#anyone else want to play with this idea you go right ahead
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thetarttfuldickhead · 2 years ago
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Is Trent Crimm deeply disappointed that he missed the whole locker room scene where the team airs their “stop hogging Jamie” grievances or deeply relieved? On the one hand, reporter instincts for a good story, on the other hand his own morals would never let him put it I the book, massive (reporter/writer) blue balls.
re: Jamie Hogging Ask- some days ago on the Colin/Jamie post, you mentioned that you'd daydreamed out a bit of an AU where Jamie ended up dating a whole section of the team on some sort of rotation schedule. I assume that there was some dramatic locker room scene where they all hashed out that they felt it was unfair that only Colin on the team got to date him. I assume Trent was no longer hanging around the locker rooms at this point (but who knows, he may be a fixture now. also it could be mid season 3 when this all goes down, idk). But he still has the instinct to know when a really good/interesting story is around. On the one hand, he knows his conscience won't let him publish the level of ridiculousness that Richmond can sink to. On the other hand, it would be really really funny to write a whole chapter on the way that this was negotiated out, and also that a google calendar/groupchat was created specifically for coordinating who gets to monopolize Jamie and when.
Ooh, love the way you think, nonny!
If Trent weren’t around for all that he’d be massively disappointed, I think. Yes, as a (former) journalist he’s driven to share the truth, but I think he’s even more driven to know the truth. He can keep quiet when he has to – see: Colin kissing Michael – but realizing he’s missed out on Something Good? Ah, no, that’ll drive him nuts.
But now that you’ve suggested it, I am convinced he was there. Admittedly, in my head this whole thing goes down quite some time after the S3 finale, but that’s not a problem! Even though the book’s both written and published, I’m sure Trent finds plenty of reasons to stop by Nelson Road for a visit. He’s a Diamon Dog now, right? Gotta drop in for the weekly barking session! (Ted Zooms in sometimes, which is always a treat.) Besides, Trent grew very fond of the whole team while he was there, and though he gets most of the gossip from Colin – they obviously stay in touch, Trent knows all about the Jamie situation – he still wants to hear the coaches’ takes on everything that goes on, hang out with the rest of the lads for a bit. So, yeah, he’s there.
I think he might write the chapter, actually – knowing full well he can’t ever publish it, but needing to put it down even so. Get it out of his system, somehow. Also, it gives him a chance to indulge in all the (affectionate!) sarcastic and wry little comments he dutifully left out of the actual book!
Say Trent’s showed up one morning before practise while everyone’s getting changed and let’s say Roy shows up with Jamie and sort of hand him over to Colin and Colin and Jamie start enthusiastically making plans for the evening and maybe it’s Jan Maas who notes that “It’s not actually fair Roy and Colin both get to date Jamie when no one else does.”
As Roy stares at him incredulously and Dani pipes up. “I agree with Jan. It makes me happy to see you together, but it also makes me sad”, Trent’s spidersense is not only tingling but absolutely exploding and he discreetly pulls out his notebook and start jotting things down as fas as he can while the room unravels before his very eyes:
JT says he’s willing to date anyone who wants to date him, if OK with RK, KJ & CH. They are.
Explicitly wants in: Jan Maas, Dani Rojas, Jeff Goodman, Paul Reynolds, Bhargava, Sasha Kukoč.
Suspect might want in but didn’t say: Potentially everybody but Sam, but especially Arlo Dixon and Martin de Maat.  
Bumbercatch volunteers to sort out a calender & group chat bc better if it’s someone who doesn’t want to date Jamie, make sure it’s fair.
CH pleased MB doesn’t want to date JT?
McAdoo claims first date even though he doesn’t actually want to date Jamie, bc his right & duty as captain to make sure it’s ok for everyone else. JT: “What? The fuck do you mean, why wouldn’t it be ok?” IM: “I’m the captain, and I say this is happening.” JT: “Fine, but you’re taking me somewhere fancy and you’re paying.” IM: “Just to be clear, we’re not having sex.” JT: “This is the worst date I’ve ever been on and we haven’t even been yet.”
JT questions why Sam doesn’t want in on the schedule and seems offended on principal when SO explains that JT is his best friend and not some one he wants to date. JT pouts until SO offers to take him out on friend dates.
Cockburn also wants to go on friend dates with JT.
Brief but heated discussion if friend dates & boyfriend dates should be different schedueles and if it’s OK to sign up for both. CH’s attempts to question how friend dates is different from just being friend and hanging out from time to time is shut down.
Tom O’Brien wants to know if he can sign up for a date with Jamie, Keeley and Roy. RK stares at him for 1 good minute before saying “No.”
Discussion about the etiquette of not wearing Jamie out if he’s scheduled to have another date soon after your date with him.
JG: But we don’t have to check in with everyone else if we want to sleep with him, right? RK: You better fucking check in with him. B: I don’t think I want to know what anyone else is doing. JM: Yeah, that’d be weird. JT: I don’t think anyone else should get to decide if I have sex with someone or not. RK: *clears his throat meaningfully* JT: I mean, as long as Roy and Keeley and Colin don’t mind.
That’s just the first page of Trent’s notes, btw, they go on for like four more, practice is delayed by at least an hour. Keeley follows the whole thing on video call (obvs they had to run it by her before handing Jamie out to everyone who wants a piece). Rebecca stops by, blinks once and then nopes the hell out of this madness. Nate wonder if he ought to sign up for a date with Jamie, if everyone else is doing it, but he doesn’t think Jade would approve.
Colin can’t quite let go of the notion that maybe this means he could date Bumbercatch, Roy questions his sanity every other second, and Jamie is living his best life (and is delighting in the fact that the next time he sees Roy and Keeley, they are going to make very sure Jamie knows where he ultimately belongs).
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avocado-writing · 4 months ago
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pairing: logan howlett x reader x wade wilson
rating: E, minors dni, 18+ (mmf threesome; resolved sexual tension; sex pollen; unprotected p in v sex; oral [f receiving]; double penetration)
words: 6.7k
summary: you, logan and wade are on a stakeout after reports of a new drug which only affects mutants. but what happens when you accidentally get a hit of it yourselves…? (the sex pollen fic from the poll! thank you @eupheme for betaing for me, i owe you my life!)
“I spy with my little eye…”
“Wade, I swear to god…” Logan’s voice is a low rumble, a warning.
“Awww c’mon, peanut! What else do we have to do? Indulge me in my childlike whimsy.”
“Let me guess,” you say, shelling a pistachio before throwing it in the air to catch it on your waiting tongue, “you spy something beginning with R-D, which is the rising damp, which is the fourth goddamn time you spied it because there’s nothing else in this fucking place.”
Wade huffs and throws himself back in his chair. 
“Killjoy,” he mutters, and goes back to carving obscene doodles into the side table with baby knife. 
On the first day you were happy to play along, just to ease the boredom and tension which came hand-in-hand with this arrangement. Now it’s been five of them, stacking on top of each other and getting claustrophobic-heavy, the three of you crowded into each other’s space and on the razor’s edge.
Something is going to break, and you’re worried it’ll be Wade’s nose under Logan’s fist.
What a stupid fucking mission. You should never have said yes.
Ever since the whole Void situation was resolved you, Logan and Wade have been X-Men adjacent. Not part of the group exactly but happy to play along if needed. This most recent assignment had been a request from Piotr - there was something going on downtown to do with trafficking drugs which affected mutants, and someone needed to keep an eye on it. Couldn’t be anyone from the mansion, they’re all hands on deck at the moment keeping an influx of kids in check. But the three of you? With no jobs between you and an urge to do good?
It was a problem with an obvious solution.
It’s a stakeout. Which means sitting and waiting and holy fuck is it boring. 
You can tell something is going on in the alley across the street but you’ve had strict instructions not to take action until you see the guy in charge: thickset man with a penchant for misdeeds and built like a brick shithouse. Once you have proof he’s involved, you’ll get the go-ahead to close in and shut the place down in whatever manner you see fit.
But until he comes in, your little trio has no choice but to stay put, watching petty criminals come and go with no idea they’re being monitored.
Life has revolved around watches from the dingy window. Usually two of you will stay up while one of you tries to get some sleep on one of the uncomfortable twin beds that have been provided, but it isn’t easy to drift off when it feels like the mattresses are made of cinder blocks stuffed with broken glass. It isn’t that you’re unused to being in each others’ spaces - if you’re not at their apartment they’re at yours, after all, you are friends - but this is different. You have the luxury of walking away from each other in normal day-to-day life when things gets too much. Here? Here, you’re stuck until you’re done with the job. You’re all tired, irritated, and desperate for entertainment. You’ve even considered chopping off your own hand to watch it grow back, just for something to do.
And the thing is that’s not the worst of it. Ever since the three of you returned from the Void there’s been something there. Something difficult to pin down, exactly.  A niggling little feeling worming its way through your body. Something which thrums every time Wade flexes the muscles in his hand and you see his long, strong fingers; every time Logan grits his jaw and the tendons in his neck throb. 
Oh, right. You sort of really want to fuck them both.
You don’t go through something that traumatic and not have deep-rooted feelings which surpass normal boundaries. You fought for each others’ lives. You’re bonded in a way people rarely are. And the more time you spend with them the blurrier the lines between platonic and fucking soulmate become. You’ve seen both of them stare at you - and each other - when they think you’re not looking, so you’re sure this isn’t something that only you are harbouring. It’s a secret desire harboured by all three of you.
Like you said, something is gonna break. And in this shitty little surveillance room? It’s gonna break soon.
A movement outside. The three of you sit forward to take a look at the evening’s street view, only to fall back into your chairs as it turns out to be a false alarm. Just a pedestrian walking by. You’re going to go insane.
You drum your fingers on your thighs just to keep them busy, then turn to Logan. 
“You got a smoke?”
He cocks a brow at you.
“You want a cigar?”
“Nothing else to fucking do.”
“Whoa, hey!” says Wade, putting his hand on Logan’s arm as he roots around in his jacket pocket, “No no no, you quit last year! Don’t start up bad habits again unless I’m the one convincing you to, pookie.”
“Wade, c’mon. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t have something to do,” you groan. Plus, really, you’d kinda like something to suck on, just to relieve some of the ache in your belly.
As if Wade can hear your thoughts he pipes up again.
“Well if you’re that desperate to use your mouth, I know what we could play to pass the time…”
You and Logan groan in unison, and he balls his fist in a way which suggests it’s not long until the claws come out. Wade holds up his hands to signify peace.
“Whoa, chill out, honeybadger. No need to get scratchy. You don’t have to join in if you don’t want to… but it’s more fun the more people there are.”
Accepting there’s nothing else to pass the time, Logan lets out a long, exhausted sigh and lets Wade continue.
The mercenary licks his lips as if, for once, considering his phrasing. Then blurts out what he wanted to say anyway.
“We could play blowjob roulette.”
It was a foolish time to take a drink of your soda, because you spurt it out your nose. After a moment of mopping yourself up with your sleeve you manage a, “what?!”
“Well, oral roulette I guess, if we’re being PC about it.”
“Oh my god,” Logan groans, getting to his feet and stomping into the tiny excuse for a kitchenette, grabbing a beer and opening it with such gusto that the cap bounces off an adjacent wall.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything! We just spin the bottle and whoever it ends up pointing out deals out a round of Australian kisses for the other players. Relieves the boredom, and it’s fun to see how long everyone lasts.”
Your mouth is open, you’re sure of it. You’re looking at Wade in abject horror. This has got to just be part of his stupid bravado, right? Making an ill-timed joke?
Because the other option is he’s serious.
Logan drinks. You stare. Wade rabbits on.
“I’m just saying we used to play it at Sister Margaret’s all the time, when we were waiting for new marks to come in and didn’t have anything better to do! It wasn’t gay or anything except for, you know, the rampant homoeroticism of slurping everyone’s gherkin.”
“Did you… did you ever have to do it?” you ask, morbid fascination taking over. He scoffs.
“Did I ever have to… pookie, I’ve taken more loads than my building’s washing machine. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty fucking great at it.”
He’s staring at you with an intensity which makes you feel like you’re on fire, but from embarrassment or enthusiasm you’re not sure. 
“So?” he asks, quietly, putting a hand on your knee. Your body burns. You swallow. You look to Logan. 
He sighs. Finishes his beer, but in a way which suggests he’s giving in. You see the way Logan’s teeth touch his bottom lip. The start of a fricative. 
He’s going to say fine.
Movement out of the window. You bolt up, knocking Wade’s hand away. He deflates.
“Aww. But I really wanted to - ”
“No, guys - look!”
They quickly crowd you, following where you point. A huge man walks into the alleyway, flanked by underlings, the bulk of him taking up the small space.
“There’s our guy,” you say, “let’s go.”
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You descend upon the alleyway in a flash of swords and claws. You tug your cowl up over your nose to protect your face, hand on one of your Brügger & Thomet MP9s as the three of you come face-to-face with the door you’ve been monitoring all week.
“So are we going in sneaky style, or—”
Logan rips the door off its hinges, throwing it down the length of the alley; he is desperate to be done with this. You exchange a look with Wade.
“Okiedokie, asked and answered I guess,” he sighs, grabbing his Desert Eagles from his holsters.
You both follow Logan who’s thrown himself into the middle of the lab claws-first. Two-thirds of the people scream and flee, the others stand their guard and grab their guns.
Fingers on triggers, you take a beat to examine the situation.
Equipment everywhere. Beakers and cylinders you can possibly guess the use for, set up on desks and synthesising something nasty. The boss is standing in the middle of the room, eyebrow cocked and mild annoyance plastered on his face. Bingo. You make a beeline for him, taking a couple of bullets in your flank as you go.
“Cover me!” you shout to Wade. He pulls his katana out of a guy’s head and throws you a bloodied thumbs-up.
“Got your back, pookie! Hate to see you leave, love to watch you spill entrails as you go!”
As if he was predicting your next action, you whip your knife out of your belt and stab it in an assailant’s belly, watching his warm guts slide onto the floor. He releases a strangled noise as he drops to his knees - you make a move to continue on your way to the boss only to feel someone pick you up.
“Shit!” you mutter as you’re hoisted into the air. Wade and Logan stop their onslaught to turn at the sound of your panic, their eyes both going wide as they see you restrained. With a twinned shout of your name they come running to help.
Aww, your boys. It’d be cute if you weren’t bracing yourself for the pain.
Your attacker launches you across the room. A couple of seconds go by as you fly through the air - and then into a table full of test tubes and pipettes.
A great cloud rises into the air. A cloud of spores?
Before you can get a chance to properly read the situation, Wade and Logan are at your side. Sturdy hands grasp around your forearms and you’re dragged to your feet. 
Of course, it goes unnoticed…but all three of you take in a deep breath.
“You okay, baby?” rasps Logan. 
“Yeah, I’m f— move!” you scream, shouldering him out of the way so you can sink your knife into the neck of the man about to spray bullets down his spine. As you rip through the soft skin at his throat something occurs to you. 
‘Baby’? Where did that come from?
Not that it isn’t nice, obviously, but… it’s unlike Logan to show that much tenderness ever. Especially with pet names.
Oh well, no time to dwell.
Picking bits of glass from your biceps you tank a punch from a man closing in on your left, parry his next couple of blows, then shoot him in the dick. Wade has called this a ‘low blow’ before which isn’t incorrect but honestly, there’s no time for fighting fair when it’s 3-versus-30. 
The boss has finally gotten involved. A pair of brass knuckles shines against his fist as he swings at Logan, a meaty crack filling the air in a way which you’re worried might actually have dented one of your friend’s ribs. Wade uses the distraction to stab a katana into the guy’s back, then another one a little further up - using him like a goddamn climbing wall. The boss roars like an animal and attempts to swat him off but there’s no use. His massive bulk is working against him, and Wade can be a fast little motherfucker when he wants to be.
Wade lets out a ‘peekaboo!’ as he pops up over the boss’s shoulder, pressing his pistol into the meat of his neck and firing. Blood sprays across the floor but somehow the guy doesn’t stop, not even when Logan picks himself back up and sinks both his claws into his stomach; it only elicits another snarl.
Okay, time to close.
You sheath your guns and go back to your knife, using Logan as a launchpad as you throw yourself off the arch of his back and into the air - stabbing down into the boss’s skull with a dull thunk.
A line of blood dribbles out of his mouth. He starts to fall.
“Uh oh - call me Ke$ha, because I’m yelling timber!” Wade warns. With a snarl Logan rips his claws free from muscle, snatching you off of the boss’s corpse as he stumbles forward under his own weight. Pulling you free you both lose your footing, and you crash down onto your friend.
You look at Logan.
He looks at you. 
Suddenly, his hands clasp around your hips. Probably you move you off of him…
And then you’re on fire. 
Like gasoline has made a line from his touch to your cunt, everything in you is set ablaze. Your pussy clenches and you’ve never felt so empty before - or at least not so aware of it.
There is a cock-shaped hole and it’s begging to be filled.
You expect Logan to freak out, you’re freaking out - you never thought you had a murder kink but you guess you’re never too old to find out something new about yourself - but he doesn’t.
Instead you just see him furrow his brow as if processing something; then acknowledge the press of his hardening cock rub against your thigh as he bucks up into you.
Oh no. Something is wrong.
When you feel Wade grab your shoulder and haul you back to your feet it’s the same, that delicious burning sensation rocketing through you… and from the way he moans as soon as his hands are on you, the feeling is mutual. 
“Fuck. Fuck,” he breathes. Yeah. You want to, that’s the issue.
You stagger away from him with wide eyes and electric skin, a beat passing between the three of you as the people left in the lab decide to give up the fight now their boss is toast. Hearts racing, hands wanting to reach out and touch.
Logan is the one to break the silence.
“We should call in and let the others know we’re done,” he manages. You nod.
“Yeah. Can we… can we go back across the street? I don’t feel so good.”
“Oh, don’t you go Spider-Man Infinity War Part 1 on me,” Wade chuckles. You don’t have the energy to work out what he’s referencing, especially when a jolt goes through your body to your cunt when you feel his eyes meet yours. 
Damn. This is bad. 
“Yeah. Of course, honey,” Logan manages. He goes to put his hand on the small of your back and then thinks better of it, though you can feel its nearness like a magnetic pull. You almost moan when he retracts his touch instead. Wade whips his phone out and fires off a message to let someone know a cleanup crew is needed as you stagger out of the alleyway and back across the street. 
You didn’t bother closing the door when you ran out, too desperate to monopolise on the chance of getting your mark. The three of you tumble back into the room you’d been dying to get out of just a scant few minutes ago, relieved to be in the privacy of its confines again.
A moment passes as all three of you adjust to the feeling coursing through your bodies.
“What’s happening?” you breathe, bracing your hands on the back of your go-to wooden chair and breaking it with the force of your grip. You wince at the sound of splintering, blood dripping down your palms before you feel it heal over.
“I’ve not felt like this since I first discovered how easy it was to masturbate to Good Housekeeping,” Wade groans, whipping off his mask as he flops down onto the battered-up-couch. Logan has made his way to the fridge again, practically ripping its door off to get to a beer which he downs in one swig. Fuck. It’s so sexy. You want to lick the muscles in his neck.
“It’s a pollen,” he states, voice rocky in a way which goes straight to the burning pit of your stomach. You and Wade exchange a look and then turn to him, waiting for further explanation. “Only has a reaction in mutants. Charles said it was something about putting the id into overdrive, like a fuckin’ adrenaline shot to the libido.”
“It… it makes you aroused?” you manage, attempting not to rock your cunt into the palm of your hand. Logan grunts.
“Was trying to be more tactful, but yeah, honey. That’s the idea.”
Honey. The pet name once again goes down your spine.
“Fucking sorry,” says Wade, “someone was manufacturing this stuff as a drug for what? To make mutants too horny to fight?”
Logan shrugs, still not tearing his gaze from his empty bottle, as if to agree it’s his best guess. Wade’s head falls back against the sofa’s arm.
“I mean, damn, they could have just shown me any frame from Magic Mike XXL and it would have had the same result. Seems like a lot of effort.”
Something about the way Logan talks sticks out to you, you circle back around to it. 
“Logan, you seem to know a lot about this stuff… have you encountered it before?”
Another beer grabbed and chugged down, the forward hunch in his shoulders physical evidence of his walls raising. 
“Once. Back in the day with the other X-Men.”
“How did you get through it? Does it go away?”
Logan doesn’t reply. Drinks.
The unspoken answer sinks in.
“Oh my god, you had to fuck it out, didn’t you?” gasps Wade. Logan doesn’t even growl. Jesus Christ he’s right. “Who was it? Storm? Beast? By the love of all things 100k+ enemies-to-lovers-slowburn, tell me it was Cyclops.”
Logan doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead putting the empty bottle down with enough force you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter.
“It’ll pass. I just need to sit it out,” he reasons, the grit in his jaw suggesting this isn’t the optimal solution. You feel your eyebrows tug together, a crease of concern settling between them.
“But…”
“I’ll be fine.” The way he says it, he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. With the room in the air practically throbbing he heads to the bedroom, leaving you and Wade alone.
Holy shit. You and Wade are alone.
Your eyes wander over to him, to find his gaze is already resting heavy on you. Your skin lights up.
“So, uh,” he starts, shifting himself awkwardly where his hard-on is trapped in his suit, “you read any good books lately?”
That does help to alleviate the tension and you find yourself chuckling, only for the relief to be ablated when your empty pussy pulses. You whine.
“Wade…”
As soon as you say his name he’s rushing over to you, helping you sit down on the ruined chair. You both moan as hot skin slides against hot skin. 
“Look, it isn’t…” you groan as you slide your hand up his bicep. Fuck, he’s strong. “...it isn’t a crazy idea to help each other out, right? We’re friends. It’s just two friends giving each other a hand…”
Wade dips down to run the bridge of nose along the line of your jaw, letting his lips drop to the pulse in your neck.
“Just friends…” he mutters. You buck up into nothing. Oh, god. You’re going to die here. “Baby?”
Oh shit, oh fuck. You want him to call you that over and over again, stamp it into your fucking mind.
“Yeah?” you reply, the word ripped rawly from your throat.
“I wanted to do this before we even left this goddamn apartment, you think I might have changed my mind after the mutant viagra?”
He pulls back just enough for you to see the seriousness on his face. No, he’s not joking, not saying something dirty just because he thinks it’s funny. 
He’s saying it because it’s true, and it’s both thrilling and terrifying. 
“Can I?”
Oh, it’s so tempting to say yes yes yes… but the more tempting thing is to tease him. Just a little.
You hook your leg over his shoulder and he groans as you dig your heel into the muscle of his back. He groans loud and long.
“Wade?”
“Mmm?”
“Ask me properly.”
His breath hitches in his throat, and you’re pretty sure he’s making a mess in his suit.
“Fuck, can I eat you out, baby? Please?”
You nod so fast you fear you’ll break your neck.
Wade lifts you like you weigh fucking nothing at all, strong arms scooping you up and bringing you to the couch - desperate for more space. His hands move quick and roughly as he goes to the pants on your suit, so wracked with need his fingers shake just from the promise of getting to touch you properly. You help him as much as you can, toeing off your boots and helping him tug your underwear off along with your waistband. His eyes widen as he realises your panties are in his hands. He takes a moment to run his thumb over the cotton of them and he fucking moans. Oh, god damn it, you’re going to be fucking ruined.
“Fuck. Never seen a pussy look this good,” he breathes as he finds himself face-to-face with your dripping cunt. You’re already so wet that it’s embarrassing and, while it would be easy enough to blame on the pollen, you know that you’ve wanted this for months. When he drags his tongue up your puffy, desperate folds, you pretty much combust.
“Oh shit,” you groan, wrapping your other leg round his face to hold him flush against you - not that Wade needs any convincing though, because you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck you with his mouth before. He buries himself in you, scarred hands reaching up to dig into the soft skin of your thighs and keep you steady. He wants you at his own pace, it seems, and is strong enough to make it happen. Fuck, you are not complaining.
Wade’s eyes flit upwards to see how you’re reacting as he moves his whole face side to side to bury himself into your cunt deeper. It’s like he’s trying to find where your scent is the strongest and, honestly? With what you’ve heard about this pollen stuff? Seems right on track. He has no hair for you to bury your fingers in so instead you press your hand to the top of his head and pull him closer, because god knows you don’t have the ability to vocalise it. You sink your fingernails in so he knows, though.
Holy hell you’ve never felt so good. The pollen is heightening everything, each movement he makes into you shooting shockwaves through your nerves. Wade’s tongue is insistent in exploring every inch of you, pressing bluntly into your clit; lapping at the wetness seeping from you like he’ll die if he can’t taste what he’s doing to you; dragging down to your ass and toying with you there, too. Yes, fuck, anything he goddamn wants. When his teeth skim the needy folds of your cunt you jackknife into his mouth, almost breaking them clean out of his gums.
“Holy shit, babe. What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles, pupils so blown wide with lust that his eyes are eclipsed with black. You chase after him with your hips.
“Not you, and that’s the problem,” you harrumph. He grins and you see how covered with your slick he is and fuck you are going to die here. 
“I’ll take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?” he asks, putting emphasis on the word you’re both masquerading behind. When you reach out with a searching hand he threads his finger through yours wordlessly, using the other to grab a pillow so he has something to fuck up against. You feel a tiny bit bad for not offering to help but you know he’ll get his in time - in fact just thinking about sucking his cock your mouth begins to water.
He presses his palm into yours as he goes back to your cunt with his mouth. It takes only moments for him to start up his desperate pace again, tongue sinfully sweet, and you’re chasing and chasing…
Stars explode in your vision and in your blood. The noise you let out is feral, a euphony of pleasure and you don’t care who hears. Wade’s eyes drift close as he tastes your orgasm directly at his lips, drinking you down. You’re certain his hips stutter as he comes just from getting you off. Oh god it’s so hot.
Oh god, you’re not done.
Wade surges up your body and kisses you ferociously, you moan at the taste of yourself he gives back. 
“Fuck, yes, do you taste that, baby? What did I do to you? Holy fuck you are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…”
“Wade, I need you.”
“Yeah, fuck, okay. Let me get this stupid sexy suit off…”
Hands begin to fumble messily, needily at each other’s zippers in order to strip. You sit up to get a better handle on him—
And freeze when you see you have an audience.
Wade follows your gaze to where Logan is standing in the bedroom doorway. He’s managed to get his suit off and change back into his jeans, though you can’t imagine he’ll want to stay in them for long the way his trapped cock is staining dark blue denim even darker. He’s gripping the doorframe with such force that his claws have popped out, eyes a matching pitch black to Wade’s, chest heaving as he watches the show.
“You okay, honey badger?” Wade drawls, a cocky smile dragging across him. Logan grunts. Swallows hard. You go for a softer tactic.
“Logan, sweetheart, you wanna join in?” your voice is husky as you ask, oh so inviting. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and his fist tight, taking a chunk out of the wall.
“Get into the goddamn bedroom, both of you,” he growls. The two of you absolutely do not need to be told twice. Partially undressed you vault over the back of the dishevelled sofa, letting Logan lead the way. As soon as you’re within arms’ reach he snags you around the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.
Logan kisses like he wants to devour you. Rough, commanding, dragging his tongue into your mouth as if trying to claim you. Oh, you’ll let him a hundred times over. You mewl when his hand reaches down you cup your still dripping pussy, immediately swiping a thumb against your clit. It pulses as if Wade didn’t just pull an orgasm out of you.
“Fuckin’ needy little thing,” he snarls, delighted. You reach down to grab the bulge he’s rocking, squeezing hard enough to get him to groan.
“Look who’s talking,” you chuckle. He taps at the top of your suit, an instruction. 
“Off,” he says, but that’s as much as he gets to say, because Wade grabs him by the beard and steers him in for a kiss. You pause for just a second to see what will happen but clearly you needn’t have worried - Logan moans into your friend’s mouth, grabbing a handful of Wade’s pretty decent ass and digging in his fingers. While they’re busy you finish stripping, going for the zipper on the back of the red suit and pulling it down. It’s such a goddamn stupid design having it at the back like a goddamn prom dress - but at the moment you’re kinda thankful for it because it means you get to kiss along the revealed plain of skin. Wade has such beautiful fucking back muscles, you’ve stared at them for long enough to memorise every damned one.
He steps out of the suit when you get to his feet - yeah, he did come just from eating you out earlier and holy fuck are you proud - and lets out a strangled noise when you bite the meat of his asscheek hard enough to leave a mark.
“Fuck, are you gonna rim me? Because if so I’m a thousand percent down,” he chokes, pulling away from Logan’s mouth and leaving a string of spit between them, evidence of a messy kiss. You shrug.
“You want me to, baby?”
Wade seems to have a crisis of faith as he considers this, letting Logan nibble down the length of his neck; eventually he shakes his head though.
“No, I wanna be inside you, like, yesterday,” he confesses. 
“I’ve got enough room for two,” you state, so absolutely sure the pollen will accommodate that you don’t even need to think about it. Both Wade and Logan suck in a breath at that idea.
“Fuck, baby, aren’t you just perfect,” Logan drawls, grabbing you by the hips as you stand up and pulling you to the pathetic twin bed this apartment was provided with. Not how you wanted this first time to go down but hey, at least it’s going down at all. No longer just a dirty fantasy you bury your fingers into your cunt imagining but a real bonafide liaison (boner-fide liaison, Wade’s voice in your head pipes up).
You paw at his jeans, desperate to have all three of you naked and ready. There’s nothing to hide between you any more. Any boundaries have been not only crossed but decimated, absolutely destroyed beyond repair, and you couldn’t be happier. When his cock falls heavy into your palm you can’t help but suck air in through your teeth at its sheer size. Logan chuckles, gravelly and tempting.
“Oh it’ll fit, baby,” he coos, as if reading your mind. Fuck. Yep, it will. There’s no two ways about it. You’re having both Wade and Logan inside you if it kills you.
He wraps you in his arms before you can have any more thoughts on the matter and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, the pollen in your veins making you feel every touch like the end of a live wire - yet you keep coming back to get shocked. Logan positions himself under you, chest-to-chest, grinning at the way your nipples rub against the coarse and gorgeous hair of his chest. There’s a slapping noise and you realise it’s Wade’s hand on Logan’s thigh, encouraging him to move up the bed.
“Big boy, you know you have to scoot up if this is happening. I’m all for fucking the same pussy together but you have to be realistic…”
Obscured by your body, only you get to see the way Logan rolls his eyes fondly at Wade’s blabbering. He manouveurs you both to allow Wade room to kneel on the mattress behind you and you gasp at the feeling of their cocks bullying at your entrance.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, body on fire and desperate to be extinguished by them. Logan hums in your ear.
“I know, baby, I know. We’ll take care of you.”
“And each other. I got sex-pollened too, old man,” Wade harrumphs, rubbing his head against the slick lips of your cunt. 
“Nobody’s forgetting you, princess,” he murmurs, “now be good and put me inside.”
Logan probably misses the soft hiss Wade lets out at that, but you feel the way the mercenary’s hand wraps around his cock and presses Logan to your empty cunt. You moan in pleasure as he follows the path Wade has laid out and pushes himself inside of you, no resistance given. It takes you only a couple of seconds to adjust to the pure size of him. Holy shit, if this were any other time you’d be falling apart by now, but the way your body pumps with desperation suggests one dick alone isn’t going to be enough.
“You okay?” Logan rumbles by your ear. You cling onto him for dear life, nodding.
“Yeah. Fuck, Wade, I know you’ll fit, you’ve gotta fuck me too.”
Wade doesn’t even have an answer for that. Instead you feel his thumb tug at your lips, stretching you for him - or just watching the way Logan fills you, getting off on the filthy way you’re plugged. Another cock begins to press at your already stuffed hole and you whine.
“S’okay, I gotcha,” Logan says through gritted teeth as he feels Wade’s length slide along his own, the feeling almost overwhelming for him. You drop your head to his shoulder and choke on your own spit as Wade forces himself inside of you. Your cunt feels like it is about to burst into flames in the most satisfying way possible, flowering open between them both.
“Fuck, never felt anything so goddamn tight in my life…” Wade manages. Eventually he bottoms out alongside Logan, both of them sitting snugly inside of you, sharing you, clutched in your warmth. 
“There we go,” Logan growls. “You okay, baby?”
Not knowing if the question is aimed at you or Wade you both whine a yes. Logan laughs and you feel his chest move beneath you, all muscle and heat.
“I’m gonna move now.”
He drags himself out of you, inch by glorious inch, like a match striking against a box and sparking an ember. A deep ragged breath shudders through you at the feeling of it but it is nothing compared to how he slams back inside. Lights flood your periphery. You are going to fucking die between these two men and that is fine. Heaven, even.
Once Wade feels Logan’s rhythm it is too much of a competition for him not to match it. The mercenary’s arms fall either side of your bodies to support himself as he works himself in and out of you, sliding deep as Logan retreats to the tip. Your cunt makes a lewd noise as they piston inside of you and you have never cared about anything less in your life. You are bathed in light, high off this, euphoric over being fucked. A tiny rivulet of drool falls from the edge of your mouth into Logan’s chest hair and he curses at the glorious rawness of it all.
Above you, Wade has finally found his voice again.
“Look at you taking us so well. Oh, fuck, goddamn. I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Remember when we were neighbours, honey? Those guys who you used to bring home… fuck, baby… I used to give myself the old low-five to the sound of you getting fucked…”
You make a pathetic little noise which spurs him onwards. Wade’s mouth drops to your ear.
“...and I used to get angry because I knew I could do it better myself.”
“Oh my god Wade…” you whisper. Tears are beginning to pool in your eyes at the way you’re starting to get overstimulated, two cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you verges on being too much. Were the pollen not still in full force you’re sure you’d need to tap out.
“And you?” Wade’s hand grips Logan’s bicep, squeezing appreciatively. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every morning and see you shirtless on my couch, and not be able to fuck you? You do it on purpose, peanut, I swear…”
Logan chuckles again, that deep honey-rich sound eked out in magnitudes. 
“And what if I do, Red?”
Wade pauses in his thrusting, you don’t have to see him to know that his eyes are wide.
“Wait, what? For real?”
“Wade!” you whine, reaching over to slap at his arm, annoyed that he’s stopped moving. “Can we all just agree we’ve gotten off to the thought of each other and we’d have fucked eventually anyway?”
The men either side of you seem to think it’s a good compromise to come to and redouble their efforts. All you can do is to cling onto whatever muscles you’re able to find and ride the wave of pleasure. Fireworks go off in your synapses, brain a messy goo of euphoria, cunt fucked out and thoroughly taken care of. 
They speed up, thrusts getting messy and arrhythmic and yet still somehow matching, and you know that they’re going to come together. What a fucking treat, how divine, oh god. Logan’s hands sink into your ass to keep you anchored as his cock goes faster, skin slapping on skin as his sac moves against Wade’s - causing the merc to let out a string of curses - and you’re suddenly flooded with his warm, sticky cum pumping inside you in jets. Wade whines at the feeling of himself being doused and follows Logan’s lead. The filthy cocktail of them drips around both their lengths and out of your hole, falling onto the pathetic mattress below. One last little nudge of the hips is all it takes to push you over the edge again. Your next orgasm is dragged out of you… but you know your body will demand more.
For now, though, respite. The urge to reach that peak again immediately has at least settled for the moment.
“Holy fuck,” you sigh. Logan hums an affirmative note, fingers playing with the small of your back as Wade peppers kisses across your shoulderblades.
“We should go on stakeouts more often, if this is the nice little bow everything gets tied up in,” Wade sighs, dreamily. You nod against Logan’s chest. His hair rubs your cheek deliciously. Your pussy throbs again, reminding you this dirty escapade needs to continue soon. “So what does this mean? Are we a little mutant charcuterie now?”
Your brow furrows as you try to parse what Wade has just said.
“Oh. Wade, baby, do you mean ‘coterie’?”
Logan bursts out laughing, a noise you’ve never properly heard before, and it has you grinning - and Wade, too, even though he grumbles a little at being corrected. Their cocks jostle inside you and you feel them getting hard again and, as you prepare yourself for round two, it’s nice to know that whatever the three of you face at the end of this will be happy.
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Three days later, you’re laid across the couch, head in Wade’s lap and legs in Logan’s, all tangled together as you get the single worst telling-off of your life.
“Non-lethal mission, Wade! How many times did I have to tell you, it was meant to be non-lethal!” Piotr shouts down the line. Wade grimaces.
“Look, there were other things we had to sort out first, okay? We kinda forgot about the no-killing part. Besides the guy can’t traffic drugs if he’s dead,” he confesses. You can picture Piotr’s disappointed face.
“Other things!? WHAT other things, Wade?!”
“Okay so there was this horny pollen, and we all had to—”
Logan grabs Wade’s phone and hurls it across the room. It shatters into pieces against the wall. Wade gawps.
“Hey! That was new! Well, okay, not new, but it wasn’t cracked. Well, it was cracked, but it had all my best dick pics on there!”
“You can take new ones,” Logan states. 
You smile. Yeah. The charcuterie is nice.
1K notes · View notes
rinhaler · 1 year ago
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Rin Itoshi and female s/o taking each other first time
omgggggg i tried to make it romantic and sweet but i do love a slutty ass dude who's in control so apologies if this isnt exactly what u wanted hehe
warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, virgin!rin, virgin!reader, fingering, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, tit sucking, "just the tip" pfft, slight manipulation, brief condom use, premature ejaculation, creampie.
words: 2.9k
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Your heart races as you watch Rin scroll through his phone and find some music to play. He looks so serious, though that’s nothing new. You don’t dare speak, worried you’ll say the wrong thing if you do. He looks up at you, briefly, offering a weak smile before looking through his phone again.
“We don’t have to do this, you know.” he tells you without even looking at you. You watch him as he starts hooking up his phone to the Bluetooth speaker in your room, and you shuffle uncomfortably on top of your bed.
“I want to… ‘m just scared.” you confess, breath shaking slightly as you exhale. “Do you still want to?” you wonder, feeling shy as you ask. You’re sure he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to, though.
Rin doesn’t do anything he has no interest in.
“Yeah.” he tells you, setting his phone down before looking back at you, finally. He’s so far away, it feels too formal. Though you assume he wants to set the pace and make sure everything is comfortable for you both before you proceed. “We agreed,”
“I know.” you nod, recalling the moment you decided as teenagers to give each other your virginities if you hadn’t lost them after you turned twenty. “Just checking.”
The concept of Rin being single, let alone a virgin, is something you can’t even begin to comprehend. You’ve been best friends with him since you could talk. You remember him having no interest in you until you forced your way into playing soccer games with him and his brother. You soon gave it up once you got what you wanted, but you’ve been inseparable ever since.
Girls have always thrown themselves at Rin, but he never cared. Not really. You remember him having one girlfriend and it never went anywhere. It only lasted three weeks. He told you the gory details of their sex lives, though. Only because you asked.
It didn’t go past hand stuff.
“I brought condoms.” he tells you, pulling a box from his bag and setting them down on the desk he’s sitting by.
“I- I’m on the pill.” you respond. “I heard it feels better without… those. But we should use them.”
“Okay, yeah.” he agrees.
“… but we don’t have to.”
“I’ll use one.” he assures you, not wanting to make you feel pressured to go raw for his benefit. Though you’re sure it would be for yours, too. “If you want me to take it off, I can do that.”
You nod, agreeing.
“This is so…” you think, searching around the room for any inspiration of a descriptor to use. He stares at you, intently, wondering what you might say. He’d never tell you, but he’s just as nervous as you are. Of course he has an edge of experience ahead of you, but he’s still clueless. He wants to make sure this is going to be nice for you.
Perfect, if possible.
“What?”
“Formal.” you shrug.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” he responds, scratching his neck as he thinks about what you told him. He looks around, feeling a little too awkward to make eye contact. “I just want to make sure everything’s going to be okay…”
“It’s fine, you’re right.” you smile, “I just thought my first time would be… romantic. It’s stupid, I’m sorry.” you shake your head, dismissing the idea.
You knew you’d end up here with him eventually. You had no intention of losing your virginity to anyone else, after all. You’ve been in love with him for years, and finding out he got a girlfriend almost killed you. It was hard hearing about how they became intimate, but you were so fucking relieved when they broke up.
He only decided to get a girlfriend because he thought you weren’t interested in him, though. You’ve always been a forbidden fruit he wouldn’t dare try to cross a line with. You’re his best friend, after all. He wouldn’t want the romantic feelings he has towards you to ruin that.
“It’s not stupid.” he assures you. “Here, pick some music.” he hands you his phone.
You start to scroll and realise you’re looking on a playlist he created aptly named sex playlist. It makes you giggle, but you don’t comment. And you don’t pay him any mind as he leaves the room while you continue searching for a song.
The boy has good taste, you soon realise.
He comes back a few minutes later with some candles from a nearby cupboard. He knows you too well. You hoard them, you always have. You get an abundance each year for Christmas and rarely use them. He starts lighting them and placing them around the room.
You finally look up as he turns the light on, the room dimly lit by the burning flames scattered around.
“Is this better? I should have gotten some rose petals or something…”
“N-No, this is fine.” you smile, “Thank you, Rinnie, this is nice.”
He clears his throat and sits beside you on your bed. You quickly hand him his phone, prompting him to lean over to place it back down on your desk.
Your heartbeat begins to increase rapidly as he faces you. You haven’t even so much as kissed before, let alone what else will follow. He reaches out to caress your face, and it takes all of your willpower to not flinch.
“R-Rin… do you, um, d-do you watch…”
“Porn? Yeah. Do you?”
His reply makes your face flush with heat and the thought of confessing your own truth makes you even hotter. You look away from him, twiddling your fingers in your lap and looking at those instead.
“I know it won’t be like that… it’s your first time. And mine.” he reminds you.
He’s always been so mature. And you’re glad he’s doing all he can to put you at ease. He puts a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him again. You gulp, nervously, before nodding. He smirks at that.
“Good, I’m glad,” he tells you, beautiful jade eyes flickering with flames as he stares at you. “Means you know what you like.” he leans into you, an attempt to kiss which you immediately back away from. And you apologise, profusely, assuring him that you’re still a little nervous.
“I— I know guys can, you know, it can be quick… s-so don’t feel bad.”
“Don’t worry about that.” he shakes his head. “If I cum quickly, I’ll make sure you finish.”
He closes the distance between the two of you, his lips planting softly on your own. His eyes close as he loses himself to it, though you keep yours open for a little while as you process what is happening.
You’re making out with your best friend!
Though when his large, dominating hands begin to fondle your chest, you pull away entirely.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” he wonders.
“N-No, I didn’t expect you to be so confident.” you whisper, and he kisses you again, smiling into it.
Your eyes close as you allow him to continue locking lips with you. His hand entirely gropes one of your tits and his thumb casually strokes over it. Even through the layers of your crop top and bra, you find yourself mewling softly.
He smooths his hand over the curve of your waist until he reaches the bottom of your crop top. His fingers breach upwards towards your bra, roughly groping at it and the fat of your tits.
“O-Ow.” you speak, softly.
“Sorry,” he whispers back, “Can I take your top off?” he asks between continuous kisses.
“Uh-huh.” you nod, dumbly.
He breaks the kiss to quickly pull your crop top over your head. His lips attach to yours again almost instantly as he starts to fiddle with your bra. He stops kissing you, again, to look over your shoulder so that he can undo the clasp. You gasp when he finally unhooks it, keeping the pink material against your chest to preserve your modesty.
“Can I see?” he asks, his eyes moving between yours and your hands. You hum, nervously, but nod. He helps you pull down your straps as you keep the material held firmly against your chest. Sighing, slightly panic in your voice as you strip the material away. “Fuuuuck…” he mutters to himself, adjusting his hardening cock in his pants as he looks at you.
“You should take something off.” you suggest before he can kiss you again. He immediately pulls his t-shirt over his head, tousling his hair back into place right after.
You continue to moan against his lips when he kisses you again. And they only get louder as he kisses down your neck whilst flicking his thumb over your pebbled nipple. He grunts against your skin, battling on whether he should say something to you or stay silent.
He’d hate to ruin the mood.
“Are you hard yet?” you ask him, your shy demeanour leaving you as you lose yourself to the sensation of his hands caressing your body. “S-Should we do it?”
“Wanna feel?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he pulls your hand towards the bulge in his jeans, moaning immediately from the contact. “Look what you’ve done to me.” he laughs, pulling you closer and hooking one of your legs over his own.
He scratches the back of his nails up your thigh, stopping just short of dipping under your skirt as you shiver from the touch. His eyes find yours, kissing you reassuringly.
“Can I feel you?” he wonders, and, of course, you nod. His fingers disappear under your pleated skirt, quickly cupping your panty-clad mound. He barely gasps when he comes into contact with your panties. “You’re so wet…”
“S-Stop…” you reply, shyly, “s’embarrassing…” you tell him.
“You need to be wet for me,” he responds, that big, logical, brain of his immediately putting you in your place. Reminding you that he is the one with a little more experience and you need to listen to him. “You’ll be so tight… even for a finger.”
He forces your body down, flat against the bed and flips up your skirt. The cute triangular shape of your panties makes his cock throb, and he moves them into the crease of your thigh.
“Tell me if it hurts…” he requests, staring into your eyes as deft fingers come into contact with sopping flesh. He runs them through your folds, and you jolt when a finger tip grazes your clit. He moves it towards your hole, slowly teasing around it before pushing in. He stops, quickly, when you yelp. “Sorry, I’ll go slower. Hold onto me.” he instructs, a hand wraps around his bicep and squeezes as he continues to plunge his longer finger deep inside.
“Kiss me,” you whimper, pathetically. He drops his head so that your lips can meet again. He devours the moans and cries you emit as he curls his finger in and out of you. It feels odd, but not unpleasant. It’s still painful but it begins to subside.
“Gonna add another, okay?” he asks, and you nod. You hiss, instantly, hands flying down to pull his away. “Sh, sh sh, I’ll go slow again, okay? Gotta be able to take them or we can’t fuck.”
You fight back tears as the stretch begins to sting. He sinks his head lower, taking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth. Your back arches off the bed slightly, coaxing him to look up at you. And then he remembers all of articles he’s read. All of the research he’s done.
He even thinks about his teammates talking about sex.
“You have to worship the clit.” he recalls one of them saying.
He pulls away from your tit, briefly, to line his thumb up with your clit and apply pressure. He circles it carefully, monitoring your expressions as he does. You yelp, trying to close your legs, but he opens them back up with his free hand.
“Are you gonna cum?” he wonders.
“It’s too much, Rinnie!” you gasp, skin tightening over your knuckles until they turn white as you grip the sheets. “S-Slow down, please! S’too much!” you cry, unable to hold back your tears any longer.
He doesn’t relent, however. Hoping the way your body trembles means you’re about to cream all over his fingers. It was an achievement he never reached with his ex without her assistance. She showed him how and where to touch to make her cum. But you’re not her. You’re perfect.
You gasp, breathlessly, as your pussy begins to tighten around his fingers. Your clit throbs as he teases it just right and you begin to cum hard and fast for him. He kisses between the valley of your breaths, whispering sweet nothings as you reach your peak and plummet back down to earth. He slows down his ministrations as you begin to shudder and twitch from the after shocks, looking up at you adoringly when you start to calm down.
“Good?” he asks.
“Very,” you pant, laughing lightly as you find your sense again. “Rinnie…” you speak, your confident bravado disappearing again as you feel naked and exposed.
“Yeah?”
“Promise me… promise you’re a virgin, too…” you say, looking up at the ceiling. You feel too needy and desperate as you speak. But that was too good for him to not know what’s he’s doing. He’s seriously only done that once on another girl? It’s a little hard to believe.
“I promise. Was it really that good?” he smirks. He kisses both of your nipples softly before sucking his fingers clean of your juices. “I’ve been preparing… reading about stuff. Asking advice. I’ve told you everything I’ve done, I swear.”
He stands up, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking off his shoes at the same time. He pulls of his jeans and underwear in the same movement, revealing his large, blushing cock.
“We don’t have to do this.” he assures you, picking up a condom from your desk and tearing the foil with his teeth. He rolls it down his length, the rubbery sheen covers the pretty pink colour of his dick. “Do you want to stop?”
“Um,” you think about it. He’s asking as if he isn’t already raring to go. You look between his erection and his intimidating stare as you think about what to say.
“What about just the tip?” he asks. And at that, you nod. He reaches under your skirt and pulls down your panties to ogle your drippy cunt one more time. He feels himself throb at the thought of splitting your virgin hole open on his fat cock. He’s always known he was big, and he really doesn’t want to hurt you. He can only hope his fingering was enough prep before you rob each other of your innocence for good.
He lines up his cockhead with your virgin slot as he cages you in beneath his wide frame. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss you, your moan semi silenced as he pushes his tip in.
Oh God this isn’t enough.
He knew he’d need more.
Just a little more.
He pushes in a bit further, and you pull your lips away from his to voice your concern.
“H-Hurts,” you tell him. “You’re really big.” you inflate his ego further, earning another inch of his cock.
He can’t help it, you’re spurring him on!
And he can only imagine how much better you’d feel wrapped around him without this stupid fucking rubber on. He stops pushing when you place your palms on his shoulders, forcing him to pull back a little. “Is it the condom, Rin? Is it t-too dry?” you wonder, batting your eyelashes up at him so innocently.
“Yes.” he replies, without hesitation. “I’ll take it off.”
He pulls out of you instantly. He hisses a little as he pulls at the condom too hard and it snaps back. He decides to push it up from the base of his cock, lining up with your cunt again right after.
And it’s like you’re made for him as he pushes in. He smothers any whimper you can make with a searing kiss. You feel his tongue slip into your mouth as he pushes in further and further until there’s nothing left to give.
You’re crying, again, not expecting to feel so much so soon.
“God, you’re beautiful.” he praises you. He moves his hips, slowly. His cockhead unintentionally nudges against your soft spot with every rut. The blinding pleasure prevents you from telling him, once again, that it hurts and it’s too much. “I know I said just the tip, jus’ feel so good, princess.” he whispers delicately against your skin.
And, as expected, he doesn’t last long.
A few pathetic strokes of his cock inside of you have him spilling thick spurts of white cream into your unprotected walls. He collapses on top of you, panting violently as he stuffs you full.
He was so backed up before this. He masturbates, of course, but not as much as the average guy. You’ve had this planned for a few weeks, now, so he decided to abstain so he could really enjoy feeling you for the first time.
“Fuck, ‘m sorry. Should have jerked off before I came over.”
“It’s okay.” you tell him, fingers mussing through his hair as you come to terms with the fact that you’ve finally lost your virginity, to your best friend of all people.
“I need to fuck you again,” he confesses, your fingers stop as you look down at him.
“W- now?”
“Soon,” he corrects you. “I want to taste you first.”
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© 2023 rinhaler
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4K notes · View notes
koiiiji · 6 months ago
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im here for yakuza!Gun x reader smut 🤧🤧 like, you stayed at his family's mansion overnight because he introduced you to his clan for the first time and when the night came, this perv didn't care there was no soundproof system between rooms in the mansion (ofc, that's the traditional Japanese house style!!), he kept doing the deed, and even warned you to lower your voice if you didn't want anyone to hear 😏😏
ty as always bae <33
p/s: that's the idea and you can customize it however you want, just make sure that he is a meanie but soft at the same time (is it possible hm 🤔)
p/s (2): i have to send this idea right away in case you close your ask box too early lol 😂😂
author's note ; i mean Gun IS in fact yakuza, no? anyway sooo here we go! i had kinda same scenario but more rough and generally dark, like yandere, but fuck it, i think i won’t finish it anytime soon, bc i thought to add it to your request, but i don’t want to make you wait anymore. i think i was carried away a little in beginning, so its longer then expected, sorry!! 💞😮‍💨
author's note 2 ; art from pinterest, it says credits to : jongjong822 on x
tw ; f! reader, nsfw, minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!
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· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
to be honest, you had no plans to meet Yamazaki Gun's family tonight. it's not that you were against the idea — quite the opposite! you'd heard plenty about who his father was and what his family did. there were a lot of rumors swirling around town, and while you were a little wary, you were mostly curious. besides, you hadn’t been together for that long, so you didn’t expect Gun to introduce you to his family anytime soon.
when he told you earlier in the day to dress up for the evening, you weren’t surprised. it was just another night, another overly expensive restaurant, and another excuse to be in his company. as you sat in the passenger seat of Gun's sleek black car, you glanced out the window at the city passing by. the soft glow of the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm, golden hue, making everything feel a little more magical, a little more alive.
the atmosphere inside the car was just as enchanting. Gun had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed more at ease, more open. the quiet hum of the engine was accompanied by the faint sound of classical music playing through the car's speakers, creating a peaceful ambiance. you felt a sense of calm wash over you as you glanced at Gun, who was focused on the road ahead. his profile was illuminated by the soft light from the dashboard, casting shadows that only added to his already mysterious aura.
the restaurant was just as extravagant as you'd expected, with its towering marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and tables draped in fine linen. evening went perfectly. you and Gun shared a bottle of wine, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself getting a little tipsy. it wasn’t enough to lose control, just enough to feel a pleasant buzz that made everything seem a little funnier, a little more relaxed. your laughter came more easily, and you found yourself leaning in closer to Gun, your hand occasionally brushing against his. he seemed to enjoy the relaxed version of you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your stories and responded with his own dry wit.
when the dinner finally came to an end, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. the food had been exquisite, the wine even more so, and the company... well, there was no one else you'd rather be with. so you assumed that Gun would take you back to your home now, to end the night on a sweet note with a kiss or maybe something more at your doorstep. so, when he steered the car away from the familiar streets and onto an unknown road, you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. the wine had left you feeling pleasantly hazy, and you were more focused on continuing your easygoing conversation than worrying about where you were headed.
“so, tell me,” you began, your words slightly slurred but still coherent, “why do you always pick these fancy places? are you still trying to impress me, Gun?”
Gun glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “maybe i just like seeing you all dressed up,” he teased, his voice as smooth as the leather seats you were sitting on.
you laughed, leaning back in your seat and looking out at the unfamiliar road ahead. “well, it’s working. but you know, you don’t have to go all out every time. i'm just as happy with oversized t-shirt, most stupidest comedy and you.”
“noted,” he said with a small nod, though there was a hint of something more serious in his tone. “but tonight is special.”
you blinked, trying to process his words through the pleasant fog in your mind. “special? how so?”
“you'll see,” was all he said, and you let it go, too relaxed and warm from the wine to press him further. conversation flowed easily between the two of you as Gun drove. night seemed endless, the road stretching out in front of you like a promise of more to come. when the car finally slowed and turned into a long, tree-lined driveway, you began to wonder just where he had brought you. the driveway was impeccably maintained, with tall, ancient trees on either side casting long shadows under the soft glow of strategically placed lights.
Gun parked the car in front of an imposing mansion, the kind you’d only seen in movies. building was grand, with tall windows that gleamed in the moonlight and a wide set of steps leading up to the front door richly decorated with mahogany. you stared up at it, your slightly inebriated mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation.
“Gun… where are we?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. he turned off the engine and looked at you, his expression unreadable. “this is my family's home,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
your heart skipped a beat. “wait… you mean… we’re meeting your family? tonight?”
he nodded, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently take your hand. “yes, tonight. i wanted you to meet them.”
panic began to bubble up in your chest, but it was quickly tempered by the warmth of his hand in yours. the wine had left you feeling too relaxed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “well, you could have given me a bit more of a warning,” you teased, squeezing his hand as you tried to keep the mood light.
“i didn’t want you to worry,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’ll be fine. they’ll love you.”
before you could respond, Gun stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. he offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him help you out of the car. as you stood there, staring up at the mansion, the reality of what was about to happen finally sank in.
you were about to meet Yamazaki Gun’s family. tonight.
you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and looked up at Gun. he was watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes — something that made you feel like everything was going to be okay.
with one last squeeze of his hand, you smiled and nodded. “alright then, let's do this.”
and to be honest, everything went better than you had expected. the Yamazaki mansion was truly grand, almost overwhelming in its size and elegance. the towering shoji screens, the polished wooden floors, and the delicate tatami mats all spoke of a family with deep roots and considerable influence. people you encountered within its walls — servants, distant relatives, or perhaps close family friends — were polite, yet cold. they carried themselves with an air of reserved dignity, their words carefully chosen, their expressions unreadable.
Gun guided you through the mansion with a familiarity that showed he had once called this place home. as you walked, you couldn't help but notice how much Gun resembled his father. the elder Yamazaki was a stoic man, tall and imposing, dressed in a traditional black kimono with a hakama. he carried an aura of authority, and though his demeanor was stern, there was something in his gaze — something that hinted at a really small softness beneath his cold exterior.
Gun's mother, on the other hand, was an elegant woman, the very picture of grace and strictness, wearing a beautiful, intricately patterned kimono. her hair was pulled back in a traditional style, and her movements were precise and measured. her eyes were sharp, watching you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being evaluated at every turn. yet, despite the coldness in her gaze, she followed every formality with exacting precision, treating you with the respect and courtesy befitting a guest in their home. she spoke little, but when she did, her words were measured and polite, though they lacked any warmth.
as the evening drew to a close, and the final course after small greeting tea ceremony was cleared away, you felt a sense of relief. it hadn’t been as daunting as you’d feared, and you were proud of how well you’d handled yourself. you expected that Gun would now take you back home, and the two of you would quietly slip away from all formalities and coldness of this house. but then Gun’s father, in his deep, commanding voice, made a suggestion that took you by surprise. “why don’t the two of you stay the night? it’s late, and it wouldn’t be wise to drive in your current state.”
you glanced at Gun, waiting for him to politely decline, but to your shock, he simply nodded. “we’ll stay.”
you blinked in surprise, a slight panic rising in your chest. you were unprepared for an overnight stay, and the idea of spending the night in Gun’s childhood home — under the same roof as his parents — was suddenly very intimidating. you opened your mouth to protest, but Gun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “don’t worry. my father asked us to stay because he wants to discuss some business matters with me in the morning. just relax.”
· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
with those words echoing in your head, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the futon, carefully prepared by the staff just a few minutes ago. the evening had been long and emotionally exhausting, but now, in the quiet of Gun’s childhood room, you felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you. after taking a shower, you had washed off the remnants of your makeup, feeling refreshed as the warm water rinsed away the day’s tension. the pleasant residue from the alcohol was still making itself felt, leaving you relaxed as you climbed into bed, where your boyfriend was already waiting for you.
Gun was lying on his back, his dark hair still damp from his own shower, his yukata loosely tied around his waist. as you slid under the covers, you immediately fell into his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. you settled comfortably against his chest, inhaling the clean, subtle scent of his shower gel, mingled with the familiar warmth of his skin. it was a scent that was unmistakably his, grounding you in the moment as you let out a contented sigh.
for a few moments, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of being alone together. the soft rustle of the futon as you shifted closer, the gentle rise and fall of Gun’s chest under your cheek — it all felt so peaceful, so right.
but as the silence stretched on, a small thread of anxiety began to tug at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in your thoughts all evening. “do you think your parents liked me?”
Gun’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and you felt his hand gently stroke your hair. “why do you ask? you were amazing tonight.”
“i just… i don’t know,” you murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. “your father was so serious, and your mother barely smiled. i couldn't tell what they were thinking.”
he let out another soft laugh, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “that’s just how they are. don’t take it personally. my father rarely smiles, and my mother… well, she’s always been a bit strict. but trust me, you made a good impression.”
you felt a wave of relief at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little: rolling onto your stomach, you now lay on top of him, folding your arms across his chest and resting your chin on them, you playfully asked "are you sure they're not just being polite to me?"
flicking your nose with his finger, he just laughed in response, the sound deep and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in, the last remnants of your nerves melting away in the warmth of his laughter. but as your soft giggles subsided, the mood shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to something more intense. Gun’s eyes darkened - more, if it was even possible - as he looked at you, his playful expression fading into one of pure desire. without warning, he moved, his hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto your back. you let out a surprised gasp, your heart skipping a beat as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the futon. the sudden shift in his demeanor left you breathless, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as his face hovered inches from yours.
“Gun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck.
“mmm?” he hummed in response, his breath hot against your skin as he began to trail kisses along the curve of your throat. his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, slipping beneath the folds of your yukata to find the smooth skin of your back. you shivered at his touch, your body responding to the gentle caress of his fingers as they traced a path up and down your spine. his kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips moving hungrily against your skin as his hands roamed freely over your body. the fabric of your yukata shifted as he explored, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.
“Gun,” you gasped again, your fingers tangling in his raven hair as you arched into him, craving more of the sensation he was drawing from you. his hands were everywhere, gliding over the curve of your back, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks before moving up again, each touch sending shivers of pleasure rippling through you.
he pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he gazed down at you — your hair, disheveled and slightly damp from the shower, was scattered across the pillows, your breathing was a little ragged and the fabric of your yukata, pulled to the side, opened up a beautiful view of your chest, which was slightly heaving from confusion, your cheeks were burning with excitement and still a small amount of embarrassment, while due to the alcohol you barely remembered where you both were.
with a quiet growl, Gun again clung to your collarbones, his hands moved faster, skillfully, undoing the ties of your robe with practiced ease to pull the unnecessary fabric lower. without moving away from you even for a centimeter, he caressed your neck with his lips, moved up a little higher, biting the lobe of your ear and descending in a wet path lower, again to the collarbones, this time not lingering there, but going lower to your chest, clasping it with one hand and kneading it in his large, calloused palm. with each of his movements, you moved towards him more and more, forgetting yourself and melting in his arms, moaning from his each touch.
as he skillfully make the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he groaned softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.
“you are so beautiful” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. right now there was only Gun, his touch, his warmth, the overwhelming passion that consumed you both.
“please” you whispered into his lips as he rose above you on his elbows again. one of his hands had already slid below your tummy, stroking your pussy with his entire palm, only fleetingly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling the first loud moan out of you.
“come on kitten, be quiet, you remember where we are” Gun's hot whisper enveloped your ear as his fingers continued to play with your wet pussy. “you know, this is a traditional old style house, the walls here are extremely thin” your boyfriend continued to whisper in your ear, enjoying your once again confused look as your cheeks flushed with renewed vigor. “you don't want anyone to hear us, do you, baby?” now one of his fingers slid up and down between your lips, smearing the moisture oozing out of you all over the entrance. he was lying on his side next to you, one of his hands reached under your neck as he place one finger in your mouth, making you suck and lick it with your tongue, while his other hand never left your pussy, now more insistently stroking and massaging your clit with one finger, while the other played with your tight entrance, pushing finger in just halfway.
time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to him, your body responding to his every caress and touch, every kiss, every whisper. the intensity of the moment, the way he made you feel cherished, desired, loved—it was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.
and that's when you reached your first peak from his fingers caressing you deep inside, when your hot and wet walls tightened around him, and you could no longer stifle your moans with his fingers behind your cheek, only then Gun smiled insidiously, and with one light movement turned your softened body back onto your stomach. without wasting a second, his hands dug into the soft skin of your sides, right where he could feel the pelvic bones, and with your clouded brain you already assumed that there would be traces there in the morning. reaching for a pillow, and pushing it between your thighs and the futon, Gun hurriedly, casually stroked your pussy, passing from bottom to top, collecting all the juices of your previous orgasm, simultaneously stroking his cock, smearing mix of your saliva and his own spit along the entire length.
whimpering softly and burying your head in the pillow, in an attempt to stifle your moans, you gasped, clutching at the edges of the futon and the blanket under you, as the fat tip of his dick slowly squeezed into your tensed, gummy folds, painfully stretching you. a deep and heavy moan was heard from behind when Gun collapsed on top of you with all his weight, completely plunging his fat dick into your bosom, in one sharp movement, immediately hitting the g-spot, forcing you to arch your back, pressing your ass harder into his hips. with a satisfied purr, Gun covered your hands with his own, fastening them together into a lock, again leaning closer to you with his all body, pressing you into the thin mattress, he began to slowly move inside your warmth.
with each strong thrust, as he picked up speed, with each of his heavy breaths into your neck, it became harder for you to hold your ass higher, as well as your moans, almost drowned out by the pillow. over and over, as Gun's thick cock filled your gummy, warm walls completely, your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back, right on his shoulder, as your jaw dropped, allowing sweet moans and whimpers to escape from your throat.
“kitten still wants the whole house to hear her, mm?” your boyfriend purrs breathlessly in your ear, mercilessly hammering into your poor pussy, forcing you to give up, and fall on the bed with your whole body, and only moan piteously when one of his arms wraps around your neck and closes your mouth, and the other one gets tangled in your hair, pulling it back just a little.
you never doubted that in the matter of bed, Gun always was a bit more wild and animalistic, but the way his hips slammed into you now, how heavy balls were beating against your clit, and the dirty sounds of squelching and slapping skin against skin, how his biceps tensed right where your cheek lay, all this made your eyes roll up to the back of your head and just whine pathetically under him and drool on his muscles.
you didn't even have the strength left, to hold still, all that helped him mercilessly hammer you into the mattress was the pillow under your hips while you lay under him and helplessly muttering incoherent words and praises. both intoxicated by the euphoria of sex, emotions and feelings, the two of you have lost your sense of time and space, just chasing your own peak and pleasure. to be honest, you didn't think much when your pussy covered Gun's twitching dick with cream, when he hitted his pink head right to the cervix, forcing you to scream and arch towards him, pressing your ass into his hips, and feel with your shoulder blades as his chest pressing you into bed.
and to be completely honest, you almost didn't remember how you both cum, the most important thing that was in front of your eyes was Gun's chest and his warm hand gently caressing your back, while he murmured something into your hair, when he covered you both with a blanket and you fell into a sweet sleep.
· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
BONUS ;
the morning sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting a gentle glow over the room. you blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the futon and the lingering scent of Gun beside you. but as you turned over, reaching out to pull him closer, you found his side of the bed empty and cold. confusion washed over you as you sat up, realizing he was gone.
events of the night before came rushing back, and a deep blush crept over your cheeks. you buried your face in your hands, mortified at the thought of facing anyone after what had happened. Gun's parents, the staff — how could you possibly look them in the eye now? the thought of leaving the room made your heart race with anxiety, so you resolved to stay put, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. minutes ticked by, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity. you had no idea where Gun had gone or when he'd be back, leaving you in an uncomfortable solitude.
and just as you were about to retreat further under the covers, there was a soft knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in your stomach. before you could respond, the door slid open, and Gun’s mother stepped inside.
she was impeccably dressed, her expression calm and composed. you immediately lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes, but she approached with a certain grace, her footsteps barely making a sound on the tatami mats.
“good morning,” she greeted you, her voice steady.
“m-mrs. Yamazaki,” you stammered, still unable to look up. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”
“stop,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “you have nothing to be sorry of. it’s natural.”
you finally dared to glance up at her, confusion flickering in your eyes. she took a seat beside you on the futon, her movements deliberate and serene. “you’re a woman, and you’re desired and loved. there’s nothing shameful about that. that’s just the nature of men — wild and unbridled when a woman is around. i was in your place once, and someday, you’ll be in mine.”
you blinked, taken aback by her words. was that… a blessing?
“wait,” you began hesitantly, “so… you heard everything?”
mrs. Yamazaki let out a soft sigh, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “i’m not an idiot. from beginning i saw the way my son looks at you. and i know Yuzuru well enough, and what’s going on in his head, to prepare your bedroom far away from our own.”
your cheeks burned hotter, the mortification almost unbearable. “so… you didn’t hear?”
she paused, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “let’s say the whole mansion didn’t hear you… but maybe some part of it did.”
you swore you caught a fleeting, light, and kind laugh in her voice, and for a moment, the tension between you eased. there was a warmth in her tone that you hadn’t expected, something almost motherly and understanding.
“i...” you trailed off, still unsure of what to say.
mrs. Yamazaki reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “you are welcome here, as long as you make my son happy. and believe me, i haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.”
her words soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at you, and you managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.”
she nodded, standing up gracefully. “now, come along. breakfast is ready.” as she turned to leave, you felt a sense of relief, the earlier embarrassment slowly fading.
· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
author's note 3 ; I FOUGHT INNER DEMONS TO FINISH IT I SWEAR!! SORRY THAT SPICY PART WASN’T THAT JUICY AND STUFF, I STILL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE PORN…HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT😤😤🫶🏻
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kingtomura · 1 year ago
Text
Good Girl
Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off. 
Bad idea. 
Word count: 4k
part two is here!
Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry
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You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon. 
“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”
“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”
Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins. 
There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way. 
“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating. 
He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse.  “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.” 
This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.
And Tomura was going to be upset.
In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in. 
He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.
You text him.
You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 
It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.
There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off. 
And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window. 
A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts. 
You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick. 
Tap. 
There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination. 
Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.
It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.
Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work. 
You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here. 
You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”
“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you. 
Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.
“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear. 
“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki. 
He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”
You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”
“He can't do that.”
You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse.  “I don't want it to be this way.”
“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”
Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.
Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up. 
You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment. 
You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist. 
Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn–  the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.
“Get on the bed.” 
And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver. 
“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”
You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again. 
He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away. 
The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room. 
“Be quiet for me, yeah?” 
Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”
The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you. 
This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and  sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over– 
Knock knock.
“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.” 
It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference. 
Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both. 
“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”
At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit. 
If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”
You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet. 
“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.” 
His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave. 
“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.” 
It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”
Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you. 
He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock. 
“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm. 
Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” 
Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip. 
“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it. 
His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you.  You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.
Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets. 
The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy. 
“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.” 
You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”
“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.” 
There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”
You are so fucked.
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meadowfics · 15 days ago
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under my care
kang sae byeok x adoptivemother!f!reader x adoptedson!kang cheol
sae byeok made you promise her one thing
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warnings: angst, death, violence, the use of y/n, comforting somewhat?
part one to this fic here
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before the last game you'll play during the squid games, the glass bridge, your girlfriend made you promise her one thing.
when you first joined the games, you did not expect to see that your girlfriend had the same idea as you.
both of you realized that it might be a rare chance that the both of you will make it out alive...
"please promise me one thing if I do not make it home.."
sae hesitated.
"don't say that, you will make it out of here... we will make it out of here."
"don't be unrealistic."
"sae.."
you sighed.
"jus-- just promise me.."
sae sighed. there is tiredness in her eyes, sadness even.
you frowned, knowing that your girlfriend genuinely believes that she might not make it out of here.
"just promise me that if you make it out of here with the money, and not me.. that you will take care of cheol."
you grab sae byeok's hands, squeezing them softly as she leans her head onto your shoulder.
"I can't.. since you will be the one who will get out of here."
you believed.
"y/n, please. just get cheol out of the orphanage and take care of him for me. I know that might be a lot to ask, but I'd trust him with you than with anyone else."
"I promise I will take care of him, if you can't, sae."
sae was right...
it was the four of you. sang woo, sae byeok, gi hun, and you left.
you woke up to the loud mechanical noise, still in your sweaty fancy suit with your number on it.. number 299.
gi hun had sang woo tackled and pinned down not too far away from your bunk.
you jumped up at the sight, with sang woo with a knife as he looked at you with a homicidal look.
your eyes looked ahead at the guards with a casket.. a casket that was heading towards sae.
you screamed as you ran across the warehouse, your body near falling as you saw sae byeok.. lifeless, and cut down from sang woo's knife.
the guards picked up sae byeok, and your lungs nearly collapsed from the amount of screaming coming from you.
not sae, not the love of your life!
she was NOT supposed to be right about not leaving here.
"you FUCKER!" you screamed towards sang woo..
it was clear that sang woo was not going to go after you.. when gi hun ran over to stop you from approaching sang woo.
"you should've killed me and not her you fucking bastard! she was supposed to take care of cheol, not me!"
you cried, trembling as you watched sae leave inside of that casket.
gi hun and you got out of the games alive.
he spared your life.. choosing the split the 45.6 billion between the both of you instead of killing you.
you had 22.8 billion won (15million usd) in your accounts.. way more than enough to pay off your debts and live comfortably.
after you paid off your debt, your legs took you straight to the orphanage.
the orphanage that had cheol.
first meeting cheol, you looked at him as he flipped through the reading journal that he owned.
the boy was kind, and quiet, just like his sister.
your heart ached, and you fought with your entire strength to not cry about sae byeok in front of him.
he does not know of his sister's fate, and you do not know if you will tell him right now.
one thing sae gave you a few years ago was a pink beaded bracelet that she got back home in north korea..
"I had a friend smuggle this from china, I want you to have it, you will look beautiful with it."
sae byeok wore that bracelet everyday before she gave it to you.
so, when cheol looked down at your wrist and saw that same bracelet.. a light flickered inside of his eyes.
"you knew my sister?"
you swallowed, holding back your tears.
"yes, I did. she was one of my... good friends."
you somewhat lied, not knowing if sae ever told him about her sexuality.
"where is she?"
a tear left your eye, but you quickly wiped it with your jacket sleeve before cheol noticed.
"she went away for a little while. sae asked me to take care of you."
so you did.
moving out of your old apartment, you got a nice penthouse in the nice area of seoul.
you paid to send cheol to a nice school as well, wanting the best for him... like you wished sae had.
you got the boy the nicest items, and made sure that he was cared for.
little did cheol know, you cried every single night looking at a portrait of you and his older sister, together at a park just eight months before the games.
sae smiled in the picture, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as your head was buried into her neck.
the both of you had many problems then, but you'd take sae back over any financial stability.
over two years passed.
for just two days, you left and came back after visiting family outside of the city.
you trusted cheol to be alone for those two days, since the boy is trustworthy.
however, you dropped your bags at the sight of a sobbing cheol in the living room.
you ran over to him, crouching down to his level as you held him close.
"whats wrong, cheol?"
you didn't tell cheol, but you've been working hard to get the rest of his and sae's family out of north korea.
the brokers are trying their hardest to locate them..
sae did not ask you to do this if she passed, but you know that this is what she would have done if she survived instead of you.
"when were you going to tell me that sae byeok is dead?"
your heart nearly stopped..
"what do you mean?"
"I heard you on the phone with somebody before you left, you said that sae was no longer here.. where is she?"
cheol yelped.
you were on the phone with gi hun.. who asked if you were okay since sae left the earth a few years ago.. you still are not.
"cheol, I- I am not allowed to say anything.. I'm so sorry."
you could only say.. how were you supposed to tell sae's thirteen year old brother about her homicide due to winning games for money?
cheol resented you for a while, but once he turned sixteen.. it seemed like he accepted his sister's fate.
he figured out how close you and his sister were too, that you were in fact his sister's girlfriend (and not just her bestfriend) before her passing.
he always asked you how she treated you.
"she was the perfect person, cheol."
"I agree."
cheol was always grateful that you decided to take care of him.
the teenager always had high grades in school, and might enroll at a university once he graduates.
cheol's struggles with kids at school due to being north korean, however, he cherishes due to his family.
at this point, you were his family too.
"does sae know that you took me in?"
cheol asks.
"she does."
"do you regret it?"
cheol laughs, jokingly.
"never, I'm glad to have you in my life cheol. you're like the son or little brother that I never had."
you smiled lightly.
"do I remind you of sae?"
"you do, you have her humor and soft spoke voice."
you frown, missing sae byeok.
its 2029.. and you and gi hun were present at cheol's graduation.
well, it was you. until, gi hun surprised you with his presence.
"gi hun, you're alive?"
the last time you talked to him.. he ended up in the games again.
you were scared shitless. in fact, you almost left cheol to go find gi hun.
however, gi hun's friend.. hwang jun ho.. said that gi hun did not want you involved in this.
so, you stayed back knowing that cheol could not lose another person in his life. not again.
"I am. I just got back from america after watching my daughter's high school graduation."
"so what brought you here? you should be with your daughter.."
"well.. you aren't the only person that promised sae byeok something.."
your eyebrows flared at the older man.
"what do you mean?"
gi hun smiled lightly, looking ahead at the students wearing their graduation uniforms.
he can spot cheol, with a smile on his face as he talks to a friend sitting beside him.
"sae made me promise to make sure that you and cheol were always protected.. it was shortly after she made you promise to take care of the boy."
your mouth is hung slightly, you are not surprised as you should be.
of course sae would be looking out for you, even in her death.
"I miss her everyday, gi hun."
a tear escapes your eyes.
"its been eight years.. I don't know if I will ever get over her."
"she loved you so much, y/n."
gi hun comforted you.
"you are doing the biggest act of love possible, by raising her younger brother when she couldn't be here to do it. I am not someone who believes in religion or spiritual shit, but I bet she's here right now, watching him walk the stage with you."
a/n: I hope you loved this. I cried like a baby while writing most of this.. man bring back sae byeok :(
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joejhang · 27 days ago
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my unasked-for input in the jeremy discourse
been seeing a lot of jeremy knox discussion as of late while mindlessly scrolling thru the aftg tag so i've decided it's time to step in. spoilers ahead continue at ur own risk.
the main criticism of jeremy i've seen in the fandom is the way he treats/deals with jean's situation. a lot of people think he's just not doing a good job and can be insensitive or thoughtless at times. i'd like to counter this by saying: he's doing his best, and he's actually doing pretty well.
the aftg fandom at large has this superiority issue where they seem to always know the right thing and the right way to go. i'm gonna remind y'all that we are very used to the foxes and andreil, and the trojans are a totally different environment to the one we've been acclimatised to. the foxes are not well-adjusted AT ALL and to an outsider's eye the way they deal with each other is probably really cruel and rude at times. it works for them because they're in similar positions in life and have no time for politeness and courtesy, and the only way for them to work together is to work out all the fights and issues head-on, with little concern for hurt feelings. it works for them, but that doesn't mean it's the best or only way to go for anyone else.
jeremy may have an untold backstory of his own, but i think we can all agree that he's much more well-adjusted than jean, who has been living in an abusive cult environment for years. the trojans and jeremy are completely unfamiliar to jean, but so is jean to jeremy. jeremy has no idea the full extent of jean's past and history of abuse, so you can imagine his shock and horror when he finally begins to realise the ugly details of what happened to him.
there's a lot of emphasis on action and reaction in the way the fandom sees characters and relationships, but not a lot on intention. i think, no matter the mistakes jeremy makes, his intentions are good. he wants to support jean and help him in his healing journey. was it wrong of him to tell cat and laila what happened in jean's freshman year without his permission? yes, of course. but i think people need to consider that jeremy is literally only human. he's a 22 year old boy who has unresolved issues of his own that's just trying to do the best he can with what he has. he shouldn't have talked about jean's past without his consent, but it's important to know that he didn't do it with malicious intent or just to gossip. he probably genuinely thought it was the right way to go to let cat and laila know, so they can help jean better by knowing what happened. it wasn't the right thing to do, but honestly i think people in the fandom are more pressed about it than jean is. jean remarks on it and seems a bit annoyed, both with himself for telling jeremy and jeremy for telling the girls, but he doesn't hold it against jeremy and clearly still trusts him. jean knows that jeremy wants the best for him, and is doing his best, and the fandom should remember that too.
i think a lot of the issues the fandom has w jeremy and also jerejean is that they seem to think jeremy is going to "heal" jean. i cannot explain how much this take boils my blood because people can't "heal" other people. healing is a complicated and long process that requires, yes, help from others, but also changes in perspective, environment and core belief. jeremy alone is not going to fix jean and make him good as new, and that attitude towards them is unhelpful when analysing the narrative. jean's slow journey of healing comes from the combination of: a huge change in environment (the mob mindset of the raven's nest -> the sunshine court), a support network (jeremy, cat, laila, wymack, the trojans, occasionally kevin and neil), a change in mindset (both towards exy as a sport and towards relationships with others and a relationship with himself) and simply time. no one person can heal another, and no matter how large a role jeremy plays in jean's healing, he knows he can't do it on his own. so do the other people around jean. it's why cat takes him on a motorbike ride, just to let him relax and see the world. it's why renee doesn't get jean to stay with her, because she knows how good the trojans will be for him. jeremy is not going to heal jean, but he can definitely help him with it.
the last and arguably most important thing is this: jean trusts jeremy. y'all can talk about how jean is traumatised and unfamiliar with the world outside the nest but i swear to god this fandom babies and uwufies him to unbelievable extents. jean may be unspeakably traumatised and at the end of his rope, but he is an adult, and he does have agency. he understands that jeremy cares about him and his wellbeing, and he trusts jeremy. jeremy isn't perfect. he's inevitably going to make mistakes and do questionable things along the way, but i don't think he's at all impeding jean's healing or growth, and he is doing everything with genuine good intentions. one person's definition of the "right" thing to do is not objective and all-encompassing. jeremy may do things that offend you, and that you would hate, but everyone has a different opinion on these things. do you guys remember the conversation between andreil after dr*ke's attack, when neil pushes andrew just to see him crack? if u think about it on an objective level, it was wrong, even cruel, to press someone about their history of trauma after a horribly traumatic event has just happened to them. but andrew doesn't hold it against neil, and doesn't even seem all that bothered by it. i think the aftg fandom would do well to look at things and events that happen in the books in context and stop thinking that there is only one right answer to every question and only one correct solution in every situation. just because something would be a no-go for you, doesn't mean it would be for everyone, and that goes for fictional characters as much as it goes for real life.
anyway i just find it so interesting how critical and quick to judge people are when it comes to jeremy, when, objectively, the foxes and even andreil have done probably more pressing and objectively "wrong" things to each other. if u read the series back, there are a lot of times when they push and challenge each other's boundaries, but there's an understanding that that is the best way for them to engage with each other. it would do everyone a lot of good to apply the same attitude to the sunshine court, considering how vastly different of a context this new series is in.
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yourstru1y4ever · 4 months ago
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Day 18 - Hiding an injury
Pairing: Satoru Gojo x F!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Content: Hidden Inventory Arc, canon typical violence (blood, passing out, becoming paralyzed), Gojo is a total asshole through most of this (sorry not sorry), Reader is in her first year at Jujutsu High along with Nanami and Haibara Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!
A/N: So I’m stealing this prompt from the day 15 list because I really liked the idea of hiding an injury and I wanted to play with that here. Anyone who's curious about where in Hidden Inventory this takes place it would be in June 2006! Anywho be sure to like, reblog and comment if you want more! - YoursTruly
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No one is going to help you out.
“Damn it!” You grumble. Of course the mission that the second years are supervising is the one where you, Nanami and Haibara get trapped in an incomplete domain.
The three of you were told that there was a second grade curse who could manipulate other people’s realities. The longer it was alive the stronger it would become. Granted it wasn’t supposed to be your curse to exorcize.
“A measly second grade?” Gojo whined. “Do you want us to immediately wipe it out? Give the case to someone else!” 
Gojo slouched over his desk in annoyance, while Yaga huffs out a sigh.
You and Nanami were sparring out by the track field and Haibara was keeping track of who was winning when you all overheard Gojo from the classroom.
Nanami rolled his eyes and brought his blade up towards you. Shaking your head, you spun the bamboo pole around your hands and pointed it towards him. He swung and you blocked his attack, looking for any opening to strike him.
Yaga glared at him, “Satoru is right, as much as I don’t want to feed his ego.” Geto agreed, “This curse is way too weak for us.”
Gojo brought his gaze to you and Nanami sparring. You were blocking every single hit from Nanami and you were starting to look bored.
“Why don’t we give it to the three of them?” Gojo blurted out.
Yaga followed Gojo’s gaze and took a deep breath in contemplation. “They’re still pretty weak, it’s only been a month since coming to Jujutsu High.” 
“We’ll watch over them.” Geto reasoned, “There’s plenty that they can learn from us out in the field.” 
And now you’re stuck in an incomplete domain because of their lazy asses.
You wanted to stick together as a group but due to the curse’s technique it separated you three from each other.
Maybe if Gojo wasn’t bothering you the entire bullet train ride over, you would’ve been able to sense the curse much better. 
There’s not much you can do about it now, you need to find the entrance. If the curse is strong enough to trap you in this twisted domain, then it’s strong enough to cause you serious damage. 
You can’t retrace your steps, when you look behind there’s just a vast emptiness. Looking ahead isn’t much better; it’s still a vast emptiness but you can see some semblance of walls trying to form around you.
No curses are surrounding you so you just keep walking forward. Staying still will get you killed. It had to be at least an hour since you guys had entered the domain, Geto and Gojo should’ve gotten you guys at this point. What’s taking them so long?
The walls are slowly taking more of a shape and you suddenly stop. Looking down, your feet are stuck in a viscous liquid. You’re unable to move from where you stand and you start to feel a prickling sensation at your feet.
“Damn it!” You yell. You can feel your frustration building up in your body and turning into raw cursed energy. Breathe. Conserve that energy, don’t waste it.
You close your eyes and focus your energy. Try to feel your surroundings, gauge where the curse is located. 
It’s an overwhelming presence, it feels like the curse is all around you. It has to be the domain you’re sensing. Dig deeper.
You can feel your heart beating and the blood flowing through your veins. You try to find any feeling similar to yours. 
A few moments pass by where you’re completely still, seemingly unaware of the presence that was slowly trudging towards you.
A claw swings down towards your face, “f o u n d. y o u.”
You lean back from the claw, eyes still closed but scrunched in a focus. While leaning back you focus your cursed energy to your right fist, a splattering of black and blue covering your arm.
You open your eyes and land the blow on its face. “Divergent Fist!” 
It tanks the hit, and gets pushed back when your cursed energy surges through the punch a few milliseconds after the initial hit.
The curse disperses around the room and the energy output it was spewing out grew stronger. The liquid you are stuck in is slowly creeping its way up your legs, making you more immobile.
You close your eyes again and focus on your breathing. Look defenseless, the curse will come back.
The curse’s overwhelming presence doesn’t bother you anymore. You can feel the blood moving in its body; it’s different from human blood that much you can tell.
Its weak point is now around your legs, the blood coursing through and trying to digest you. Your face twists in concentration and you can vaguely sense everyone else you were with. 
They- they’re outside!
SLASH! You barely dodge the curse’s attack, but your reaction could have been faster. You feel your right shoulder throbbing and a steady flow of blood coming out. You bring your left hand up to start putting pressure on the wound.
You needed to keep your arms up anyways since the goop is now at your hips and slowly climbing higher.
You’re the only one stuck in this incomplete domain. You can outsmart this curse. Desperate times come desperate measures.
You focus your cursed energy to flow through the bottom half of your body and you try your hardest to push your legs through the sludge.
With a lot of force your legs become free, small pin pricks lining your uniform. Run, escape, get outside. You need to see your family again.
With that thought, your legs had a dark blue outline that turned red from raw cursed energy. While Yaga trained you to keep your cursed energy more focused and balanced, you figured he would allow this exception.
As your raw energy flowed you picked up the pace, outrunning the curse. You bring the energy that flowed from your legs into your fists, never losing momentum.
With as much energy you could muster you bring your fist to a half-formed wall, “Black-!” You jump and your fist makes contact-
CRASH! “-FLASH!!” You crash through the domain, shards of the cursed energy shatter around you and you’re falling. Your hand opens up and you roll onto the ground, laying flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you.
Your body aches and you shakily bring a hand up to your right shoulder. You shift, feeling the curse still in the area. Just because you broke out of its incomplete domain, doesn’t mean that you’ve won.
“Damn. . . it. . .” You breathe out. Your legs are immobile at this point, realization sinking in when the curse poisoned you with that goop around your legs.
You can sense the curse still slinking around, waiting to finish you off but you can vaguely feel Haibara and Nanami closing in on your location. You smile and try to lean to your left side.
When you move, the curse picks up its speed to attack. Your smile doesn’t wane, if anything it gets wider.
The curse forms itself into a creature with multiple limbs, its mouth agape, leaking out purple blood. It’s charging at full speed towards you and you bring your hand up trying to give yourself some sort of protection.
You make eye contact with the curse and start laughing, “You’re. . . dead.” you huff out. Two fingers curl into your palm and the hand you had facing the curse becomes a finger gun. 
You pretend to shoot at it and the curse’s limbs fall off.
You become slack-jawed, looking down at your finger gun.
“Did I just do that?” You mutter. You feel a pair of arms wrap around your torso, lifting you up into a sitting position.
“Nah it was Nanami,” Haibara tells you, “Can you stand?”
“No. My legs are paralyzed from the curse’s poison.” You look over and see Nanami focused on the fight in front of him. Haibara walks in front of you, his back to you and kneels down.
He pats his back, “Hop on!” And you sulk while putting your hands on his shoulders 
“This is humiliating,” you say under your breath.
“Huh?” Haibara looks back at you and you hoist yourself onto his back.
“I said you should be helping Nanami.”
Haibara turns his attention back to the fight and gently picks up your legs to wrap around his torso.
He stands, “Nah Kento’s got it, plus Geto and Gojo should be here any second now.”
You scoff, “Uh-huh.”
You hear a squelching sound and the curse is exorcized by Nanami.
You rest your head on Haibara’s shoulder and allow yourself a moment of peace.
“Great work Kento!!” Haibara beams.
Nanami cleans off his blade, and wraps it up, “I wouldn’t have been able to exorcize it without your help.” He gestures towards you.
You weakly smile at him and your eyes flutter close.
“Hey come on stay awake!” Haibara shakes and you groan in frustration.
”I’m fine, I just-“ You freeze and whip your head to your left. Eyes focused on something the other two couldn’t see.
“What is it?”  “How many?” They overlap, you stay quiet and they wait for your response.
Nanami unwrapped his blade again, getting into a fighting position as Haibara took a firmer grip on your legs. His carefree smile turned into a more serious look.
“Two more curses, both are maybe a third or fourth grade.” You tell them and they visibly relax.
“Well if that’s the case-“ Haibara looks at Nanami and the blond rolls his eyes.
“No.”
“What?!“ Haibara pouts, “Come on, you owe me!”
You’re still looking at the oncoming curses, but something feels off. 
“. . .Fine.”
Gojo and Geto were here too, right? So that would mean what you are feeling Geto’s-
“Rock! Paper! Scissors!-”
“DUCK!”  You push down on Haibara’s shoulders and Nanami follows. You all land on the ground right as Geto’s rainbow dragon comes blasting through, destroying all the greenery you were surrounded by. The two boys hop off the dragon's back and Geto sends it away.
Motherfuckers-
“Maaaaaan, you first years got roughed up pretty bad, wouldn’t you say Suguru?”
“The curse should've been an easy task,“ Geto walks up to the pile of you on the ground, you glare at the two boys who are smirking.
Haibara slowly gets up and helps get you on his back again as you stare down the two upperclassmen. 
“The curse was able to create an incomplete domain, we were trapped as soon as we went inside the veil Haibara created.” Nanami informs them.
Geto shares a look with Gojo who still has a carefree smile on his face.
“An incomplete domain?” Geto pushes.
Nanami nods his head, “Yes, we would’ve been dead if she hadn’t broken through the domain.” The upperclassmen still.
Gojo turns and gives his attention to you, “You broke out of its domain? You?”
“I thought you guys had escaped!” You ignore Gojo’s question, “I sensed your cursed energy outside of its domain.”
“Uh, hello?”
“Nah we were stuck fighting these fourth grade curses. They just kept coming and coming; they were never ending!” Haibara complains.
Nanami nods his head once, “At least it gave us good training on target practice.”
“Hello? I asked a quest-!”
You cut him off, sighing, and barely look in his direction, “Yeah I did, so?”
“How?”
“Uhm. . .” You close your eyes and try to remember. Despite being in that fight mere minutes ago you can’t seem to remember, “I’m not sure.”
“HA?!”
Your shoulder throbs and you wince in pain, “You okay?” Geto asks.
“Just. . . fine. . .” You groan. Black spots start to appear in your vision and your grip on Haibara’s shoulders loosen. 
“Hey! Stay awake!!” Is the last thing you remember before passing out.
When you open your eyes, you’re back at Jujutsu High in one of the medical dorms. Your right shoulder is bandaged up and you notice that the cuts on your hands are gone as well as Gojo holding onto your left hand. He’s looking away from you, his head on your lap, fast asleep.
You use your other hand to gently card your fingers through his hair but Geto walks into the room, holding some tea. He gives you a knowing smile as you set your right hand down, a light blush on your cheeks.
“I see you’re awake.”
“How long was I out?” You try to sit up, but the lower half of your body still feels like mush. Gojo groans at you moving, but still stays asleep.
“For a few days at least,” Geto moves to the other side of your bed, “He’s been here since waiting for you to wake up y’know.”
“Oh.” You both glance at Gojo, who’s still resting. 
“We didn’t realize how much blood you were losing,” You turn to look at Geto, who’s avoiding your gaze.
“It’s not anyone’s fault,” You tell him and the corners of his mouth dip down for a moment before he gives you another smile.
“All that matters is that you’re safe.” You nod at that, but can’t help but still feel tension in the air. Sorcerer’s like you are a dime a dozen. They shouldn’t have been this upset at you getting hurt. It’s a small price to pay when dealing with curses.
“I should tell Shoko and the other’s that you’re awake.” Geto starts to leave the room, “They’ll probably ask you questions of things you remember and make sure that your vitals are alright; stuff like that.” He waves his hand as a silent goodbye as he leaves the room.
You lean your head back and look up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. Why did any of them care?
Your legs are still slightly paralyzed from the curse, so you don’t feel Gojo stirring. He slowly blinks awake, eyes widening realizing you're okay. Thank God.
He wants to say something, anything, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. He looks down and sees that you’re still holding his hand. He squeezes your hand and smiles. You look back at him and he can see a faint blush on your checks, cute. 
“I’m sorry?” You tilt your head to the side and Gojo gives you a look.
“What?”
“I thought you said-,” You look down at your lap as Gojo lets go of your hand and stands up to stretch. His hand was so warm and without it just feels wrong.
“I didn’t say anything.” He crosses his arms and looks away from you, hoping you wouldn’t notice that the tips of his ears are slightly pink.
“You probably said something stupid,” Shoko tells him as she enters the room. She gives you a smile, “Glad to see you’re awake.”
“Glad to be awake.” You give her a smile back. 
Shoko nods her head and starts her examination while Gojo stays beside you, not saying a word or acknowledging you.
However, Gojo doesn’t actually leave your side until after you go back to your dorm, which took most of the day. He quietly helped you walk back to the dorm, since your legs were still recovering from the poison, and made sure that Haibara or Nanami would bring you something to eat.
But of course Gojo went back to his usual asshole-ish self once you were fully healed and back in class. 
You wondered if that would ever change. . . though you seriously doubted that.
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ikkyfics · 2 months ago
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Sweet Dispute
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James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: The plates arrived quickly, and the cake was so decorated that it looked more like an exhibit than something edible. However, that didn’t stop James from picking up a piece with his fork and holding it out to you. “Come on, try it, my sunshine. I promise it’s as sweet as you.”
Warnings: Beware, there’s all sorts of cheesiness here – but what else could you expect from a date at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop? Be warned
Masterlist
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The corridor was silent, except for the echo of muffled laughter. You and James were running side by side, adrenaline coursing through your veins simply because you were doing something wrong. “Don’t forget, if anyone asks, we’ve been in the Astronomy Tower this whole time,” he whispered, a mischievous wink accompanying that crooked smile of his—the one that always seemed to dismantle any resistance you had.
The secret passageway led you straight into the heart of Hogsmeade, where the aroma of hot chocolate mingled with the sound of cheerful laughter. It was a perfect day for a little mischief. “So, madam, where does your adventurous heart desire to go first?” James asked, leaning in slightly closer, his glasses sliding just a bit down his nose. The playful tone in his voice was unmistakable, but the spark in his eyes said something more—a genuine affection he couldn’t seem to hide.
“How about Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop?” you suggested, a sly smile dancing on your lips as you watched him. It was a comment meant purely to tease him, but the reaction was even better than you’d hoped.
He stopped dead in his tracks, shoulders slumping dramatically as he turned to you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Madam Puddifoot’s? You’re joking, right?” His voice was filled with comical horror, and he placed a hand over his chest as if he’d been gravely offended. “I expected better from you.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” you retorted, feigning an innocent air as you walked ahead of him. “I thought you loved sappy places. After all, wasn’t it you who convinced me to skip class today? I thought we were celebrating in style.”
“Celebrating? Yes,” he said, quickening his pace to catch up. “But not by eating heart-shaped biscuits while sitting in chairs that look like a doll’s tea party.” He slung an arm around your shoulders, leaning in to whisper, “I’ll admit, the idea is so bad it’s brilliant—just to see the look on people’s faces when they see us in there.”
You laughed, leaning slightly against him, his warmth spreading through you like an electric current. “Who knows? It might be fun. Or maybe you’ll discover a side of yourself that loves overly sweet tea.”
“Now you’re asking too much,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But fine. Let’s go. I just want to see who begs to leave first: me or you.”
Stepping into Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop was a test of self-control, as both of you struggled not to burst into laughter. The place was even more over-the-top than you remembered, with soft, melodic music playing in the background and little pink clouds floating near the ceiling. You glanced at him, trying not to laugh at the look of despair on his face.
“Enjoying yourself?” you asked teasingly.
“You’re insufferable,” he replied, his voice low but tinged with undeniable fondness. “Why do I let you drag me into these things?”
“Because you adore me,” you said, and he smiled.
“True.” The simplicity of his response, coupled with the look that came with it, made your heart race. He took your hand across the table, intertwining his fingers with yours. “But just so you know, that doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for this ridiculous idea.”
“Oh, but I think you’re loving it,” you teased, leaning forward slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “In fact, I’m sure you’re already crafting an emotional speech to match the place. Go on, James, impress me.”
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile full of both challenge and humor. “You want me to be sappy? Fine. But brace yourself—I don’t do things halfway.” Clearing his throat dramatically, he held your hand more firmly, his voice dropping slightly as he began. “Being here with you is like… diving into a sea of hot chocolate. Sweet for the soul, you know?”
You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “That was terrible.”
“Oh, but wait—I’m not done.” He leaned in closer, his blue eyes gleaming with an almost disarming intensity. “Every moment with you feels like basking in a ray of sunshine in winter. Revitalizing. Unforgettable.”
Your laughter faltered, the unexpected sincerity in his last words stealing your breath for a moment. You tried to recover, but the flush on your cheeks betrayed you. “That wasn’t fair,” you murmured, looking away.
“Oh, it absolutely was,” he countered with a smug smile. “Your turn.”
You took a deep breath, sitting up straighter in your chair as if preparing for a duel. “Fine. James Potter, being with you is like… finding the last slice of pumpkin pie in the Great Hall. Warm, comforting, and a little overwhelming.”
He laughed, throwing his head back in exaggerated delight. “That was good, I’ll give you that.”
“But I’m not done yet,” you continued, using his words as your own and locking your gaze on his. “Your eyes are like… a pair of butterflies. Restless, but impossible to ignore.”
He blinked, his smile faltering briefly as a blush crept up his cheeks. “You can’t use comparisons that make me sound pretty,” he protested weakly.
“But you are,” you countered, the teasing melting into a soft sincerity that left him momentarily speechless.
The silence that followed was filled only with the shop’s melodious background music and the looks you exchanged. Before either of you could say anything, your eyes drifted down to his hand still holding yours. His fingertips were calloused, likely from gripping the Snitch so often, and you noticed, once again, how much you liked his hands. There was something about them—the quiet strength, the way he moved them so effortlessly—that always drew your attention.
“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice low and amused, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You blinked, realizing you’d been staring longer than you intended. “What? Of course not.”
“Oh, of course not,” he repeated, grinning in that annoyingly charming way of his. He held his hands up for you to see. “Want another look?”
“James!” you exclaimed, trying to sound indignant, but the flush on your face ruined any attempt at seriousness.
He laughed, but before you could retort, he cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. “Merlin, you drive me crazy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “In a way I can’t even begin to explain.”
And before you could respond, his lips met yours. The kiss was everything it promised to be—a mixture of longing, tenderness, and the intensity only James could bring. The way he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and how his hands cradled your face with care, said more than words ever could. The world around you might as well have disappeared, at least until a loud, exaggerated cough interrupted.
You pulled apart instantly, still so close that your noses brushed, faces flushed. A tea shop employee, wearing a floral apron and an amused expression, stood nearby.
“Ah, young couples,” he said, shaking his head with a tolerant smile. “You look a bit young to be here on your own. First time visiting Hogsmeade?” Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice you were skipping class.
James was quick to recover, his ability to think on his feet impressive. “Yes! First time in Hogsmeade as… as a couple, you know?” He flashed a radiant smile, leaning toward you in an exaggeratedly affectionate manner, as if confirming his story. “I wanted to bring my girlfriend to a special place. Always heard good things about here.”
You had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at the theatrical expression he wore, especially when he held your hand again, squeezing it lightly as if signaling you to play along.
“Oh, how lovely!” The employee didn’t seem suspicious at all. “Well, may I take your orders? We have a selection of especially romantic cakes today.”
James gave you a conspiratorial look, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, we’ll want the sweetest one you have, won’t we, honey?” He used a deliberately sweet tone, exaggerating the last word.
You narrowed your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Of course, my dear. And two cups of the sweetest tea, please.”
As soon as the employee walked away, James leaned forward, his eyes shining with that irresistible mix of challenge and affection. “The sweetest one, huh? You’re really trying to lose, aren’t you?”
“Lose? Who says I’m the one who’s going to give up?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in mock indignation.
The plates arrived quickly, and the cake was so decorated that it looked more like an exhibit than something edible. However, that didn’t stop James from picking up a piece with his fork and holding it out to you. “Come on, try it, my sunshine. I promise it’s as sweet as you.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes, but opened your mouth to take the bait. He smiled as if he’d just scored a point, watching you chew carefully. “Well? Sweet enough for you?”
“Almost as sweet as the ego of a certain Quidditch player,” you replied, grabbing the fork from him before he could react. You cut a piece of the cake and held it out to him, the playful smile dancing on your lips. “Your turn, sweetheart.”
He pretended to hesitate but ended up accepting. While chewing, he cast a look full of meaning in your direction. “If this is a competition, know that you’re dangerously close to making me admit something I won’t be able to pretend later.”
The unexpected sincerity in his voice made your heart race, but you tried not to show it. “Oh, really? And what would that be?”
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned forward once more, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The softness of the gesture made your face warm. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and full of feeling. “And I think you feel it too.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable — it was filled with something words couldn’t express. You lowered your eyes, searching for something to say, but they inevitably fell back to his hands, now resting on the table.
He noticed. “There you go again,” he teased, intertwining his fingers with yours. “If you like my hands that much, you should tell me.”
You laughed, feeling that familiar mix of embarrassment and affection. “You speak as if you don’t know they’re handsome.”
“Handsome?” He chuckled softly, moving even closer. “With compliments like that, you might just convince me to do it again.”
Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in to kiss you once more, uncaring of the curious looks from other customers. The intensity of the gesture and the softness of his lips moving against yours were enough to make you forget where you were. Once again, it felt like the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you.
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imbored1201 · 1 year ago
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Lost Child
Barcelona Femeni x Teen Reader
Summary: Being in Sweden was supposed to be a fun new experience for you, then it became scary very quickly
A/N: This is set during the 22/23 season and I have no idea if the google translation was right for the Swedish speaking part, so sorry if it isn’t
You were in Sweden playing Rosengard. The team was on a walk, as usual, to admire everything about a new country. You were with Lucy and Keira, Keira holding your hand to make sure you didn't wander off.
————
Once the walk was finished everyone split into groups. You wanted to go with Ingrid, Mapi, and Frido since they were getting food and you were really hungry. Everyone else was going to go see exhibits and probably cause mayhem you did not want any part in. You had promised Alexia you would behave, and you wanted to keep that promise.
Lucy, being an overbearing mother, strictly told the three girls to keep an eye on you, as you were a slippery little thing and always wandered off without anyone realizing. "It's not hard to keep track of a 16 year old Lucy," Mapi cockily grinned as she put an arm around your shoulder.
"I warned you, if she does wander off, she'll most likely be in a toy store or arcade." Mapi seemed to not care about this information, but Ingrid and Fridolina did. They knew how you were.
They were Alexia's go-tos when she had to rant about your behavior. You were always getting into trouble. Even if you got hurt, the next day you would be doing the same thing again.
————
You and Mapi skipped ahead as Ingrid and Fridolina took pictures of everything. They smiled and watched you look around, amazed by the new scenery.
Fridolina was paying close attention to you and would grab you and pull you back into her body, telling you to stay close to someone when she noticed you wandering off. She didn't want to deal with the yelling Alexia would give everyone if she got a phone call from them telling her they lost the baby.
You guys walked past a outlet as you were going to get food. Ingrid and Fridolina wanted to look around, and of course, you and Mapi would be their personal bag carriers. Ingrid could tell you were on the verge of complaining, so she bought you chocolate to keep you distracted. It did make you feel a little better, but you just wanted food, something like chicken tenders.
"I need to use the restroom; sit right there." Fridolina pointed to the bench, and you surprisingly listened without any snarky remarks. Mapi and Ingrid were nearby, looking at some fancy shoes through a window.
You huffed and looked around at everything and everyone. You loved observing. It was the little moments that made you happy. After a few seconds, you got bored and got up to bug Mapi.
You were confused when you saw they weren't nearby anymore. "Huh" you mumbled as you walked to find them.
After a couple of minutes, you were in front of a bakery, looking around, confused. Completely forgetting every way you just went.
'Should've studied the streets I took,' you said to yourself as you huffed angrily. Of course, this was the only time you decided not to observe anything.
You searched for your phone but realized Ingrid was carrying it in her bag. You sighed as you walked to a park that was near the bakery and sat down on a bench. It was getting dark; you were hungry and wanted to take a nap.
You were thinking of going back to the bakery but were too scared to go in. Wondering what the workers would do if they saw a confused kid who couldn't speak Swedish, shaking and trying to figure out how to communicate with them.
That's when a lady came up to you; she looked elderly and looked at you weirdly as she noticed your terrified expression. "Mår du bra?" (Are you okay?). You looked at her confused, and she realized you weren't from there. She put her finger up to signal for you to wait here and walked away. You knew you had to trust someone, so you waited.
The lady came back 10 minutes later with a bag of goodies. She sat down next to you and handed you a piece of bread. You had no idea if it was even safe or if she hadn't put anything inside. You could already hear Alexia's scolding about taking things from strangers, and you were pretty paranoid about that stuff since you watched so many crime shows.
It was silent between the two of you, but you felt comfortable with her; she had Leah's comforting demeanor. She was just scrolling through her phone and would look at you every 2 minutes to make sure you were fine. After 10 minutes, you heard your name from a distance. Your face lit up when you saw a familiar blonde. "Frido!" You yelled happily as you ran into her arms.
"Kid, you gave everyone a heart attack," she said as she hugged you tightly. "är hon din dotter?" (Is she your daughter?) The lady said to Frido, who shook her head and rubbed your back. "Vän, tack för att du tittade på henne," (Friend, thanks for looking after her), the woman nodded. "Thank you," you told her quietly, making her smile as she patted your back and walked away.
"I told you not to wander!" She scolded you now, and you marveled at the personality change. "I didn't mean to; when you went to the restroom, Mapi and Ingrid wandered off, so I tried finding them, but I couldn't find any of you," you defended yourself. "Hold on, I need to call them to tell them I found you." She got out her phone and dialed Ingrid's number.
"Ingrid, yes, I found her. Calm down; you're talking way too fast. Who told Alexia?" Shivers ran down your spine. Someone told Alexia about you getting lost; everyone was going to get yelled at the next time you guys saw her.
"I have her okay; just go back to the hotel." "I'm hungry," you whined at Frido, who sighed. "She's hungry; it'll probably take a while; I'm going to get her food." You smiled at that. The whole walk, Frido didn't let go of your hand. You didn't care, though, joyfully swinging your combined hands back and forth.
Once she got you fed and bought you some things to make you feel better, you made your way back to the hotel. As soon as you stepped into the lobby, Irene, Mapi, Ingrid, Marta, and Lucy crowded you. Lucy pulled you into her and glared at the girls. "I cannot believe you three; you lost our prodigy. Leah would have killed me and Keira if she found we lost baby England," Lucy said as she led you to the elevator.
You could hear distant arguing as you walked away from the group. You showed Lucy your new stuffed lioness, and the candy Frido got you. No one on the team could say no to you, expect Alexia, and you used that to your advantage.
"That's nice, kiddo. Come on, it's nap time." You gave her a weird look. "I'm 16, not 3," Lucy shrugged. "Do you want to grow big and strong like me?" "I thought you stop growing at 15?" "Okay, but come on, don't you want some nice abs like your favorite defender?"
"Leah's abs are nice," you muttered, and Lucy looked at you, offended. You smiled at her and threw yourself into her arms. "Fine, I'll take a nap, but you have to be my cuddle buddy since Ingrid is too busy being yelled at." Lucy smirked and held you. You loved to cuddle with your teammates, especially when you did something bad. It completely made them forget what you did as they held you.
"I'm still telling Leah about this," you groaned as you shut your eyes and took a nap, knowing when you woke up you’ll have tons of text from Leah and Alexia.
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eepwtf · 1 month ago
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MY ATOMS HAVE ALWAYS LOVED YOURS.
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jock!ben x nerd!reader
that’s what connection is, right? the swallowing of one soul into another. taking them in, letting their essence burrow into your flesh until you couldn’t tell where they ended, and you began. like a splinter, painful and irritating, but impossible to remove. that’s what you were to ben: a splinter digging beneath his skin, refusing to let go.
and maybe that was all ben wanted—to let you haunt him completely. to be tainted by you, stained in ways that could never be undone. to let the memory of you—the presence of you—sink into his skin, his blood, his bones, until he could no longer tell the difference between himself and the ghost you’d left behind.
tw; boarding school au, slight academic rivals, homophobia, toxic masculinity, might make this a continuation perhaps, ben being a big gay yearner, slight cannibalistic imagery used, shotgunning, weed hazy make out sesh… no actual smut like i said, i’ll probably make a continuation for that! wc; 12k...
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
⎯⎯⎯  𖣂 ⎯⎯⎯
THE boarding school was a monolith of old money and grandeur, tucked away in the rolling countryside where the world felt muted and distant. the architecture itself seemed to loom over its occupants, cloaked in ivy and perpetually blanketed by a haze of mist. it was a place meant for the finest, the best, where boys were molded into men who would conquer whatever battlefield lay ahead, whether in the world of business or the trenches of war.
you didn’t belong here—not really. you were the outlier, the scholarship kid among pedigreed names that dripped from tongues with the weight of generations. yet, even in a world built to dismiss you, you excelled. your mind was a razor, carving through equations and essays, leaving the sons of wealth and privilege scrambling to keep up. you had a knack for reducing their inherited confidence to a quiet simmer of insecurity, your brilliance a sharp contrast to their entitled mediocrity.
then there was ben, the golden boy of said school.
ben had everything: the chiseled features of a carved from marble, the charm that made others forgive his outbursts, and a physicality that turned the sporting fields into his personal stage. he thrived in the chaos of competition, the thrill of victory lighting him from within. but you—oh, how you irritated him.
it was in the classroom where his temper simmered, where his smirk faltered just enough to reveal the cracks. he hated the way your hand shot up before anyone else’s, the way your answers came not with arrogance but an ease that suggested you didn’t even need to try. every time you walked past his desk with another perfect score, another commendation from the professors, ben felt the bitter taste of inadequacy curl on his tongue.
he wasn’t used to losing, least of all to someone like you—a quiet, unassuming boy who didn’t play by the rules of their unspoken hierarchy. he couldn’t pin you down, couldn’t challenge you to a fistfight on the quad and settle it like he did with everyone else. you lived in a world of ideas and intellect, a realm where his strength and bravado were meaningless.
and so, ben did what he did best: he turned his frustration into cruelty.
it started small. a snide remark as you passed him in the hall, his voice low but cutting, designed to stick in your mind. then came the more deliberate acts—your books knocked off your desk when he sauntered by, a "careless" shove in the crowded dining hall that sent your tray spilling to the floor. his friends laughed, their amusement a chorus that fueled his superiority. but it wasn’t enough to satisfy him.
he wanted to break you.
he couldn’t stand the way you remained steadfast, unshaken by his efforts to knock you off your pedestal. your defiance wasn’t loud or confrontational; it was in the way you picked up your books without a word, the way you returned to your seat and continued to outshine him. it was maddening, a mirror held up to his own shortcomings, reflecting a boy who was not the best, not even close, despite everything he’d been told his entire life.
the tension between you grew like a festering wound, unnoticed by the professors who were too enamored with ben’s charm and too indifferent to your quiet suffering. in the dormitories, where the shadows stretched long and the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and boyhood sweat, ben would corner you with his pointed glares and low mutters. you could feel his hatred radiating off him, a scorching heat that threatened to consume you both.
and yet, beneath the animosity, there was something else. something ben didn’t understand and refused to acknowledge. a fascination he couldn’t shake, an obsession born of the way you refused to yield to him. it gnawed at him, this unwanted fixation, turning his frustration inward even as he directed it at you.
for your part, you noticed the way his eyes lingered too long, the way his anger seemed almost personal, as though he despised not just your intelligence but something deeper, something he couldn’t name. you began to feel the weight of his gaze like a tangible thing, pressing against your skin, making your pulse quicken in ways you didn’t want to admit.
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THE lacrosse field was a battlefield, churning with the restless energy of aggression. the boys moved like packs of wolves, bodies colliding in fierce pursuit of the ball, cleats tearing into the damp, overworked earth. you didn’t belong here. not really. the game wasn’t yours, not in spirit nor in skill. your talents lay elsewhere—in the orderly realm of equations and analysis, where every move was deliberate, not reactionary. but the school demanded bodies as much as minds, and so you played, driven not by passion but by necessity.
ben, on the other hand, owned the field. his movements were fluid, muscles taut beneath his jersey, every step bursting with the kind of confidence only bred from years of unearned praise. the coaches shouted his name from the sidelines, their booming voices dripping with approval. he thrived on it, fed off their praise like a starved beast. and yet, even in his glory, his focus was fractured, his gaze drawn to you like iron to a magnet.
it was infuriating.
you didn’t belong on his field, didn’t deserve to occupy even a sliver of his thoughts. but there you were, darting past him with that maddening air of quiet competence, your presence a thorn in his side. he loathed you, not just for your brilliance in the classroom but for the way you existed in his world without bending at his will. He couldn’t stand it.
you weren’t fast, and you weren’t strong, but your sharp, calculating mind had a way of slicing through the frenzy of the game. you saw patterns where others saw chaos, predicting movements before they happened, slipping through gaps in the defense like a shadow. it wasn’t enough to make you a star, but it was enough to unsettle ben. to remind him that even here, in the one place he should reign supreme, you found ways to upstage him.
he couldn’t stand it.
the game had reached a fever pitch, players shouting, the ball whipping between sticks like a bullet. the air was electric with sweat and tension, the faint tang of impending rain mingling with the iron bite of blood from scraped knees and bruised lips. you were darting forward, the ball cradled neatly in your stick as you made for an opening.
ben saw you, and something snapped.
it wasn’t enough to win. it wasn’t enough to be the best. he needed you to know you didn’t belong here.
he moved in, a predator stalking prey, his green eyes locked on you with singular intent. his shove was perfectly calculated—not enough to earn him a foul but more than enough to send you staggering. you stumbled, feet slipping in the mud, but you didn’t fall. you were steadying yourself when his stick came down, the blunt edge catching your face with brutal precision.
the sound was sickening, a wet crack that silenced the field as you crumpled to the ground. pain exploded across your face, sharp and immediate, a fire that spread from your nose to your temple. for a moment, the world narrowed to a single point of agony, the coppery tang of blood flooding your senses as you pressed a shaking hand to your face.
and then the laughter started.
it began with ben, his cruel bark of amusement breaking the tension. he leaned casually on his stick, grinning like a boy who’d just pulled off the perfect prank. his friends joined in, their laughter swelling into a chorus of mockery that filled the air like smoke.
“didn’t think lacrosse was a contact sport, huh?” one of them jeered, the others howling in response. ben chimed in, his voice dripping with venomous charm. “guess it’s not a game for delicate types. better stick to books, nerd.”
the words hit harder than the stick had.
you stayed on the ground for a moment, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the blood dripped steadily down your face, soaking into the white of your uniform. the grass beneath you felt cold and damp, grounding you in the midst of the humiliation crashing over you like a wave. but you didn’t cry.
when you finally pushed yourself to your feet, your knees shaking, your vision swam with the effort. your face was a mess of blood and bruises, the metallic taste thick on your tongue. the coaches had yet to intervene, their eyes blind to the golden boy’s cruelty.
ben’s laughter faltered for a split second when your gaze met his. there was something in your eyes—defiance, yes, but also a quiet strength that made his stomach churn. he could hear the blood pounding in his ears, drowning out the cheers and jeers of his friends. for the first time, he felt something other than triumph in your presence.
it was guilt, sharp and unwelcome, gnawing at the edges of his bravado.
ben forced himself to laugh again, louder this time, shoving the flicker of shame deep down where it couldn’t touch him. his grin widened, and he turned back to his friends, letting their approval wash over him like a balm. but as the game resumed, the image of your bloodied face lingered in his mind, a grotesque reminder that even in victory, something about you made him feel defeated.
he told himself he didn’t care. but the knot in his chest told another story.
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YOU dreamt of ben’s teeth in your skin that night, or at least you think it was a dream. the memory lingers too vividly, too viscerally, as though your subconscious left it smoldering just beneath the surface of your waking mind. in your dream—or nightmare, perhaps—it wasn’t the boy you knew from the halls and the fields who loomed over you. it was something else. something primal, something that wore ben’s face but moved with a hunger that no human being could possess.
his green eyes burned bright at first, clear and sharp, their intensity the only thing anchoring you to what little humanity remained in him. but then the green began to darken, swallowed by black until his pupils eclipsed everything else. his grin followed, shifting from the boyish smirk you had come to associate with his cruelty to something far more animalistic. it wasn’t a smile anymore—it was a snarl, predatory and sharp, his teeth bared like a beast ready to strike.
you remember the feel of his hands on you, strong and unrelenting, pinning you down with an ease that made your breath catch in your throat. his fingers dug into your arms, their grip just shy of painful, but it wasn’t his hands that truly frightened you. it was his mouth.
his teeth found your flesh, and for a moment, the world became nothing but sensation. you felt the pressure first, the sharp edge of his canines pressing into your skin, threatening to pierce it. then came the pain—hot and electric, spreading through your body like wildfire. your breath hitched, caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, your senses overwhelmed by the strange, horrifying intimacy of it.
and yet, even as your dream-self writhed beneath him, a strange thought took root in your mind. it wasn’t just fear you felt. it was something darker, something that churned in your gut like a sickness. there was a perverse fascination in the way he consumed you, a twisted part of you that reveled in his domination, in the way he claimed you as his prey.
when you woke, your body was slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around your limbs like the remnants of a trap you had barely escaped. your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing, the phantom pain of his bite still throbbing beneath your skin. your heart raced, not just with the adrenaline of the nightmare but with something else—something you didn’t want to name.
you told yourself it was just a dream, a grotesque product of your mind’s restless wanderings. but as you lay there in the predawn darkness, your room quiet except for the faint rustle of wind against the window, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been more than that.
because when you thought of ben, when you recalled the way his gaze lingered on you during the day—those fleeting, almost imperceptible glances—you felt a similar unease, a similar pull. he thought you didn’t notice, but you did. you noticed the way his jaw clenched when you outpaced him in class, the way his hands gripped the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turned white.
you noticed the frustration in his voice when he barked orders on the field, the way it always seemed sharper, louder, when directed at you. and, most unsettling of all, you noticed the way his anger gave way to something else entirely in those rare moments when your eyes met.
it wasn’t just hatred that burned in his gaze. there was something deeper, something raw and untamed, something that made your skin prickle with a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. it was as though he was waging a war with himself, his fury at you battling against some unspoken truth he refused to acknowledge.
maybe your dream had simply dredged up all the pieces of him you couldn’t reconcile—the cruelty, the rage, the intensity that bordered on obsession—and twisted them into something monstrous. or maybe, just maybe, your subconscious had glimpsed something real, something lurking beneath the surface of ben’s golden-boy façade.
you lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling as the first pale rays of dawn crept through the window. the memory of his teeth haunted you, the phantom sensation of his bite refusing to fade. you told yourself it was absurd, that you were letting his presence in your life warp your thoughts.
but deep down, in the quietest corners of your mind, you couldn’t deny the truth. you had seen the way ben looked at you. and worse still, you had felt the way his presence made something inside you stir—a festering thing, raw and ugly, that refused to be ignored.
the morning air felt heavy, clinging to your skin with a dampness that did nothing to ease the lingering unease from the night. you shook yourself off, trying to dispel the fog that clung to your mind, your hands coming up to rub at your eyes in a futile attempt to erase the dream—or nightmare—that still burned at the edges of your memory. the pressure of phantom teeth seemed to linger on your flesh, a strange sensation you couldn’t quite shake.
your uniform hung stiff and scratchy against your skin as you pulled it on, the starched fabric doing little to comfort you. the ritual of dressing, buttoning and tucking with practiced efficiency, was almost enough to settle you. almost. but when you glanced at your reflection, bleary-eyed and pale, the faint shadows under your eyes told the truth you couldn’t ignore. you looked like someone who hadn’t slept, not properly, not peacefully.
the hallways were already stirring with life as you stepped into them, the low murmur of voices mixing with the squeak of shoes on polished wood. you kept your head down, hoping to avoid unnecessary interaction, your thoughts still churning with the vestiges of the dream. your skin crawled at the thought of ben—not the boy from the nightmare, but the one who existed here, in the real world. the one who seemed to take up far too much space in your mind, even when you weren’t asleep.
you were halfway down the corridor, lost in your thoughts, when a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you to a sudden halt. the touch jolted you, your pulse spiking as you turned quickly, your body bracing instinctively for something worse than what it was.
“don’t you know it’s rude to creep around?” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could soften them. your voice was rough, gravelly from the lack of proper rest, but the irritation in it was genuine.
your friend raised an eyebrow, unbothered by your tone. “you look like shit,” they said bluntly, their arm swinging casually around your shoulders as if to soften the blow of their words.
you rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth twitching in faint exasperation. “i was studying,” you replied, the lie slipping out easily, though the weight of it settled uncomfortably in your chest.
studying. sure. if “studying” meant spending the night caught in a cycle of half-sleep and vivid, unsettling dreams about ben—dreams that left you waking with your heart pounding and your skin clammy. dreams that made facing him now feel like a task monumental enough to deserve its own place in Dante’s Inferno.
your friend gave you a knowing look, their gaze sharp despite their casual demeanor. “studying,” they repeated, dragging out the word as if testing its weight. “rightt.”
you shrugged them off, stepping out from under their arm and continuing down the hall. “drop it,” you muttered, not looking back.
but as you walked, the knot of unease in your stomach only tightened. you didn’t want to see ben today, not after last night, not after the way his imagined teeth had sunk into your flesh with such terrible intimacy. but you knew you would see him—of course you would. he was everywhere, an unshakable presence in your life that clung to you like a shadow. and despite yourself, a small, treacherous part of you wondered what it would feel like if the dream wasn’t entirely a fabrication. if the pressure of his teeth wasn’t just some cruel trick of your subconscious.
you shook the thought away, your hands balling into fists at your sides as you forced your feet forward. it was a new day, you told yourself. you would face him, endure his glances, his comments, his presence, and you would survive. even if the memory of his grin haunted you all the while.
of course, your friend, blissfully unaware of the strange, festering thing coiling tighter in your chest, slung their arm around you again, jostling you with a kind of ease that only highlighted your growing sense of unease. their presence might have been grounding if it weren’t for the chaos swirling behind your eyes, the dream—or nightmare—still clinging to your thoughts like cobwebs you couldn’t brush away. each step down the corridor felt mechanical, your body moving on autopilot as the slick, oily remnants of the dream seeped deeper, threatening to consume your focus entirely.
christ, you thought bitterly, why couldn’t your mind just give you peace for once? the dream’s claws had sunk deep, its venom spreading even now, and the weight of your friend’s arm was a tether you couldn’t decide whether to cherish or resent. you couldn’t even focus on their words, the low hum of their voice turning into static, a meaningless buzz drowned out by the feverish imagery curling through your mind.
that is, until their voice cut sharply through your spiraling thoughts:
“she has, like, a nice fucking ass.”
the vulgarity slapped you out of your haze, and you blinked, frowning instinctively. the raw disbelief on your face was almost comical as you turned to your friend, your voice rough with irritation. “what the hell are you talking about?”
your friend snorted, their bark of laughter echoing through the otherwise quiet hall. they shoved lightly at your head, their hand ruffling your already unkempt hair with an irritating kind of fondness that only deepened your scowl. “jesus, man, how long did you study last night?” they teased, their tone dripping with faux concern as they rolled their eyes. “i’m talking about the new teacher. you know, the one half the guys are practically drooling over.”
you exhaled sharply through your nose, shaking your head as they continued to chatter, unbothered by your lack of engagement. their arm stayed slung across your shoulders, anchoring you to their easygoing rhythm, their words spilling out in a cascade of exaggerated admiration. descriptions of the teacher’s figure, her looks, and the collective hormonal obsession of the student body filled the air. it was almost laughable how much they cared about something so fleeting.
but their words served their purpose—they drowned out the dream, tamping down the ghost of green eyes and imagined teeth, pulling you further into the mundanity of the day. you grunted noncommittally, letting their words wash over you without actually processing them. you didn’t care about some teacher everyone was ogling like a piece of meat, but their chatter had pulled you far enough from your own thoughts to notice the weight pressing against your ribs had shifted. something darker, heavier, had begun to bloom there.
and then, like a blade of glass slicing through skin, you saw him.
ben stood further down the corridor, leaning against the wall with the kind of casual confidence only he could pull off. he was flanked by a few of his cronies, boys who lingered like shadows, echoing his movements and amplifying his presence. but it wasn’t his posture or his pack of admirers that stopped you dead in your tracks. it was his eyes.
they were locked onto you, glinting like shards of polished emeralds in the muted light of the hallway. you froze under the weight of his gaze, something sharp and disquieting curling in your stomach as he looked—not at you, but at the arm slung so comfortably over your shoulders. his jaw shifted slightly, tension flickering at the corners of his mouth, though his expression remained infuriatingly neutral.
your first thought was that it was hatred. of course it was. what else could it be? ben had spent months making your life a quiet misery, his snide remarks and calculated glances digging under your skin like splinters. the idea that his stare could mean anything other than disdain didn’t even cross your mind.
his lips curled upward, but it wasn’t a smile—not really. it was more like the barest hint of teeth, a silent warning that you couldn’t quite decipher. and yet, something in his eyes felt different, something darker and unfamiliar, like the faint glimmer of green fire.
your friend, blissfully unaware of the tension coiling in the air, kept talking, their voice a low hum in the background as you stood frozen, caught in the snare of ben’s gaze. the weight of their arm around you, once grounding, now felt suffocating, a heat rising in your chest that had nothing to do with your lack of sleep.
ben shifted slightly, his frame leaning off the wall as his gaze flickered back to your face. it lingered for just a moment too long before he turned away, his attention snapping back to his friends as though the moment had never happened.
you exhaled shakily, realizing you’d been holding your breath. the knot in your stomach twisted tighter, a strange mix of unease and... something else. whatever it was, it made you feel raw and exposed, your skin prickling with the faint sensation of being watched, even as you forced yourself to keep walking.
your friend gave you a nudge, oblivious to the storm raging inside you. “earth to you,” they said, their voice teasing. “you okay? look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
you forced a shrug, your movements stiff. “i’m fine,” you muttered, though the tremor in your voice betrayed the lie. fine. sure. if you ignored the way your heart still raced, the way ben’s stare had burned itself into the back of your mind. fine, if you ignored the strange, festering feeling that had been planted in your chest and was now threatening to bloom.
ben sat across from you, his body a picture of restless arrogance, sprawled as though he owned the desk and everything around it. his fingertips tapped a jagged, uneven rhythm against the varnished wood, a staccato counterpoint to the droning monotone of the professor’s voice. the lesson, whatever the hell it was about, was already a blur in his mind—some dull lecture he’d never bother to commit to memory. he let out an gratuitous sigh, sinking lower into his seat with an air of theatrical boredom, the edges of his lips curling in a smirk as a few nearby classmates glanced his way.
but the act was just that—an act. his attention wasn’t really on the class, nor the eyes that occasionally flicked toward him, drawn like moths to the flame of his ever-present bravado. no, his focus was on you.
it always came back to you.
his green eyes found the back of your head as they so often did during these torturous classes. you sat two rows ahead, perfectly aligned to torment him with your quiet diligence. he watched the way you leaned slightly forward, the slight tension in your shoulders betraying the focus you poured into every word spilling from the professor’s lips. your hand moved quickly, a blur of determination as you scrawled across the page in front of you. he couldn’t see exactly what you were writing, but he knew it was notes.
of course, it was notes.
you always took notes, didn’t you? like some kind of academic machine, recording every detail, every thread of information the professor dared to offer. and for reasons ben couldn’t quite articulate, it infuriated him. or maybe “infuriated” wasn’t the right word. maybe it was more complicated than that—more warped.
his fingers stopped their tapping as his gaze narrowed, following the precise movements of your pen. he imagined the lines and curves you etched into the paper, the careful way you transcribed thoughts into words, words into meaning. the idea of it made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t entirely understand.
ben wanted to see it.
no—he needed to see it.
he needed to know what went on inside that overactive mind of yours, what ideas and thoughts swirled in your brain like storms. what made you so goddamn meticulous, so disgustingly perfect in your execution of everything you did? his teeth clenched, his jaw tight as he stared harder, as though sheer will alone could penetrate the barriers between his mind and yours.
he didn’t just want a glimpse into your thoughts—he wanted to crack you open.
the intrusive image came to him unbidden, vivid and visceral: his hands on either side of your skull, his thumbs pressing into the delicate curve of your temples. in his mind, the bone would give way beneath his strength, splitting like an overripe fruit. he’d tear through the lining, past the fragile casing of your brain, his fingers sinking deep into the valleys and folds of sulci and gyri. he’d feel the sticky heat of your thoughts, the pulse of your consciousness against his fingertips.
and maybe then—maybe then—he could understand.
understand how you worked, what made you tick, why you were always so goddamn far ahead of him. why, no matter how hard he tried to best you, to shake you, to drag you down to the level where he felt safe, you always managed to stay just out of reach. it was maddening. it was humiliating.
and it was intoxicating.
ben’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his fixation on you tightening its grip around his ribcage. he wanted to hate you—god, he wanted to hate you. it would have been easier if he could. but there was something else, something darker, slithering in the spaces where hatred should have lived.
infatuation wasn’t the right word for it, but it was close.
you were perfect in a way that was almost grotesque to him, a reminder of everything he lacked, everything he could never be. and yet, he couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t stop wanting to pull you apart piece by piece until he understood the atoms, and cells inside you.
the professor’s voice droned on, a dull hum against the roar of his thoughts. his eyes didn’t leave you, not for a second. to anyone else, ben looked like a bored boy enduring another tedious class. but inside him, something wild and restless clawed at the walls of his chest, something primal and impossible to name.
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SOMETHING about you clung to ben like a splinter buried deep under his skin. no matter how much he tried to scrape it out, it remained lodged there, a constant irritant—and yet, perversely, he didn’t really want it gone. it was the kind of ache that grew familiar, even welcome, as though having a piece of you stuck inside him, digging in, was better than losing the connection altogether.
he told himself it was nothing, just a weird, passing fixation. but mondays tested that lie in ways that made his jaw clench and his heart pound harder than any game ever did. mondays meant your ritual: the library. the coffee beside you, still steaming faintly as you leaned into the table, your head bowed over a fortress of books that seemed to grow taller with each passing hour.
he wasn’t sure what you read—probably something mind-numbingly boring, some dense intellectual nonsense he wouldn’t bother to crack open even if someone paid him. but you, with that maddening concentration etched into your brow and your soft, barely-there frown tugging at your lips, made it look like the most important thing in the world.
and when you read, oh god, when you read—you spoke. not loudly, no. just the faintest whispers, as if the words spilled from your mouth by accident, a soft, private litany that no one else was meant to hear. but ben heard. he always heard.
it wasn’t fair, the way your voice wrapped itself around the silence of the library, low and melodic and unbearably intimate. it felt deliberate somehow, like a knife turned just for him. it was as though you knew he was watching, knew he lingered there in the shadows of the shelves, pretending to look for some book he’d never even crack open.
if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you were reading for him.
he should be at practice. that thought nagged at him like a coach’s whistle in the back of his mind, sharp and insistent. practice, where his teammates would already be warming up, their easy camaraderie and loud laughter filling the field. that’s where he belonged, where he thrived. that was his kingdom. but mondays had become something else entirely.
mondays were for you.
ben found himself lingering near the library door, his shoulders slouched just enough to blend into the background. his bag hung limply off one arm, forgotten, as his green eyes tracked every movement you made. the way your fingers flicked over the pages, precise and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world. the slight tilt of your head when you paused to scribble something in the notebook you always brought with you. the way your lips, soft and just barely parted, formed each word you whispered like a prayer.
you were calm and focused, untouched by the chaotic energy that always seemed to coil beneath his skin. you looked... at peace. it made him burn.
ben clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. he hated this feeling, this raw, inexplicable pull toward you that felt less like attraction and more like possession. you weren’t doing anything to him—just sitting there, existing, being you. and yet, it was as if you’d reached inside him and turned something vital upside down, leaving him unsteady on his feet.
he didn’t want to care about your stupid coffee cup, the way the steam curled up and caught the faint light spilling through the high library windows. he didn’t want to notice the way your glasses slipped slightly off the bridge of your nose, how you’d brush them back with an absent-minded grace that seemed so effortless it made his chest ache.
and yet, there he was, still standing there.
still watching.
still pretending to give a fuck about some random book he wouldn’t even bother to carry out the door.
ben shifted on his feet, the weight of his indecision heavy in his chest. he should leave. he should walk out, get to practice, and stop wasting his time on you. but the thought of leaving, of stepping away from this quiet moment where he could just... see you without consequence, felt like tearing that splinter from his skin. he’d lose the ache, yes, but he’d also lose the maddening comfort of its presence.
so, instead, he lingered.
and when you whispered another word, your lips brushing the silence like a kiss meant for no one in particular, ben’s grip tightened on the strap of his bag. because deep down, in the part of himself he refused to acknowledge, he wanted to believe it was for him.
it was stupid, reckless even, the way ben’s feet moved without permission, as if something unseen was yanking at invisible strings tied to his ankles. he wasn’t sure why he let it happen, why he allowed this force—this festering pull inside him—to steer him closer and closer to where you sat. he could have stopped himself, forced his body to obey logic, but something in him resisted the idea of turning back.
the quiet sanctity of the library enveloped him, all hushed whispers and the soft rustle of turning pages. the faint, bitter aroma of coffee mingled with the musty scent of old books, filling his lungs as he neared your table. it was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet strangely intoxicating. the closer he got, the more he felt like the world narrowed to just this: you, the fortress of books around you, the steam curling from your cup like it held some secret.
it was too much. too close.
ben swallowed hard, his tongue suddenly dry as he hovered behind you. from this distance, he could see the tiny grooves in the back of your chair, the faint scuff marks on the floor where your restless foot tapped. his pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the low hum of the library’s fluorescent lights.
what the hell was he even doing?
he didn’t have a plan. of course, he didn’t. ben didn’t do plans; he acted. he relied on brute force, sheer confidence, and the kind of charm that usually bulldozed any obstacle in his way. but here, now, standing behind you, those weapons felt dull and useless.
you shifted slightly, leaning forward to jot something into your notebook, and ben’s eyes tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey. his stomach tightened, not with hunger, but with something worse—something sharper, more desperate.
and then, like some unthinking beast lurching forward, he moved.
the table loomed in front of him, the edge digging into his thigh as he planted himself there, far closer than he should have been. his shadow fell across your books, an expanse of muted light eclipsed by his frame. the breath hitched in his throat, and for a fleeting, wild moment, he considered bolting. running back to the lacrosse field, to the safety of shouting and fists and controlled chaos.
but the thought passed as quickly as it came, crushed beneath the unbearable weight of his need to say something—anything.
he opened his mouth, and what escaped was not a clever remark, not the smooth confidence he wielded on the field or in front of his friends, but a sound. a low, guttural grunt that made him cringe internally the second it left his lips.
you turned at the noise, your brow furrowing as your eyes flicked up to meet his. your expression was a mix of curiosity and mild irritation, as though you were trying to decide whether this interruption was worth your attention.
ben’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his palms damp and cold despite the heat radiating from his body. the words he’d been grasping for, the half-formed excuse to explain why he’d crossed the boundary of your space, caught in his throat.
what the hell was he supposed to say? that he couldn’t stay away? that your stupid books and coffee and concentrated pout had been haunting him for weeks?
no, he needed something else—something neutral, something that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot.
“i, uh…” his voice came out rough, rasping like sandpaper against the quiet of the library. he cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “i need tutoring. in, uh… math.”
the words hung in the air like a poorly thrown pass, wobbling and uncertain. it was a flimsy excuse, half-true at best. sure, he wasn’t exactly excelling in math, but he could’ve asked any of his teammates for help. hell, he could’ve charmed one of the teachers if he’d wanted to. but none of them were you.
you blinked, your lips parting slightly as if you weren’t sure whether to laugh or take him seriously. ben felt a flush crawl up the back of his neck, his pride warring with the strange, gnawing feeling that he might just implode if you said no.
“i’m… not great with numbers,” he added quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, his posture stiff despite the casual tone he was struggling to maintain. “figured you could help. since, y’know, you’re always… doing all this.” he gestured vaguely to the books and notes sprawled across the table, his movements broad and almost clumsy.
there. it wasn’t perfect, but it was something. a lifeline, thin and fragile, tossed out into the silence between you.
the air is dense, clinging to the library like an unwanted second skin, thick with the sour tang of aged paper, spilled coffee, and the faint decay of something almost alive. it’s the kind of air that wraps itself around your throat and sinks into your lungs, suffocating and intimate, a silent predator. ben breathes it in deeply, like he needs the burn to keep himself tethered to this moment, to you. but there’s something else here, too, something sharper, something that cuts through the miasma and lodges itself inside him.
it’s you.
it shouldn’t be so distinct, yet it is. a clean, woody undertone, with a hint of leather that somehow feels ancient and personal, like it carries stories older than either of you. it threads its way through the stagnant library air like an interloper, lacing itself into ben’s senses until it becomes the only thing he can taste. it doesn’t belong here. it doesn’t belong in this quiet, suffocating place of rot and whispers. but it belongs to you. and that’s enough.
he swallows hard, his throat tightening as though the scent has wrapped itself around his neck like a noose. it fills the hollows of his chest, seeps into the marrow of his bones, and carves itself into the darkest corners of his mind. It’s a scent that shouldn’t linger, but it does, a ghost that haunts him in the silence. you’ve branded him, burned yourself into him without even trying, and he can’t tell if he resents it or if he craves it more than his next breath.
“didn’t think you’d need a tutor,” you had said, a faint smirk on your lips, sharp enough to cut. but you didn’t say no.
and that’s how he found himself here.
the silence between you is a strange kind of beast. ben isn’t used to silence—his life is noise, chaos, endless sound that fills every corner of his world until there’s no room for anything else. his father’s voice, sharp and grating, tearing through the walls. the roar of the crowd on the field, his teammates’ shouts blending into a cacophony that drowns out the sound of his own thoughts.
but this silence isn’t like that.
this silence is alive.
it breathes. it stretches. it crawls into the space between you and grows, not oppressive but thick and full, like it’s waiting for something to happen. it hums with potential, a quiet pulse that syncs with the rhythm of his own heartbeat, and ben finds himself leaning into it, letting it wrap around him.
this silence isn’t empty. it’s full of you.
you sit beside him, close enough that he can feel the faint warmth of your body bleeding through the small gap between you. the edge of your sleeve brushes his forearm when you move, and it’s enough to send a spark of something sharp and electric jolting through him. he shouldn’t be able to feel you this acutely, shouldn’t be so hyperaware of every tiny shift in your posture, every soft inhale you take.
but he is.
the scent of you still lingers, curling around him like smoke from a burning altar, like something ancient and sacrificial. it feels alive, like it’s slithering into his veins, infecting him with the ghost of your presence. he breathes it in and lets it take root, lets it crawl through him and fill the hollow spaces he didn’t even know were there.
and the silence stretches on.
it’s not the kind of silence that demands to be broken. it’s a language all its own, a secret shared between you, full of things unsaid and unspoken truths. ben doesn’t need words to fill it. he doesn’t need to speak to know that you’re here, beside him, so close he can feel the heat radiating from you.
but the quiet is also dangerous. it lets him think. let’s his thoughts spiral into darker, hungrier places.
ben’s gaze flickers to you, catching on the curve of your jaw, the faint furrow of concentration in your brow as you scan the open book in front of you. he lets himself linger there, drinking you in like a starving man given his first taste of water. there’s something almost holy about the way you look right now, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead light, your fingers brushing absently over the edge of the page as though the words have bewitched you.
but ben doesn’t feel holy.
the hunger inside him is sharp and unrelenting, a gnawing thing that writhes beneath his skin. it twists through him, dark and consuming, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to pull you apart, to see what makes you tick. it’s not obsession. not really. obsession implies something fragile, something rooted in longing or insecurity. this is something deeper, more primal.
ben doesn’t need you. not in the way that people talk about need. but he wants you. he wants to unravel you, to pry you open and dig his fingers into the soft, vulnerable parts of you. he wants to understand what makes you sit here every monday with your coffee and your books, what makes you whisper to yourself like you’re reading something meant only for him to hear.
it’s curiosity, he tells himself. nothing more. just curiosity, burning hot and insatiable, spreading through him like wildfire.
but curiosity doesn’t feel like this.
curiosity doesn’t feel like his chest tightening every time you glance his way. it doesn’t feel like his hands itching to touch, to hold, to possess.
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THATS how it went. mondays transformed into something entirely different, a new ritual that ben couldn’t explain and wouldn’t dare question. practice? a memory. the familiar rhythm of drills, the roar of his teammates, the barked orders of the coach—it all faded into insignificance the moment you came into focus. he told the coaches he was studying, his voice steady, unwavering, despite the lie rolling off his tongue like poison disguised as honey. they believed him, of course. why wouldn’t they?
ben didn’t bother telling himself he cared about the material. the textbooks, the equations, the neatly drawn graphs—they were background noise, static that faded into nothing the second you started speaking. he told himself he was there because it was convenient, because it was an excuse to escape, but deep down, in some festering corner of his mind, he knew that wasn’t true.
it was you.
you, with your quiet focus, the way your lips would move ever so slightly as you read aloud to yourself without realizing it. you, with your unwavering concentration, the crease that formed between your brows as you worked through a particularly complicated problem. you, who seemed completely oblivious to the way your presence had carved itself into ben’s very bones, anchoring you there like some unwanted parasite he couldn’t bring himself to kill.
ben would sit there, his body rigid and his mind anything but, trying to focus on the numbers sprawled across the page but failing every single time. he wasn’t looking at the work. he was looking at you. watching the way your fingers skimmed the edge of the paper, how your pen would tap against the table in rhythmic little bursts as you thought. every tiny movement, every subtle shift in your posture, dug deeper into him, threading itself into the marrow of his being until it felt like you had become a part of him.
when you spoke, your voice soft and even as you explained some mathematical concept that should have been straightforward but felt like greek to him, ben didn’t hear the words. he wasn’t listening to the numbers or the logic. he was too busy taking in the way you looked. the curve of your mouth as you formed each syllable. the way your eyes would light up, ever so slightly, when you solved something particularly tricky.
fuck, it wasn’t fair.
it wasn’t fair how easily you filled the empty spaces inside him, how effortlessly you seemed to occupy the corners of his mind he didn’t even know existed. you didn’t just exist in the same room as him; you invaded it. you seeped into him, into the cracks and fractures he thought he’d hidden so well, spreading like rot until you were everywhere.
and he let you.
even as he told himself he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, that this was just about studying—just a convenient excuse to avoid practice—he knew the truth. he cared too much. he cared in a way that scared him, a way that felt too big, too heavy, too impossible to contain. he cared about the way your voice would drop into a lower register when you were focused, the way your laughter—soft and fleeting—would bubble out when you realized you’d made a mistake and corrected it.
he cared about how you made him feel.
like he was tethered. like he was drowning. like he was alive in a way he hadn’t been in years.
and maybe, just maybe, a part of you already knew. maybe you sensed the way he hung onto every word, every glance, every accidental brush of your hand against his when you passed him a paper or a pen. maybe you could feel the weight of him sitting across from you, silent and heavy, his presence wrapping itself around you like an unspoken confession.
or maybe you didn’t notice at all.
maybe it was all in ben’s head, this strange, suffocating thing that had planted itself inside him and grown wild and unruly, its roots digging deeper with every passing monday.
but it didn’t matter.
because mondays weren’t about practice anymore. mondays weren’t about drills or games or any of the things that used to define him.
mondays were you.
this monday was different. this monday, you were in his dorm. the space felt alien with you in it, as though your presence had shifted the walls closer, warped the air, and made the small room hum with something electric and volatile. you sat on his bed, legs crossed, one deft hand tapping against the spine of a book you hadn’t opened yet. ben’s eyes were drawn to your fingers, tracing the slow rhythm of your movements, catching on the faint smudges of ink and the tiny doodles that crawled over the back of your hand. they looked like they were singing to him, little glyphs alive with secrets, symbols carved straight from your soul and offered up to him like a taunt.
he couldn’t stop staring.
the thought came unbidden, crashing through him like a breaking wave: if i could, i’d swallow you whole.
not in some grotesque, animalistic way—at least, he didn’t think so. no teeth or sinew or blood. it was something deeper, stranger, something even more horrifying. he didn’t want to eat you; he wanted to absorb you. to make you a part of him. he wanted to pull you inside him, past skin and muscle, past the fragile shield of his ribs, until you were tucked deep into the raw, pulsing places no one else could see. he wanted you to haunt him, to bury yourself in the cracks and crevices of his very being, until you became inseparable from the rest of him.
that’s what connection is, right? the swallowing of one soul into another. taking them in, letting their essence burrow into your flesh until you couldn’t tell where they ended, and you began. like a splinter, painful and irritating, but impossible to remove. that’s what you were to ben: a splinter digging beneath his skin, refusing to let go.
he wondered, if he did it—if he somehow consumed you, if he allowed the essence of you to dissolve into him like sugar in water—would a part of your soul become his? would it taint him, change him, twist him into something unrecognizable? and, more importantly, would it leave anything of you behind?
would he be carrying the ghost of you forever, absorbed into his marrow, etched into the fabric of his being? would you haunt him in every heartbeat, every breath, every restless night spent lying awake, staring at the ceiling and tracing the memory of you through the air?
ben’s gaze drifted back to your hands, to the tiny movements of your fingers, the way they danced against the book like they were keeping a secret. his own fingers twitched, aching to reach out, to press his palm against the back of your hand and feel the warmth of you seeping through his skin. would it burn? would it leave a mark?
his chest tightened, and he swallowed hard, the sound loud and awkward in the thick, oppressive silence of the room. you didn’t look up. you were so focused on whatever small thought was flitting through your head, your brows furrowed, your lips pressed into a soft line. you had no idea, did you? no idea that you were unmaking him with every passing second, tearing him apart piece by piece, leaving him raw and exposed in a way he’d never been before.
maybe this was what ghosts were, he thought. absorbed parts. fragments of someone else clinging to the living, refusing to let go. maybe you were already haunting him, slipping between the cracks in his thoughts, curling around the jagged edges of his mind.
and maybe that was all ben wanted—to let you haunt him completely. to be tainted by you, stained in ways that could never be undone. to let the memory of you—the presence of you—sink into his skin, his blood, his bones, until he could no longer tell the difference between himself and the ghost you’d left behind.
maybe he was already swallowing you. piece by piece. moment by moment.
and maybe you didn’t even notice.
ben turned toward his bedside locker, moving with a calmness that betrayed the storm inside him. his hands, rough and deliberate, fumbled just slightly as he tugged the drawer open and reached beneath a clutter of barely concealed items. a tin rattled faintly as he pulled it free, his movements revealing a quick flash of glossy porno mags and a half-used tube of KY jelly. he didn’t flinch at the sight; shame wasn’t something he had much room for these days. instead, his fingers found the prize he was looking for—a small plastic bag filled with neatly rolled joints, their pale paper taut and waiting.
the tin hit the desk with a soft thud, and ben’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a grimace as he turned back to you. the dim dorm light caught the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, but his voice came out smooth, easy, coaxing. “you should relax,” he said, rolling a joint between his fingers as though it were the most casual thing in the world. his green eyes flicked over you, your expression caught somewhere between curious and wary. “we’ve been at this all week.”
it sounded reasonable enough, like he cared about the tension in your shoulders, the furrow of your brow, the way you kept pushing yourself harder and harder. but it wasn’t reason that fueled him—it was desperation. he wanted to see you like this, to be the one who unraveled you. the idea of you finding comfort, your edges softening under the haze of weed, made his pulse quicken in a way that felt dangerous, electric.
he thought about it as he pulled a lighter from his pocket, the small metallic click breaking the thick silence between you. the flame danced for a moment before he brought it to the end of the joint, inhaling deeply, the embers flaring bright red. he let the smoke roll out slow, curling upward in tendrils that hung heavy in the air between you.
ben could almost feel it already—the way the weed would soften your movements, blur your sharp edges, make you pliant and lightheaded. the image lodged itself in his brain, searing there like a brand. he didn’t just want you to relax; he wanted you to sink into his orbit, to feel like the world outside his dorm didn’t exist anymore. he wanted you in the palm of his hand, trusting him with that quiet, unspoken vulnerability.
he held the joint out toward you, fingers brushing yours as you took it, and he didn’t miss the way the slight contact sent something sparking through his veins. you hesitated for a moment, your lips parting like you were about to protest, but instead, you leaned in, bringing the joint to your mouth.
ben watched, captivated, as your lips curled around the paper, as you inhaled slow, tentative. he wondered if you could feel him watching you, if you knew the way your every move seemed to carve into him, marking him deeper and deeper.
he leaned back against the edge of the bed, feigning nonchalance, though his body felt taut as a bowstring. smoke curled lazily around you, and ben’s voice cut through it, low and coaxing. “better, right?” he said, the words deliberate, his green eyes glinting like embers in the low light. he wanted to keep you here, tethered to him, letting him smooth out your edges until there was nothing left but the two of you and the thick haze of smoke.
and maybe—just maybe—you’d feel it too. that pull, that invisible thread that kept bringing him closer to you, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
ben’s breath hitched as he watched you, utterly transfixed by the way your eyelids fluttered shut while the smoke swirled slow and steady from your lips. you looked at ease in a way he’d never seen before, and the sight carved into him, leaving grooves he didn’t want to smooth over. when you handed the joint back to him, the faint dampness of the paper and filter from your saliva caught his attention like a beacon. it wasn’t just a joint anymore—it was touched by you, part of you lingering there. that tiny, fleeting connection left his pulse skittering wildly beneath his skin, though he’d never admit it.
“would you believe me if i said this was my first time?” you asked, your voice light, tinged with nervousness but carrying that easy charm that made ben feel like you’d handed him a piece of yourself. he took the joint from your fingers with a nonchalant shrug, though his heart thundered like a war drum beneath the surface.
“yeah,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he brought the joint to his mouth. the ember flared red as he inhaled, using the moment to steady himself. “i don’t doubt that for a second.” he exhaled slow, the smoke curling between you, a fragile wall of haze that couldn’t stop the pull he felt toward you. as the words left his mouth, ben forced a smile, throwing it your way in what he hoped passed as charming. but his smile faltered slightly when he caught the way your cheeks flushed, a soft bloom of red spreading over your skin.
god, red looked so good on you.
it wasn’t just the color—it was the way it transformed you, made you seem more tangible, more real. the heat rising in your cheeks told him he’d affected you, that his words, his smile, had reached you in some small, undeniable way. it was addictive, watching your reaction, seeing how you twisted under the weight of his gaze without even realizing it.
ben’s grip tightened on the joint, his thumb running over the paper as he took another hit, letting the sharp burn fill his lungs. he needed the edge of it, the distraction, because the truth was threatening to claw its way out of him. the truth that he wanted more than this. more than just mondays, more than stolen moments of proximity. He wanted to press closer, to watch the way that blush deepened when he was too near, to feel your breath against his skin as you stumbled through words you didn’t yet know how to say.
“you’re a natural, though,” he said, his voice a little rougher now, smoke coiling in his throat. “could’ve fooled me.”
it was a lie, of course, but he said it anyway, watching as your lips twitched into a small, bashful smile. and he wondered—did you know what you were doing to him? did you know that with every glance, every word, every touch of your fingers against his when you passed the joint back, you were branding him, marking him as yours?
"yeah, whatever, man," you mutter, the words slipping out on a breath of smoke, your tone carrying that threadbare edge of disinterest. disbelieving. coy. ben’s ears latch onto the inflection like a predator catching the faintest rustle of prey in the underbrush. coy he can work with. coy feeds his craving in a way that’s both maddening and exhilarating, like the sharp burn of whiskey sliding down a raw throat.
coy is fragile. it’s the flickering light of a candle before the flame gutters out. it’s a wounded fawn—big, trembling eyes and wobbling legs—abandoned in an open meadow where every shadow hides teeth. vulnerability wrapped in a thin veneer of bravado. It invites, dares, the predator to inch closer, closer, until there’s nothing but a gasp between them. you, he realizes, are his own personal Bambi. and he, the beast in the long grass, stalking, waiting, savoring the taste of the moment before the pounce.
“no, really,” ben murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, taking on a warmth that shouldn’t be there, a softness that belies the feral pull beneath his skin. he watches you carefully, the way your lips curve slightly around the filter of the joint, how your lashes cast soft shadows against your cheekbones in the dim light of the dorm.
something inside him sparks, an idea crawling up from the depths of that writhing, unnamed thing he keeps locked in his chest. before he can think twice, he’s moving. “here, let me.”
the joint burns between his fingers as ben takes a deliberate, slow drag, holding the smoke deep in his lungs until it stings. and then, before you can react, his hand comes up, warm and sure, and it cradles your jaw like he’s done it a hundred times before. his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, just barely, but it leaves a trail of heat that lingers, sets your pulse stuttering in your throat.
you blink, caught off guard but not pulling away, and that’s all the invitation he needs. ben leans in, the space between you vanishing in an instant, his breath warm against your lips as he exhales the smoke directly into your mouth. it’s intimate in a way that feels invasive, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. the smoke curls between you, sliding over your tongue, into your lungs, leaving its bitter trail in its wake.
your eyes widen, and ben feels the way your breath catches, just barely, but enough. enough to tell him you’re unsteady, uncertain, caught in the moment like a fly in a spider’s web. your vulnerability is intoxicating, your wide-eyed stare a silent surrender.
his lips barely graze yours, not enough to call it a kiss, but enough to blur the line between audacity and desire. his grip on your chin tightens ever so slightly, grounding you, tethering you to him in this suspended moment.
the seconds stretch thin before he finally pulls back, his eyes dark, hooded, like he’s barely holding himself together. “see?” ben’s voice is rough now, a low rasp that scrapes at the edges of silence. “easy.”
ben doesn’t get the chance to say anything—doesn’t even get the time to process the swirl of thoughts clawing at his mind—because your lips crash against his. the force of it sends him sprawling back into the pillows, his head hitting the worn fabric with a muffled thud.
oh.
oh, this is something he can work with. this is something he’s dreamed of, imagined in fragments during sleepless nights when the thought of you wouldn’t leave him alone. but this—this is better.
this is you. raw. over him. devouring him like he’s something worth breaking.
ben’s always been a master manipulator, a professional at weaponizing sexuality, at using it to tilt the odds in his favor. it’s a game to him—one he always wins. and now? now he has you, ravenous and unrestrained, a perfect storm pressing him into the mattress. he knows how this should go: make you pliable, make you vulnerable, use your hunger to turn the tides in his favor. but the second your lips meet his, it’s like the script is ripped out of his hands, and all he can do is follow where you lead.
and god, are you leading.
you don’t taste like he expected. ben thought you’d taste bitter, sharp, like the sting of smoke lingering on the back of his tongue. but instead, there’s something sweeter, softer beneath the haze of weed—something that feels like a reward he hasn’t earned. the thought sends a shiver through him, his hands gripping at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the world.
you’re relentless, teeth dragging across his bottom lip, tugging with a force that’s just shy of painful. a sharp gasp escapes him, swallowed by the heat of your mouth. you’re moving now, climbing on top of him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. your weight settles over him, and he’s distantly aware of how you’ve slotted yourself perfectly between his legs, forcing them open, pinning him in place with nothing but your body.
the desperation in your movements is a mirror of his own—hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt, dragging him closer, deeper, harder. until he wonders if you mean to tear him open and climb inside. it’s messy and frantic, all teeth and tongues and muffled moans, the kind of kiss that’s more a battle than an embrace. but ben loves it. He loves the way your hands roam across him like you’re mapping him out, pressing against his thigh, his waist, his chest, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
your fingers find his throat, wrapping around it with a precision that makes his breath catch. it’s not enough to choke him, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold him still, to remind him who’s in control. and that—oh, that sends a spark of something electric racing through him, pooling low in his stomach. his neck has always been a weak spot, something he’s never fully admitted, and the way your grip steadies him, grounds him—it’s almost too much. it feels like you’ve reached inside his chest and curled your fingers around his ribs, cracking them apart to get at the soft, beating thing underneath.
a small, breathy whimper escapes him before he can stop it, barely audible but undeniably there. it’s embarrassing, humiliating, but he can’t bring himself to care when your mouth is on his again, swallowing the sound like it’s the most natural thing in the world. his hands find your back, sliding under the fabric of your shirt to press against the bare skin beneath, feeling the way your muscles shift and tense under his touch.
ben’s lips part, his tongue sliding against yours in a move that’s both practiced and desperate. you both moan at the contact, the sound muffled but unmistakable, a shared release of tension that only feeds the frenzy between you. his heart thrums in his ears, loud and insistent, and he can’t help but think of prey animals in their final moments, blood pounding as the predator’s jaws close in.
“if i’d known you’d like shotgunning this much,” ben pants against your lips, his voice rough and uneven, “i would’ve done it sooner.”
the words are punctuated by a low groan as you press into him harder, your hands fisting in his shirt to pull him impossibly closer. the scent of you—smoke and sweat and something uniquely yours—fills his senses, drowning out everything else. it’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and ben can feel himself unraveling beneath you, his carefully constructed facade slipping away piece by piece.
your lips travel from ben’s mouth to his jaw, teeth sinking into the flesh like you mean to strip it away, gnaw it clean from the bone. it’s violent, carnal, the sound of your bite wet and obscene, and ben feels the sharp pressure like a knife slipping under his skin. he’s powerless to stop the groan that escapes him, low and guttural, as your hand clamps down on his jaw, your fingers digging into the hinge with a precision that feels surgical, deliberate, inhuman. he’s the mangy dog under your heel, and the dull ache of your grip feels like worship.
his green eyes squeeze shut, his breath hitching as the pain shifts to something addictive, something alive. every nerve in his body sparks to life beneath your touch, the sensation of your nails scraping against his flesh leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his blood sings for you, a desperate hymn to the beast in you that has claimed him for its feast.
“and i think you don’t hate me as much as you pretend,” you growl against his throat, the words coming out like gravel churned in a rusted, grinding machine.
ben laughs, the sound ragged, hollow. “i think you’re full of shit,” he manages, but the way his head tilts to bare his neck betrays him. your hands are satin-soft as they explore him, but the sharpness of your intent is anything but. ben’s hands, by contrast, are rough, leather-worn, and scarred—hands made for tearing, clawing, and surviving. yet here, under you, they’re useless, twitching at his sides as if unsure where to land, as if afraid to touch the thing consuming him.
your hips grind against him, deliberate and cruel, and he feels every drag like it’s carving him open, splitting him down the middle. the pressure is maddening, a firestorm radiating from every point of contact. “oh, fuck,” he breathes, the words barely more than a rasp. his head falls back, exposing more of his throat to your hungry mouth, his body betraying him further with every grind of your hips.
you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your hands grab at his shirt, tugging with a force that feels like you’d tear it clean off him if it wouldn’t come loose fast enough. “take this fucking thing off.”
ben’s too far gone to resist, his laugh airy and broken as his fingers fumble to obey. “mm, yes, sir,” he teases, the words forced through a grin that barely holds together. he doesn’t miss the flash of something dangerous behind your irises—a flicker of control you’re savoring like a wolf tasting the first blood on its tongue.
ben’s known guys like you. guys who’ve been crushed, splintered into jagged pieces by the weight of the world. broken little boys fumbling to piece themselves back together but too desperate, too fucking hungry for control to do anything but burn. and ben? ben’s always been the kindling, the spark, the gasoline-soaked rag ready to go up in flames for someone like you.
your hands work with fervor, helping him strip the shirt off his body. it’s discarded to the ground like the wrappings of a fruit too ripe to resist, and your fingers trace the lines of his chest. your fingernails rake across his chest, leaving pale, raw lines in the tan expanse of his skin. they sting, those scratches, like ghost wounds from some darker thing, as though you’ve marked him for death. ben doesn’t care. he wants to wear your marks, wants to let them fester, to let a part of you be with him.
your mouth crashes against his again, desperate and sloppy, all teeth and tongues. he can taste the bitterness of smoke still clinging to you, mingling with the salt of his own blood where your teeth have nicked his lip. the metallic tang hits his tongue like a blade, and he moans into your mouth, a sound thick with surrender.
as one hand pops the button of his pants and slips beneath the waistband, the other wraps around his neck, digging into his flesh like it’s meat you intend to rip apart. your lips travel down his throat, sucking, biting, leaving bruises that bloom like rot beneath his skin. you pull back long enough to mutter against his neck, “i’m guessing you’ve done this before.”
ben can barely suppresses an eye roll. don’t get respectful on me now. he doesn’t need your reverence, your curiosity. he needs you to keep consuming him. he nods, the motion jerky and strained. “obviously.”
he reaches for your belt, his fingers trembling as they tug the leather free from its loops. he’s rushing now, frantic to get it off, his hands moving like they belong to someone else. “condoms. lube. drawer,” he rasps, the words cracking as they leave his throat. his hands are shaking, distracted by the way your teeth drag over his collarbone, the way you bite down hard enough that he thinks he can feel the crack of bone beneath the surface.
your hand fumbles blindly through the chaos of his locker, searching for the stash he swore was there—a condom, lube, anything to keep the fire between you burning. your fingers brush over cold metal, loose papers, the faint grit of something unidentifiable, but the haze in your brain and the heat building in your gut make the task feel impossible.
behind you, ben curses under his breath, the sound more growl than word as he wriggles out of his jeans. the fabric catches on his knees, and he fights with it, hips lifting off the mattress as he struggles to free himself. there’s something almost pitiful about the way he moves, so desperate and clumsy in his rush to shed the last barriers between him and you.
you’re so focused on your task—so consumed by the feverish need to keep this moment alive—that you don’t hear the door at first. the creak of the hinges barely registers, a ghost of a sound swallowed by the pounding in your ears. but then:
“ben?!”
the voice slams into the room like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile intimacy you’d built. it’s loud, sharp, cutting through the thick fog of arousal like a jagged blade.
your hand freezes mid-rummage. ben freezes too, mid-push, his jeans tangled around his thighs in a way that makes him look utterly ridiculous. ben groans—a guttural, agonized sound that’s halfway between a growl and a plea for mercy. “oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters, his head falling back against the pillow. his voice is muffled, but the irritation in it is clear, as palpable as the sweat clinging to his chest.
the voice called again, louder this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of the doorknob jiggling. “ben, you in there?”
ben’s brain scrambled for a plan, any plan, but his thoughts were a tangled mess, caught between the ache of his body and the dread clawing its way up his spine. of course it had to be now. of course his teammates couldn’t pick a better time to come barging into his dorm, not when he was like this—half-naked, flushed, with you practically draped over him like some pagan offering.
he looked down at himself—his jeans bunched awkwardly around his knees, his shirt discarded somewhere on the floor, his boxers doing a piss-poor job of hiding just how far this had gone. the situation was bad. no, worse than bad—it was catastrophic.
“shit,” ben whispered, his voice barely more than a rasp as he reached for his jeans, yanking them up in a hurried, graceless motion. the denim stuck to his skin, damp with sweat and urgency, and he cursed under his breath as he fumbled with the zipper.
you didn’t move at first, still hovering over him like a statue caught mid-motion, your eyes wide and dark with something that wasn’t fear—but something close to it. “do we answer?” you whispered, your voice low and hoarse, and ben almost laughed at the absurdity of the question.
“yeah, sure,” he muttered sarcastically, his hands fumbling at his belt. “let’s just invite them in, have a nice little chat while i’ve got a fucking hard-on.”
the knock came again, sharper this time, more insistent. “ben, come on, man! open up!”
they wouldn’t leave. ben knew they wouldn’t. his teammates were persistent, nosy bastards who treated each other’s business like communal property. if they thought something was up, they’d dig until they unearthed it, and ben couldn’t let them. because if they saw you here—if they saw him like this, disheveled and flushed and exposed—it wouldn’t just be teasing. it would be annihilation. they’d tear him apart, not in private, but where it hurt most: the locker room, the field, the hallways. his every movement would be shadowed by whispers and pointed laughter. they’d know.
they’d know he wasn’t like them, wasn’t the ben they thought they knew—the one who made dirty jokes and leered at teachers and bragged about conquests that never existed. they’d know he was a fraud.
ben shoved at you lightly, a signal to get off him, to move, to do something, but the moment his hands touched your sides, you didn’t budge. if anything, you leaned in closer, your lips quirking into that infuriating small smile.
“oh, this is funny to you?” he spat, his voice a harsh whisper, trembling with frustration and fear.
your lips twitched, the corner of your mouth curling into a grin you couldn’t quite suppress. “it’s a little funny,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
ben rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair in exasperation as he stumbled off the bed. his jeans still weren’t properly fastened, and he could feel the waistband slipping down with every step. he grabbed a discarded hoodie from the floor and threw it over his head, the fabric clinging to his sweat-slick skin as he stalked toward the door. he needed to look normal. casual. like he wasn’t all over you, like you weren’t tearing him apart.
before opening the door, he turned to you, his eyes flashing with a mix of desperation and warning. “not a word,” he hissed, the words as sharp as a blade pressed to your throat.
ben took a deep breath, his face schooled into a mask of nonchalance, as he yanked the door open. his teammates stood there, grinning like idiots, and ben felt a fresh wave of dread wash over him.
“what the hell took you so long?” one of them asked, stepping forward as if he had any right to barge in.
“busy,” ben grunted, leaning against the doorframe to block their view of the room. he prayed they couldn’t see you through the narrow crack, prayed they wouldn’t notice the flush on his cheeks or the faint bruises forming on his neck.
“busy with what?”
“homework,” ben said, deadpan, and the lie was so ridiculous that even he almost believed it.
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vixstarria · 1 year ago
Text
Something real
I thought I’d play around with an Astarion POV and this is what happened.  
Connected with my other headcanon fics, would take place after this one, but before the end of this one. You don’t have to read them for this to make sense though. (But you totally should!) 
Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion POV
Comfort, fluff, budding love, banter, humour, Act 1 spoilers, non-explicit, light angst, probably too much swearing 
Approximately 2,000 words. 
AO3
You were lying alone by the fire, waiting for her to join you, trying once again to untangle the mess this woman made in your head. 
What exactly were you, to each other? 
Were you just temporary travelling companions having meaningless sex for stress relief?  
Or were you lovers in the more literal sense of that word? 
And is that what you wanted..? To be someone’s, whom you could call your own? To have something real..?  
It should have been simple, except the lines kept shifting and blurring. And needless to say, this wasn’t at all what you had initially intended.  
All you knew was, this deliciously ambiguous time at the end of your evenings, when you just talked – this was your favourite time of day.  
You were restless with anticipation, now that everyone else had finally gone to sleep or was shuffling around in their tents. 
Except she was nowhere to be seen.  
You could always slip into her tent, she might even have been waiting for you there now – but then you'd most likely wind up putting on the ‘seductive lusty lover’ mask, and as fun as that was, it’s not what you wanted right now.  
You were getting impatient. 
You wondered just how undignified and out of character it would be to simply go to her tent and lure her out on some pretense, like the stars being particularly bright, or some similar horseshit. You glanced at the sky. The stars weren’t even visible.  
Fuck. ...Well, she’d just laugh at that anyway.  
But lo and behold, there she was at last, plundered bottle of wine in hand. You bit your tongue to avoid addressing her with any of your habitual epithets, for which she’d rebuked you on numerous occasions, but she went ahead and did it for you herself anyway:  
“Here I am! The wind beneath your wings, the rose among your thorns! The fire in your furnace, the... uh... help me out here, will you?” 
“The biting canines in my buttock.” 
“There we go! A touch predictable, but no less eloquent for it.” 
She sat down, right next to your head, stretching her legs out towards the fire, and gave you a searching and expectant look, not saying anything. 
You raised a quizzical eyebrow back at her. 
“Well come on, scooch up,” she said with a playful smile on her lips. 
You lifted slightly on your elbows and laid your head in her lap.  
This is new. 
“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked, waving a wrist, and then the wine in the other hand suggestively at you.  
“Not tonight, dear,” you chuckled. “I had quite a successful boar hunt while the rest of you were playing hero in the foothills.” 
“Suit yourself.” She took a drink straight from the bottle and stared off into the fire, her other hand absentmindedly running through your hair. You resisted the urge to lean further into her touch.  
“What’s on your mind?” you asked after the silence went on a touch too long. 
“I would like you to explain something to me.” she said quietly.  
You instinctively tensed, your mind racing, wondering what you could have possibly done or let slip. 
“...Why in the fuck do you lot listen to and take directions from me? Do none of you realize I’m just a shit-talking clown and have no idea what I’m doing?” the tone of her voice was flat.  
...Ah. That. 
“This ‘clown’ led us unscathed through a subversive operation in a goblin camp. Mostly via shit-talking. You even convinced one of them to lick your boot!” you shook your head incredulously. “Give yourself credit where it’s due. Do you think anyone else here could have pulled that off?” 
I probably could have. Wouldn’t. But could have.  
She took a swig from the bottle, considering your question. “Well you definitely could have done the same. You’d just choose not to. ...why are you laughing?” 
“Never mind that. Would you like me to take over for you, darling?” 
“Good heavens, no!” she grimaced in mock horror. “Just stay at my side, as my moral compass.” 
“Your moral compass?” 
“When in doubt, I ask myself ‘What would Astarion do?’, and do the opposite. Usually that’s good enough to keep everyone happy and keep bloodshed to a minimum.” 
You’re not wrong.  
“But gods it’s been exhausting...” she was sombre again. “They all want something, and they all think their problem is the most urgent. ‘We must go to the creche – no, we must go to Moonrise – no, but my heart will explode – no, but I and everything around me will explode’” she was getting riled up, gesticulating with the bottle in her hand. You were worried it would fly out of her grip. She paused to collect herself.  
“At least your demands are too insane to entertain in the first place,” she continued with a weary grin. “‘Embrace the tadpole, take over a cult, fight squirrels, commit genocide’” - she did her best to mimic your manner of speaking, then rolled her eyes and took another swig from the bottle.  
“Never know where a little thinking outside the box might lead you, dear.” I just want my freedom, whatever it takes. ...And that squirrel was looking at you funny. “And you? What do you want?” 
“A hot bath, new lute strings, and a cat to cuddle,” she answered without hesitation.  
You couldn’t think of anything better than to emit a very convincing meow.  
It must have taken her by surprise - she glanced down at you, eyes wide, before bursting out laughing and scratching you behind the ear.  
You hated to admit it, but you were very pleased with yourself, making her laugh like that.  
“My pointy-eared feline predator,” she murmured, looking into your eyes and smiling, as she slowly and delicately ran her finger along the edge of your ear, right to the tip, which felt... divine, actually.  
This... this was too intimate for someone you just had meaningless sex with, right? 
You heard some rustling and footsteps nearby, too casual to be an intruder, probably just someone walking off to relieve themselves.  
She jerked her hand away from you, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and actually made a motion as if to get up, before you stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist, still lying with your head in her lap. 
“Hey... Hold on... Now you explain something to me. Earlier today, you burst into camp covered in hyena entrails, yelled ‘My star!’, threw yourself on me, legs and arms and all, like some deranged monkey, and made me spin you around, kissing you. ...But this is what embarrasses you?”  
“That was putting on a silly act,” she said sheepishly. “And this is...” she faltered, looking for the right words. 
Real..? 
“Not intended for anyone else’s eyes.” 
Real. 
"Well everyone can direct their eyes elsewhere, then,” you responded, unable to contain a smile.  
It’s real.  
...Ahah!  
“Oh, and you’re absolutely adorable, by the way,” you added. 
She flicked you lightly on the nose and looked away. Was she blushing? 
“Anyway. It’s Gale that worries me the most.” 
Fucking Gale. 
“He said the last artifact he consumed hardly did anything. He doesn’t know how much longer he can contain it. He’s inconsolable.” she continued.  
“Perhaps we should all stop worrying and embrace the orb explosion. At least that will mean we won’t have to deal with anything else, ever.” you suggested. This was helpful, right?  
“I wish I could do something to help, or at least get his mind off it for a while.” 
Of course you do, you bleeding heart. 
“And how might you ‘get his mind off it’, exactly?” 
“I think we should seduce him,” she looked you straight in the eyes and said in a deadpan manner.  
Oh, sliding off a serious topic straight back into fuckery with a straight face, are we? I know that game very well.  
“Darling, even without the orb, he would literally explode if you held eye contact with him a second too long. He’s been pining for you since you pulled him out of that rock.” You waved a dismissive hand in Gale’s general direction. “The kindest thing you can do for him is give all your undivided attention to me, so he never has a glimmer of hope.” 
Bloody Gale with his manicured beard, puppydog eyes and cooking skills... 
“Well, while we’re on the topic, I still think we should seduce someone, to spice camp life up a bit. How about Lae’zel?” she continued.
“Lae’zel would skewer both of us if we approached her.” 
...and his warm hands... 
“Shadowheart?” 
“...You know, I’m pretty sure Lae’zel would skewer us for that, too. Perhaps all three of us, on the same blade.” 
...and his ability to find kind and empathetic words in any situation. ...Shame about the orb though. 
“What about...” she grinned, “daddy Halsin?” 
You exchanged a meaningful look. 
Ha! Well there’s a curious thought. I wonder if he could contain himself, or if he would turn into a bear. How... dangerous. 
“Let’s revisit that thought later.” you said pensively.  
“Karlach is impossible, of course...” she continued. “That leaves Wyll.” 
“Oh please,” you chortled. “Even if he wasn’t depressed over the whole... demonic horns and abducted parent conundrum. He strikes me as the ‘wait until marriage’ type. And he’d want to do the seducing himself.” 
“I’m not so sure about the marriage part. He would keep it proper and gentlemanly though.” she thoughtfully tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Multiple extravagant dates to impress his sweetheart before making any moves, the whole shabang. You wouldn’t want him to try to sweep you off your feet?” 
“Just me? No no, we are in this together.” you remarked. “And he could certainly afford to woo us both at once, being the son of a duke.” 
“Weeks of wining and dining us, waiting for the fires of ‘true love’ to fully ignite...” she said contemplatively, gazing into the fire. 
“Smothering us with red roses, romantic moonlit carriage rides and ballroom dancing...” you copied her tone. 
“Until finally railing you on a grand piano one day, while I whipped him with a switch,” she said with a devilish grin. 
“You absolute uncouth filth!” it was your turn to be taken off-guard as you shook with laughter.  
You incredible, ridiculous, mad thing... I would spend another year locked alone and hungry in a tomb, if it meant keeping you alive and safe. 
Something in your chest twisted. 
Did I really just think that? 
Yes, yes I did.  
You needed to stop and consider what just came into your head. And give yourself a good slap in the face. But for now, more than anything, you desperately needed to switch your brain off.  
You sat up and kissed her, pulling her into an embrace. 
“You crazy idiot, what am I going to do with you?” you whispered, briefly touching your forehead to hers. 
“Something nasty, I hope,” she answered with a cheeky smile. But there was more warmth than lust in her eyes. 
“My tent or yours?” you asked softly, trailing a finger down a bare arm. 
“Do you have vials of boar blood everywhere?” 
“Yes. Do you have everything you’ve collected, ever, everywhere?” 
“...Yes.” 
Hoarder. I would give you a whole palace to decorate, just to see what you would do with it.  
Sigh... “I guess I could accommodate you for a short while.” 
Please stay all night.  
On a sudden whim, you swept her up in your arms as you got up, carrying her to your tent.  
What in the hells was I thinking?  
“Oh!” she gasped, surprised. “My... I don’t suppose you’ve got a grand piano in there?” 
“We’ll have to make do with my trunk, I’m afraid.” 
“And they say romance is dead.” 
None of this was going according to plan.  
Fuck the plan.  
You felt like a cretin and a fraud as you carried her off. But you’d make it right. She deserved something better. Something real.  
And so did you, godsdamnit.  
I’ll tell her... Just not today. 
~~~~~
Next in series - Are you mine?
This work is part of a series - here is the master list
AO3
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badkitty3000 · 7 months ago
Note
Can you write Five (adult body) getting with a gorgeous woman for the first time and going on a bit of a power trip and just extreme edging and playing with her and kinda humiliating (actions not words)
Sorry this took a bit longer to write...I got a little carried away with this one and it ended up being longer than anticipated. But I loved this idea and I got very excited about it!
I decided to write this from Five's POV. I still consider this a reader-insert because the MC is not named. But there is no use of "you" in it, only "she" and "her".
Thank you so much for this request. It was really fun to write! 😽
Tamed
Five x Reader One-shot, 8143 words
Warnings: Smut, Edging, Physical age difference (older woman, younger man), everyone is an adult
I sigh heavily as I survey the shelf of cereal in front of me. I mull over my choices, humming quietly along with the Neil Diamond song playing on the grocery store speakers overhead. Wheaties, Grape Nuts, Cheerios. I wonder what the fiber to protein ratio is on these? God, I’m bored. Is this really my life, now? It’s true that I wanted a peaceful life without the threat of the world ending or the people I know getting obliterated and dying. And it was nice for a while, don’t get me wrong. I liked not having to worry about my family, now that they were all safe. And I didn’t need to act as a cold-blooded serial killer anymore. I could just be the normal man I had always wanted to be. But I’m beginning to think that normal equals boring.
I have my powers back, so at least there’s that. As much as I wanted a simple life for myself, that doesn’t mean I wanted to be just like everyone else in every way. Those years of having no powers were a downright nightmare, so thank Christ that didn’t last. So, yes, I can blink and time travel and kick the living shit out of almost anyone, but it’s still all so…ordinary. Most days I just wander around the city, enjoying the peace and quiet, but also wondering what to do next. There has to be something else, right?
I am still in the body of a much younger person, despite being mentally in my 60s. Physically, I’m around 20, and while I’m definitely not complaining, it has left a lot of years ahead of me. It has also complicated the dating scene. In the beginning, I had to wait it out a few years, and let me tell you, it’s rough being a horny old man in a 13 year old body. And a horny 13 year-old with the mind of an old man. But I did end up getting plenty of handjobs, so there’s that. Unfortunately, they were all self-executed.
But now…now, I am starting to reap more benefits of this strong and youthful body I found myself dumped back into all those years ago. Women notice me. Men notice me. And the attention is not half bad. It still leads to another dilemma, however.
Let’s say I would like to indulge in some adult activities with a woman. I have no problem finding someone to fill that role. That makes me sound like an asshole, but it’s true. On my way into the store today, I noticed a young woman looking me over like I was a piece of meat. I’m fairly certain that if I had wanted to, I could have strolled on over, struck up a conversation, and had her back at my place in an hour. I know this, because I’ve done it before. But afterwards, I feel like a real creep. They don't know my real age, obviously, and unless they have some unresolved daddy issues, I’m guessing they would be none too happy to find out. Not to mention there’s usually not a whole lot for the two of us to discuss. So, I ignored this most recent prospect and am now standing in front of a line of breakfast foods before heading on over to the soup aisle. 
I sigh heavily again.
“If you get the bigger box, it’s actually more economical, you know.”
I glance up, Fiber One cereal in hand, to find a woman standing next to me, the amusement on her face giving the impression that she’s up to something crafty. My mouth opens partly, but no sound comes out. She is maybe the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m talking supermodel-gorgeous. With her dark auburn hair and dramatic curves, I can’t stop staring like there’s something wrong with me. And here’s the real kicker: she’s probably in her mid-forties. Finally, I find my voice.
“Nope. I have a coupon, so…the smaller box is cheaper,” I offer, shaking the box in front of me with a smile. As if what I just said is a real panty dropper.
She nods, still smirking, and then I see her light brown eyes slowly move their way up my body until they’re back at my face again. One of her eyebrows quirks up playfully, insinuating she might like what she sees. She’s not even trying to hide it. 
“Shouldn’t you be buying Lucky Charms or something?”
I let out a small laugh and run a hand through my hair. “Do you mean, shouldn’t I be buying a kid’s cereal instead of something your grandpa probably eats?”
She shrugs. “Something like that.”
“Let’s just say my outward appearance is not a direct correlation to my mental maturity.”
She puts a hand on her hip and eyes me up and down again. “Is that so? Well, they say age is just a number, right? As long as that number is 18 or older.” She gives me a wink.
I almost keel over into the oatmeal, but I keep my cool. I return her flirtatious come-on with my own, flashing her a slanted smile as my gaze travels over her amazing body. I figure if she’s not going to be subtle, neither am I. 
“I can assure you two things. One, I am safely past that number. And two, if you need further proof, I’d be happy to demonstrate that I am most definitely not a kid.”
She lets out a breathy laugh and I pride myself on the fact that I may have flustered her.
“Cute and confident. I like that. Unless it’s all talk, of course.”
I cock my head to the side, a smug smirk on my face. “One way to find out.”
The corner of her mouth turns up, amused with this little game. “And what way is that?”
“Why don’t I whip it out and show you?”
I may have actually shocked her, because her eyes widen for just a split second before her devious grin is back. “Right here in the cereal aisle?”
I nod, and then reach into my pocket. I see her eyes wander down to my crotch. Then I pull out my wallet with a flourish and hold it up. She laughs loudly and genuinely, while I pretend I don’t understand, furrowing my brow in confusion.
“I was talking about my I.D. to show you my age. Did you think I meant something else?”
My face breaks into a grin and I put my wallet back. She smiles again. “Very clever. You must have a pretty big brain to go along with that handsome face.”
This a total, obvious set up, so of course I take the bait. “I haven’t had any complaints on size,” I answer, looking her dead in the eye.
She pauses for a second, as if mulling it over. Then she nods a little. “Hmmm,” she says, her pink lips pressed together. Without another word, she turns and starts pushing her cart down the aisle, away from me. I watch a little sadly, even though the view from behind is spectacular. I feel like I need to say something, so I call out.
“Aren’t you even going to give me your name?”
She doesn’t stop, but she answers back over her shoulder. “For now you can just call me Mrs. Robinson.” Then she pauses and turns to look at my stunned expression. “And if you understand that reference, then I hope we run into each other again very soon.”
I watch, dumbfounded, as she turns down the next aisle and is out of sight.
“Fuck,” I exhale out loud. Then I look down at my box of old man cereal and frown. “Of all the things I could be holding, did it have to be something that advertises the benefits of fiber? Couldn’t she have caught me with some wine or a goddamn box of magnum condoms?”
I glance up after I drop the box into my shopping basket, just as another woman passes by. This one, however, looks to be about 90 and is using a walker. Her confused look tells me there is nothing wrong with her hearing though, and she caught every word I just said out loud to myself. I smile, embarrassed.
“There’s good coupons in the ad today. Might want to check it out,” I offer.
She gives me a terse nod and she’s off, probably to buy the same cereal as me, and I head toward the check-out shaking my head at my dumbassery.
Five days later, and I’m back at the store. This isn’t my first trip back, hoping to run into the beautiful woman again. After learning through the way of the kid at the check-out that first day, I found out her name and situation. Apparently, she is quite the cougar on the hunt. At least according to Brad the bagger. She picks out a new piece of young, clueless arm candy at least once every couple of weeks. Even one of the stockboys in the back was chosen at one point. The stories he told the other guys at the store were legendary. She likes to be the teacher, and show them how to do things right. This is all hearsay, but I’m inclined to believe it after our little back-and-forth the other day.
She doesn’t know what I know, though. And that is the fact that I don’t need a teacher. I do things right the first time. And I do them pretty fucking well.
The woman has gotten under my skin. She is the excitement I have been looking for. And her age and my age, in this situation, aren’t a problem. It’s perfect, actually. So, each day since that day I saw her, I have been dressing in my black, three-piece suit and going back to the store. I look around, doing a few loops until I’m certain I’m not missing her, and then I buy some random item so I don’t look too suspicious. A carton of milk, a toothbrush, a stalk of celery. Brad the bagger has me figured out, though, and he gives me a lopsided smile that I know means “Better luck next time”.
This time, though, when I make my way down the frozen food aisle, I stop when I hear a voice from behind me.
“How did that cereal work out for you? Did you get enough fiber intake?”
I smile to myself before turning around. I put my hands in my pants pockets and spin on my heel, facing her head-on. She’s just as fucking gorgeous as the first time I saw her. Maybe even more. The tight, white, button-down shirt she is wearing is sleeveless, and I can see she is wearing a black bra underneath. It shows off her toned, tanned arms and just enough of her cleavage to make it interesting. The small shorts she has on are hugging her hips just right and those eyes of hers are framed in dark lashes that blink slowly as she looks me over. 
“Yes, actually. I think I got all of my nutritional needs met, thank you.”
She nods. “Nice suit.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, I wasn’t really sure I’d be seeing you again, but I’m glad we ran into one another. Must be fate.”
I nod. “Must be.” Then I give her a grin. “I definitely have not been coming here everyday hoping to run into you.”
Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, you’re not very subtle, are you? I never did get your name.”
“Five Hargreeves,” I say, extending my hand.
Since the reset, the Hargreeves name lives on. If you bear the name of my adoptive, world-dominating father, that automatically means you are special. We all have powers and everyone knows it. But the Umbrella Academy as a team has ceased to exist, even in people’s memories. So, she doesn’t know who I am and it just sounds like I have a number as a name for no reason. Some of my siblings have changed their names to try and start over with a clean slate; hiding their powers from the rest of the public. Not me. I’m too old and set in my ways. Besides…I could have picked a different name a long time ago and chose not to. No use in doing it now.
“Hargreeves? So, you’re one of them?”
She takes my hand in hers to shake it, leaving it linger just a little too long. Her question isn’t accusatory or judgmental in any way. She only sounds curious.
“I am,” I answer, but I don’t follow it up with any detail.
“So what can you do?”
Her question is obviously about my powers, but I’d rather keep our little game going.
“Many, many impressive things.”
She gives me a half smile and nods her approval. “Five huh? Interesting. Well, my name is not actually Mrs. Robinson, as I’m sure you figured out. It’s –”
I interrupt her. “I know who you are.”
“Oh really? Am I that famous around here?”
“Seems that you are. You have quite the reputation.” I pause. “In a good way.”
She smiles coyly again. Then she turns to the glass doors of the freezers that are lined up against the wall. She opens the door and reaches in to grab a bag of vegetables, a white cloud puffing up around her from the cold. When she closes the door again, she turns to face me. I glance down at her chest. The cold air has caused her nipples to harden and are clearly visible through her tight shirt. She sees me notice and lets me stare for a few more seconds before dropping the bag into the basket looped over her arm.
“Since you’re here, would you mind helping me with something?” she asks, brushing her hair over her shoulder.
Her question jolts me out of my little daydream of running my tongue and teeth over those delicious looking peaks and I rub the back of my neck.
“Of course.”
She points back at the freezer. “Can you reach something on the top shelf for me?”
I nod and she opens the door, the blast of cold air hitting us both in the face. We’re standing close to one another now and I can see the fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. It somehow makes her look even sexier.
“What do you need?” I ask. She’s a couple inches shorter than me and I look down at her.
Her eyes don’t move off of mine when she answers. “I need some sausage.”
I almost laugh directly in her face, and I can see she is trying to hold it together, too. But we’re both having too much fun to break now. I glance up to the top shelf and sure enough, there is a box of breakfast sausages. I put my hand on one of them.
“These?”
She shakes her head. “The big one.”
With a giant grin, I grab the bigger box and pull them down. Then I close in on her, until we’re so close her perfect tits are practically rubbing against my chest. I see her take in a sharp breath.
“That’s the one,” she says with a nod. “Just put it in my basket. If it will fit.”
“Don’t worry. I can make it fit,” I say as I smirk and look down at the almost-full shopping basket.
There’s a small opening along the side and I push the box into it, shoving it in to make a snug fit.
“See? Perfect fit,” I assure her as my hand brushes against her bare arm. “You just have to know how to slide it in.”
We stand there a second longer, our bodies so close I am having a hard time not pulling her in and fucking her into the frozen tater tots. The ridiculous innuendos are making us smile, though, and pretty soon we’re both laughing. Her laugh is nice and I like hearing it. It feels good to laugh with someone.
“So, Five…do you still have more shopping to do?”
I look down at my empty hands, then back at her. “Nope. I got what I came for.”
With another thoughtful nod, she sets her basket on the floor. “You know, I just remembered I left my wallet at home, so I guess I won’t be able to pay for these.”
“That’s a shame. You probably shouldn’t be driving without a license, either. Maybe I should take you home.”
She reaches out and slowly pulls my tie out from inside the vest of my suit, running two fingers down the silk edge of it before dropping it again. 
“Well, aren’t you such a nice young man? You must have been a boy scout.”
I shake my head and put my hands back in my pockets, trying not to moan directly in her face from her touch and the way she’s looking at me. “Not exactly.”
She shrugs and turns around, walking away. Apparently, I am supposed to follow her like an obedient little puppy. And I will for right now. I can play this game, too. I’ll let her think I’m some dumb kid that doesn’t know how to work a vagina and will cum all over her hand the first time she touches my dick. But she doesn’t know I’m about to prove her very, very wrong. I exchange looks with Brad the bagger, who is giving me a thumbs up, as I follow her out the doors.
I lead her to my car, and she stops when we reach it, surprised at what she’s seeing.
“Wait, this is your car?”
“Why? You don’t like it?”
She shakes her head. “No, no, it’s great. It’s just I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be a Corvette Stingray guy.”
I walk around to the passenger side and open the door for her. It’s a nice day out and I have the top down. It’s also freshly washed, so the blue paint is shining. I watch her legs and ass as she slips inside onto the leather seat, and I close the door gently. When I cross over to the driver’s side and get in, she looks over at me with a smile and it doesn’t even feel awkward. We know what we’re doing, so there’s no need to try and pretend something else is going on here. 
“Where to?” I ask, turning the key in the ignition. The car roars to life.
Once she gives me directions, I peel out of the parking lot, rounding the corner at top speed and head out onto the main road. I like to drive fast, and when I look over at her, she is laughing; her hair blowing behind her in the wind and the sun shining on her face. Seeing her happy and excited like that makes me feel good. I kick it into fourth and whip around the cars in front of me.
We arrive a few minutes later. She lives in an unassuming house in an unassuming neighborhood. When she unlocks the door and lets me inside, I take a look around. The house is clean, tidy, and tasteful. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Maybe leopard print sofas or a sex swing in the middle of the living room. But, no, this is very much a normal looking home. 
“Please, make yourself at home,” she says, gesturing to the living room we’re standing in before walking into the open kitchen that is right next to it.
I shrug off my suit coat and do away with my tie, laying them across the back of an armchair. I unbutton the top couple buttons of my shirt and roll up my sleeves as I join her in the kitchen.
“Would you like a beer?” she asks, her hand on the refrigerator door.
I can’t stop staring at her, and I’m dying to see that body that I know is fucking gorgeous under those clothes. But, I wait.
“Actually, do you have any scotch?” I ask.
She looks surprised and then she tilts her head. “Yes, I do. I have damn good scotch, in fact.”
“Great.”
She points to a cabinet. “In there. There’s glasses just to the left.”
As I turn to open the cupboard, I say something about how I’m impressed with her choice of booze. I pull the stopper out and fill two glasses halfway.
“Most of my guests don’t appreciate good quality scotch.”
I hand her a glass and take a sip from my own. She’s right; it’s damn good.
“I’m willing to bet I’m not like most of your usual guests.”
She eyes me up over her glass and shakes her head. “No. So far, you’ve been surprising me.” She takes a drink and lowers her glass again. “So, these powers you have. What are they, exactly?”
This is the perfect invitation and my mouth pulls into a smirk. I set my glass down on the counter behind me. With no warning, I blink the few feet that separates us and I reappear almost on top of her, with my body brushing against hers as she audibly gasps.
I place a hand on the side of her neck, my thumb rubbing lightly across her cheek. “That,” I answer, before using my other hand to take her glass and set it down behind her.
I can see and feel her chest starting to rise and fall at a more rapid pace as she stares up at me, her lips slightly parted. I don’t want to wait anymore, so I lean in for a kiss. It’s soft at first, but when I feel her mouth respond to mine, it becomes more heated. Soon, I am pulling her to me with an arm around her waist. My hand is still on her neck, and I chance it by giving her hair a soft tug from behind. I hear her breathe in sharply through her nose and she presses into me further.
When we finally break away from one another, our heads still close together, we are breathing hard and fast. I push my groin against her so she can feel what she’s doing to me. I see a small smile form on her lips.
“Is this what you’ve been wanting from me?” I ask quietly.
She lets out a very soft sigh and closes her eyes before opening them again and pushing back against me.
“Among other things,” she says.
I nod before diving back onto her mouth again, hungry for more. Her hands run down my back and down to my waist, then back up my arms. I love the feeling of her hands on me and it’s getting me even more riled up.
I stop again, leaving her breathless. Without bothering with anymore questions, I rip her shirt open down the front, tearing the buttons apart until it’s fully open and I slide it down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. She doesn’t try to stop me and when I take a few seconds to admire the view of her magnificent tits in the thin black bra she is wearing, she gives me a smile. I run my hands over them and she tilts her head back.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell her. When she looks back at me, I raise one eyebrow. “But I think you already know that. Don’t you, honey?”
She gives me a small laugh. “Honey?”
I put my hands on either side of her waist and pull her in with a sharp tug and suddenly she’s not smiling anymore. But she is clutching at my shirt on my back.
“You know exactly what you’re doing with that amazing body of yours. And you like it when you have to show your little boy toys how to handle it, don’t you?”
She is looking up at me in surprise, her chest flush with mine and my dick grinding into her. She takes a loud breath in and her hands fall to my waist. Her mouth twitches up at the corner and she shakes her head.
“Damn. You figured me out.”
My hands find their way down to the front of her shorts and I start to slowly unbutton and unzip them, all while looking her directly in the eyes. I do not return her smile. I want her to know I mean business.
“That’s not what’s going to happen this time.”
I push her shorts down and they drop to the floor at her feet. Her small, black panties match the bra and I immediately want to tear those off, as well.
“What is going to happen, then?” she asks, still trying to maintain her air of coolness, but I can see I’m getting to her when she swallows hard.
I don’t answer, but I do drop to my knees in front of her and look up at her shocked face. I yank the panties down in one motion and she steps out of them. With one more look back up, I lean in and drag my tongue up her slit; slowly and deliberately, while she lets her eyes close and her head fall back. A soft whimper escapes her throat and her hips push subtly into me. She tastes so good, just like I knew she would, and I give her another long lick.
“We’re going to have some fun,” I tell her, before giving her a soft kiss right onto her sensitive mound. She makes another breathy noise above me, and I take that to mean she likes my plan.
I know she still doesn’t realize everything I am capable of yet, but she will. I have decided, as a personal challenge to myself, that by the time I am through with her she will be begging me for more. I’m going to ruin her so that she won’t even be able to think of anyone else but me. And I’m not going to stop until this wild cat is a domesticated house kitty, purring in my lap. The thought makes me grin salaciously before my mouth is back on her.
I don’t bother starting out slow. I’m eating her out, sucking at her clit and flicking my tongue over and into every crevice, all while gripping her thighs so tightly my fingers are digging into her skin. She moans out loud, and I push her roughly backward until she is clutching at the edge of the counter and her ass is up against it. I pull my face off of her just long enough for me to take a hand and slap the inside of one of her thighs. She looks down at me, startled.
“Spread them for me,” I demand.
She follows my instructions, widening her stance, and I go back in for more. I could eat this pussy all day, and I shove my tongue inside of her. Her slick is pouring out of her the more I work her over; coating my mouth in her delicious taste. The loud breathing and even louder moans I hear are turning me on and my cock is straining inside my pants.
“Fff…oh my g-ahhh…yes yes…ff-iii…”
I let out a tiny laugh because the sounds and words she’s saying make no sense. I can’t tell if she wants to say my name or curse, but either way I know I’m doing something right. I’ve got her brain all scrambled, which is what I was aiming for.
I keep going, fucking her with my hungry mouth while she gets more and more worked up. Her whines are becoming higher in pitch and she’s desperately trying to grind against my face. When I feel her hand on my head, her fingers laced in my hair, I know I’ve got her. She tries to push my face harder into herself.
“Five…keep going…more…” she stutters out, and I know she’s teetering on the edge.
Instead of letting her come all over my face, I immediately back off. She tries to pull me back in, but I don’t let her. I look up at her as I catch my breath, my mouth wet from her dripping pussy, and I love how fucking desperate and sad she looks right now.
“What…fuck…I was right there,” she pants, as if she thinks I made some mistake and I didn’t realize she was about to finish.
I shake my head slowly, like the smug asshole I am, and rise up until I’m looking down on her again. Her chest is heaving and she’s looking at me like she can’t quite believe what is happening.
“I know, sweetheart. That wasn’t fair, was it?” I ask condescendingly before giving her a kiss on her cheek.
She stares at me in disbelief for a second before one side of her mouth quirks up. “You were right. This is not how I thought this was going to go.”
I stroke her cheek and brush a piece of hair off her forehead. My movements are slow and gentle, and I’m taking my time. 
“But do you like it?” I ask quietly, before guiding her face to look at me with a hand on her chin.
She swallows nervously again, but that tiny smile is still there and there’s a hungry spark in her eyes. She nods.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
When she pulls me by my belt loops, hard so that my groin slams into her, I chuckle. “The more you want it, the more I’m going to make you wait.”
Her eyebrows draw together with frustration. It’s the first time she’s looked significantly younger than her age, and she almost appears to be on the verge of a temper tantrum. I can tell she’s used to getting her way all the time. I like teasing her, but I also don’t want to be that much of a jerk. Plus, holding out is killing me, too.
“How about this, I’ll give you a choice. I can either fuck you here, on the kitchen countertop; or we can go to the bedroom. Whichever you want.”
She makes a little gutteral noise in her throat and her eyes flutter close for half a second. She tries to push against me again, but I don’t let her.
“Bedroom,” she whispers.
I nod, pleased with her choice. There will be a bigger work area for me there. She takes me by the hand, leading me down a hallway. I know she’s a little embarrassed, because she’s completely undressed except for her bra, and I still have all of my clothes on. It further drives home the point that I’ve taken the reins here.
Once we’re in the bedroom, she tries to pounce on me again, but I gently push her back onto the bed. She doesn’t say anything, just looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and waits. I think she’s starting to understand the game now. As she watches, I strip off my shirt and pants. Then I climb over the top of her in nothing but my boxers. She immediately lies down on her back beneath me.
I begin kissing her again; hot, open-mouth kisses that have her shoving her tongue inside my mouth and pulling me down on top of her. I reach around to unhook her bra and throw that off to the side somewhere. Now she’s completely naked and I just have to take a minute to admire the view.
I raise up on my forearms, pulling away from her mouth, and look below me. Fuck. I’m not sure how it’s possible that I ended up with this absolute work of art that is dying for my dick inside of her right now, but here we are. It’s a goddamn miracle, is what it is. 
“Do you know how stunningly beautiful you are?” I ask sincerely, still not taking my eyes off her luscious curves.
This seems to make her a little flustered and I even see her blush a little. It has me thinking that maybe these dumbass toddlers that she’s been bringing back here haven’t exactly been as appreciative as I am. They apparently didn’t realize that they should have been worshiping her, not just fucking her and leaving. What a tragedy.
She laughs quietly. “Ok.”
“I’m not kidding,” I tell her, looking her in the eyes again. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
When I say that, our eyes locked on one another, I can feel something click between us. A connection is made. I can see that she believes me and I’ve made her feel good about herself. But there’s something else there, too. Something I don’t know how to describe. But I like it.
“Thank you,” she whispers with a smile.
She reaches up to push my hair back off my face, and then she is pulling me down again with a hand on the back of my neck. I let her take the lead for just a second because it feels so good. My body is covering hers as we trade more deep kisses back and forth, and I position myself so that my hard cock is pressing between her legs. She moans into my mouth and opens her legs wider for me. 
I keep at it, rubbing up against her; the cotton fabric of my boxers creating a shield of friction between us, but she is still getting off on it. It obviously feels amazing to me, too, and I am honestly thinking of foregoing this whole orgasm denial thing I’ve got going on and just fucking her as hard as possible right now. But I don’t. I continue to rut into her as she presses harder and harder against me, jerking her hips up and digging her nails into my bare shoulders.
“Oh my god,” she whines next to my ear. “Please…”
I smile to myself, my face hidden in the crook of her neck. I give her a sharp bite that makes her squeak. 
“I love that you’re so needy,” I tell her, moving to the other side of her neck and sucking a bruise onto it. “I bet you never begged for someone’s cock before, have you?”
She doesn’t answer, probably because she’s either too focused on humping me or she’s embarrassed that I called her out. Either way, it’s a win for me. She keeps grinding against me, her actions becoming faster and more desperate. I can feel her hot, wet pussy with each pass over my dick, and oh fuck, it makes me want to lose my mind. I can’t even really believe I’m holding out this long, but I’ve made it this far I guess. Let’s keep this going.
As soon as she is completely lost in her own little world, eyes closed and hands clutching at my arms and back, I can see she’s so close to coming again. She’s making small grunting noises and whimpers as she rams her swollen clit against me. 
“Oh shit…oh shit…” she starts chanting and her grip on my skin tightens.
The grin on my face is extremely cruel as I suddenly move off her, sitting on my knees in between her legs. Her hips move up, only to meet nothing but air and her eyes fly open.
“What the fuck!”
Her eyes are wide and she’s breathing like a freight train. Her hips keep twitching just slightly, like they haven’t quite caught up to the rest of her body yet. She looks pretty pissed off and it’s adorable.
“Did you think I was going to let you get off just from grinding on my dick like that?” I shake my head, pitying her. “Honey…I thought you figured this out.”
“You are a bastard,” she fumes, her jaw clenched tight.
“It’s really hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing nothing but the marks I just gave you. You’re still so soaking wet for me I can see the evidence in a pool on the sheets.”
She’s quiet again and a soft blush blooms across her chest. I know it is killing her to be this vulnerable right now, so I decide to throw her a bone. Still resting on my knees, I pull my boxers down over my cock, letting her have a good look before maneuvering them the rest of the way off. I stay where I am and make her watch.
Taking my rock hard dick in my hand, I give it a few slow strokes while maintaining eye contact with her. She has propped herself up on her elbows and she’s practically drooling over what she’s seeing. I might not be porn star-level big, but in the scheme of things, it’s mildly impressive. At least, she seems to think so.
“Damn,” she rasps out before looking me in the eyes again. She is dead serious when she tells me, “I want you to fuck me with that.”
I laugh because I just can’t help it and even she smiles at that. I reach down and take one of her hands, pulling her up towards me so that she is sitting up.
“Come here,” I say gently, although my face is back to being serious. She shuffles forward a little and I grab her around the waist, positioning her so that she is straddling my lap while I stay kneeling.
The position makes my cock rub against her slit again, and she’s already trying to roll her hips into me. I let her do that a few times, mostly because it feels so goddamn good, but then I hold her still with my hands on either side of her waist.
“I know how badly you want this. And I’m going to give it to you, don’t worry. But you’re going to have to be a little more patient, ok sweet girl?”
My tone is patronizing and she doesn’t like it. But after a few seconds she gives me a small nod. I go back to kissing her, because I seem to not be able to get enough of her lips against mine, and I tangle my fingers in her hair. She groans when I give it a sharp tug.
Without pulling away, I move my hands back down to her hips and start to guide her. Very slowly, I move her body over mine, so that her dripping wet slit is sliding back and forth over my dick. I let out a long, low moan and tighten my grip on her. 
“Please,” she’s whimpering against my mouth again.
“Please what, sweetheart?” I tease, moving my lips to her neck and her shoulder while still keeping control of her pace on top of me.
“Please fuck me.”
It’s so pathetic the way she’s whining that I want to laugh. But I’m also pretty damn close to begging too, and I have to keep trying to focus on not letting myself slip inside of her just yet.
I shake my head, denying her request, but I do pick up the pace a little. I start moving her faster, until she’s grinding hard onto my shaft and I can see she’s just about ready to come again. 
“How do you feel, sweetheart? Is that good?” I ask softly near her ear.
She nods, her eyes still closed. “God, yes…so fucking good. I’m almost there…please.”
“I know you are,” I tell her.
She starts whining and moaning louder and grinding into me harder and she thinks I’m going to let her finally give in to her orgasm, but just as I see her start to tip over that edge, I use my strength to throw her off of me so that she is on her back again.
“Fiive…”
She draws my name out in a long, demoralized cry that is so sad and so pitiful, with her eyes that are pleading for me and her mouth open while she gasps for breath. Oh fuck…I need her.
This time I don’t tease or prolong anything. I’m hard as a rock and dripping with pre-cum and I need to be inside of her now. But there’s one last thing I’m going to make her do for me.
I grab onto her again, and instead of throwing her around, I use my handy spatial manipulation powers and blink us both into the position I want. This is always a risky move that could end with someone accidentally sailing onto the floor or my genitals being smashed into a pancake, but luckily I get it right. I land on my back and she is on top of me. She lets out a short shriek of surprise, but when she realizes what happened she smiles down at me.
“Ride me,” I tell her, not even bothering with an explanation of how or why I flung her through the vacuum of space. “Now,” I emphasize through gritted teeth, in case she was not getting the point.
She gets it, though, because it only takes her a couple of seconds before she is sinking down onto my cock until I’m fully buried in her tight sleeve, and holy shit, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
We both let out a loud moan from how amazing it feels after all of the anticipation. She leans back, grabbing my legs behind her for leverage, and she starts to rock her hips forcefully on top of me. I reach up to squeeze and mold each breast in my hands, watching as her beautiful mouth drops open and her head falls back.
Her movements are driving me crazy, but I still want more. I lower my hands so I can clutch at her hips again, but not before I slap her on the ass with a loud smack. That got her attention and her head snaps up again, eyes wide.
“Look at me,” I demand.
She does and I hold her gaze while I pump her body faster and harder on top of me. I’m pushing my own hips up against her, trying to feel as much of her as humanly possible, but I swear it’s still not enough.
“Fuck me harder. Come on, harder,” I tell her, and I vaguely wonder if I sound as pathetic as she did earlier. I don’t care. I’ll beg on my knees if I can get more of what I’m feeling right now.
She bites at her lower lip in concentration and nods at my request, speeding up her forceful thrusts until she’s almost all the way off of my dick before slamming back down again. Her tits are bouncing so perfectly and her face is flushed. I really don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to last when I look at her like that.
I’m starting to sweat now with how hard I’m working at trying to drill into her, and all the while I’m feeling that warm, amazing feeling in my lower abdomen that means I’m about to lose it. I see by her face and hear from her high-pitched mewls that she is close, too. I’ve got to dial it up a notch, so I move one hand off her hip and start vigorously rubbing her clit with my thumb.
That does it, and she starts thrashing erratically, head tilted back, while she wails like she’s in pain. I know she’s not though, because after another second her pussy is fluttering tightly around my cock and she’s screaming so loud I would be shocked if it weren’t for the fact that I’m also coming fast and hard.
“Fuuuckk,” I yell out, joining her shaking and shuddering body with my own spasms as I push her down as hard as I can manage while unleashing my cum inside of her.
It takes several minutes of loud panting and aftershocks, while she lays on top of my chest and I stroke her back. I’ve never experienced anything that intense before, but I really hope I get to again sometime soon. I finally start to slip out of her and she rolls off of me to lie next to me. 
I don’t know what it is, but there’s some weird connection between us, and I know she can feel it too. It doesn’t matter that I teased her mercilessly and stripped her of all of her control. I smile over at her and lean in for a kiss while trying to smooth her tangled hair down. 
“I wasn’t expecting this,” she says with a small laugh, and I know she’s talking about picking up a supposedly naive kid and having them rock her world, but it has another meaning too. She wasn’t expecting to feel like this. And neither was I.
I shake my head with a smile and trace her lips with my fingers. “Me either. But I think I could get used to it.”
“Me, too.” She pauses and looks a little nervous. “Normally I wouldn’t ask this, but…do you want to stay for a while?”
I don’t even pretend to think about it or try to play cool. “Yes, I’d love that.” When she smiles, she looks so relieved and happy, and I go in for another kiss. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll go grab our drinks. But I want you right back here in bed for me, ok?”
I was sort of teasing, but she smiles her gorgeous smile and nods her head. “Ok.”
Once we’re back in bed, with me propped against the headboard and her leaning against my chest, we gradually sip our scotch and I run my fingers through her hair.
“So, I have to ask. You don’t seem in any way like any other man your age. Why is that? How are you so different?”
I pause for a second while I decide if I want to get into all of that. But then I think, why the hell not? I like this woman and if she wants to know about me, I might as well start with the big truth.
“Well, get comfortable, because this may take a while.”
☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️
It’s a month later and I’m back at the same grocery store. I only needed a few things and I wait in line until it’s my turn to check out. As I watch my items get scanned over the red laser, Brad the bagger steps up to help out. He recognizes me and gives me a big grin.
“Good to see you, it’s been a while.” He takes a look around. “I haven’t seen her here in a while, not sure why. But, hey, did you ever seal the deal before? Me and some of the guys in back have a bet going.”
“Is that right?” I say with a sly grin. “Which way did you bet?”
Brad looks shocked like it could be any other answer. “That you did, of course! I saw the way she was looking at you; like the cougar caught her meal for the night.”
He laughs at his joke and I smile a little, just as my girl comes jogging up behind me to put a jar of olives on the belt before my order is finished.
“Here you go, honey, sorry it took me forever to find it,” she pants, slightly out of breath. “Are those the right ones?”
I smile down at her and nod. “Yes, darling, thank you.”
As she squeezes past me, pleased with my praise, I give her a small smack on the ass. She turns around and rolls her eyes at me before flashing me one of her pretty smiles that makes me want to melt onto the linoleum floor beneath my feet.
“I’m going to wait in the car,” she tells me, before giving Brad a little wave on her way past.
I swear, it looks like every bagger and stock boy in the whole damn store has now gathered nearby and are staring in awe at the scene they just witnessed. I pretend I don’t notice, but I can’t help feeling proud of myself and it’s hard to keep the smile off my face. As I am paying and taking my bag from Brad, I hear someone in the crowd whisper a little too loudly.
“Did you see that? How the fuck did that dude tame the cougar?”
I definitely can’t keep the smug look off my face now and I nod at the group of jackass kids on my way out the door. “Gentleman.”
Then I head on out to my Stingray, where my dream girl is waiting patiently for me.
377 notes · View notes
five-rivers · 10 months ago
Text
Welcome Back Home
Phic Phight Fic for Avi!
Danny may have been a superhero.  He may have been annoying.  He may even have been ‘practically an adult.’  He was still Jazz’s little brother.  The one who had once begged her for play time and increasingly baffling milkshake combinations.  The one who helped her fight reanimated turkeys every Christmas.  The one who painstakingly researched what books to give her for her birthday.
So, it wasn't so much a choice to throw herself between him and her parents’ newest and most worrying weapon as it was a reflex.  If any thought crossed her mind while she dashed across the parking lot and into the path of the beam, it was either this is going to hurt or I hope I'm fast enough.
Well, it didn't hurt. It did drop her in the Ghost Zone. Immediately, She whirled, trying to find the portal.
Way back, when she and Danny had come clean about their respective secrets, Danny had sat her down for what he called his ‘Ghost Zone Survival Guide.’
“Okay,” he'd said, spinning in his spinny chair, “Ghost Zone survival, part one.  Don't go there.”
Tucker had snorted.  Jazz, who had taken out a fresh notebook and her special note-taking gel pens, glared at him.  
“I'm serious,” Danny had defended himself.  “The Zone isn't a good place for humans.”
“Why?”
“Do you want some reason other than it operating under different laws of physics and being full of super-powered people who don't care if they kill you by mistake?  The radiation, maybe?”
“Never mind.  Go ahead.”
“That's what I thought.  Anyway, if you wind up going through an unstable or temporary portal, the first thing you need to do is go back through that portal.  Like, forget about anything else that's going on.  Fights, escapes, your car, other people, get yourself back through.”
“That seems a bit callous,” Jazz had said.  
“Well, maybe.  But the Ghost Zone is huge, and natural portals and temporary portals aren't just unstable in space, they're unstable in time.”
“They could spit you out in my first life, the middle ages, a thousand years in the future, you name it,” Tucker had helpfully added.  
“First life?”
“Don't worry about it,” Danny had said.  
“Pharaonic Egypt,” Tucker had answered.  
“The point is,” Danny had continued loudly, “you don't want to take a chance with portals unless you know they're stable or have the Infi-Map.”
“Or time grandpa has your back.”
“Stop calling him that.”
“Who is–”
“It doesn't matter.  He doesn't have your back.  He doesn't have anyone's back.”
Tucker had made a noise of negation.  “He has your back.”
Danny had responded by beaning his friend with a pillow.  
Somehow, despite being genuinely informative, Jazz had come away from the ‘lesson’ With more questions than answers.  None of which were pertinent to her present situation.  
She turned on the spot again, surveying her surroundings in more detail.  It didn't help.  No matter which direction she turned in, there was no portal.  
So.  Step one: failed.  
Onto step two.  
“What if I can't get back through the portal though?” Jazz had asked.  
“Well, if you aren't being actively attacked–”
“You should definitely take care of that first if you are.”
“If you aren't under attack, see if you can spot any landmarks.  If you can see one, you'll at least have a general idea of where you are.  Mostly.”
“We're making a map,” Tucker had said, “but it sucks.”
“That's not a comment on our self-confidence or whatever,” Danny had said before Jazz could interject.  “Stuff moves in the Ghost Zone.  It's kind of like trying to make a map of the solar system.  If you're sitting on Jupiter, you know where the sun is, and you've got a pretty good idea about the inner planets, but unless you have a model you can put the time into, you're not going to have any idea where Pluto is.”
“And you wouldn't know the right time, either,” Jazz had said, contemplatively.  
“Exactly.  But landmarks are still good.  They'll give you your general area, at least.  And maybe what else is around, too.”  He'd given her a photo album full of Ghost Zone landmarks, then, and they'd spent the next half hour going through them.
Jazz was on a floating island.  It was medium-sized, perhaps a dozen or so acres square on this side, full of softly rolling hills covered with purple grass and pale green flowers.  As far as Jazz could tell, there wasn't anything else on it, although that didn't mean there wasn't.  It didn’t look like any place she'd seen or heard of.  
Offshore, the Zone was a moderately-familiar green-on-green.  Foggy ectoplasm and the lack of anything like a horizon made it difficult to judge distances.  
There were a few other islands Jazz could see.  Something like a mountain range, a floating sphere, and, just on the edge of her vision, a slightly more regular conglomeration of shapes that could have been a town.  
Bingo.  
“If you don't recognize anything, do your best to head towards civilization.”
Jazz had raised an eyebrow at that.  “Despite the super-powered people who don't care if I die?”
“She’s got you there, Danny my man.”
“Ugh, why couldn't Sam have been here?”
“Gasp, don't tell me you forgot the mega-ultra-turbo grounding already?  How could you?”
Danny had thrown another pillow at Tucker.  “You're so unhelpful.  Anyway, people are dangerous, but they're also the only place you're going to get directions.”
“And if I see something, how do I get there?  Considering everything is a flying island.”
“That’s a bit tricky.”
Jazz bounced on her the balls of her feet, staring down the green void between herself and her destination.  She’d never done this before, and despite Danny and Tucker’s attempts at an explanation, or even Sam’s later on…  Well, she felt like she should’ve convinced them to bring her to the Ghost Zone to practice.  
There was nothing she could do but try.  She closed her eyes and jumped into the air, believing she could fly with all her might.  Her feet hit the ground again.  Damn.  
One, two, three, she tried again, and again, and again, and then, finally, when she got mad, when she got frustrated, her feet left the ground and stayed off the ground.  She was flying, like only a human in the Ghost Zone could fly.  
She opened her eyes and looked over to the distant probably-town.  It was just as distant as before.  And now she was exhausted from jumping.  Both the jumping right now, and the jumping into the line of fire she’d done earlier.  
Well, no time like the present to get going.  She took off.  
The little details of Danny’s advice hadn’t stuck with her - he’d really waxed poetic - but she was still able to move forward.  She also spent a lot of time moving down whenever her concentration slipped.  Of course, she knew it wasn’t really down, thanks to those same conversations with Danny.  It was just the direction she perceived as down, or something like that.  
Danny liked flying like this.  Danny liked every method of flying to ever exist.  Jazz, personally, hated it.  A lot.  Every minute that passed, every time she slipped, she was terrified that she would go plunging into the murky depths of the Zone, never to be seen again.  
Danny hadn’t been wrong about the Ghost Zone not being good for humans.  
Thank goodness the town really was a town.  She wasn’t sure what she would have done if it wasn’t.  
“If I do get to civilization–”
“--or what passes for it–” Tucker had said.  
“--what do I do then?  Be polite, I assume, but what’s polite for ghosts?  What are the cultural touchstones?  The social norms?”
“Dunno,” Danny had said.  “It’s not like ghosts are just one big group that’s all the same.  But if you get to a group of ghosts, like, I don’t know a village or something, they’ll all probably be fairly tolerant.  To live together without fighting, you know?  Normal politeness will be fine.  Probably.  Assuming they can speak English.”
She managed a landing at the edge of the town.  She hit too hard, and her knees buckled.  A few ghosts stopped what they were doing - she didn’t know what, couldn’t spare the attention while flying - to stare at her.  With an effort she smiled at them.  Closed lips.  Many cultures considered smiles with teeth to be aggressive or rude.  
“Hi,” she said.  “I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Kio?  Kio ŝi diris?”
“Mi ne scias, mi ne parolas la francan.”
Ah.  She should’ve taken up Tucker’s offer to teach her some basic Esperanto.  Danny was never going to let her live this down.  
“Okay, so, what do I do if they don’t speak English?” she’d asked.  
“Get good at charades?  You probably won’t be able to get good directions without speaking the language - I have no idea how you’d do the portal in charades - but you can trade stuff.  Bargain, barter, whatever you want to call it.”
“For food?  Supplies?”
“Eh, not food, actually.  Ghost Zone food is mostly ectoplasm.  Not good for humans.”
“Then what?  Well, you’ll think it’s crazy, but…”
Somehow or another, she got the idea of marketplace and trade across to the ghosts.  Apparently the Esperanto word was related to the English.  Cousins.  Brothers.  Whatever, it didn’t matter.  
What did matter was what she was going to trade to the ghosts.  All she had was her purse, and for a teenage girl, she traveled light.  She had her wallet, parking change, a small handful of coupons, number two pencils, a pencil sharpener, a pen, various hygiene products, lipstick, laser, lipstick laser, sunscreen, the universal pocket psychology guide, granola bars, a screwdriver, a couple of bolts from the Peeler - if only she kept that in her purse - spiked bracelet from Spike, phone, and, okay, she didn’t pack that light.  There should be something in all this that the ghosts here would probably like.
The ghosts who had seen her less-than-stellar landing ushered her to a colorful, cloth-covered stall, the contents of which looked like the detritus of a million flea markets.  The ghost… manning it?  Ghosting it?  Haunting it?  What was the terminology in this case?  Whatever.  The ghost at the stall was pale green and nondescript except for the swathes of polka-dotted cloth wrapped around their body.  
They stared at her with wide eyes.  “Ĉu tio estas homo?  Viva homo?”
She smiled, forcefully.  That didn’t sound like a hello, but she’d take it.  “Hello,” she said.  “Do you have any boxes?”  She made the shape of a box with her hands.  
“The Box Ghost?  You’re saying that if I can’t get directions, my next step is to try to summon the Box Ghost?”
“Hey, believe it or not I’ve got an agreement with a lot of the regulars.  If they bring back lost humans, they get, um.  A nonlethal free day.  In Amity Park.  I can get you a list.  And even if you end up in a weird time, like, before I made the deal or something, the Box Ghost is pretty easy.  Worst case scenario, you can even let Walker catch you.  He always sends humans back.”
Jazz sat on the edge of the town, a cardboard box in hand, purse lighter by a novelty pencil sharpener and the spare screws and bolts.  “Oh, great and powerful and completely terrifying Box Ghost,” she said, feeling ridiculous.  “I have an offering for your awful, terribleness.  It’s cubical and cardboard-ical.  Cardboard.  Whatever.”  She sighed.  “This isn’t going to work, is it?”
“DID SOMEONE CALL UPON THE FRIGHTENING AND FRIGHTFUL BOX GHOST, MASTER OF RECTANGULAR CARDBOARD PACKAGES?”
Jazz shrieked and almost fell off the island.  
The Box Ghost blinked down at her.  “Beware?” he said.
“Hi,” said Jazz.  “A gift?”  She held up the box.  
“THE CARDBOARD IS MINE!”  He leaped on the box and held it to his chest like a baby.  “What do you want from the HORRIFYING BOX GHOST?”
“So, uh, I know you have a deal with my brother?”
“WHOMST?”
“My brother,” repeated Jazz.  “Danny.  Phantom?”
The Box Ghost stared at her blankly.  
“To get humans back to Amity Park?”
“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT KNOW THE REALM OF WHICH YOU SPEAK?”
That wasn’t good.  The opposite, really.  If the Box Ghost didn’t recognize Danny’s name…
“What if I am in the past?” Jazz had asked.
“Get back to Earth anyway, and survive.  Find a way to get a message to the present.  Between the Infi-Map and, um, other contacts I have–”
“Time grandpa,” Tucker interjected.  
“I should be able to go get you if I know where and when you are.  But I need to know when and where you are.”
Then, Jazz had asked why he couldn't just pick her up at the exact moment she'd arrived, if he was going to time travel anyway, and that had spurred a migrane-inducing argument about paradoxes.  Jazz had gotten the impression that the real reason was more along the lines of ‘Danny isn’t allowed to have any more paradoxes’ than ‘the universe won't let paradoxes exist.’
Jazz smiled thinly.  “Can you get me to Earth?” she asked.  “Please?  It’ll be worth your while.”
“Worth the while of the GREAT BOX GHOST?”
“Yep.  It might take a while, but you’ll get more of those.”  She nodded towards the box in the ghost’s arms.  “Consider it an investment in future, um, fear.”
“FEAR?”
“Yes.  As in, um, fear me?”
“No, you shall FEAR ME!”
“Exactly,” said Jazz.  “Just like that.  Can you do it?  Or… is it beyond the powers of even the Box Ghost?”
“NOTHING IS BEYOND THE BOX GHOST!  I AM EXTREME IN EVERY WAY!  THE BOX GHOST WILL SHOW THE STRANGE GIRL WITH GIFTS THE WAY TO HIS SECRET PORTAL!”
At least something was going right.  “Thanks,” Jazz said.  “That sounds great.  I really appreciate it.  Where is it?”
“FOLLOW ME!”  The Box Ghost paused.  “AND FEAR ME!”
He flew off, and Jazz struggled to keep up.  Luckily, the Box Ghost was courteous enough to stop for her every once in a while.  The flight seemed to go on forever, but, eventually, they came to a stop in front of a twisting, spluttering portal.  
“Does this really lead to the Earth?” Jazz asked.  
“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT LIE!”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that.  It’s just… is it always so sparky?”
“IT IS UNSTABLE!  ONLY THE BOX GHOST IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO USE IT!”
Which meant that it could spit her out anywhere, at any time.  But at least she’d be on Earth, AKA somewhere she could eat the food and drink the water.  
“It doesn’t come out above an ocean, does it?”
“THERE ARE NO BOXES IN THE OCEAN.  THE BOX GHOST HAS NO USE FOR IT.”
“What about crab pots?” asked Jazz.
“THE BOX GHOST DOES NOT INTERFERE WITH THE COUNCILS OF CRABS.”
Jazz… wasn’t going to examine that too closely.  She braced herself and flew into the portal.  The transition this time wasn’t the smooth, blink-and-you’re-in-another-dimension it had been with her parents’ weapon.  It had turbulence, and lots of it.  It was like being in a washing machine.  Or a blender.  A really fast blender.  One that pulsed and shook and sang a song while it was at it.  
It spit her out ten feet above ground.  It wouldn’t have been a problem for a ghost, but for a human…  Well, at least she didn’t break any bones.  Instead, she laid, winded, on the ground.  Tall grass framed her vision on all sides.  The sun was hot overhead.  Which was… less than ideal.  It had been Autumn this morning.  However long from now that was.  
Jazz rubbed her temples.  All she had to do was send a message, satisfy Danny’s no-paradox rule, and then she’d be home.  Until then, she would survive.  She refused to saddle Danny with the guilt associated with her disappearing.  
She got up.  Looked around.  There was a dirt road.  She staggered over to it and flipped a coin to decide whether to go left or right.  Left it was.  
She grew steadier as she walked, but the heat was punishing.  She took off her sweater and was tempted to take her shirt off, too.  She was wearing a sports bra underneath.  It wasn’t like it’d be indecent.  
Unless she’d been dropped into the eighteen hundreds.  Best not to risk it.  
The dirt road became gravel, became poorly-paved asphalt, merged onto another, bigger road… A road with a recognizable name.  Jazz wasn’t that far away from Amity Park.  She could probably even call… home…
“I’m stupid,” she said out loud.  She pulled out her phone.  No service.  Typical.  She kept walking.  And walking.  And walking.  
And then she saw the smoke.  Right where Amity Park should be.  She ran, then.  
She crested the hill, passed the Welcome to Amity Park sign - something was off about it, but she didn’t stop to try and see what it was.  She hit the top of the next hill and stopped.  
That– That wasn’t Amity Park.  At least, it wasn’t her Amity Park.  The buildings were bigger.  Shinier.  Whiter, even.  The logo for the GIW sat proudly on one of the tallest ones.
And so many of them were smashed.  Burning.  Green blurs swirled and fought with white ones.  She sat down.
“And what if I wind up in the future instead?”
“I don't know, hope the rest of us don't cause the apocalypse before you get back?”
There was one more explosion, and then a high-pitched wail, a ghostly wail, threw all of the shapes back and away.  The white ones didn’t come back.  
Jazz… wasn’t sure what to do.  She watched.  She waited.  
And then a familiar shape appeared out of the air in front of her.  It was Danny, but… not.  He was thinner.  Sharper.  There was silver and ice in his hair, and blood and ectoplasm on his face.  “Hi, Jazz,” he said, smiling sheepishly despite the dark gleam in his eyes.  “Well… it isn’t the apocalypse, so…”  He spread his hands to either side, and the GIW building behind him fell over.  “Welcome home?”
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leftshoeuntied · 4 months ago
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Good Neighbors | part two
König x Reader 
part one
CW: reader has feminine pronouns, König's a lil mean and has some attitude but nothing actually comes of it
I gotta be honest did not edit this one either, I rewrote this one so many times as well that I just had to be content and get it out haha I'm just excited that the story is finally getting to the part where I can get the ball moving between the two
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After arriving yesterday afternoon, you gave yourself last night to settle in and relax with your grandmother, but this morning? You were quick to get started on the list of project ideas that you and her had brainstormed last night.
Projects included both inside and outside of the house, from fixing up the old bedrooms and bathrooms, to fixing up the old gardens, and maybe even convincing Carol to let you repaint the house and trim. Most of these projects had taken some convincing to get Carol to let you help out. 
When asking her if she had finally thought up of which projects, she wanted you to do, she gave you “oh hon, you know you don’t have to do anything of these projects, just what you want to do. I want you to relax, take a breather.” But after some chatting, she finally agreed on some ideas of projects.
You had set Carol up with her morning yogurt, coffee, and medicine before heading outside and getting a lay of the land. The rest of the neighborhood still seemed asleep as you head to the end of your grandmother’s driveway to grab the morning newspaper, not seeing anyone else down the rest of the read yet.
You knew that the majority of your grandmother’s neighbors were elderly, save for the man across the street from her. She had already mentioned him in the past on phone calls, talking about the sweet military man who had always made sure she was always taken care of, but last night Carol just kept on going about how much you were going to love König.
You figured you would play nice, seeing as he was one of the few people out here looking out for her in the area since the rest of your family seemed to just only visit her on holidays, but with everything else going on in your life, you weren’t really looking for friends right now.
You needed these few months to take a breather, figure out where you wanted next, and you were just grateful that your grandmother let you crash at her place to get back on your feet. So, it seemed only fair that you helped out around the house and took care of some projects for her, knowing she would never take just straight up money from you.
Returning your focus to the yard, you notice how the garden and bushes seemed to grow up and out of their designated spots on the lawn. Similarly, it seemed like the wooden steps and front deck could have some boards replaced and could use a new stain. Tuning out the rest of the world, you keep trekking through the yard, keeping an eye for any other projects you can convince your grandmother to let you add to the list.
However, from across the street, König finally caught a sight of Carol’s granddaughter through his front window. You weren’t what he expected you to look like, but at the same time, he didn’t really know what he was expecting. Maybe matching Carol’s eyes or her hair type, but it seemed you were very much your own. 
He had kept an eye out for you yesterday after seeing your car in the driveway yesterday, but it seemed you and Carol were in for the night. However, this morning you were up and early out in the yard. Part of him felt bad for being so nosey, not liking it when his other neighbors kept an eye on him, but it felt necessary to keep an eye on a stranger.
If he didn’t have his own chores to run outside of the house today, he would’ve found a way to keep an eye on your actions, not trusting you weren’t going to mess up the projects he already helped your grandmother with, but he had a tight scheduled day ahead of him between doctor’s appointments and catching up on his own chores since being away from home for so long that keeping an eye on you had to be pushed to the back burner.
Heading out of the house and to the car, he had lost sight of you, but Carol made sure to wish him a good morning with a wave from her front steps which he matched before heading out.
Of course, Carol had to let you know just how sweet he is, making sure to wish her a good morning every morning if they saw each other. You just gave her a small smile and an ‘uh huh’ before returning to the fence, checking the sturdiness of it. 
You didn’t see König for the rest of the day, not that you were specifically keeping an eye out for him but it was hard not to notice the empty driveaway across from you when you head out the front door. One of the times you were heading back up the front steps and through the front door, you caught Carol peering out one of the windows checking across the street.
“Everything alright?” You ask inquisitively with a smile, as you head towards the kitchen to wash your hands.
“Yes hon,” You hear your grandmother let out a small huff and leave the window to follow you into the kitchen, where she adds “I was hoping to invite König over to dinner tonight so you two could finally meet.”
You turn from the sink, shaking off your wet hands and lean against the counter raising an eyebrow and giving her a smile. “It’s fine grandma, you can invite him over for dinner the next time you see him, it’s no rush.” You see her sitting down at the small kitchen table, you hope for her to match your smile, but no such luck.
“I just think it would be nice for you to have a friend in the area” she pauses for a second before adding “you should have a friend here, don’t want you just cooped up with little old me.”
“It’s not me being cooped up here with little old you, I’m here because I want to be.” You sit at the table with her, and can see that she’s caught up in the thoughts in her own head, so you follow up with a small grab of her hand, squeezing it slightly with a smile. “I was going to be moving soon anyways, might as well come back here and have fun with you while I figure out where I want to go next.” She just smiles back at you and squeezes your hand back.
The two of you settle in for a quiet night relaxing watching Carol’s nighttime programs, the soft pitter patter from the rain, and the slight chill from the beginning of fall allows for a cozy night with candles for the two of you.
The light rain continued on throughout the night, keeping the dirt soft in the morning, which meant it was a perfect day to start on prepping the outdoor gardens for fall. The soft dirt willingly gave up the seasonal roots that had already past their bloom and the growing weeds along the edges of the flower bed. After sometime clearing the beds, you moved on to trimming the hydrangea bush. After doing some light googling and watching some videos the night before, you felt more confident in pruning these bushes.
 With the radio lightly playing some music from the deck, you fell into a rhythm between the bushes, a little snip here, a little snip there, making sure to clear out the buds from this season, hoping that it will lead to a bigger bloom next summer, which some articles promised it would.
So far in your own head, you didn’t even notice the footsteps crunching in the leaves behind you or the voice speaking to you until their sentence was done. Picking your head up and looking around, you see your grandmother’s König looking down at you expecting a response.
“Oh hi, sorry! What did you say? I missed it”
“I said, that’s not how you do that, you’re ruining the bushes” his tone filled with annoyance, whether at having to repeat himself or at what you’re doing you’re not sure.
“Excuse me?” You asked rhetorically, physically recoiling from his response. This was your grandmother’s neighbor that she adored so much?
König lets out a huff and a roll of his eyes, before beginning again “I said-“.
“Yeah, no, I know what you said,” you cut him off, “I’m not ruining the bushes, I’m pruning the buds for the fall.”
“That’s not pruning, you’re going too far into the branch, you’re going to kill them.” König takes a section to look around you at the bushes again and shakes his head. “You’ll be lucky if they bloom correctly again.” He says flatly.
Before you could even open your mouth to defend yourself, you hear the front screen door creak open behind you. “Oh König! You finally met my granddaughter!” Carol excitedly steps out of her front door and carefully hobbles her way down her front steps to greet him in the front yard.
König wishes her a good morning and steps closer to help her down the rest of the steps. “If you were getting ready to clean up the garden beds for fall, you could’ve called me, I would’ve come over.” König says to her softly after she finished on the steps, opposite of how he was talking to you just a few minutes ago.
“Oh no that’s okay” Carol says waving him off with a smile, “she put it on her list of projects to get done around the house, and she’s one of those people once she puts her mind to it, she just does it.”
“What are the other projects you’re working on?” König turns to look at you, and you can see in the corner of your eye your grandmother smiling, she probably thinks he’s trying to make casual conversation, but based on how he’s looking at you with such disdain, he’s sizing you up to see if you’re going to ruin anything else around the house.
But before you could respond that it was none of his business, your grandmother cut you off. “Come by tonight for dinner and we can talk through the different projects she’s going to be working on! There’s bound to be one that you can help her out with” Carol said with a grin on her face, looking between the two of you happily. You tried to mirror at least a quarter of her happiness to appease her, but you can’t help but feel the pained smile crawl onto your face that more resembled a grimace than an actual smile.
For your grandmother’s sake you would smile through the dinner and be a good host, but you now truly had no plans on befriending her neighbor. 
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divider by @/riottsrph (thank you!!)
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sillyuin · 4 months ago
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The ghost of you. (Part 2).
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Genre: angst. fluff.
Pairing: Mingyu x reader.
Warnings: Break up.
(Part One here)
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The soft morning lights entered the room, weakly illuminating it. Mingyu woke up with a soft groan of someone who wanted to sleep a little longer, and turning over, his hand rested on the sheets in a futile attempt to find the warmth of your body.
He opened his eyes and after hesitating for some time, he sat on the edge of the bed, yawning while covering his trembling body with the blanket; maybe sleeping without a shirt wasn’t a good idea. He got up from the bed to go to the bathroom and right at the entrance door, he found a note placed there.
“I went out to buy breakfast, it won’t take long.” Seeing the note written in your handwriting made him smile to himself.
As you entered the apartment, you were greeted by a tempting aroma coming from the kitchen that could easily make anyone hungry. You sneaked in silently, and there he was, with his back to you, completely focused on what he was preparing.
Slowly, you approached, careful not to make noise with the shopping bag you were carrying, but it was you the one who was surprised…
“Good morning, y/n,” he said without getting distracted.
“C’mon! How come you always notice when I arrive?” You stood next to him, looking at him with pouty face. Mingyu turned to look at you and smiled.
The apartment that was once empty and quiet, has come to life again. The sound of your voice giving Mingyu good morning returned, as you lazily kissed him on the cheek, the sound of laughter could be heard again, and candy bags filled the trash cans throughout the house. It was as if nothing had happened in the first place, and the ghost of you was nothing more than a nightmare from which Mingyu had finally awakened.
That morning, you had gotten up a little earlier than usual; it was the weekend, so there was no reason to wake Mingyu early. You preferred to let him sleep a little longer and surprise him with breakfast, but some things were missing, so you had to go out to buy what you needed, not before leaving a note where he could see it.
“You know I almost never wake up early on my days off,” he said suddenly while you were having breakfast at the dining table.
“I know that very well,” you replied before taking a sip of your coffee. “It’s just that…”
Mingyu looked up from his plate to find you poking your omelet over and over with your fork.
“Don’t play with your food,” he said playfully. “I can make you something else if you don’t like it.”
“I do like it, it’s just that I’ve been thinking…” you sighed, leaving the fork at the edge of the plate, and with your gaze lowered, you whispered, “I don’t want to go somewhere else without telling you. I won’t run away again.”
You could almost feel his gaze and that made you panic. When you finally decided to face him, you discovered that indeed, he had his eyes on you, but not with sadness and sorrow; his face looked peaceful, he was smiling gently. You felt so vulnerable and had to low down your gaze, feeling like if you looked at him for another second, your stomach would fill with butterflies.
“It doesn’t matter, you’re home now.” He got up from the table and took the empty plates he had served himself. “Eat, we have a nice day ahead.”
You nodded and quickly finished your breakfast in silence and went to the bathroom to wash up. While you waited for Mingyu to finish getting ready to go out, you approached the bed and focused your gaze on the paintings hanging above the headboard; they were the three small paintings Mingyu had made. They were simple and empty but at the same time, they were very captivating.
“The red thread of fate,” you whispered.
“A red thread connects those who are destined to be together,” you heard a voice behind you, Mingyu had entered the room.
“No matter how much it stretches or tangles, it will never break,” you continued the idea.
“I love that story,” Mingyu sat down next to you, crossing his legs. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”
“Gyu, what were you thinking when you painted this?” you asked tilting your head slightly.
“Well, I just wanted to paint, I guess,” Mingyu tilted his head to the same side as you. “But…”
“But…?”
“I couldn't stop thinking about you” he confessed, leaning his face closer to yours and leaving a kiss on your temple; his arm wrapped around your shoulders, allowing you to get even closer to him. “… That’s why I did. I thought you were my red thread.”
“You thought…?”
“Yes, because now I know,” you couldn’t see his face, but it undoubtedly sounded like there was a smile on his lips, a beautiful smile that assured you everything was okay. “You are my red thread.”
You closed your eyes and let yourself be enveloped by the moment, wrapped in the safety of Mingyu’s arms and his soft laughter in your ear, which you had missed so much during the time you were apart.
You were happy. Mingyu was happy. And nothing could be better than being back home.
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“Gyu, if I tell you something, won’t you get mad at me?” you asked later that night while you both tidied up the kitchen together.
“That only makes me think it will be offensive,” Mingyu looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“Your painting is interesting… But you have way more talent,” you shrugged when he judged you with his gaze.
“In my defense, I was drunk.” Mingyu crossed his arms on the chest.
“No drunk person makes such perfect horizontal lines. You can’t fool me!”
“A good artist never reveals their secrets…”
“Hey, that’s not how the phrase goes. Don't turn your back on me! Gyu!”
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