuring out what we’re going to do about the current problem should be our priority.”

A quiet beat passes, loud in the absence of running water.

“We could always shower together.”

Dan Heng’s head doesn’t so much as move even a fraction of an inch but his gaze snaps up at you lightning fast. The sharp intensity in his eyes immediately makes you regret saying it. Were you being weird again, despite the absence of the closet to facilitate or otherwise encourage your odd behavior? Or was it really the Stellaron mixing up the radio signals in your brain? You weren’t sure what you would do if you managed to scare him off the same way you’d sent the hotel staff running and screaming.

“Or,” He intones at length. “We could go down to the reception desk and ask them to look into it for us.”

“March said the same thing.”

“But?”

You breathe out a quick huff through your nose. “But that sounds like it might take a while. We’d have to explain what’s going on, have someone come take a look at it and then they’d try to fix it. We already agreed that we’ll have a busy day tomorrow so I don’t want to cause any trouble for either of you. Not if I can help it. This would be the faster solution, right?”

To his credit, Dan Heng’s expression softens in as much as it ever does. Which admittedly isn’t a whole lot, but it’s enough to be noticeable. “You aren’t causing problems for us. Don’t even give it another thought and, please, don’t ever let March hear you say that. I don’t doubt she’d take it upon herself to personally show you just how untrue that really is. That being said though, I can understand the reasoning. Doing it that way would be quicker.”

“But?” You volley it right back at him.

“There’s not actually a ‘but’ here. If you’re sure about it then I suppose I don’t mind going about it this way either. It would certainly get both of us into bed far quicker than any other alternative.”

You don’t exactly understand the eager thump your heart gives at his acquiescence but you allow yourself to smile up at him when the urge suddenly strikes you full force. “Then it’s settled?”

A curt nod. “Yes, although I do hope you actually know what it is we’ve just agreed to. If you change your mind at any point don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll get right out.”

“Don’t be silly.” You assure him, reaching for the hem of your loose fitted shirt. “I'd never kick you out like that, Dan Heng. Both of us deserve to go to bed nice and warm, and clean.”

He starts to open his mouth — to say what, you’re not sure, because it catches in his throat when you unceremoniously tug your shirt up over your head in one smooth motion. You lose sight of him for a brief moment through the soft knit cotton and by the time you get it pulled completely off he’s pointedly looking elsewhere. Anywhere but at you.

“Is something wrong?” You quietly venture, a soft note of uncertainty creeping into your voice now.

“No, it’s fine. Just … hurry up and get undressed so we can get this over with.” Decisively turning his back to you, he starts to shrug out of his long jacket. You hesitate, looking from him to the shirt balled up in your hands and then down at your own chest. A mild pang of relief comes over you at finding your plain black sports bra very much where it should have been.

So you hadn’t forgotten to put it on. Good. That could have been rather embarrassing for you.

In the same breath you abruptly realize that you were about to take it off and get naked in the same room with Dan Heng who was already working to get all of his clothes pulled off too. He seemed to understand that well enough. Perhaps even more so than you actually did. So why had he reacted like that when you’d taken off your blouse? Surely it wasn’t all that strange for someone to disrobe in front of another … was it?

Pondering this conundrum, you carefully watch Dan Heng fold and set his garments aside on top of the sink one layer and one deliberate motion at a time. His coat and the bracer worn on his right arm make up the bottom of the pile, followed by the lightweight hip guards worn around his waist along with the belt that secured it all. The second skin of his tight black shirt comes off next, revealing a smooth back that flexes powerfully with the overhead motion he uses to get it peeled away. It doesn’t escape your notice that, through it all, he makes a point of not looking at you. All of his attention remains forward and locked on the task at hand, neither uninhibitedly baring himself at you nor stealing any lingering glances in your direction.

It was almost as if in despite of the shared nudity that was inherent in an arrangement like this, he still wanted to give you your privacy. Or as much of it as one could possibly have when bathing with another person.

Was that what it was then? The root cause of his reaction was … reticence on his part? You hadn’t stopped long enough to consider that or any of the other potential implications that came with it but it seemed Dan Heng very much had. If he was behaving this way then you probably should be too.

With that decided, you turn away from him and mimic his actions of neatly folding your top. You don’t have anywhere else to put it though so you have to make do with setting it on top of the toilet lid. The following silence is surprisingly rife with some unnamed tension, interspersed only by the near constant rustle of clothes being removed. Your boots, socks, skirt and underwear are all soon discarded, and you have to try very hard not to look when you hear him shuffle towards the tub again.

“Ready? I’m going to turn the water back on.”

“Go ahead.”

The spout turns with a soft creak and the faucet roars to life, loudly spewing water into the basin. Same as before, and much to your relief, it only takes a few moments for steam to begin wafting up from the noisy deluge and start creeping into your periphery. He quickly smacks the plunger down to redirect the stream to the shower head and the bathroom is suddenly at least two octaves quieter than it was before. You could hear yourself think again. Thank goodness for that.

Silently, Dan Heng steps in first and you quickly scuttle after him. You weren’t keen on losing out on even a single drop of hot water but your refusal to look up from the floor makes actually getting into the shower a bit of an awkward process. You have to feel around with your foot to figure out how close you are and your big toe hits the side of the porcelain a bit too hard, making you hiss through your teeth. Quickly shaking it off though, you lift your leg and blindly step over the rim.

Only to slip when you come down wrong on the other side, the slick surface ripping you off balance with a gut wrenching lurch. You collapse forward, arms flailing, but Dan Heng is quick to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Once all I said done, the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is smacking your knee into the wall.

“Owww …”

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? You could have seriously hurt yourself or broken your neck.” He snaps at you, his tone still as mild as it ever is but there’s no mistaking the sharp bite of reprimand lurking just below the surface. You feel vaguely like a troublesome toddler he’s been tasked with babysitting as he hauls you further into the safety of the tub before reaching up to pull the screen closed with a sound click of his tongue. “I was wondering what was taking you so long to get in but I didn’t expect you to jump without even looking first.”

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, still trying to keep your eyes averted as you carefully work to get your feet situated under you. “I just — I didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

“My privacy?” He echos you, incredulous. “You should have considered that before you suggested us taking a shower together. It’s a little late for it, don’t you think?”

Cautiously slow, you bring your hands up to brace them across his damp chest and gently push. Dan Heng’s hold on you hesitates and then relaxes, letting you pull free so you can take a step back. That his fingers linger at your forearms as if to steady you, or perhaps catch you should you slip and fall again, does not escape your notice, but you decide not to comment on that just yet. Or maybe ever, depending on how the next few minutes played out.

“Sorry.” It’s all you can think to say now.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. While I do appreciate the consideration, there’s no getting around the fact we’re going to see each other naked in a situation like this. It’s okay to look.”

“But?” You whisper into the steady stream of water coming down at his back.

“No ‘but’s. I’d much rather you look than hurt yourself.” His hands shift, adjusting to loosely grasp your elbows. When he gently tugs you in closer to him, you acquiesce without a fuss. You hadn’t noticed how big they were until now and that makes for an unexpectedly convincing argument to encourage your compliance. “Here, get under the shower head. We should make sure you warm up enough before we run out of hot water.”

You can’t exactly argue with that when the rising steam only seems to further highlight just how chilled your skin actually is so you let him get you spun around, trading spots. The steady, hammering rush of warmth hits you all at once as you’re directed into the spray and a violent shudder instantly races up your spine. Whimpering softly, you curl in on yourself as you bring your arms up to wrap them around your upper body. The resulting nudge against painfully hard nipples almost steals the air from your lungs but if Dan Heng notices the way you subtly jolt at the contact he doesn’t show it.

Evidently oblivious, he reaches up to almost casually palm the top of your head. At first you think he’s merely petting you in an uncharacteristic show of doting affection but you quickly realize he’s helping to work the water into your hair, ensuring it’s thoroughly sodden. Still uncharacteristic, or perhaps unprecedented was the better word, but decidedly nice.

Very nice, actually.

“I didn’t take you for the shy sort.” He eventually murmurs, more to himself than to you. No way were you about to pretend you hadn’t heard him though.

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Me?” His blunt fingers pause in your hair. You can feel him peering down at you through the steamy gloom that encompasses the cramped tub but you were still hesitant to lift your eyes and look. There was no telling what you might accidentally catch a glimpse of.

You really had no idea, truth be told, but given his earlier reaction it seemed like one’s body wasn’t meant to be ogled or stared at. He’d looked away from you for a reason. It only seemed fair if you gave him the same courtesy.

A terse, silent moment passes.

Evidently realizing he wouldn’t be getting any further explanation, Dan Heng exhales a quiet sigh into the thickened air before directing his hands down to your shoulders. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Not only did that sound like a rare, once in a blue moon offer you were sure to never hear again, it also seemed way safer than facing him the whole time. You were already having trouble keeping your eyes from wandering from the single strip of his bare arm you’d settled on, having had no other choice when you were standing so close to each other.

So you gratefully pivot, giving him your back. Your shoulders start to relax from their defensive hunch now that the warm water is running down your front and slowly seeping into your skin. It seems to feed into the internal temperature of your core as he shifts behind you, reaching around for something out of sight. The next time his hands come up to touch your hair, it’s with a healthy dollop of shampoo coating his palms and fingers.

A soft sigh of contentment slips out of you as he starts to work it into a nice lather over your scalp, keeping your neck tipped back so he could still work without having to deny yourself the comfort of the shower head. He’s as diligent with this as he is everything else, yet so incredibly gentle about it that you almost start to doze right there on your feet. It felt beyond good. It was amazing.

“Gotta’ say I didn’t expect this Trailblaze mission to turn out like this.” He says at length, just when you’re starting to really drift off to la-la land.

Blinking yourself awake, you fix your attention on the ceiling. “Neither did I.”

“And to think, it’s only just started. You’ll have to forgive me if being I’m too rough by the way. I don’t often groom anyone else’s hair besides my own.”

“No, it’s perfect.”

He huffs a quiet laugh but refrains from saying anything further until another minute or two has gone by, and a nice, thick lather has accumulated over the circumference of your skull. “There, that should do it. Turn around again but keep your head tipped back so you don’t get suds in your eyes.”

Obediently, you move to spin around but you seem to have forgotten something rather important in your drowsy state. Namely your close proximity to one another, how very near you were standing to him. But it’s too late by the time you realize your mistake though, and your tits wetly swipe across the lower half of his chest with a sharp burst of fleshy friction. Both of you draw a quick inhale in near perfect unison at the contact and your eyes pop open where they’d started to slide shut again, suddenly wide awake.

For the first time since you’d stepped foot inside the shower, you find yourself looking directly up at Dan Heng. His startled expression must surely mirror yours because for a long time the two of you just stare at one another in mute silence. You aren’t sure what to make of this. Not the situation itself or the twisting knot low in your gut.

You think you should probably take a step back and put some much needed space between the two of you but you don’t get the chance. Unable (or perhaps unwilling?) to find the presence of mind to make your legs move before he reaches up to touch your hair again, you soon find yourself trapped between his arms. He’s got you caged in like this while he dutifully scrubs the shampoo away, evidently too committed to the task at hand to stand down even when a distant note of unmistakable fluster has settled across his normally stoic expression.

And as if Pandora’s Box had been effectively ripped open, like you couldn’t stop yourself now that you’d already looked once, your eyes start to wander. You take in his usually fluffy hair, now waterlogged and heavy across his brow, and the concentrated set of his mouth. Glancing lower, you can make out how well defined his chest and arms are, much more packed with muscle than one would expect from someone who, according to March, spent so much of his time in the databank room aboard the Express. You’d already seen him in action a handful of times though so it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. He was strong and his firm physique showed that. And even lower than that …

Your eyes widen at the sight of your breasts squished up against him. No wonder you’d felt that brush of skin on skin in such stunning high definition, even for as brief as it had been. What strikes you more than anything though is how soft and pliable your flesh looks shoved up against his. Where Dan Heng was hard with muscle and unrelenting, your chest was soft and invitingly malleable. A distant part of you innately understood that this was the physical difference between man and woman, the biological indicators of sex. It sparks something in the back of your mind and you fumble to grab hold of it, to comprehend what it means.

Your frantic internal grasping is interrupted when Dan Heng roughly clears his throat, prompting you to snap your attention up with a little jolt.

“Just what are you looking at?”

“N - nothing.” You stammer, suddenly embarrassed. You’re not entirely sure why you should feel hot with shame and something else you can’t quite put your finger on but there’s no denying it’s there. You couldn’t tell if you were about to wilt and wither, or bonelessly melt into him.

“I think I may have to take back what I said earlier.” He grumbles. “It might be preferable if you don’t look.”

“Wha - -“

You feel it then. A soft nudge against your lower belly that sends your heartbeat lurching into overdrive and your legs instantly turn limp like overcooked noodles. It’s an entirely instinctive reaction, one you don’t understand anymore than all of the other confusing happenings that have taken place in this hotel bathroom, but when you try to pull away to get a look at what’s tickling your bellybutton, he just clutches at you tighter to keep you in place.

“Please,” His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as he bends his head close, wincing even while he presses his damp forehead against yours. “Don’t move. Just … stay there until it goes away.”

His expression is wretched. Dark brows knitted to create a deep wrinkle between them, his eyes so pinched you could barely see the dull blue of his irises through thick lashes. It almost scares you. Almost makes you second guess the wisdom in sharing a shower with someone else. No, that wasn’t quite right.

It was a man you were bathing with and you were … a woman. That was what made this dangerous and ill advised. That was why he’d reacted the way he had at the start of all this. Oh, how terribly you had miscalculated the full scope of the situation.

It’s a struggle to swallow down your jittery nerves and find your voice but you finally manage, somehow. “Does it hurt, Dan Heng?”

“No.” He hisses, contradicting himself and what your eyes were clearly telling you. “This isn’t your fault or your problem. I should have been more cautious, that’s all. It’ll go away in time.”

You don’t think you very much like the sound of that. “But why? Why does it have to just go away if it’s making you uncomfortable? I can help you.”

Dan Heng sucks in such a sharp breath you can feel it rattling around inside his chest where you’re pressed right up against him. “Don’t say that.” He croaks. “You don’t know what it is you’re saying.”

“I can learn. You could teach me.”

“Dammit …!”

He stiffly shifts his weight then, redistributing his balance to the full center of his body. You got the distinct feeling he was trying to angle his pelvis away from you, to pull it out of reach where he could flag and soften without the close proximity of your body heat there to entice him. You rock with the motion though, follow the movement. Stay pressed against him and reach down with one hand to blindly feel for what was causing him such obvious distress.

Your wrist bumps against the stiff flesh jutting out from his body, making him groan very low in his throat. It’s easy to find now that you have a general idea and you carefully wrap your fingers around the width of him, surprised yet delighted to find the skin silky soft and smooth. He twitches in your hold and swells, getting harder. Rapidly filling the rest of the way out while Dan Heng holds himself so tightly that you think he might just shatter and break right before your very eyes. You can’t help it though. Not only was curiosity a very compelling factor here but you also cared about him a great deal. The thought of watching your friend and fellow crewmate suffer in silence right in front of you wrenches at your very heart and makes it hard to think rationally.

And it must be the same for Dan Heng too, because his fingers stay frozen in place as you feel along him. They remain buried in your hair, fervently clutching at your skull, as if you could be the lifeline that would save him but he continues to hold himself back for some reason. It’s hard to say if he’s scared of letting you go for fear of what he himself would do or because he feared what you might do to him with that freedom. He doesn’t try to stop you or pull away though. Just quietly seethes into the scant space separating you as you locate the bulbous head and give it a brief squeeze. That makes a tense shudder work through him, starting in the general vicinity of his hips before racing up to the rest of him. Distantly, you realize that he wants to roll his pelvis forward into the touch, to seek out more and bask in it, but he won’t.

“Why do you fight it, Dan Heng?”

He manages to choke out a mirthless laugh, though not without a good deal of effort. “We only just met not that long ago, for starters. It seems rude to act on such impulses given our brief rapport with one another.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Maybe I do.”

You don’t think you believe that. If he really meant it he would have put an end to it by now, or at least made a greater effort to do so. But he just stands there, softly panting while you follow the length of him down to the base where a thick patch of curls brushes against your knuckles. The weight of him in your hand is surprisingly satisfying and you just can’t seem to stop yourself from exploring him.

Twisting your hand downward, you find even more satiny soft skin waiting just below and you eagerly curl your fingers around that too. It’s incredibly pliant but he sucks in a sharp, gasping breath in response to being handled and your pulse erratically jumps with a start.

“Gentle. Those are — sensitive.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I could be a lot more careful if I could actually see what I was doing though.”

A low rumble starts up in his chest, so faint you almost miss it under the constant spray from the shower head. Your whole body flushes, warming to the point of real discomfort but he doesn’t give you enough time to fully process any of it. Not the unexpected noise or the curling tendril of wanting low in your stomach. Not even the fact that you were currently holding the full weight of his manhood in the palm of your hand.

To your genuine surprise, he starts to pull back. Extricates himself from you with exceedingly stiff motions that leave you fumbling for something to say. Another apology or perhaps a plea. You don’t know which and you never find out, because he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You have no choice but to comply as he guides you forward, pushing you almost right up against the interior wall of the shower and totally disregarding your mouse squeak protests while he does it.

“Stop hogging all the water.”

You open your mouth to snap back in response but all that comes out is a tiny little squawk of surprise when he pulls you back against him, moulding your wet back to the firm planes of his front. His hands drop to your waist then, taking bruising hold of your hips to press your lower body equally flush with his. There’s no mistaking the press of him now, the way it digs up into your lower back and slides into place along the middle seam of your backside like it naturally belonged there. It's as if you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe when he stiffly rolls his pelvis and grinds into you, somehow hesitant yet eager at the same time, before forcing himself to go still again.

“Sorry,” He says right into your ear, low and hushed, as the warm spray washes over both of you now. “I thought I could control myself better than this …”

“It’s okay.”

“It's not. You only just joined the Astral Express, not to mention you — the way we found you … it feels like I’m taking advantage of the situation but that was never my intention. I swear it.”

You understood what he meant even if he was reluctant to say it in quite so many words. There was a Stellaron inside of you but beyond that your identity was a complete unknown to everyone around you. Even you couldn’t say for sure who you were or who you’d once been, if you’d ever been anyone at all. That didn’t mean you were without your faculties though. You could still make decisions for yourself and take control of your own life. If that weren’t true then Himeko never would have given you the choice to join everyone on board the Express. This you knew to be true.

So you pointedly push back on him, meeting his next stiltedly reluctant thrust. Dan Heng’s fingers bite into the meat of your hips in return, clutching at you so desperately you half expect to find bruises blooming in the same spots later on. That doesn’t really matter right now though. What’s most important is not only helping him, alleviating the discomfort that so obviously pains him, but also proving your own autonomy. To him as much as to yourself.

“It’s okay, Dan Heng. You don’t have to hold back.”

Groaning softly in what you think must be relief, he huddles close and curls in tight against you. Nuzzles at your temple in a coaxing manner that makes you tip your head back towards him. Water runs down your face in heavy rivulets, matting your eyelashes together, but you pay it little mind. You’re much more interested in the way Dan Heng angles his mouth down and slots it against yours in a kiss that is equal parts tentative and demanding. The heightened state of his emotions is blatant in the hard press of his lips, the hungry pull that makes you want to submit and give him everything he could ever need or want. There’s a distant note of domination lurking under the surface of that heated exchange though, like he was innately drawn to claiming what he wanted for himself, but his level headed manners were still keeping him in check. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

You quickly make your choice and bring your hands up to take firm hold of his blocky wrists, making sure he doesn’t try to escape. Not that you actually thought he would when both of you were already in this deep, haltingly moving in tandem against one another, but you didn’t want his polite niceties to get the better of him. He either doesn’t suspect a thing or he simply doesn’t care though, because he just keeps kissing you even when you go up on your tiptoes to make his cock drag down your ass. The height difference makes it a bit awkward, a bit unrefined, but you manage to successfully raise up enough to leave him nudging at the space between your legs.

And when you come down again, trapping him in the soft squeeze of your thighs, he gasps like you’d just electrocuted him. The sound rattles inside his chest where it’s pressed into your back but, still, he doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t tell you to stop. Rather, he drags his palms lower to grab two big handfuls of your upper legs and press them more tightly together around him. You nearly lose balance and tip over in this unnatural stance but a quick hand slapped against the damp wall steadies you.

“Careful. If you continue to push this much further …”

The warning in his voice is clear as day but you don’t really care. Not when you could feel the faint pulse of him between your thighs and he was lined up so perfectly with the seam of your cunt that you could feel your own internal pressure ratcheting up another notch. This wasn’t exactly familiar territory, this pulse pounding excitement that makes you dizzy with a need you don’t fully understand, but the instinctive urge to nudge your hips back and forth feels much too natural for you to truly question it. So you just do it.

And oh, how you’re rewarded by the simple slide of him along your slit. Hot, blinding sparks flash behind your eyes and you almost swoon right there in his arms, but you know you have to keep moving. Need to chase that pinprick ember of satisfaction just as much as he does, and Dan Heng only reinforces that when he pulls you back to meet the next enthusiastic thrust of his hips.

A gasp catches in your throat at the wet, meaty smack and lodges there as you tip your face down to look at yourself. Some of your hair slips forward with the motion, wet and clinging, but you hardly even notice it with so much of your attention focused on your own body. Your nudity hadn’t felt so stark before, when you were simply focused on bathing and occupying space with him wherein the two of you just so happened to be naked together. It’s so different now looking at it through the hazy lens of intimacy though, the sight of your tits bare and wet stoking the flames within you to even greater heights. Beyond that, over the soft curve of your stomach and lower still, you can just make out the thatch of hair covering the cradle of your pelvis. And beneath that his cock head nudges out from between your legs, blooming for but a brief moment before retreating back into the tight squeeze.

It was enough to nearly make your knees buckle and give out.

“Oohhn,” You hiss into the constant spray, swaying in his hold. “Dan Heng … that feels - -“

“Incredible.”

You let out a soft moan in agreement, rocking in time with his steady thrusts. The height difference was a good thing, actually. It ensured he stayed pressed up tight against you, constantly knocking your cunt with a fleshy jostle whether he was pulling out or pushing in. It was a continuous cycle of pleasurable shockwaves that quickly leaves you panting just as heavily as he is, and you eagerly writhe against him when the pressure just continues to build and build. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. What exactly had he done to you?

Had he even done anything at all, or was this just a natural result of your own needs mingling with his and feeding into one another? You couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to think straight when your cotton stuffed head was starting to spin alarmingly fast, but you decide that it doesn’t really matter either way. The drag of him against your cunt was enough. His possessive grip on your body was enough. There would be time to figure everything out later, after you’d properly taken care of each other, and you let yourself rock back into him with an accompanying groan that subtly rises in pitch at the tail end, basking in the litany of sensations.

“Can I —“ He suddenly blurts, choking on it. His fingers sink into your flesh so hard it starts to hurt and you let out a faint whimper while he struggles to reorient himself. “Can I … touch you?”

“Nnghn, ah - aren’t you already touching me?”

“More. I’d like to touch more of you, if you’ll permit it.”

You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. He certainly wasn’t making it easy. “Ooh … please, please touch me, Dan Heng. I feel … I feel like I’m - -“

His hands immediately fly up off your hips and greedily latch onto your breasts instead, lifting the weight of them in his palms. You suck in such a haggard breath you feel like you just might pass out on the spot as you arch against him, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Water from the shower head mercilessly pelts against your face now but you can’t be bothered to lobby any complaints about it when he’s cupping your tits as if they were meant to fit right there in his hold. It’s perfect and sublime, and it just ratchets your own excitement up another notch, making you impotently shudder.

This pulse pounding feeling of cresting pleasure may have been foreign to you, but you could already see yourself becoming irreversibly addicted to it. Perhaps this was even more dangerous than you’d first realized.

“Oh! If you do that …”

“Does it hurt?”

“I — I don’t know.”

He noises a faint sound of confusion at your quiet whimper, his hands loosening around your chest. You’re acutely aware of the odd little look he gives you through the swirling steam but can’t quite bring yourself to turn your face away. Whatever this was, whatever it meant in the long run, you wanted more of it. Needed more of him.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

A small frown graces his lips. “But you just said - -“

“I know. But I don’t want you to stop.” Carefully, you lift your hand — the one not currently braced against the wall — and cover one set of Dan Heng’s knuckles with your fingers. They seem dainty resting against his like this. “It feels kind of funny but I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t really understand what it means but … I want you to keep doing it. Please?”

Groaning like you’d just sucker punched him right in the gut, Dan Heng leans further into you until his weight presses you down into a half stooped position. His skin sticks to your back and clings but this too feels good. His body heat bleeds into you, warming you up far more than the shower ever could have, and you eagerly squeeze the muscles in your legs to keep them locked in place. This time when he kneads your breasts it’s much more tentative and slow. He takes his time with it, just savoring the fleshy give, and you keen very softly when he at last nudges one index finger up to brush it over your nipple.

You can feel yourself sinking deeper into that hazy fog as he starts to move again. The restrained power behind his thrusts sends fresh bursts of static energy coursing through your system, further highlighting the sensitivity of your aching teats as you rock with him, luxuriating in the fleshy drag of his stiff length against your cunt.

Pap. Pap. Pap.

He keeps the rhythm slow and even, but so vigorous that it pushes you forward and makes your tits bounce in his hold. You experience everything in stunning high definition from the slick dampness that oozes out of you to smooth the glide of him between your legs right down to the simple sensation of water running across your skin. It’s overwhelming and somehow still not enough. You couldn’t even think straight let alone formulate a semi coherent sentence, your tongue lolling heavily inside your mouth as you shudderingly rear back into him just to feel that delicious friction again. And he takes it in stride, never faltering no matter how wild you get or how hard you shake as the tumultuous waves crest a little bit higher each time. The firm, unyielding planes of his pelvis meeting with your backside, harder, faster. The distant tickle of coarse pubic hair digging into the vulnerably soft flesh of your ass. Even the low, guttural sounds he makes against the side of your face. You were so close to drowning in all of it.

His thick, callous worn fingers curling up to finally pinch at your nipples is what really sends you over the edge though. The sudden jolt of pleasure so intense it rides the line of being painful almost makes you collapse right then and there, and you throw yourself back into him with mindless desperation. Your hips seem to move on their own even as you cry out for him, judderingly grinding yourself down on that rock hard length pressed up into you.

“Ooh, Dan Heng!”

“Please don’t say my name like that.” He quietly wheezes under his breath, still pinching at your breasts. Still pulling and tweaking, using his thumb to brush over them and flick the tightly coiled peaks back and forth. Your body was a livewire just waiting to detonate, and it doesn’t seem to escape his notice. It’s apparent in the way he’s so insistent with his ministrations, encouraging you to keep moving your cunt back and forth, back and forth against him with nothing more than the attention he gives your tits. He takes his time rolling them between the two pads to reward you for your efforts and he gives them a slow, encouraging tug any time your pace falters and you start to slow down.

It’s a vicious cycle that perfectly feeds into itself a hundred times over and keeps you balanced right on the precipice of some great, harrowing free fall. The world could have come to a sudden, fiery end at that very moment and you never would have noticed. All of your attention, your entire being, was for Dan Heng and only Dan Heng in that moment. His hands, his lips brushing your neck and your cheek when he nuzzles into you. The constant motion of his thighs flexing behind you, driving himself unendingly into the hot, damp spot between your legs. His taller, wider frame trembling against yours with all the pent up tension running through it that so perfectly mirrors your own.

You’d never felt anything like it before, and a very small voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’ll ever feel it again. Was this a once in a lifetime experience? A fleeting mercurial high that would disappear in a flash bang of white noise the second you tipped over into the awaiting abyss below?

If that was the case, if you were destined to bask in this dwindling euphoria once and only once in your lifetime, then you were determined to milk every last drop of enjoyment out of it while you could.

So you drop your hands and reach back, grabbing two biting fistfuls of Dan Heng’s narrow hips. Use the leverage to draw him in against you at a quicker pace, forcing him to snap his pelvis into your backside with greater ferocity. He issues a wounded, faltering grunt into the air but he doesn’t fight it. He hasn’t truly fought anything you’ve offered up to him on a silver platter, not once telling you ‘no’ since you first stepped foot into this bathroom together, and that knowledge sparks a simmering ember deep within your gut. It’s the taste of victory. Of conquest and self assured confidence that can only be achieved through the meeting of two compatible bodies.

You’re sure of it. Innately, or perhaps intrinsically, you just know that’s what it is.

“Oh, gods,” He rattles out, gritting through tightly clenched teeth while he fucks himself between your thighs, pistoning in and out of the tight squeeze like a jackhammer. “I’m so close — so close, I - I can’t hold it back anymore.”

You would’ve voiced your agreement if only you’d had the ability to do so. The breakneck speed at which he ruts into you effectively steals the air from your lungs though and it’s all you can do just to hold on, clutching at his powerfully flexing hips to ground yourself rather than to encourage him. He didn’t need more encouragement anyway. That one little nudge from you was more than enough and now he couldn’t quite seem to remember to be polite and gentle with you.

The wet smack of his pelvis slamming into your ass is now loud, almost defeaning, and it comes in rapid fire succession to damn near down out even the constant spray of the shower head. It just amplifies the already searing friction against your cunt until it seems to blur into a single, persistent tingle that just grows and grows to the point of delirium. He can’t help himself and neither can you. Not anymore.

“Dan Heng - -“

A truly bestial snarl snakes out of him. His fingers falter, slipping and sliding against your wet teats before adjusting to latch onto the bouncing meat of your breasts instead. What little bit of control he’d still been clinging to dissipates like dust in the wind, and he clings to you so hard it brings tears to your eyes. The demanding press of his fingers sinking into your flesh sends you over the edge with a sudden, lurching jolt as your pussy clenches up and squeezes uncontrollably against his length. Even when you wail out in high strung relief, trembling violently in the throes of your release, he just keeps humping into you like he’d die if he doesn’t chase his own pleasure quickly enough. That continuous drag over your slit just draws out your own involuntary spasms and you can’t help but cry out in oversensitized bliss even as you somewhat awkwardly twist in his arms to look down at yourself.

Numbly, you watch his flushed glans appear between the fleshy press of your legs, quickly disappear and then immediately reappear again just a split second later. He’s pounding into you so fast and so hard that the resulting shockwaves make your thighs jiggle slightly under the force. It’s incredibly fascinating to witness though and you stare at it in a trancelike stupor, barely even registering the pitchy moan he lets out right against your temple.

The next time his cock appears it’s with an eruption of creamy white discharge that shoots out to splatter across the floor and the wall, some of it smearing over the skin where the two of you are connected. Hissing like his soul is actively trying to leave his body, Dan Heng haltingly slows to a stiff roll of his hips that makes his length nudge back and forth just enough to drain the rest of his explosive release. Another healthy spurt rushes out of him and then a savory dribble quickly follows, thickly oozing from the tip to drip onto the floor between your feet. It’s over, just like that, and you blink rather owlishly down at the evidence of your illicit encounter as he heaves a deeply satisfied sigh of pleasure.

It’s a little hard to wrap your mind around what had just transpired, especially when you were still floating in the afterglow and well satiated, but you snap back into the moment when he carefully starts to straighten up. You hadn’t even realized he’d dropped into a partial crouch to better accommodate the height difference, and you turn in his hold to look back at him.

“Dan Heng … are you - -“

“We need to get out.” He cuts across you, back to being the same mild and polite Dan Heng you were used to, but at the questioning lift of your brows he sheepishly glances away. “The water is beginning to turn cold so we need to get out before you start shivering again. Otherwise that would completely defeat the purpose of doing this in the first place.”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed, truth be told, but you shift to the side when he reaches around you to smack the faucet off. The room goes suddenly quiet, save the dull drip of water droplets running from the spout and two sets of deep breaths coming from you and him. You’d been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t noticed that either but your heart was indeed pounding a wild rhythm against your chest, and you reach up to idly touch over your pulse. Wild and erratic, just like you’d felt leading up to that mind numbing crescendo.

What the hell had all that been?

“Let me get you a towel.” You hear him say, and you bring your head up in time to watch him flick the screen open with a sluggish motion.

“What about you? You didn’t even get to wash your hair.”

Dan Heng looses a soft bark of laughter as he steps out onto the waiting mat, giving you your first real look at his nude body. He’s all lean and svelte with a perfectly tapered waist and broad shoulders, and — he abruptly turns to face you without warning. You’re suddenly looking right at him. The cut lines of his pelvis and the perfect little bellybutton stamped right in the center of it; the damp mess of dark, dark hair crowning his softened cock and the unmistakable weight of it …

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel vaguely faint even as you smack a hand up to your mouth and quickly look away in embarrassment. You’d never seen one before. Or at least, you’re pretty sure you haven’t. That doesn’t exactly stop your body from reacting to it though and your knees turn instantly wobbly again to accompany the instinctive urge to touch him, taste him. To feel him moving inside of you with the same keen ferocity he’d shown your thighs. Gods, you were like some kind of pervert!

“After all that you’re finally getting shy?” He laughs, bemused, but you can’t quite bring yourself to lift your gaze again. The risk of jumping his bones seemed far too great for you to take that chance right now. But luckily for you, Dan Heng is much too conscientious to hold it over your head and you soon catch the sound of him shuffling for a towel just another moment later. “I’ll cover up if that will make you feel better but don’t think you’re going to get out of this without having a talk with me first. I meant it when I said I had no intention of taking advantage of you. This isn’t something we can just pretend never happened, you know.”

Cautiously slow, you peek over at him from the corner of your eye just in time to get one last good look at his tight backside before a towel slides into place around his waist. You may not have been able to see it anymore but that certainly wasn’t going to stop you from thinking about it well into the foreseeable future. Curse him and his gorgeous body. “Are you �� upset that we did that?”

“Not at all. I only want to check in with you and find out what you want.”

Now that manages to throw you for a loop. “What do you mean? I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

Sighing softly, Dan Heng pivots back around to face you again. “That’s precisely why. You obviously have no expectations in place and some men would probably try to take advantage of that to use you for sex. I’m not like that though. If you want to do this the right way then I would likewise be amenable to that possibility. If you want to keep things casual that’s fine too. And if you never want to see my face again … well, I couldn’t exactly blame you for that I suppose.”

Confusion marches rampant through your mind until the lightbulb abruptly clicks on. He was talking about taking responsibility for his actions. Of giving you the proper respect and courtesy of having a choice. Dan Heng clearly had no desire to withhold an actual relationship from you if that was what you wanted but he also wasn’t going to force it on you either. How interesting. How very — chivalrous of him.

Your heart gives a tiny little thump against your ribcage, and you smile over at him. Eager and pleased by this revelation, but a bit nervous too. Whoever would’ve thought something as benign as sharing a shower together out of necessity would end with talks of a potential future together.

“Is everyone on the Express as old fashioned as you are?”

He smiles back, gracing you with a small but no less frustratingly charming grin. “In this aspect, I’m afraid it’s just me. Think you're up for it?”

“Yeah, I think I might be.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#star rail #dan heng #dan heng x reader #self insert bullshit

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personasintro · 1 year ago

Text

Mutual Help | #33

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

December rolls quickly, along with the first snow of the year coating buildings' roofs and the roads. As much as you were excited when you saw the first snowflakes dropping from the sky and melting right away, with your troublesome car it has become inconvenient. You pray every morning that your car's battery isn't dead or there won't be any other trouble waiting for you the second you sit into the car.

Snow has been one of the few things, your favorite things, you appreciate about winter. You don't like the cold that much, wearing too many layers of clothing that it becomes hard to move in, it never has appealed to you that much. Christmas, the family holiday that is approaching very closely, is a part of your favorite things in and about winter. Which reminds you you should buy presents sooner than two days before Christmas like you did last year.

You're planning to go back to your hometown, obviously spending a family holiday with none other than your own family. And even though you've in mind what to get to your parents, you've no idea what to get to Jungkook. You know him, knowing what he likes and does in his free time but fuck, it's so hard to buy him something. The man is successful enough to buy anything he likes, and he does enjoy expensive things. Things you probably can't afford with your bills and additional expenses for your car. The bar pays well, in three months or so, you'll be able to actually look around for a better car. And although you know if Jungkook heard your thoughts and struggles about his Christmas gift, he'd assure you not to buy him anything. But you can't exactly do that, can you?

Coincidentally, the mentioned man is right in front of you in his natural habitat and by that, you mean doing one of the things he loves most. Taking pictures. Apparently Junho has been so pleased with the outcome of Jungkook's pictures he provided for the company last month, that he has decided to call him over again. This time Jungkook prepared you for his presence, not forgetting to point out that Junho must like him since he called him personally and asked him to do today's photoshoot.

Poor women are in their bikinis, just a casual set of beige bikinis, nothing too sexy, probably freezing even though there are a set of heaters around them to keep them warm. Jungkook is making sure to work quickly, you notice the way he eyes the women with worried eyes when he sees one of them shiver slightly.

Although you've seen Jungkook taking pictures countless times, there's something different seeing him doing it while actually working. It's not for fun or his personal interest, he's working while being professional. You're not blind, seeing models eyeing the young photographer with tattoos on display while they suddenly don't mind the cold that much is somehow relatable. However, you're not freezing and you're behind the scenes of it all, but still having a perfect view of Jungkook's back. Even from the place you're standing, you can notice his arms flexing each time he pulls up the camera and takes a few shots. With each model he's done, doing solo but couple shots as well, he starts reviewing the pictures with a prominent and focused frown.

"Is it just me or it's suddenly hot in here?"

Glancing at your co-worker, you see him fan his face before he gives you an obvious mischievous smirk.

"The heaters do an amazing job." you comment, straightening yourself as you hand a fluffy robe to one of the models that walks to Jungkook, looking at the pictures he has taken of her.

You notice the way she stands right behind him, making sure her chest brushes against his shoulder but Jungkook being a total gentleman and too busy working, he apologizes softly and gives her more space by scooting a little. You suppress a snort that wants to get out but Yoongi is quicker, his own snort sounding beside you. The only difference is, his reaction isn't aimed at what you just saw but on your very own comment.

"I'd say your boyfriend does an amazing job." he muses, earning a glare from you because obviously, he's doing and saying it just to get on your nerves.

He knows he's not your boyfriend, he even knows he was never one in the first place. You're still not sure how he knows that, it feels like one second he was determined that you and Jungkook are a real thing and the other he already knew the truth. Of course, you realize you've told him when he kept being annoying but still... you can't believe he knows.

"Are you trying to get on my nerves, Min?" you murmur, clearing your throat while staring ahead at the staff preparing the studio for another photoshoot.

"I thought I already got on your nerves." he says innocently, feigning innocence of course. There's no way this man is innocent or is capable of anything like that.

You look at the watch that hugs your wrists, aware of Yoongi's eyes on you knowing he's waiting for your reaction. Surely, you could just ignore him but where's the fun in that?

"Just two more hours." Is all you say, sighing underneath your breath knowing very well he hears you.

Two more hours and then he won't be getting on your nerves. Somehow, you've slowly grown resistant to his remarks and they don't piss you off as much. However, that doesn't mean he doesn't piss you off at all. He does. A lot.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, grumpy."

Grumpy. Yes, somehow that became your nickname. You do have to admit, you're grumpy whenever Yoongi is around but that's completely not your fault. The person at fault is standing right beside you and calls you that stupid nickname. One thing you learned about Yoongi is, the less you react the more he lets you breathe.

"Two hours and then I'm out." you remind him of your actual working schedule but all he does is smirk in return.

"Hmm, we'll see about that." he hums, causing your brows to pinch in confusion and before you can question him, Sophia, one of your co-workers calls out for him to help her with something.

He grumbles but moves his legs across the room to help her with whatever she starts telling him. Junho calls out for a short break, reminding everyone that it's only a fifteen minute break and then everyone is going back to work.

The models wear their robes quickly, going to one of the dressing rooms to prepare for the next photoshoot while you reach for your already cold tea, slowly sipping on it. You notice Jungkook putting down his camera on the table, beside the laptop and a set of cables before he makes his way towards you.

There's a glint of amusement in his eyes which you recognize immediately. "I don't think I've ever seen you so annoyed like when you're next to that guy." he jokes, sitting on one of the stools in the back of the room as you join him, sitting beside him.

You follow his vision of eyes, noticing he's looking at Yoongi who sports the same frown as he grumbles something under his breath. "He likes to annoy me, that's why. I've to hold myself from punching him in the face, Junho would have me fired if I ever did such a thing." you grumble, causing Jungkook to glance at you as he tries to recognize if you're all serious or partly joking.

In this case you're partly joking. You're not a violent person, even when it comes to annoying a human being such as Yoongi. You wouldn't actually hurt him, but you do imagine punching him sometimes. It eases your mind whenever he has one of his famous remarks.

"Is he treating you badly?" Jungkook asks, frowning while he sends a glare to completely oblivious Yoongi across the room, ready to fight him if you tell on him.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Calm down, you hero. He's just annoying, that's all. He helped me to find a job at the bar, he's the one whose brother owns it. He is annoying but he's not a bad person. Fuck, I hope no one heard me right now." you mutter, jokingly looking at Jungkook as he snorts.

"Maybe he likes you." Jungkook shrugs after a moment while grinning at you teasingly, eyes glancing back at Yoongi.

You let out an ugly snort, looking around to see if someone heard you. Thank God, no one did, besides Jungkook but he's used to your weird and ugly noises.

"He probably likes you more than me." you state, earning a confused look from Jungkook.

Before another word can be uttered between you two, Junho comes rushing back into the studio, ushering everyone to get back to their places. Jungkook looks at his expensive watch, glancing at you with even bigger confusion than from your previous words.

"Five minutes only passed." he informs you while you almost snicker at the innocence of his features and the soft voice.

It's usual Junho gives everyone a break but shortens it himself when he feels like it. There's no explanation for that, just describing how big of an asshole he truly is.

"Welcome to my world." you chime, standing up from your seat while Jungkook pouts at the short break but follows you nevertheless.

Perhaps Yoongi is annoying co-worker, but Jungkook's presence does bring at least some kind of comfort even though he barely has the time to speak to you. However, whenever there is time he always makes sure to stop by and chat with you, ignoring the heart eyes from the literal young models just so he can talk to you.

Working in a bar has become essential to your daily life. Sure, you're working your ass off to be able to get yourself a better car and you wish your Saturdays and sometimes Sundays would be free, but you can't really complain about the job itself. You were a little worried at first, not knowing what to expect because the thought of you working in a bar full of horny and sweaty people didn't sound that appealing. It still doesn't. But everyone is so nice, Mark has been a huge help and a support, praising your work even in front of Yejun which is always nice since he's the boss.

Sometimes he'd help at the bar, making a small chat with you to question your contentment with the job. He's more around than you thought he'd be, considering he's owning this club and has employees for almost everything. Even just from the two months you're working here, you could notice how much this place means to him. Yeah, it's a club but it doesn't mean it's dirty business or something. According to Mark, his parents weren't too happy with Yejun investing all his money to make this club what it is today. He started from scratch, risking a lot if you must say.

Mark gives you a wave when he sees you entering the club, later than usual which you hope nobody will scold you for, and you quickly wave him back making your way to the dressing room. Good thing is you managed to take a nap before you came here, resulting in you sleeping longer than you were planning. In the middle of your deep slumber, you somehow managed to turn off the alarm that you reliably set on to make sure you don't sleep over. Of course, you did. Only for you to snap your eyes open when you suspiciously slept for a long time.

You nod at the bouncer sitting at a bar, waiting for the opening hours which starts in less than ten minutes before you barge into the dressing room.

For a moment you completely ignore another presence in the room, rushing yourself to get ready as soon as possible but knowing Mark and everyone else seems to be already getting things around the club ready, your eyes snap at the person shutting one of the lockers.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you gasp, eyes widening at the sight of smirking Yoongi wearing white shirt with club's logo (which everyone who works as a bartender here is wearing) with black jeans and some white sneakers. "What are you doing here?"

You're speechless, not understanding his sudden presence or the fact he's wearing the club's attire.

"I told you you're not gonna get rid of me that easily," he muses, obviously pleased with your reaction because he's that evil. "My brother is away and asked me to help out a bit."

You're slightly caught off guard hearing him explain his reason behind being here, you thought he would care less to give you an explanation. Nodding, you let the door shut behind you with a louder bang as you warily stare at him.

"What?" he barks. You're not surprised by his reaction at this point, expecting it. He's not the only one who gets on your nerves. You can do the same thing.

Opening your locker, you hide your grin behind it as you pull out your working attire. As you shut the locker, you look at him with a raised brow. "Do you mind? I've to change." you tell him sweetly, battling your eyelashes at him as he stares at you with a frown.

He doesn't look too shocked, but you know he's surprised by the sweetness of your voice. He expected you to bark back. Thus, that's why you haven't done it. Just when you think you got him, a pleased smirk about to curve on your lips, you watch his own lips to do the same before you can.

"Ah," he pouts, "You won't give me a show?" He even has the audacity to eye your body, mockingly chuckling at the sweatpants you're wearing.

In your defense, you've worn something comfortable knowing you'll change your clothes in the club anyway. And the sweatpants are nice and like you said, comfortable. Okay, maybe with the black winter jacket you're wearing you may look like you're about to take the trash out, but that's completely irrelevant.

"Get out." you mutter through gritted teeth, seeing him beam you with a pleased smile.

"Gladly." he sings out, waving you off as he leaves you in the dressing room alone.

When the door shut, you shake your head with a snicker escaping past your lips. You've no idea how you'll make it tonight without actually killing him. Being with him during the day is one thing but being with him after it is another.

Surprisingly, when the club opens and everyone starts working, Yoongi minds his own business and is actually doing an amazing job at managing the club and replacing his brother. Even everyone out of your co-workers seems to be thrilled that Yoongi is here.

"Mark, can you grab the kitchen wipes from the back?" Yoongi yells at Mark who's on the other side of the bar with two more barmen.

He looks at Yoongi immediately, nodding while a soft blush spreads on his cheeks. You can notice it even from the distance and in such lightning. He even smiles shyly in Yoongi's way before he scurries away to the storage room.

You're wiping the counter, stealing a glance at Yoongi who's already looking at you with a grin. "What?"

"What was that?" You don't beat around the bush, voicing out your curiosity as you can't help but smirk at remembering Mark's shy face. You've never seen him being so shy and Yoongi is obviously the reason why he reacted that way.

"We hooked up a few times." he shrugs, revealing the information freely to you as you choke up on your spit, eyes widening.

You stop wiping the counter, turning yourself to Yoongi who has an amused grin on his face. "You--you two hooked up?" You'd never guess it.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asks, pursing his lips in amusement as he takes the wipe that got neglected by you and starts wiping the rest of the counter.

"No, I... I'm just surprised. I'd have never guessed that you and Mark... are you dating?"

You wouldn't admit it out loud, but Yoongi seems like a mystery to you. You know him but you don't. Every little information about him is interesting and that's because you're so damn curious.

"No, I don't date." he chuckles, finishing wiping as he tosses the wipe into the bin.

"Isn't that what people usually say? And then they'll fall in love with someone and change their opinion about dating?" you muse amusingly, hearing him chuckle as he shakes his head.

"I'm not against dating. It's just not my thing but I don't rule it out." he answers, surprising you by the honesty in his voice.

There are times when the two of you are civil and can actually talk to each other without any bickering, or something that would cause the two of you to be irritated with each other.

You nod, sighing as you look at the busy crowd. You don't comment any further, you already got enough of an answer and your mind is preoccupied by the sight in front of you. The dance floor is filled with sweaty bodies and everybody humping each other, which isn't quite an unexpected view but you also don't let your eyes drift elsewhere like usual. You look at the young couple, dancing near the bar, in their own world as they look like they're five seconds from fucking. You can't see the guy's face clearly but you can tell he's well built and obviously knows how to move. The girl he's dancing with is pressed against his chest with her back, grinding her ass into him while he holds her tightly, lips brushing her ear.

You gulp, looking away with red cheeks when you realize you've been staring at them. You've never missed sex that much like you'd go crazy if you haven't had it, but you've already experienced what it feels like to be sexually frustrated. However, there was Jungkook who helped you with that at that time but he's not available to do that anymore. Unfortunately, your hands don't do much and even though the shower head can bring you at least some kind of orgasm, it's nothing mind blowing. Jungkook literally ruined your sexlife because even you are not enough to make yourself feel good.

He has shown you how good you can enjoy yourself and now there are times when you think about all the times he pounded you to the mattress. It's wrong to think this about your best friend, you two are no longer hooking up. You both act like it has never happened in the first place. You're glad you were able to go back to just being best friends who don't fuck each other. It hasn't been weird between you which you're thankful for. None of you do a big deal out of it and you've no idea when this sudden frustration is coming from. Okay, maybe it's not sudden. Jungkook isn't only attractive but brought the best orgasms to you. It would be a sin to forget what you experienced with him in bed (or anywhere else he has taken you).

"Is there someone you like?"

Your thoughts fade away as soon as you hear Yoongi, met with a cocky smirk. Fuck, of course he enjoyed you eyeing the couple.

You look back at the couple before you realize what you're doing, seeing the guy interweaving their fingers as he leads her out of the club. Great, at least someone is getting laid.

"No," you answer, looking at Yoongi who takes a gulp of his water bottle. "Not at all." you murmur, avoiding his grin that he's trying to cover with the bottle while he's drinking.

Ignoring the fact Yoongi has caught you staring at the couple, you hear him chuckle. "You can go home."

You raise your brows in surprise, glancing at the small clock to see you still have half an hour to work. "You sure?" you ask, head tilting towards the crowded dance floor.

It's half past eleven and your shift ends at midnight. One of the things you appreciate about working in this bar and Yejun as a boss, you both agreed you won't be working until closing time which is around two in the morning, if it's not completely necessary. This way you get to earn some money but still get enough sleep.

"Don't make me repeat it," he murmurs and rolls his eyes, before he stares at you with a grin. "Yeah, Tania is supposed to come in a few minutes,"

Tania, one of the other bartenders you still haven't met yet. You remember Yejun and Mark mentioning her once but that's it. She usually comes after midnight and helps around the bar until it's closing time.

As much as you wish to lay in your bed and rest your eardrums that shake from the loud music, you need the money and Saturdays are the only days you can work. You usually keep your Sundays free, considering you've got your job on Monday and even though you need money, you still need a rest too.

Yoongi notices your hesitation, probably knowing the reason behind it. "I won't tell anyone, you'll still get paid as if you stayed until midnight." he says, noticing the way your face lights up but then you look at him with a suspicious frown.

"This won't backfire at me, right?"

He laughs, actually laughs as his shoulders shake while he shakes his head at your absurdity. Well, he can't blame you for being suspicious about him being good and doing you a favor without you even asking for it.

"Believe it or not, I'm not that evil." he says, an amused grin spreads on his lips as you think it through.

Fuck it. You're tired and Yoongi is the boss now (not that you'd tell him that), it'd just boost his ego.

"Okay, thank you." you tell him, seeing him giving you a nod as he waves you before one of the customers is ready to order drinks, stealing his attention.

Freshly showered and wrapped in your soft sheets, you toss around for like a hundredth time causing you to groan in frustration. You've been yawning ever since you laid into bed but can't seem to sleep. Somehow, your mind doesn't let you and thinks it's better for you to stare at the dark ceiling or toss around. No matter how many times you do that, your body doesn't find the comfortable position to fall asleep in and your mind keeps drifting to the time when you didn't have to worry about not getting enough pleasure. Jungkook has always made sure your needs were taken care of. And fuck, it's so wrong for you to think about him or the time you got to spend together (time when he fucked you, so all that left your mouth were moans and hs name). But you can't help it, your mind keeps going back to him and you let the memories replay.

Memories of him touching you, tasting you and stretching you with his thick length. You remember tasting him for the first time, intimidated by his size before it all went away as soon as you tasted him. It was so hard to get him to let out a sound of pleasure, making you think you're not doing that great job at it. But then you let him fuck your throat, him being the first to have the privilege to do that and fuck, was he excited to. Or the time he spanked you and warned you when you forgot to count how many spanks he gave to your already red ass cheeks. You find yourself thinking about him letting his fingers slide into your heat while you were taking a shower, or all the explicit things he used to say to all the time. Jungkook is sex on legs, that much you're certain. He wouldn't even touch you between your thighs to get you aroused and all wet for him. His mouth and words coming out of it were just enough.

Yearning for someone else's touch (or specifically Jungkook's but you'd never admit that, not even to yourself) it's not that hard for you to get the wetness pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, wondering if this is the right time to touch yourself when you know your fingers aren't enough. Another idea pops in your head, your teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you think it through. You said to yourself you'd never do that, not alone because you insisted on not needing that. But the temptation and the wetness uncomfortably spreading over your pajama pants persuades you.

Groaning, you toss away the blanket and turn on your night lamp. Your legs move on their own and you're already getting out of bed, crouching in front of it to pull out the box you've hidden there. You stare at it, remembering when Jungkook handed it to you like it was yesterday.

You remember when Jungkook sneaked it into your travel bag once you've stayed over at his place. You didn't have to wonder what's in the box because how could you forget? His number was quickly speed dialed and you waited for him to pick up, barely letting him to greet you as you bombarded him with questions. He had the audacity to laugh and inform you he cleaned the toy since the last time you've used it, no... since the last time he has used it on you. You grumbled something along the lines he's stupid for thinking you'll use it.

If he could see you right now, crouching on your bedroom floor and opening the box, he'd certainly feel all too smug about being right.

The toy looks just like new, no trace of being used before. You're stupid. What else have you expected? Your cum dried on it? You cringe at your own thoughts, feeling slightly embarrassed as you take it into your hand and press on the button, jumping in shock when the toy comes to life. It keeps vibrating in your hands, the soft buzzing sound making the tip of your ears red. You turn it off, gulping at the sight of it because it's almost too identical to Jungkook's own dick.

"Fuck it," you whisper to yourself, hopping back on bed with the toy in your hand. You shimmy out of your pajamas, glad for the heating being turned on so you're not cold. It'll take a moment for your body to warm itself from the arousal.

Placing the toy beside you, you make yourself comfortable as you start by cupping your breasts. Your hands are small, way smaller than Jungkook's and the touch doesn't do much. Sighing, you don't let it discourage you as you trail your hand between your legs, while the other one pinches your nipple. Your fingers circle your clit, imagining they're not yours but it's not that easy. You're surprised how wet you already are, the months of absence from sex taking its tool on you and even though you're much more sensitive now, it doesn't do much. You retrieve your hands off your body, reaching for the toy. Nobody's got the time for this bullshit when you feel yourself not being that aroused from it. You bring the toy back to life, the buzzing still makes you slightly embarrassed which causes you to chuckle at your absurdity. People do this all the time. Why the fuck are you so weird about this? It's just Jungkook's stupid head and face popping up in your mind and the fact he ordered this for you. Best friend in the world for sure.

You let the toy press against your clit, a shivered breath leaving your mouth as you feel the first vibrations of the sextoy. You press it harder, circling it over the sensitive bud as you hear the wet sounds of your juices meeting the toy. Doing this for a couple of minutes, you quickly grow bored and not as aroused as at the beginning, so you decide to let the tip slide into you. It feels good but not what you expected. You don't give up and start pushing the toy deeper, barely halfway before you pull it away. It's not that bad. You repeat the process, pumping the pink vibrator while it vibrates against your walls.

Surprisingly, you even let out a couple of hushed moans while you try to roll your hips into the toy, but that's it. You try taking more of it or even quickening the pace, nor touching your breasts or clit helps that much. So, you shamefully think about the times Jungkook fucked you so hard he made you see stars. The sound of his body colliding with yours is almost distant, sounds so explicit that used to make you wet even more. Or you remember when the two of you fought and then had sex. He slowed down his usual feral and rushed pace, muttered with his deep and raspy voice how good you feel and how sorry he is. It was slow but intense just as much, full of emotions where you could feel how sorry he is without him even saying it, even though he made sure he said it. You do this for a few more minutes before you come to the conclusion you won't orgasm like this. It doesn't feel better, even worse as you feel yourself not being that aroused or wet. You're not Jungkook and he's not here. Pulling out the toy, you throw it onto bed frustratedly as you let out a groan.

"Fuck," you curse, rubbing your palms over your face. Just as arousal came, it leaves and leaves you disappointed all over again. "Fucking Jeon, what have you done to me?" you mutter, voice muffled by your palms.

He showed you there is possibly no one who could fuck you better. Not even yourself. That's what he has done to you.

Starting your Monday by being back to work and having to make constant phone calls has busied you enough to the point, you don't think about the Saturday failure of trying to make yourself orgasm. Probably your biggest fail this year, if not of your entire life and that speaks volume.

"That's a wrap for today, guys!" Junho claps his hands, showing one of his rare smiles while everyone seems more than revealed by the information. You can't blame them, the very few people from stuff that have decided to work overtime have been here since the early morning. You included, since one of the companies in Japan that holds a fashion show every year has asked for a collaboration with your company, wanting some of the models from the agency.

Junho had been more than eager to jump at the opportunity, nor you can blame him. Some of these people in this very room came all the way from Japan, just to make sure they're present and met everyone which could've been easily done through a video chat like you'd expect them to do. They pleasantly surprised you, proved to be professional and very kind like it's been said about them.

You listen to Junho voicing out his appreciation, which surely is just his tactic to kiss your new business partners' asses, thanking everyone while you're packing your stuff like the rest of the people in the room do, praying he'll shut up soon. You even notice some raised eyebrows coming from your co-workers at Junho's forced politeness and kindness which, to be honest, wants you to let out an amused snicker.

"Be careful everyone, the roads are crazy right now." he says at the end, which makes you look out of the window and notice the snow hasn't eased that much since this morning. It's noticeable even in the darkness of Monday's evening.

Whether his words are honest or not, it's still nice he pointed that out.

As much as you love snow and when it's snowing, you can't find much joy in removing the snow off your car. Once you finally get to your car, you're freezing your ass off while you pray your engine will start working. You haven't had that much problem with it, a few times Yoongi had to come to your rescue while he kept grumbling under his breath but nevertheless, he helped you. It wasn't for free, you're not that heartless to let him help you just like that. You made sure to bring him his Iced Americano a few times, even in December because apparently, he doesn't give a fuck and loves it even in this season. However, Yoongi is already back at home, or wherever he went after his shift ended. To say it this way, if you'll have trouble with the engine again, you would have to ask one of the people that are coming out of the company anyway and pray there'll be someone able to help you, or you'd have to call one of your friends to rescue you.

Luckily, the sound of your engine starting and working is probably one of the nicest things of today and you let out a relieved sigh. Setting up the radio, you put on your playlist called 'chill drive' which you created purposely for reasons when you're driving. You don't forget to turn the heating on, hoping it'll do its job before you can actually make it home, otherwise your ass will really freeze.

You drive out of the parking lot, listening to music while humming the soft and melodic tune as you drive onto the road. You're being careful, driving slower than usual which probably annoys the rest of drivers but you could care less. Other drivers probably don't care about their safety or the safety of others as they speed up through the roads while it keeps snowing, the snow practically pouring from the sky. You keep the speed steady, more comfortable once you make it out of the streets and drive through a long driveway with three lanes.

You're focused, your eyes on the road while you listen to a soft and melodic voice humming in the background. And you've no idea how it happens because one minute you're sure nothing could go wrong but then the car, that's been driving fast and is in front of you, suddenly stops at the red light. Your legs automatically press the brakes but your car weirdly shifts on the snowy road and you make a mistake by taking your leg off the brakes. The issue is that you panic, aware of the state your car has been lately and you feel the steering wheel turning under your fingers. You barely have any control of it, trying to hold it tightly while you press the breaks fast again. In a split second, your car is moving to the side and it spins, the side of your head harshly meeting the window.

And the other second you feel the impact of your head and glass colliding.

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