#both are oblivious to their feelings until the last second
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The Academic Successor
Professor Harold Whitaker had long surpassed the boundaries of academia, delving into the arcane, forbidden arts that lay hidden in the forgotten tomes of the university’s basement. It was in one such text, a brittle manuscript bound in skin, that he discovered the secrets of astral projection and possession. In his failing years, his once-sharp mind now dulled by age, Harold had grown resentful of his waning physical strength and the relentless march of time that no man could outrun. But knowledge, he realized, offered a loophole.
Andrew was the professor’s favourite student, young, strong, and full of potential. A quiet, disciplined athlete, he excelled in both his studies and in his physical pursuits, the perfect vessel for Harold’s ambitions. The old professor’s plan had taken years to refine, every detail, every nuance of the incantation memorized and practiced in the stillness of his secluded study.
One night, when the moon hung heavy and full in the sky, Harold began the ritual. His ancient, brittle body collapsed on the dusty floor as his spirit tore free from its cage of flesh. The sensation was exhilarating—his soul no longer confined, free to roam the ether. He soared over the city, the dormitories, the sleeping students, until he found Andrew.
The boy slept soundly, oblivious to the force that hovered above him, a darkness that seeped through the walls of his consciousness. Harold waited, savoring the moment before he surged forward, flooding Andrew’s mind, his essence intertwining with the young man’s. There was a brief struggle, Andrew’s subconscious thrashing like a trapped animal, but Harold was relentless, pressing, squeezing, until finally, the resistance ebbed away.
When Andrew opened his eyes, it was Harold who looked out through them. He felt the strength in Andrew’s limbs, the taut muscles beneath smooth skin, the youth and vitality that had been lost to him for decades. He reveled in it, stretching, flexing his fingers, relishing the sensation of power coursing through this new body.
There was a moment of heady triumph, and then Harold—now Andrew—moved to the mirror. He took in the reflection: the boyish, chiseled features, the strong jawline, the eyes still glazed with the residue of sleep, but now with a sharper glint of intellect that was purely Harold’s. The sight filled him with a dark satisfaction.
He smirked at his reflection, flexing his new muscles. The reflection in the mirror was pure, raw potential—his to mold, his to control. The plan had worked. This body was his now, and with it, the promise of a second life, stronger and more virile than the last.
In a moment of vanity, Harold—Andrew—grabbed his phone, feeling the slick, cool glass in his hand, so unlike the heavy tomes and crumbling parchment he had been accustomed to. It was almost too easy, taking this body, this life, and making it his own. He raised the phone, aiming it at the mirror, at the image of youth and masculinity that now belonged to him. With a smirk, he captured the moment—a memento of his triumph over death, over time, over the constraints of his feeble, aging body.
He marveled at the picture on the screen. Andrew’s eyes—now his eyes—glinted with a knowing arrogance, a touch of mockery. The way he stood, arms behind his head, a casual display of power, was all Harold. He admired the sleek blue briefs, the way they hugged the boy’s—his—thighs, the powerful line of his legs, the way they showed off the musculature he had long envied.
Satisfied, he dropped the phone on the bed and stepped back to admire himself in the mirror once more. This was his body now. He ran a hand down his chest, over the tattoo—Andrew’s tattoo—and smiled, knowing the boy was screaming somewhere deep inside, unable to take back what had been so easily taken from him. Harold savored that thought, the helplessness of it all, as he flexed once more, feeling the power of his new flesh.
His gaze drifted down to the bulge in the blue briefs, the outline unmistakable, thick and substantial. A low, almost amused chuckle rumbled in his chest as he traced the outline with his fingers, the sensation both familiar and entirely new.
“Well, well, Andrew,” he murmured, the words dripping with both mockery and admiration. “You’ve been hiding quite the beast, haven’t you?”
He let his fingers linger, tracing the thick curve, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric. The way it responded to his touch was intoxicating, a powerful reminder of the youth, the virility he had reclaimed. Harold’s grin widened, more wicked now, as he watched his reflection, reveling in the mixture of Andrew’s athletic build and his own dark, twisted intellect.
“How did you manage to keep this under wraps?” he teased, his voice a low purr, dripping with false surprise. “I had no idea you were packing such a weapon.”
He gave a soft squeeze, feeling the heft, the undeniable presence. It was exhilarating, this new power, this potent masculinity that was his to command. Harold reveled in the irony, how this shy, disciplined boy had hidden something so primal, so raw, beneath that reserved exterior.
“You’ve been keeping secrets under those books and papers, Andrew,” he whispered to his reflection, his fingers tracing the shape again, more deliberately this time. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure it gets the attention it deserves.”
Harold’s eyes remained fixed on the reflection, the intensity of his gaze unyielding. The sight of Andrew’s body under his control, every muscle responding to his touch, sent a shiver of dark satisfaction down his spine. He watched the reflection with an almost obsessive focus, the way the chest rose and fell with each breath, how the abs tightened under the press of his hand.
He increased the pressure, his strokes becoming more deliberate, more intense. The fabric of the briefs stretched, outlining every inch of the hardness beneath. The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of power and pleasure that surged through him like a current, making his breath hitch.
His other hand roamed upwards, gliding over the sculpted contours of his chest, feeling the solid weight of muscle, the way the pectorals tensed under his fingertips. He traced the line of his abs, each ridge defined, sharp under the skin, the core of an athlete. It was intoxicating, the sheer physicality of it, the realization that this strength, this vitality, was all his now.
His hand slid lower, tracing the tight ridges of the abs, feeling the power coiled in the core, the promise of force and control. The intensity of his strokes increased, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through his new body. His eyes never wavered from the mirror, locked on the sight of his—Andrew’s—body responding to his every whim.
He could see the veins standing out on the forearm, the muscles flexing in response to the movement, the way the chest heaved as the pleasure built. It was all so perfectly aligned, the physical power of youth combined with the ruthless intellect of a man who had mastered the forbidden.
“Look at you,” Harold whispered to the reflection, his voice thick with both admiration and lust. “You were great as a student. But now… now you’re perfect... I’m perfect.”
The hand on his chest traced the sharp lines of his collarbone before sliding back down to meet the other, both hands now working in unison, increasing the intensity, feeding the growing heat that spread through his new body. His breath came faster, more ragged, the anticipation building with each stroke, each touch.
Goddamn, Andrew,” he whispered, his tone dark with both awe and twisted humor. “You’ve been sitting on this and pretending to be the quiet, unassuming student all this time?”
He squeezed again, feeling it throb in response, the fabric straining. There was a surge of triumph in Harold’s chest, a sick pleasure in knowing this was his now—his to explore, his to use. His eyes narrowed as they flicked back to the mirror, catching the incongruity of the reflection.
The thick, strong frame, the athletic build, the powerful presence, all undermined by one glaring detail: Harold’s old glasses perched on Andrew’s nose. It was a clash of identities, the young man’s face paired with the unmistakable mark of an aging scholar.
He snorted, unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. “Look at you, Andrew,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to stroke. “A beast between the legs, and you still manage to look like a damn dork with these things on.”
With a deft movement, he pulled the glasses off, tossing them carelessly onto the bed. Without them, the reflection sharpened, Andrew’s features fully realized, leaving only this powerful, youthful body in its wake.
“Much better,” Harold murmured, admiring the image now, his hand still working through the fabric, slow and purposeful. “Now you look like what you really are, Andrew—a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And I’m going to enjoy every second of being inside this skin.”
Harold’s eyes blazed with possession, a dark hunger as he watched the reflection, every muscle in the young body straining, responding to the relentless pace he set. He could feel the power, the potential, the sheer force of what he had claimed, and it thrilled him to his core.
This was what he had worked for, what he had sacrificed for—this body, this life, this control. And as he pushed himself closer to the edge, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he had no intention of ever letting it go.
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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 19 Chapter 19 | touched by light⌟
╰ ⌞🇨🇭🇦🇵🇹🇪🇷 🇮🇳🇩🇪🇽⌝
❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘
The chill of marble underfoot had vanished, replaced by the wooden warmth of your room in Ithaca's palace. The transition felt abrupt, as though you had been plucked from one reality and unceremoniously dropped into another.
The air here was thick and humid, alive in a way that contrasted sharply with the suffocating stillness of the Underworld. Your breaths were uneven, shallow, as you struggled to shake off the weight of where you'd just been.
In your hands, the lyre rested heavily, its once-brilliant strings now muted under the soft light spilling from the window. The golden glow that had radiated with such intensity in the Underworld had dimmed, leaving the instrument looking almost ordinary—almost.
You weren't sure when you had sat down, but now you perched on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the lyre. Your fingers traced the intricate carvings on its frame as though the answers to your questions might be etched there.
The words spoken to you swirled in your mind.
It looks familiar... doesn't Apollo have one just like it?
The thought sent a shiver crawling up your spine, and not entirely from the cold.
Apollo. His name felt heavier now, a presence that loomed just beyond your understanding. If the lyre was connected to him—if it belonged to him—what did that mean for you? Why had Hermes handed it to you so casually, as if it were a mere trinket?
The questions swirled endlessly, overlapping until you couldn't untangle them anymore. It was as though your mind had become an echo chamber, the voices of Cleo, Persephone, and Hades all clamoring for space.
With a frustrated sigh, you set the lyre aside, leaning forward to cradle your head in your hands. The heels of your palms pressed hard against your temples as if you could physically push the thoughts to quiet.
The room felt too small, the walls pressing in around you despite the familiar comforts. Even the faint scent of lavender from the bundle on your desk couldn't soothe you. Your gaze drifted toward the window, drawn by the faint golden glow of the setting sun.
For the second time today, you noticed how time seemed to defy logic. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the courtyard below. The same scene you'd glimpsed before your journey, untouched, as though no time at all had passed.
The dissonance between your experiences and the world's stillness tightened something in your chest.
You had been gone—traversing the Underworld, facing Cleo, singing before gods—and yet Ithaca carried on, blissfully unaware.
"I need air," you murmured, barely audible. The decision was sudden but felt necessary. If you stayed much longer, the weight of it all might pull you under.
You rose to your feet, cradling the lyre against your chest like an anchor. Your steps were purposeful as you slipped out of your room, the cool stone beneath your sandals grounding you as you made your way through the palace halls.
.☆. .✩. .☆.
When you reached the courtyard, the breeze met you like an old friend, cool and gentle against your skin. You inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs as your steps slowed. The sprawling space opened before you, framed by the shadows of cypress trees swaying softly in the wind.
For a moment, you stopped, letting yourself feel the small comfort of the ordinary—the world carrying on oblivious to the heavy truths now nestled in your chest. The air felt lighter here, and allowed yourself to simply breathe, your eyes drifting to the horizon where the sea met the sky.
With a tired smile, you began walking again, finger toying with the lyre's strings, releasing muted notes as you thought about what to play to ease both your heart and mind.
But the stillness didn't last.
"___!" A voice, urgent and breathless, broke the quiet. You turned sharply, your shawl slipping slightly from your shoulders.
Telemachus was jogging, his steps hurried and uneven, as though he'd been searching frantically for you.
You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. "Prince Telemachus?" you began, your voice laced with surprise.
He stopped just short of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with startling intensity. "Are you..." He hesitated, chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Are you blessed—no, favored by Apollo?"
The question hit you like a thunderclap. "Apollo?" you repeated, your voice uncertain. "Why in Hades would I be—?"
Your words faltered as your hands instinctively tightened around the lyre, its faint hum vibrated against your palm. As if it had been waiting for this moment, your mind dredged up flashes of everything you had seen and heard.
Your parents' voices came first, their parting words weaving through your thoughts like an inescapable thread.
"We were never afraid for you. Not even at the end. We knew... we knew Apollo would protect you."
""Love... don't you remember? You're favored by Apollo."
Your breath caught as the weight of their revelation pressed down anew, intertwining with the sting of Cleo's venomous accusations.
"You have everything, ____. The favor of a prince, the favor of a god. Do you even realize how selfish you are? How unfair it is that you stand here, alive and whole, while I'm stuck in this wretched place?"
The bitterness in her voice, the sight of her fractured form, flickered in your mind like a specter. And then Persephone's voice cut through, calm yet piercing:
"That lyre. It looks familiar, doesn't it? Doesn't Apollo have one just like it?"
The echoes crashed together in your mind, overlapping until you couldn't separate them anymore. The lyre. The Underworld. Apollo. Your chest tightened, your heart pounding as you swayed slightly, one hand reaching for the nearest tree to steady yourself.
You looked up at Telemachus, your hands trembling as the realization began to take hold. "I..." You hesitated, your voice cracking. "...suppose I am?"
The admission hung between you, fragile yet undeniable.
Telemachus' gaze never wavered. If anything, his expression shifted to something resolute, as though he'd come to this conclusion long before you had. "Come with me," he said abruptly, his his tone low but firm—more command than request.
Before you could protest, his hand shot out, grasping your wrist with a steady yet gentle grip. The warmth of his touch startled you, but it was the determination in his movements that left you speechless. He pulled you forward, his steps swift and purposeful, and you found yourself following without question, your sandals scuffing softly against the stone paths as he led you away from the courtyard.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
The familiar path felt strange under the dimming light, the evening shadows stretching long across the palace grounds. You recognized where he was leading—the small shed near the edge of the courtyard, its weathered wooden frame sturdy against the elements.
Telemachus pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly. The scent of aged wood and faintly lingering resin greeted you as you crossed the threshold, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior. The instruments lined the walls and shelves just as you had left them—lutes, flutes, harps, and more, each meticulously cared for and waiting patiently for your hands.
He released your wrist and turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "Look at them," he said, gesturing to the instruments with a slight tilt of his head. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Try holding them to see if you feel it."
You blinked at him, confused. "Feel what?"
Instead of answering, he stepped back, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes didn't leave you, the weight of his gaze urging you to turn toward the instruments.
Reluctantly, you did, stepping further into the room. Your fingers hovered over the collection, hesitating before brushing against the smooth curve of a lute's neck. The wood was cool beneath your touch, familiar yet somehow different.
You trailed your hand along the edge of a trumpet, the cold metal sending a faint shiver up your arm, and then across the taut strings of a harp, each one humming faintly in the stillness.
Before you can linger too long, Telemachus moved toward one of the shelves, picking up an old ocarina and holding it out to you. "Play this."
Hesitant, you took the instrument. Its clay surface felt familiar in your hands. You brought it to your lips and played a tentative melody. The notes flowed effortlessly, as though they had always been a part of you.
When you lowered the ocarina, Telemachus was watching you with a mixture of awe and something heavier—something closer to fear. "See?" he said, his voice low. "It's not normal. You can't tell me it doesn't feel like something greater is at work."
You didn't answer immediately. Instead, your gaze dropped to the lyre still cradled in your hands. Its golden frame glowed faintly in the dim light, the hum of its strings persistent, like an extension of your heartbeat.
"It... never clicked before," you murmured, almost to yourself. "How easily I mastered them. How... natural it felt."
Telemachus nodded, his voice steady. "Think about it. How many people can pick up an instrument and make it sing the way you do? It's not just talent, ___—it's something more. Something... divine."
The words settled heavily in your chest. You thought back to the hours you'd spent playing—the way melodies had poured through you like water, effortless and unending.
It had felt like magic then, though you'd chalked it up to passion and dedication.
But now... now, you weren't so sure.
Telemachus stepped closer, his dark eyes searching yours, his expression unreadable. "It's not just music, though. What else are you good at? Think, ____. Has there ever been something you've done that felt... different?"
You frowned, frustration creeping into your tone. "I don't know," you admitted, voice taut. "I never thought of myself as anything special."
He arched a brow, his expression almost challenging. "You're saying you've never noticed anything? No moments when something came to you instinctively? When people praised you for doing something that felt ordinary to you?"
Your mind raced, fragments of memories flashing before you in rapid succession. The times you'd mastered a new instrument the day you received it. The way melodies had always seemed to flow through you, unbidden and effortless
"I... maybe," you admitted hesitantly, the weight of your own words surprising you. "But I don't know if that really means anything."
Telemachus' gaze softened, though his voice remained firm. "It means everything, ____. Think about the gods. They don't just hand out favor for no reason. If Apollo's chosen you... there's a reason behind it."
His words struck something deep within you, and you gaze dropped to the lyre in your hands. Its glow had dimmed, but the faint hum remained, steady and reassuring, as if it were waiting for you to understand.
"But... why me?" you whispered, the question trembling from your lips. It wasn't directed at him—not entirely. It was a question for the lyre, for Apollo, for the cosmos itself. "I'm nobody. Just... just a servant. Why would Apollo—or any god—choose... me?"
Telemachus' lips pressed into a thin line, his expression shadowed briefly by thought. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost gentle, yet it carried a weight that settled heavily in your chest. "Maybe it's not about who you were. Maybe it's about who you're meant to become."
The words hung between you, heavy and unyielding.
When you looked up at him, there was no trace of mockery or disbelief in his gaze. Only a steady conviction that felt as though it could shoulder the weight of your doubts. His faith, quiet and unwavering, was almost enough to make you believe it too.
A flicker of something familiar stirred in your chest—a hesitant, fragile confidence you hadn't felt since the beginning of this conversation. Your gaze dropped once more to the lyre in your hands. Its golden strings caught the dim light of the shed, the hum persistent, like a quiet reminder of its presence.
Your fingers brushed lightly over the strings, the warmth of the instrument grounding you as you gathered your thoughts. "Telemachus," you began hesitantly, your voice softer now, almost fragile, "what does it mean to be favored? Has this happened before? Has anyone else ever been..." You hesitated, searching for the right word. "Noticed?"
Telemachus leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest, his expression growing thoughtful.
Telemachus' expression shifted, his brows knitting together as he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest. "There are stories," he said, his tone measured. "None of them are clear, though—just fragments of things passed down over generations. People who claimed they were chosen by the gods, who carried their favor in one way or another."
Your heart quickened. "What... happened to them?"
Telemachus exhaled deeply, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. "Most of the stories... don't end well," he admitted, his voice low but steady. "Those who were favored often found themselves caught in things far beyond their control—wars, curses, quests they couldn't refuse. The gods' favor can be both a blessing and a chain, binding them to a path they can't escape."
A chill ran down your spine, your fingers tightening instinctively around the lyre. "So... it's not a good thing?" you murmured, the weight of his revelation settling heavily in your chest.
"It's not that simple," Telemachus replied, his tone gentler now. "The gods don't think the way we do. Their reasons, their goals—they're not always meant for us to understand. Favor can bring greatness, but it also brings responsibility. And if you're not ready for it..." He trailed off, his gaze flickering briefly to the lyre before returning to yours. "It can destroy you."
His words pressed against you like an invisible force, leaving you breathless. You had sought answers, clarity—but all you felt now was the suffocating weight of how fragile your life seemed in the shadow of something so vast.
"I-I don't want my life to spiral out of control." The vulnerability in your tone was startling, even to you. "I've worked so hard just to find... stability. A place where I belong. And now... it feels like everything is slipping through my fingers."
Telemachus' expression softened, the intensity in his gaze giving way to something profoundly human. He stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice a soothing whisper. He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours with a tenderness that sent a shiver through you.
His hand closed gently around yours, his thumb grazing the back of it in a slow, deliberate motion. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, calming the tremor in your fingers. When you looked up, his steady, unwavering gaze met yours, its sincerity anchoring you in place.
"Then we'll figure it out," he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet reassurance. "You're not alone in this, ___. Whatever this favor means, we'll face it together."
The simplicity of his words wrapped around you like a shield, their weight sinking deeper than you could have anticipated. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. "Together?" you echoed.
"Together," Telemachus confirmed, his thumb still brushing softly over the back of your hand. His expression left no room for doubt. "You don't have to do this alone. I'll be here. No matter what."
For a moment, the storm inside you stilled. The lyre's hum softened, its warmth settling into your chest like a quiet reassurance of its own.
You weren't sure what the future held, but with Telemachus standing beside you, the shadows didn't feel quite so overwhelming.
"Thank you," you whispered, the words fragile but earnest.
A faint smile tugged at his lips, his grip on your hand steady and sure. "Always."
The weight of his presence anchored you in a way that quieted the turmoil inside. For a fleeting moment, the world felt still, but it slipped away too quickly as he gently released your hand.
"You'll be alright, ____. Take the night to rest and think. You've been through so much already." His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned, his silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the shed's small window. "And remember—you're not alone in this."
With that, he left, the faint creak of the door marking his departure.
You remained where you were, standing in the middle of the shed surrounded by instruments, the air heavy with the echoes of Telemachus' words and the weight of your revelation. The lyre in your hands hummed faintly as if mirroring the storm of emotions churning within you.
You didn't leave immediately. Your fingers brushed absently against the lyre's strings, the familiar vibration grounding you as your mind raced. Questions without answers and truths you couldn't ignore swirled together, creating a relentless storm.
The realization settling over you felt overwhelming yet oddly familiar, like a puzzle piece clicking into place after years of being misplaced.
It was only later, when the sky had fully darkened and the palace grounds were quieting down, that you finally stepped outside. The cool night air greeted you, brushing against your skin and carrying with it the faint scent of cypress and sea salt.
Your steps felt aimless, yet they carried you instinctively toward the courtyard—toward the one place that had always felt like yours.
Now, here you were, leaning against the familiar cypress tree. Its ancient trunk was sturdy at your back, the rough bark grounding you as you cradled the lyre in your lap. The courtyard was bathed in moonlight, silver glow softening the shadows across the stone pathways and swaying grass.
The gentle hum of the lyre filled the quiet air, blending with the rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of crickets. Your fingers moved automatically, plucking the strings with a familiarity that felt second nature. The melody was soft, carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts.
You weren't even sure what you were playing—only that it felt right, a reflection of the emotions swirling inside you.
As the melody unfolded, your thoughts drifted. The revelation in the shed had been startling, but now, with the night around you, a question lingered: Had it truly been a surprise? Or had some part of you always known?
You thought back to all the moments that had led you here, memories surfacing: the ease with which music had always come to you, the way instruments seemed to respond to your touch as though alive.
You had resisted the idea for so long, telling yourself it was normal, that anyone could do what you did with enough practice. But deep down, had you known? Had you pushed the truth away, afraid of what it might mean?
The thought tightened your chest, and your fingers faltered briefly on the lyre's strings. The melody wavered, then resumed, quieter now, almost hesitant. The moonlight shimmered faintly against the lyre's golden frame, its soft glow like a silent reassurance.
You sighed, the sound heavy in the stillness. Your fingers stilled as you slowly lowered the lyre to the grass. Its hum faded, leaving only the quiet night, amplified by the weight pressing on your chest.
Leaning back against the cypress tree no longer felt grounding, so you stretched out on the cool grass, the rough bark forgotten as your gaze lifted to the stars.
The sky above was vast, the stars scattered like fragments of shattered glass against a sea of ink. Their light seemed so faint, so distant, yet impossibly eternal.
Tears gathered in your eyes, misting your vision and blurring the constellations above. You blinked furiously, angry at yourself for feeling so small, so weak.
It wasn't fair.
In this world of kingdoms and gods, you were just... you. A mortal among immortals, a fragile thread caught in a tapestry too vast to comprehend. Why had Apollo chosen you? What made you worthy of the burden of divine favor? The questions swirled relentlessly, threatening to drown you in their weight, and the tears threatened to spill over again.
You clenched your fists, the cool blades of grass pressing against your palms. You weren't weak. You weren't. But under the expanse of the sky, the truth felt harder to believe.
"Such sadness doesn't suit my little muse."
The voice broke through your thoughts like a melody, sudden and startling. Your eyes shot open, and you bolted upright, glancing around the courtyard. The rustling leaves and swaying shadows of the cypress tree were unchanged—but you weren't alone.
"Here, little one."
The voice was melodic, gentle, yet it carried an undeniable weight. It felt like both a caress and a command, its presence filling the space effortlessly. You turned your head, breath catching in your throat as you followed the sound.
Standing above you was a figure unlike any you had ever seen.
He was tall—taller than any mortal man—and the moonlight framed his silhouette against the deep purples of the night sky. His golden hair shimmered as though spun from sunlight, catching the silver light with every slight movement.
Amber eyes glowed faintly, warm and piercing as they met yours, amusement and fondness shining in their depths. It felt as if he could see straight through you, as though nothing in your soul could be hidden from his gaze.
He wore a chiton of ivory fabric edged with gold embroidery, each detail catching the light as if alive. A crown of laurel leaves rested on his head, glittering faintly like starlight. His presence was overwhelming, radiant yet effortless, as though he belonged to the world but stood apart from it.
The god—because surely this was a god—stepped forward, his bare feet touching the earth softly, almost reverently, as if even the ground was blessed by his presence.
You tried to move, to speak, but your voice caught in your throat, and your limbs refused to obey. Every part of you was frozen, caught between awe and disbelief.
And yet, deep in your chest, a strange sense of familiarity bloomed.
You didn't know how, but you knew who this god was.
The name slipped from your lips like a prayer, barely audible. "A-Apollo?"
The god's amber eyes sparkled with quiet amusement, his smile deepening as he stopped just a step away and the sheer beauty of it made your heart stutter. It was warm and inviting, yet it carried a power that left you breathless.
And then everything was still.
A/N: after 20 chappies we've finally met apollo, ahhhhhhh😩 also its a little nerdish but did y'all catch on to the titles? every 'arc' i'd add an extra title to represent the love-interest/story budding or whatnot lolol, also i just had to be a lil mean and leave you all on a lil cliffhanger, MWAHHAHAHAHAH---ack---damn then chocked trynna be evil, lol,.
Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world
#xani-writes: godly things#epic the musical#epic the ocean saga#epic the musical fanfic#jorge rivera herrans#the ocean saga#epic the musical x reader#greek mythology#greek gods#the odyssey#the odyssey x reader#etl#the troy saga#the cyclops saga#telemachus x reader#apollo x reader#hermes x reader#xani-writes: EPIC multi ml#x reader#greek gods x reader#apollo x you#telemachus#odysseus#penelope of ithaca#odysseus of ithaca#telemachus of ithaca#telemachus epic the musical#telemachus etm#apollo etm#hermes x you
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❝ TOUCH ME, TAKE ME, KISS ME ❞
ft. gojo, geto & shoko. (4some)
꒰ synopsis. where celebrating new year’s with your best friends turns into something much more intimate—one kiss at midnight isn’t nearly enough.
warnings. MDNI. college au. fem! reader, fōursome, mutual pining, unprotected p in v, orāl (f! and m! receiving), fingerıng (f! and m! receiving), clıt stimulation, overstimulation, dirty talk, shared partner dynamics, voyeurism, slight dom/sub vibes, hair pulling, teasing, praise kink, body worship, light biting/marking, cųm play, & multiple orgasmś.
the cabin was exactly what you’d expect from satoru gojo – unnecessarily luxurious, tucked away on the outskirts of a snowy mountain town, and equipped with every amenity that screamed rich kid with too much money to burn.
“seriously, satoru, who the hell needs a jacuzzi in their living room?” shoko teased, setting her duffel down by the entryway. the bubbling water glowed from the built-in lights, steam curling lazily into the warm space.
gojo smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie. “it’s about the vibes, shoko. the experience. and, i dunno, maybe i just like having options.”
geto, sitting cross-legged on the couch, glanced up from his phone. “yeah? and when’s the last time you used it?”
“hey, i brought you guys here, didn’t i? sounds like ungrateful energy to me,” gojo shot back, though his grin didn’t waver.
you chuckled softly, toeing off your boots near the fireplace, letting the heat seep through your socks. the large windows stretched across the far wall, showcasing the snow falling steadily outside, blanketing the trees under the silver moonlight.
“he’s right, though,” you chimed in, peeling off your jacket. “we could’ve rung in the new year at some regular house party. but instead, we’re here. cozy, secluded... not the worst way to spend our last new year as college students.”
“see? someone gets it,” gojo said, flashing you that familiar, lopsided grin.
you rolled your eyes, but the truth was, you didn’t mind. the four of you had been close since your freshman year, and as the years piled up, so did the late-night study sessions, spontaneous road trips, and drunken confessions after long nights out. this felt like a full-circle moment. one final hurrah before graduation came sweeping in to change everything.
shoko tossed herself onto the couch beside geto, tugging off her beanie and shaking out her hair. “so, what’s the plan? drinking games until midnight, or are we just free-styling it?”
“why not both?” suguru said, stretching an arm behind her, fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder where you leaned against the armrest. the contact was subtle, but you felt it linger.
gojo raised a brow, tilting his head dramatically. “i was thinking strip poker.”
shoko snorted, flicking his forehead. “sure. you’d be naked in five minutes.”
“is that supposed to be a problem?”
your eyes flickered to suguru, catching the small smirk pulling at his lips. his gaze met yours for half a second, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, before dropping back to his phone.
this wasn’t the first time you’d caught the lingering tension between everyone – the casual touches, the way shoko’s gaze would sometimes linger on you a little too long, or the moments gojo’s hands would rest on your lower back at parties, guiding you through crowds when he didn’t really need to.
you weren’t oblivious. but none of you had ever crossed that line.
yet.
“alright, let’s start with drinks,” you suggested, pushing yourself to your feet. “anyone want to help me?”
“i got it,” geto said, standing with an easy grace. “come on.”
as the two of you headed into the kitchen, shoko and gojo’s quiet laughter echoed softly from the living room, the crackling fire filling the otherwise silent cabin.
suguru leaned against the counter, watching as you rummaged through the cabinets.
“so,” he started, his voice low and smooth, “how are you feeling about tonight?”
you glanced over your shoulder. “in general? or is this a ‘we’re about to graduate, what are you doing with your life?’ kind of question?”
his lips quirked. “both, maybe.”
you sighed, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. “i’m trying not to think about it too hard. tonight’s about celebrating, not panicking about the future.”
he nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes lingered.
“you know,” he mused, stepping closer, “satoru’s not wrong. it is kind of a waste to let this cabin go to waste.”
“what are you suggesting?” you teased, pouring the whiskey into a glass.
suguru’s gaze dipped, trailing over you slowly before flicking back to your eyes. “just saying… midnight’s a good time for new experiences.”
heat prickled your skin under his stare, but before you could respond, gojo’s voice rang out from the other room.
“hey, you two! quit flirting and bring the damn drinks!”
you laughed, but suguru didn’t move right away. instead, his fingers brushed lightly against your wrist as he grabbed the bottle from the counter, his touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.
yeah. tonight was going to be interesting.
the drinks flowed easily, laughter spilling into the warm cabin air as the four of you huddled near the fireplace, sprawled across the plush rugs and oversized pillows. suguru sat beside you, his knee brushing yours with every shift, while gojo leaned against the couch, one long arm lazily slung around shoko’s shoulders.
“alright,” gojo drawled, tipping back his glass. his eyes glittered behind those obnoxious shades he insisted on wearing inside. “time for a game.”
“drinking game?” shoko asked, already halfway through her second glass of whiskey.
“nope.” gojo’s smirk curled wickedly. “truth or dare.”
you snorted, shaking your head. “what are we? sixteen?”
“don’t knock it,” suguru said smoothly, his eyes half-lidded as he sipped his drink. “it could be fun. besides, satoru’s incapable of suggesting anything mature.”
gojo shot him a look. “this coming from the guy who suggested skinny dipping in the hot tub an hour ago.”
“that was different. it was an intellectual suggestion.”
“sure it was.”
shoko waved a hand dismissively. “fine. truth or dare it is. but no stupid shit like licking the floor or whatever. we’re not in a frat house.”
gojo grinned, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “who’s starting?”
your hand shot up, aiming for the path of least resistance. “truth.”
“boring,” gojo muttered, but there was mischief behind the slight pout. “alright, fine. if you had to kiss one of us at midnight, who would it be?”
the room fell quiet for a beat too long. you felt three sets of eyes zero in on you, the weight of their attention thick enough to taste.
“uh—” you faltered, heat crawling up your neck.
“careful,” suguru murmured beside you, voice low and teasing. “we’ll know if you’re lying.”
your gaze flicked to his, catching the flicker of something darker in his expression. your heart thudded a little harder.
“i dunno,” you hedged, taking a slow sip of your drink. “depends on the mood, i guess.”
gojo leaned closer, grinning like he’d already won. “that’s not an answer.”
“then take it as my answer.”
shoko laughed, leaning back against the couch cushions. “she’s playing it safe. smart girl.”
but the tension lingered, subtle but persistent, weaving through the air like smoke.
“my turn,” suguru cut in smoothly, tilting his head toward gojo. “truth or dare?”
“dare, obviously.”
“kiss shoko.”
“easy.”
without hesitation, gojo leaned down and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to shoko’s lips. she didn’t pull away – if anything, her hand slid lazily up his arm, nails grazing lightly against his skin before they parted.
“you guys have done that before,” you pointed out, trying to ignore the heat twisting low in your stomach.
“multiple times,” shoko replied, smirking. “you’re late to the party.”
gojo winked. “jealous?”
“not particularly.”
but the idea lodged itself somewhere deep. maybe it was the alcohol warming your veins, or the way suguru’s hand rested against the small of your back, light but possessive, but the thought lingered.
midnight wasn’t that far off.
the countdown started around 11:50. the drinks were mostly forgotten by then, the four of you curled closer near the fire, the alcohol buzzing quietly in your heads.
“five minutes,” gojo announced, his voice dropping to something smoother, almost suggestive. “better start thinking about that kiss.”
shoko stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “maybe we should just kiss each other. take the guesswork out of it.”
your stomach flipped at her casual tone, but when you glanced at suguru, his gaze was already fixed on you.
“not opposed,” he said softly.
gojo made a low hum of approval, sitting up straighter. “why not?”
“you’re all serious about this?” you asked, voice tipping toward incredulous, but your pulse betrayed you, hammering against your ribs.
“you’re curious,” suguru countered, brushing his knuckles against your thigh.
and you were. the tension had been building for years – subtle glances, fleeting touches, unspoken things hanging just out of reach.
“alright,” you relented, the words tasting like adrenaline on your tongue. “fine.”
the countdown echoed on the tv screen, bright against the dim cabin.
ten.
nine.
suguru shifted closer, his thigh pressed against yours.
eight.
seven.
gojo’s gaze dropped to your lips, his grin softer, teasing.
six.
shoko leaned into your side, her arm brushing yours.
five.
four.
your breath hitched as suguru’s hand curled under your chin, tilting your face toward his.
three.
two.
one.
their lips met yours at the same time – suguru’s mouth warm and steady, while shoko’s was softer, tasting faintly of whiskey.
you lost yourself in it, your hand fisting in suguru’s shirt as gojo’s hand brushed against your lower back, slipping lower, pulling you closer.
and just like that, the line dissolved completely.
the kiss started playful—soft touches, slow exploration—but the heat behind it caught quickly, sparking into something heavier. suguru’s fingers brushed your jaw, coaxing your lips open as his tongue slid against yours, slow and possessive. shoko’s mouth trailed along your neck, leaving wet kisses against your pulse, while gojo’s hand slipped under the hem of your sweater, his palm warm as it splayed across your waist.
you broke the kiss with suguru only to meet shoko’s lips, her tongue teasing against yours as she pressed closer, her hands slipping down to rest on your thighs. the space between the four of you seemed to vanish, replaced by the weight of wandering hands and shared breaths.
gojo groaned softly, nipping at suguru’s bottom lip before tugging him back by the collar, stealing a kiss that left no room for subtlety. suguru didn’t resist, his hand tangling in gojo’s hair, tilting his head to deepen it. the sight had your breath catching, heat pooling low in your stomach.
“god, you two,” shoko muttered, smirking against your lips. “it’s like watching a porno.”
“jealous?” gojo quipped, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“maybe.”
“you get her,” suguru said smoothly, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “we’ll be back.”
before you could question it, gojo grabbed suguru’s wrist and led him out of the living room, disappearing into the hall with low, breathy laughter echoing behind them.
the absence of their presence left you and shoko tangled together on the rug by the fire, the crackling flames casting soft shadows across her face.
“guess it’s just us,” she murmured, her fingers tracing light patterns over your thighs.
“seems like it,” you whispered, barely able to focus with the heat of her body pressed so close.
shoko didn’t waste time once the boys left the room. her lips crashed into yours, all tongue and teeth, as if she’d been holding back for too long. you could feel the heat radiating off her as her hands roamed your body, tugging at the edges of your sweater until it slipped over your head.
her palms were warm against your bare skin, fingertips skimming the soft curve of your breasts, and you gasped into her mouth, arching into her touch.
“fuck,” she whispered, eyes trailing down your body, drinking you in like she couldn’t get enough. “been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”
you let her take control, her nails scraping lightly down your back as she kissed a path to your collarbone, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin.
your sweater, jeans, and everything else ended up in a pile near the fireplace, leaving you bare and vulnerable in the soft flicker of firelight. shoko settled between your legs, her hands pressing your thighs apart with a confidence that had you squirming beneath her.
“you’re so wet already,” she murmured, dragging a single finger through your folds. “you like this, huh?”
you could barely nod, the sensation making you dizzy.
her mouth followed, soft lips trailing over the inside of your thighs, her tongue flicking out to catch the slick gathering at your core.
“fuck, shoko,” you gasped, hips bucking when she sucked your clit between her lips, the warmth of her tongue making you shudder.
her grip on your thighs tightened, nails digging into the soft flesh as she kept you pinned, her mouth relentless.
“stay still,” she mumbled, voice muffled against you.
it was impossible. you tugged lightly at her hair, desperate for something to hold onto as she worked you closer to the edge, her tongue curling just right.
you didn’t even notice the sound of footsteps until shoko pulled back slightly, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk.
“oh,” she hummed, licking her lips. “you two back already?”
your gaze snapped to the doorway.
gojo and geto stood there, completely bare, their cocks hard and already dripping.
“we were enjoying the view,” gojo said, his voice deeper, laced with something dark as his gaze fixed on you.
geto stepped forward first, his eyes hooded as he stroked himself lazily, clearly not in any rush. “didn’t know you’d start without us.”
“you two looked busy,” shoko teased, swiping her thumb across her bottom lip, catching the glisten of your arousal.
“don’t stop on our account,” gojo added, stepping closer, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he knelt beside you.
shoko chuckled, glancing down at you with amusement in her eyes. “what do you think?”
you didn’t know how to answer, too overwhelmed by the weight of their attention—the way geto’s dark gaze lingered on your mouth, the curve of gojo’s smirk as he ran his fingers along your inner thigh.
“she can take it,” geto murmured, brushing his lips along the curve of your jaw. “she’s been good so far.”
shoko shifted lower, her breath hot against your core, but this time, geto was beside her, his lips pressing soft kisses to your clit before shoko’s tongue joined him.
“fuck—” your breath hitched, your back arching off the floor as their mouths worked in tandem, the slick warmth of their tongues too much.
gojo, not wanting to be left out, moved behind you, his lips ghosting along your neck as his fingers slid into your pussy, curling to meet the rhythm of their mouths.
“so fucking pretty,” he whispered into your ear, biting lightly at the lobe. “you like being the center of attention, don’t you?”
you couldn’t answer, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling as the knot in your stomach tightened.
“c’mon,” shoko coaxed, her tongue circling your clit faster. “let go for us.”
you did, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your orgasm tore through you, your hips jerking uncontrollably as shoko and geto didn’t stop, their mouths and fingers milking every last drop of pleasure.
when you finally opened your eyes, dazed and breathless, geto was already shifting, settling between your legs as gojo moved to take his place beside shoko.
“don’t be greedy, shoko,” gojo teased, his lips brushing yours as geto lined himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing inside.
shoko’s hand slipped beneath your jaw, guiding you to look at her as geto thrust into you, stretching you wide.
“you can give us one more,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours as her lips hovered inches from your mouth. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”
geto’s cock stretched you to the hilt, the fullness making you shudder as he bottomed out, his forehead pressed against yours. shoko’s hand traced slow circles along your cheek, grounding you with soft touches even as her other hand slipped lower, two fingers pressing against your clit, slick from how drenched you were.
“you’re taking him so well,” she whispered, her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “but you can take more, can’t you?”
you nodded weakly, body already trembling, but the praise made your stomach flutter.
gojo shifted, moving behind you, his lips trailing lazy kisses along the curve of your shoulder. “gonna open you up even more,” he murmured, his fingers dragging down the length of your stomach, teasing along the edge of your folds where geto’s cock stretched you.
you felt his middle finger slip inside, pressing against the soft spot geto wasn’t reaching. the sensation was dizzying.
“so fucking tight,” gojo hissed, sliding another finger in beside the first, stretching you further. “can feel how deep suguru is inside you.”
shoko’s breath tickled your lips as her fingers drifted lower, joining gojo’s as he stretched you open, the combination of their touches leaving you gasping.
“so sensitive,” shoko cooed, pressing soft kisses along your jawline, her fingers brushing light circles around your clit.
gojo’s third finger slipped inside, the stretch nearly overwhelming, and your nails dug into the rug beneath you as your back arched, your body tightening around them both.
“fuck,” geto grunted, his cock twitching inside you. “she’s squeezing me like crazy.”
“feels good, doesn’t it?” gojo teased, his smirk audible even if you couldn’t see him. “she’s so warm… bet you won’t last long.”
geto’s grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts slowing, each drag of his cock purposeful as he pushed deep, grinding against the spot that made you tremble.
you whimpered, barely able to take it all in, your body stretched beyond its limits but craving more. shoko kissed the corner of your mouth, her lips lingering just long enough to make you chase after her, your tongue brushing against hers in a soft, needy motion.
“i can feel how close you are,” she whispered, her fingers pinching your clit just enough to make you jolt. “you’re trembling.”
gojo’s fingers pressed deeper, curling in a way that sent sparks shooting through you, and you nearly sobbed from the intensity.
“you’re holding back,” gojo whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “let go, sweetheart. we’re not stopping till you’re a mess beneath us.”
geto groaned, his pace faltering, hips snapping faster as he chased his own pleasure, his grip bruising in the best way.
shoko dipped her head lower, trailing soft kisses down your neck, her hand leaving your jaw to tug gently at one of your nipples, rolling it between her fingers as her other hand continued its teasing strokes over your swollen clit.
“give it to us,” she coaxed, her voice laced with a softness that made your chest ache. “you can take it, pretty girl. just one more, i know you can.”
your breath hitched, the knot in your stomach tightening as the pressure mounted.
“fuck—shoko, i’m gonna—”
“i know,” she whispered, her lips pressing to yours in a soft, breathless kiss.
the wave hit you hard, your walls fluttering around geto’s cock as your orgasm crashed over you, your hips jerking up to meet his thrusts as gojo’s fingers kept curling inside, stretching you open further.
“that’s it,” gojo growled, pulling his fingers out just as geto’s pace grew erratic.
“fuck, i’m close,” geto grunted, thrusting hard one last time before he groaned low in his throat, spilling into you with a slow roll of his hips.
shoko kissed you through it, swallowing your soft cries as geto leaned forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder, chest heaving.
but they didn’t stop.
geto groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he gave one last deep thrust, burying himself fully inside you as he spilled, warmth flooding your core.
your body trembled, the overstimulation leaving you breathless, forehead pressed against shoko’s shoulder as she ran soft fingers through your hair, grounding you.
“fuck,” geto whispered, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he pulled out slowly, his cum slipping down your thighs, sticky and warm against your skin.
but even as geto leaned back, his hands still lingering on your hips, gojo wasn’t done.
his cock throbbed against your thigh, heavy and slick with precum, the tip flushed and desperate for attention.
you felt his gaze on you, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your face toward him.
“think you can help me out, pretty girl?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a teasing kiss, but his hips were already shifting closer, his cock pressing insistently against your palm.
you nodded, the quiet desperation in his voice making you throb, still sensitive from geto’s lingering touch. your fingers curled around him, warm and slick as you stroked slowly, feeling the weight of him in your hand.
“fuck, just like that,” he groaned, tipping his head back slightly as his hand covered yours, guiding your pace.
meanwhile, shoko shifted in front of you, her bare thighs brushing against your waist as she straddled you, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance.
“don’t forget about me,” she teased, voice low, but there was heat in her eyes as she grabbed your wrist, guiding your fingers between her legs.
her slick heat coated your fingers immediately as they slipped inside, making her moan softly against your ear, hips rolling to meet your touch.
“you feel that?” she whispered, her forehead pressed to yours, panting softly. “been wanting you to touch me like this all night.”
your palm pressed deeper, thumb brushing over her swollen clit, and she gasped, biting down gently on your bottom lip as her hips bucked forward.
but shoko wasn’t one to let you do all the work.
her other hand drifted between your legs, her fingers brushing over your overstimulated core, dragging through the mess geto left behind.
“so messy,” she murmured, her tone soft and teasing, but there was nothing gentle about the way she slipped two fingers inside you, pressing into the heat that still fluttered around nothing.
you whimpered, arching into her hand as your own pace on gojo faltered, your grip tightening around his cock.
“shit—” gojo hissed, his breath stuttering as your fist squeezed him just right, his hips jerking up into your touch.
“i’ve got her,” shoko murmured to gojo, her lips grazing your ear as she thrust her fingers deeper, her pace slow but deliberate. “she’s so tight, aren’t you, baby?”
you couldn’t form words, only broken moans slipping past your parted lips, drool glistening as it trailed down your chin, your jaw slack beneath the intensity of it all. shoko’s fingers curled deep inside you, pressing against that spot that made your thighs tremble violently, your entire body arching into her touch.
her thumb circled your clit in slow, deliberate motions—not too much, but just enough to have you writhing beneath her, the friction driving you higher with every slow roll of her hips against yours.
“look at you,” geto murmured, dark eyes fixed on the way you twisted between them, shoko’s hand buried up to her knuckles inside you.
without a word, he leaned in, catching the trail of drool with his lips, kissing gently along your jaw before letting his tongue brush over the corner of your mouth, warm and unhurried.
“you’re taking her so well,” he said softly, his breath fanning over your lips before pressing a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, his palm cupping your cheek tenderly.
shoko’s teeth scraped over your neck, biting gently before soothing the mark with her tongue, her fingers never faltering.
“i know you can give me one more,” she coaxed, her voice soft but firm, curling her fingers until you nearly sobbed into her shoulder. “come on, baby, let me feel you.”
your hips rocked into her hand on instinct, chasing the pressure as pleasure coiled tighter inside you, her fingers coaxing you toward the edge.
“she’s close,” gojo groaned, his cock twitching in your palm as his eyes dragged over your body, flushed and trembling beneath shoko’s touch.
his hand slid over yours, guiding your strokes as his breath stuttered, his hips jerking forward to chase your fist.
“let go for us,” shoko whispered, her tongue tracing the curve of your ear, and with one last slow curl of her fingers, the tension inside you snapped.
your body trembled violently, thighs clenching around her hand as your orgasm surged through you, knocking the breath from your lungs.
shoko kept going, fucking you through the aftershocks, her fingers stroking deeper to draw out every last shiver until you were limp against her chest.
“fuck,” gojo hissed through gritted teeth, his grip on your hand tightening as he spilled hot and thick against your fingers, painting your skin with a satisfied groan.
for a moment, the room was quiet, the only sounds the soft crackling of the fire and the heavy weight of your breathing.
you lay there, muscles lax and trembling, shoko’s fingers still lazily circling your clit as she pressed soft kisses against your shoulder, grounding you in the afterglow.
“you were perfect,” she murmured against your lips, smiling softly as she finally slipped her fingers free, slick and glistening with your release.
geto brushed his thumb along your jaw, tilting your face toward him as he kissed you, slow and deliberate, his touch warm and steady.
“happy new year,” shoko whispered, her forehead resting gently against yours, and you couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out between heavy breaths.
“happy new year,” you echoed softly, sinking further into the warmth of their bodies against yours.
an. HAPPY NEW YEAR BELOVEDS 😼😽😸! what are some new years goals y’all have? one of mine is to grow my tumblr following n get better at posting more 🤞🏽
#✎ luna.writes#gojo smut#geto smut#shoko smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo x reader#geto x reader#shoko x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk foursome#poly jjk smut#gojo satoru smut#geto suguru smut#ieiri shoko smut#anime smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#ieiri shoko x reader#jjk x y/n#gojo x y/n#geto x y/n#shoko x y/n#jjk fanfiction#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk#geto suguru
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twenty questions
summary: penelope accidentally mentions that someone has a crush on you, she can't say who it is but you make it into a game so she can :) warnings: spencer reid x bau!reader, gn reader, mentions of drinking wine, pg-13 language, talk of bugs?? its a nickname,,, lots of use of pet names lol, fluff, no mention of y/n yeehaw, pining, you're completely oblivious about how much spencer wants you, not proofread </3 authors note: first fic!! i haven't officially written a fic in. gosh, years?? since the pandemmy :( i really want to get back into writing, so have this little blurb that i thought of! by all means i am here for any constructive criticism you may have<3 wc: 2.7k
The clatter of fingertips tapping against a keyboard filled the dimly lit BAU office. You sit at your desk, eyes fixed on the glowing screen as you scroll through reports, cross-referencing case files and taking notes. The quiet hum of the building has long since settled into a lull; you barely realize how deeply you've fallen into your work,
The distant ticking of a clock finally breaks your trance, but it wasn't until you feel the hairs arise on the back of your neck that you become fully aware. You slowly blink with a quiet groan, glancing at the time at the bottom of your screen.
10:58 PM. Shit.
You align your fingertips atop of your keyboard, the soft clatter filling the office once more before you hear the all-too familiar voice.
"Babes, what are you still doing here?!"
You turn and see nobody else but Garcia, finally emitting from her bat-cave. Her arms cross against her chest, a disappointed hum coming from her pressed lips. "You, my love, should be at home in a nice hot bath with a glass of wine."
Your lips splay a lazy smirk as you lean back in your chair, stretching your body with a quiet groan. "I was just about to wrap up, Pen, I promise..." You assure your colleague, feeling the strain of staring at a screen all day every time that you blink.
"Good deal my beautiful bug," Penelope chirps as her arms drop to her side. She's just as tired as you are, having spent all of her day digging through databases to find information on a potential UnSub. Her heals click as she goes to turn away, walking back towards her office.
"You know, you have to get your beauty sleep for your lover boy in the mor..." Her once confident words grow timid as she begins to trail off.
Penelope's breath catches in her throat as she realizes the words that so effortlessly flew off her tongue, her blood running cold at her grave error. Spencer is going to kill her.
"My what?" Your eyes narrow, scoffing in a confused manner.
She stills, yet she doesn't turn to you.
"Nothing! I... I didn't say anything..." She mutters with a nervous stammer of your name, the rhythmic clicking of her heels continuing as she speeds to her office.
You stand, the wheels of your office chair sliding out from under you as you feel a weakness in both of your legs. You stretch once more, trying to think of when the last time you even stood was.
"Penelope Grace Garcia!"
Her hand is resting on the cold, slick material of the doorknob that has the potential to separate her from this deep abyss that she just dug herself into. Instead, she stills for another moment before turning to you once more.
Penelope has to think of a lie, and quick.
"Obviously... I was talking about Morgan!"
There is a reason why she does what she does for a living, and is rarely out on the field with the rest of the crew unless her technical skills are needed.
Your eyes squint with a tentative hum. You don't believe Garcia, not for a second.
"You do know I'm a profiler..." A grumble of amusement comes from your chest at Penelope's attempt.
"Right..." She murmurs, her voice quiet as she breaks your gaze. She's mentally kicking herself for blabbing, such a rookie mistake in the game of workplace gossip.
Your eyebrows raise as you await Garcia's confession. However, she stays strong, not uttering another peep from her velvet-painted lips.
"So...?" You sing after a beat of silence, stars of hope glistening in the pools of your eyes.
With a whine, Penelope's shoulders drop.
"Look... I love you, sweetness, I do..." Her lips droop into a frown. Penelope's eyes greet your own somberly with a shake of her own head. "But I promised I wouldn't tell..."
You feel a weight of disappointment on your chest, and with a sigh, you decide to drop it. Penelope sees the way the sparkle in your eye begins to dim, eliciting a whine from her barely audible to your own ears.
"But!" She chirps, trying to share some of her own light with you. Penelope shouldn't be doing this, and she knows it. However, she is far too nurturing to let a beautiful smile like yours falter for even a second. "If you guess it... it's not technically me telling you, right?"
"You know? I like the way your mind thinks," You hum, reveling in the fact that you got your way. "Twenty questions?" The cold sensation of the faux-leather hits you as you sit back in your chair.
The corner of Penelope's lips twitch upwards as a combination of guilt and excitement course through her veins. "You know I love a good game, hit me..." She murmurs, her voice self-assured as she pulls a chair from a nearby desk, her legs crossing as she sits next to you.
"Okay..." You mutter with a shaky sigh. The pounding of your heart fills your entire body, your stomach slightly cramping with nerves. "Is it someone I know?"
"Uh, duh?"
Your eyes flutter shut, raking through potential victims that fell for whatever love trap you didn't even intent on setting. "Male or female?"
"Acht! That's not part of the rules my curious friend and you know it," Her dark eyes narrow as she playfully scolds her colleague. "I'm totally counting it though, eighteen more questions..."
With pressed lips, you weigh out the obvious individuals who are least likely to be a contender. Penelope sees how deep you are in thought, and she can't help herself but quietly scoff.
How can you not know it's Spencer? She thinks to herself. Everyone around the office sees it -- everyone but you, apparently. As you think, her mind wanders to about two months prior, where Spencer came to her for love advice. Penelope, being herself, already knew he was fawning over you. She picked up on it the moment the genius somehow grew more awkward every time he were to speak to you.
However, also being herself, she refused to give him any sound advice until he spilled who the lucky contender was; which just so happened to be you.
The sound of your voice pulls her out of her own mind.
"Do I see them often?"
The corners of her lips prop upwards, almost tauntingly. "Very," she affirms.
Someone you see very often... you mentally walk through your day-to-day routine, retracing every step no matter how minuscule. You awake every morning to nobody in your apartment but your cat, besides the occasional sleepover with a friend every now and again. You ready yourself for work alone, your first stop in the morning being the local coffee shop down the street...
"Ooh! Is it someone from the coffee shop?" You chirp, your heart beginning to race at the idea of an unspoken stranger admiring your beauty from afar. Individuals you see there on a day-to-day basis flood your mind, although it completely falls empty for the exception of one person; a barista behind the counter, roughly your age who is not bad looking in the slightest.
"That would be a negative..." Her red-painted lips press together, a slight pang of disappointment hitting you in the gut that it wasn't the barista.
"Darn..." You tut, your mind trying to silently place the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone you know, someone you see often, not someone from the coffee shop...
Penelope can't believe how oblivious you are. How do you not pick up on the fact that Spencer follows you around the office like a lost puppy? Or the fact that when the two of you are on the field together, he insists you go with him or vice versa because he feels the need to protect you?
"No way that it's a colleague?" Your brows stitch together, your head slanting as you throw the inconceivable idea into the open.
Penelope's head slightly tilts downwards as she gazes at you through the top of her frames. She flashes you a sly, almost flirtatious grin at your not-so-far-fetched theory.
"And if it is?"
The feeling of your heart hammering in your heart is felt throughout your entire body, your cheeks warming as you feel blood rush to your brain.
"Who?!" You exclaim, completely forgoing the rules to the game. This narrows your options to about seven. Your hands fumble with the cotton on the hem of your shirt as you narrow your options down even further, a shuttering breath falling from your lips.
"How do you not know?!" Penelope is quick to match your energy, an actual pain shooting through her chest at your own naivety. Her brows raise as her eyes widen, her fists balling as she folds herself back from blurting it out.
Your lips part as you're about to exclaim something quick and witty back to your colleague when it hits you. Like a fish gulping for water, you feel the soft skin of your lips quickly snap shut.
The memories hit you all at once: the mornings you're in a rush and you forget your coffee - Reid excusing himself for a moment with a muttered excuse before returning with it minutes later, the nights you return home from a case and he offers to spend time with you because it pains you being alone after what you saw, the countless facts he will ramble to you on the plane because damn it, you're the only one that actually listens to him.
"Oh my god, Reid?" Your jaw drops as you gasp, your arms numbing as your nerves shoot past the roof and to the stratosphere.
With a relieved sigh, Penelope's palms slap against her thighs, planting her leg down onto the floor with her other one. "Finally!" She groans, almost feeling a sense of comfort that you know and the weird tension around the office while the two are around would soon come to an end.
"Since when?!" Your heart ticks against your chest so hard that you can hear it in your ears. Never in a million years would you assume it would be Spencer that would be silently pining over you. Reid?!
"Since like... forever, buttercup!" Penelope giggles. She can see the dots being connected in the pretty little brain of yours, and god, she loves it. Her voice softens, a warm, almost maternal intent behind them. "We really should be getting home..." She groans, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. "Since you two are totes madly in love already, let me know when one of you decides to make the move, okay?"
With a roll of your eyes, the back of your hand ever so gently strikes the side of Garcia's arm. She notices the way blush speckles across your face, a knowing grin playing against her own. You can't ignore the way your chest fuzzes over at the thought of Spencer feeling about you the way you feel about him, it makes your stomach ache with desire; you don't know if you love or hate the sensation.
"Goodnight, Garcia..." A mix between a chuckle and a sigh of contentment is emitted from you. She mumbles a quick 'good night' with a quick, playful wink before standing from her chair, returning it to its original home.
‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊
The next morning you're in a hurry to get to work, oversleeping by a long shot as it took you forever to wind down last night due to your wandering thoughts.
You get to your desk with merely minutes to spare, a tired, overwhelmed groan falling from your lips as you place your bag in your desk and splay your jacket against the back of your chair.
"Long night last night, agent?"
You don't even have to look up to know who it is... your body freezes for a moment, not sure if you're prepared to deal with this; not yet, anyways.
With a soft sigh, your gaze is lifted and immediately greeted with Spencer's. His large, curious and caring stare. His hazel eyes almost bare into your own, causing a tingle to run down your spine. You try to ignore the butterflies that patter within the walls of your stomach, yet they're hard to confine.
"Yeah... I'm fine, Reid," You nod, your lips tentatively pressing together. "Just didn't sleep worth the damn last night... just... thinking about the case..." You trail, the sound of your voice growing softer and quieter like a beautiful decrescendo.
His lips part for just a moment, an inaudible 'ah' coming from him before giving you an understanding nod.
"I figured... Garcia told me you were here late last night and I kind of... presumed this may happen," He muses with an awkward chuckle. "Which is why... I brought you this..."
Reid's tall frame trails away from your desk for a moment, which draws out a soft hum from you as you tap your fingertips against the smooth, cool material of your desk.
His long stride is quick to return, your heart almost leaping out of your throat as he sees what's within his long, slender fingers.
Your favorite coffee.
You accept the gesture, your stomach doing flips as you take the cup within the confines of your own grasp. You mumble something quick and playful, telling Spencer that he is your favorite person in the world right now for such a small action.
The feeling of someone else watching you is burned into the back of your skull, a sensation churning in your gut that you can't shake. Your gaze flicks over to the side, in which you're immediately greeted by Garcia.
She not-so-subtly flashes two thumbs up at you, her nails painted a shade of dark purple. "Go get 'em!" She mouths in approval, your gaze quickly turning over to the male in front of you in attempt to hide Penelope's matchmaking attempt.
"Hey... do you um... maybe want to get coffee at this place together sometime?" You attempt to thickly swallow down your nerves, trying to soothe the heartbeat creeping out of your chest.
Spencer is silent a moment, his lips twitching upwards in a sign of approval at your suggestion. You see the thoughts shifting through his mind, the rates of his blinks increasing in a sense of disbelief that you're actually asking him this.
"I-- um... yeah! Let's do tomorrow before work? If... you're okay getting up that early, if not we can totally do a different time, perhaps--"
"Tomorrow it is..." You cut him off, something you rarely do. He nods in agreement, a quiet 'tomorrow' mumbled from his lips as he attempts to conceal his excitement.
You’re not sure how to shake off the butterflies in your stomach, but Spencer’s shy smile is enough to make you feel warm all over. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the moment linger. Before you can say anything else, Garcia’s voice breaks through your thoughts, louder than life.
"You two better not cancel on me! I want details!" she teases from across the room, flashing a mischievous grin your way. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.
Spencer, now fully aware of the matchmaker’s antics, lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair, looking even more flustered than before.
You meet his gaze again, a new kind of tension settling between you—a mix of nerves, excitement, and something deeper that you’re not ready to name just yet. You take a breath, feeling that the next chapter of whatever this is has already started, and it’s thrilling.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you murmur, unable to stop the grin that’s threatening to split your face. Spencer nods, his smile small but genuine, as he turns to head to his desk.
As he walks away, you catch a glimpse of Garcia again, this time with an exaggerated wink. You shake your head, but you can’t suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting, to say the least.
And maybe... just maybe, things are finally falling into place.
#spencer reid x reader#penelope garcia x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#fanfic#spencer reid#x reader#via’s fics<3
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𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 | yandere! prince x male! reader | NSFW
pairing: horny! prince x oblivious! male reader
CONTAINS:
blowjob
overstimulation
bathtub sex
dick riding (literally)
nipple play
fingering
sorry i think im turning into a nsfw tumblr page with a sprinkle of gore, fluff and angst lol might contain small tiny discrepancies as i edited it from third person to second person. | taken from my fic on wattpad called possession thank you for 1k followers on tumblr! please comment, reblog, and like if you enjoyed this
The situation you had gotten yourself in was rather dire.
For the longest period of time, you had been unaware of your best friend’s feelings — the crown prince — and just how strong his affections were towards you.
And that included not knowing how horny Isidor — your best friend — was.
And now that both of your feelings were out in the open, that meant that the air was practically suffocating with sexual tension.
You sat across him on the bed, jumbling up your words as you tried to tackle this nefarious topic.
"I—" You faltered. "What I mean to say is, I know you're sexually aroused. You've made that clear..." you trailed off, voice small. "And I know you're being very patient with me."
"Yes, Y/n." Isidor said slowly, "...what are you trying to say?"
Why is he making me say it? you thought with frustration, just—!
You reeled the prince in for a kiss, cupping the prince’s cheek and pouring all the things you couldn't figure out how to say at that moment in that kiss. Then when both your lips were both red and swollen (they already were, from all the initial kisses), you looked at Isidor with a meaningful glance.
Realization flashed through Isidor's eyes. It was followed by a smoldering glint that signaled his lust.
Encouraged by his reaction — you struggled on, "you don't have to wait. You don't have to be patient."
Isidor was painfully hard by then, his cock throbbing and pulsing as blood rushed up to its surface.
"Y/n," Isidor murmured in a strangled voice, "say it. You know, I am curious about how sound-proofed our dorm truly is. Let's test it out, shall we?"
"I—"
You had barely gotten the words out before Isidor was crowding you against the walls, tongue licking a stripe up your neck from your open collar. Oh, you tasted godly — Isidor would carve his hips against your own and engrave his initials to your brain — he would make you say his name in a feverish heat.
Isidor's hands started to slide under our shirt, staring at you with eager eyes. "Say what you want, Y/n — and I shall give."
"I want," you panted, "you to fuck me."
I want you to fuck me.
Following your bold declaration, Isidor's remaining sanity that he prided himself on had dissipated into nothingness. For an extremely long period of time, Isidor had thought he still had remarkable self control, considering that he, up until this point, had not made any significant advances towards you, the man he loved.
But you had now given him explicit permission — had almost begged for it, even.
Isidor angled himself into a tilt, dragging his lips along your sensitive own. You gasped — and Isidor took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into the gap of your mouth, plunging right into the heart of your mouth.
And oh, he sure took his time to explore. You found yourself grasping for something to support yourself with, as every single time Isidor would move, your limbs would grow weak.
And soon, when the two of you broke apart, there was an obscene, sliver slick of saliva at the edge of your lips. Sensual, sensitive, and alluring.
"You're sensitive," Isidor whispered, "now this is going to be fun..."
And even that last kiss had careened into something else entirely — into a debauched, obscene mess. At that moment, there was no rhythm to the kiss — there was nothing controlled about your movements. Isidor's grip on your waist was bruising and lacked the tenderness that it usually had.
"You're hard," Isidor said, almost seeming proud — "aren't you, Y/n?" He reached down to your hard length and squeezed, causing you to release a soft moan, grinding yourself against Isidor.
"Ah—don't —" you swallowed, "Isidor."
Isidor wanted to ruin you. He wanted to mark the skin that seemed to call him in —to lick the skin that was peppered and powdered with pink. He wanted to stake his claim on your body, to show that you were truly his, and solely his. Only his.
Isidor didn't respond, instead grasping your pants and pulling it down in a deft motion, tossing it to the other side of the room where it lay forgotten. And now you could be seen hard, aching — with your boxers painfully restraining your boner. Isidor licked his lips, the other hand grabbing your shirt and also tossing it away carelessly. Yourbare skin looked like a feast to Isidor: it was unblemished, untouched, and provided as the perfect canvas for Isidor to litter his marks and kisses on.
"Perhaps we should do something about this," Isidor murmured, one finger reaching to jerk your cock, still clothed beneath your boxers, the other slowly peeling off the last layer of fabric like Isidor was uncovering a prize. "Right, Y/n?"
"Don't tell me you're planning on—" you swallowed back a moan, a hand flying to your mouth as you stifled the lewd sounds slipping from your mouth. "I-Isidor—"
How unfair. Isidor was completely clothed still, while you were already naked and bare for him to see. Isidor pressed his cheek to the head of your cock, his eyes gleaming. His hands had started to wrap around your girth, lips curling into a smirk. And here you were initially worrying about giving head — when as it turned out, Isidor was going to be the one giving it to you.
Precum was already leaking from the top of your cock, sluggishly dripping down your whole length. You started to writhe, your train of thought forgotten. Your whole body was riled up, all restless energy and pure jittery nerves. Your hands flew up to weave into dark strands of hair as Isidor started to move, bobbing his head to swallow your cock whole. You felt a sudden jolt of pleasure as all you could feel was the slickness, wetness and pure heat of Isidor's mouth enveloping your body, deep-throating him. A wanton moan left your mouth.
"Shhh," Isidor murmured, "I'll make you feel good, darling. You can make those noises when I truly fuck you later."
Isidor was awfully good at giving head, to the extent you started to suspect he had done it before. And it was not before long when your cock started to twitch as you felt your imminent release. Desperately, you tried to pry Isidor's lips from your length, but the prince stayed stubbornly, his eyes traveling towards to meet yours. Your thighs spread further apart, your ass angling upwards, cock jerking in Isidor's mouth, fervently begging for more.
Smug. Isidor looked smug, like he knew he was responsible for your first release.
You watched with mortification as Isidor's Adam apple bobbed, the white liquid sliding down his throat. But your mind was already driven from pleasure and your eyes were glazed, your vision indescribably heavy. You grew slack as low breaths escaped your lips, your chest rising up and down as you looked at Isidor, cheeks reddening.
Why was the fuck — sorry for the crude language — was the crown prince licking his lips?
"You came so fast," Isidor murmured, "perhaps I should have delayed it so you would have the energy to continue on. Perhaps I should have waited so that you would come with my cock inside you. But no matter — I can think of a lot better ways to make you come again..." Isidor pressed a firm kiss to the base of your neck, straightening his back to be on eye level with you. "Can you continue?"
It was stupid to think how a simple blowjob had rendered you utterly gone.
I'm not going to last, you thought, I really won't. Because from the looks of it, Isidor had plenty of ideas in mind.
"Not fair," your voice was garbled, "I've already come once and you haven't even taken your clothes off yet."
"Would you like to do the honor?" Isidor tilted his head teasingly, reveling in the feel of your bare skin underneath his fingers, "would you, Y/n?"
You nodded your head weakly. Your hands reached out, trembling, to fumble clumsily with the band of the prince's pants and boxers, slowly pulling it down like Isidor had done earlier. Isidor was impatient — he was already deftly and quickly unbuttoning his own shirt, discarding it into the pile that your clothes had formed.
And oh, you could see how the prince had been so truly tortured for the past year, in all the moments you had been oblivious to his advances. The tip of his bulbous cock was so swollen and red that you marveled at it — but a strange feeling settled into the pits of your stomach: how were you supposed to fit it in?
"Well," Isidor said in a low voice, "now that the matter of our clothes has been settled..." Slowly yet roughly, Isidor pushed you down to press flush against the bed, using his hands to pin you down and secure you. Your head was now resting on the pillows placed against the bed frame.
There was a brief stretch of silence.
"What are you doing?" You asked feebly, seeing how Isidor seemed to be so transfixed with you, "aren't you going to do something?"
"Admiring you." Isidor breathed out, "seeing how all this —" Isidor's hands gingerly traveled across the expanse of your chest, before resting upon your nipple and twisting it — "is mine now. Seeing how all that I've lusted for...every inch of you is all mine to touch."
"Isidor," you said, your voice cracking. "You're torturing yourself by waiting."
"And don't I know it." Isidor smiled.
"Isidor," you whined, your voice needy as the prince's fingers grazed your other nipple, "just—"
"Starving for it, are you?" Isidor kissed your bud, swirling his tongue around it. There was a sheen of saliva between your hard nipple and Isidor's mouth as he finished sucking it. Isidor moved towards the crook of your neck temporarily, lightly scraping his skin with teeth, just enough for a small mark to blossom as it followed the fangs of his teeth. You let out an unconscious moan, feeling as slight pain started to settle in.
Isidor looked with satisfaction at the mark that now adorned your neck, resuming his earlier actions — your hands twitched, body arching up as Isidor played idly with your nipple, rolling it leisurely between his fingers before pinching the sensitive and red bud.
A hand stopped you from rolling your hips towards Isidor's hard cock, pressing you further against the bed. Teeth tugged at your earlobe, biting it gently and possessively as light kisses were then bestowed upon your skin. A hopeless and tender groan fell from your lips as Isidor moved down to latch onto your other nipple — the one that had been spared earlier — glancing at you with a starved look.
"You taste so good..." Isidor mumbled, seeming to be lost in whatever pleasure he was experiencing — "ah, I just want to fuck you already."
Isidor was a prince. His language was often flowery and not crude. And yet now obscenities were being spewed from his lips like nothing. It made your chest tingle as you saw the power you held over the prince — as you realized the power the two of you had over each other.
Oh, you could bring Isidor down to his knees.
Your thighs were spread further apart, Isidor slotting himself right in between them as if he belonged there.
"I'll prepare you," Isidor leaned back as he opened the bedside drawer and took out a bottle of lube, making you immediately ask: how do you have lube so readily available? — to which, Isidor answered: for myself. "I'll prepare you, Y/n."
Ah fuck...you’re so cute. You are so, so cute. I just want to put it in already — I just want to fuck you already, Isidor thought in desperation, I just want you. But for the sake of your bottom half in the future...
Isidor coated his fingers and cock liberally with the slick liquid, his touch hot as he capped the bottle, chucking it to the side. The last vestiges of coherent, calm thoughts were slowly starting to vanish from Isidor's mind — so close. He was so close to feeling your walls squeezing along his hard length, just like he had always envisioned in his dirty dreams —
Heat surged through you, positively blazing as Isidor pressed two fingers relentlessly against your hole. The foreign sensation grounded you — sparks of pleasure tingled down your spine as Isidor wiggled his fingers around, pressing down onto your prostate. It held your impending orgasm at bay — albeit briefly — but you welcomed the feelings, moan after moan leaving your lips, the lewd sound mixing with the filthy sounds echoing around the room.
You hoped fervently that the rooms were advertised like they were — soundproof.
But even with two, you felt so full. It burned, yes, especially when Isidor added a third.
"Mgh," you moaned, "Isidor—ah, hngh—"
"I've waited, Y/n," Isidor purred, "I deserve to be a little selfish, don't I?"
Isidor was practically scissoring you open, consistently pressing down to the most sensitive spot in your hole — you writhed on those fingers as they plunged in deeper, milking your prostate with precise strokes. And when those fingers left, you felt empty, your walls clenching around nothing. A last finger trailed lightly over your twitching rim, the touch featherlight and gentle, yet as you were already sensitive from your earlier orgasm, you couldn't help but jolt at his touch.
"You took my fingers so willingly," Isidor cooed, "makes you wonder how you'll take my cock, right?"
"Will you — ah —" you panted, feeling your vision black out for the briefest moment — "Isidor —"
"Are you tired?" One last kiss was pressed onto your lips, chaste, but no less satisfying as the others — "bear with me a little longer."
"Isidor," you whined, giving a petulant moan. You were unsure of what you wanted. No, actually, screw that — you knew exactly what he wanted. You ran your nails along Isidor's back, causing the prince to hiss slightly, "just — just do what you want. Do what you want with me."
"Isn't that inviting?" Isidor's voice held no restraint, as he practically towered over you. "isn't that too inviting, Y/n?"
"Please — mgh,” you were sobbing now, tears streaming down your face. It was not of pain, however — it was due to the pure pleasure and ecstasy thrumming below your skin.
Isidor wiped away at your tear-smeared cheeks, shushing you softly and thumbing at your waist with sweetness and tenderness. "Oh," Isidor panted, "I promise you it won't hurt. I can't promise you that I'll be gentle, but —"
"Fuck me."
Isidor's head snapped up to meet you, real hunger swirling in his eyes. The nips on your skin veered into bites, and soon Isidor started to line his cock to the rim of your sensitive hole. As the tip prodded your entrance, you found Isidor's arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer. Isidor grunted slightly as he started to press in slowly, as your body rejoiced at the feel of Isidor's girth entering your body, your walls tightening around it.
"Hah," you panted, "I-Isidor—"
The prince paused, allowing you to accommodate his size. Isidor grabbed your thighs, and in a quick motion, threw your legs over his shoulder, forcing you to lift your hips. And Isidor's grip on your hip stayed.
Trembling, you let out a wanton groan when you felt the tip of Isidor's cock twitch as it brushed against the hot, slick ring of muscle, clearly eager to plunge inside. And you were more than ready to accommodate it — to accommodate the warmth; the demand. A filthy sound echoed yet again around the room as Isidor pushed his cock deeper into you. And you couldn't help but keen as you felt yourself being breached, violent shivers wrecking and coursing through you as Isidor slid in with his entire length in a single thrust.
Slowly but surely, Isidor bottomed out, sinking deeper, splitting you open and punching all the air out of you. You were left gasping, breathing in and out rapidly. Isidor was huge, you thought, left shaking at the stretch, with Isidor all the way in. Your vision turned black for a moment, and you feared you would pass out from overstimulation. But that moment passed, and you were still there. Alive.
Your legs were suspended over Isidor's shoulder, your back upright against the bed frame. And Isidor started off with a slow pace, and slowly set up a steady rhythm that left you gutted every time the prince thrusted back in.
Isidor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you until the two of you were impossibly close, his cock rubbing deep against your insides, causing you to gasp against the skin of Isidor's neck. Briefly, Isidor seemed to catch sight of your reflection in a tiny mirror on the bedside table — and the prince smiled as he grabbed your chin and angled you towards it.
You flushed.
"Look how pretty you are, Y/n. Look, Y/n. Look at your pretty little face. Look at your eyes...your nose...your lips. Such a cutie just for me, right?"
You could not answer — it felt like you were getting pried open to the point that your brain couldn't register anything.
The pace had started to increase, and Isidor had clearly become greedier with his thrusts turning more vicious and earth-shattering. Each one sent you pushed against the bed frame, and Isidor burrowed his head into your neck, breathing heavily in your ear.
"Haa — You feel so good," Isidor looked almost relieved that all his pent up sexual frustration over the months — the year — had finally been resolved, "oh, Y/n...you take me so well — aren't you just made for me?"
Compliments and sweet sensibilities continued to roll off Isidor's lips.
"Aren't you just such a pet?" Isidor breathed out shakily, "Aren't you just perfect for me? Fuck —” You rolled his hips amidst a delicious burn. Something blazed in Isidor — he slammed in deeper than the previous thrust, dragging his length over your prostate.
"My stamina — it's terribly bad," you choked out, spots beginning to swarm around your vision. But still your body continued to move against Isidor's.
"And yet you're still doing wonderfully." Isidor murmured, pressing a kiss onto your lips. Your lips were bitten raw and almost bloody, but Isidor's lips were slick and hot, and that sent more pleasure tingling down your spine — "aren't you?"
You seemed to burn. You didn't know just how your body was still holding up — when you would have expected that it would have been gone by now. But you couldn't dwell upon it — soft lips met yours, the movement languorous and easy as Isidor's mouth explored yours.
Isidor's hands moved up to frame your face, shaking a little bit from the emotions coursing through him. He'd wanted this. Had yearned for it for years. And here he was, with his cock in you, watching as pleasure blazed in his beloved's eyes.
Nothing could compare to the feeling of your mouth against his, the way your skin felt underneath his soft caresses, frantic and urgent. Yes — Isidor, though starved, could be gentle, reverent, adoring. The kiss was so soft, tender, and sweet that it made you dizzy.
"Isidor, please — haa, fuck me," you pleaded. You felt the cock inside of you twitch, the sensation almost too much for your tightly wound body. It felt near overwhelming how deep Isidor reached, how thoroughly stretched your ass was around the throbbing erection inside of you.
Isidor's pace was faster now, and his thrusts were going sloppy. You could feel the way Isidor tugged your hair to kiss you wildly and messily unlike the previous soft kisses — and with a low groan of your name, Isidor buried himself to the hilt, spilling himself deep inside of you. Warmth — pure warmth pooled low in your belly, and Isidor's cock pulsed with the last of its release. This was cherished, inviting warmth, and Isidor pressed a firm kiss onto your forehead and shifted his hips back, slipping out. His cock had softened compared to before and yet still —
You felt completely and utterly gone. Boneless. Used.
You could feel Isidor's cum slowly trickling out of your abused hole, but you currently cared very little about sullying yourself or the sheets.
"I'll clean you," Isidor said hoarsely, wrapping you in his arms. "Come here, darling."
Your vision was fading in and out — you were immensely tired, and yet — how horny was Isidor? You would have expected for his appetite to have been whetted after the prince spilled all that in you — after he had relentlessly pounded you — but still, Isidor's stamina had not waned. If anything, the prince was only stopping out of consideration.
You allowed yourself to be carried and to be brought into the bathroom — there were a few wet and sloppy kisses exchanged between the two of you, with Isidor nearly pressing onto you against the table — but whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, Isidor managed to turn on the tap, run the bath, and enter the bath along with you. There were a few peaceful minutes as you collected your thoughts and feelings, your breaths managing to steady.
And it was with mirth you realized that just a while ago, the two of you had bathed here, with you utterly oblivious.
And now you weren’t oblivious to the fact that Isidor — he was still horny. It was concerning how a human could hold so much hunger for someone.
...Should I...?
You cupped the prince's cheek, looking at him meaningfully while using your leg to nudge Isidor's erection. Despite how exhausted you were — though those few minutes had saved your lungs, albeit temporarily — you were selfish enough to want the both of you to feel satisfied. You wanted the first time to be equally desirable for both of you. And besides...you did need to train your stamina, didn't you?
"Are you that insatiable?" You asked, tilting your head. Your voice was now rendered hoarse. You felt like you had just gotten the living lights fucked out of you mercilessly — your back was aching, with the countless of times you had nearly been folded against the bed frame — and your nipples and lips were sore, having been bitten.
A heated sensation went right to Isidor's cock.
"You can still fuck me," you murmured, "here."
In normal circumstances, Isidor would have said no. But here you were. pliant, offering him this decision — how could the prince resist?
"You might regret this decision," Isidor warned, starting to move towards you. One hand held the back of your head, so the proceeding thrust would not cause you to topple right over — while the other hand gripped your already bruised hip. It was a rather interesting position, with you straddled over him, Isidor's cock pressed against your stomach.
You smiled gently. "I won't. So you're really that insatiable, I suppose."
With that final affirmation, Isidor lifted your hips slowly, dragging his length over the puffiness of your hole. It was much too ambitious to think about fucking you again but god, Isidor so wanted to. And he would. Isidor would fuck you again, with your
Your hole was slick and wet already from the earlier rounds, and so slipping it in was easy. In fact, so easy — that Isidor started to marvel at just how made for each other you two were — and his gaze dropped down to the evidence of the penetration — the slight bulge in your lower stomach. Your ass was sitting so sweetly and nicely on his cock, your walls squeezed around it. You gave a little moan as you started to adjust yourself.
Isidor's voice came out so wrecked it was almost inaudible — and he answered your question belatedly. "I'm afraid that yes, I am. I am that insatiable."
You were on his lap — you were —
...Riding him, amidst the waters.
The evidence of your previous pleasures was smeared between the two of your bodies, and Isidor languidly rolled once more into you, thrusting into your prostate once more. And all you could do was sit there prettily and gasp as your cock twitched against your abdomen, leaking more fluid onto yourself.
Your hands tightened around Isidor's neck, pulling him down for another filthy, wet kiss. Endless shivers and tiny spasms wrecked through you as Isidor kept fucking you, with moans and sounds falling all over your kiss-swollen lips. The pleasure in your body started to build once more. Exhaustion riddled your body, and yet your walls continued to clench around Isidor's intrusion, with the prince's fingers digging into your hips, his rhythm faltering for a split second before returning. This time, the thrust was faster and harder. Isidor was practically splitting you open.
Overstimulated, You felt like you were gone.
Your lips met with his in a mix of saliva and tongue, and you shuddered as Isidor grounded himself further, pushing his way inside until he was impossibly deep in you. The water sloshed around the two of you, and for the briefest moment, you wondered what it would have been like for your entire body to be beneath the water.
Whatever obscene sounds you made were muffled by Isidor's hungry mouth on yours, unrelenting and harsh. You were devoured, ravished, treasured — and you loved every bit of it.
Your stomach swooped as Isidor broke the kiss and started rocking into you faster, the thrusts stronger and deeper now as he took pleasure from your obedient body. With your breathing ragged and uneven, you closed your eyes and let the sensations wash over you. You could feel everything — the way Isidor pressed inside of you, the way Isidor fucked you until guttural cries were forcibly spilled from your mouth. You could feel the unrestrained desire, the pace quickening. There was the steady roll of hips against an addicting burn — Isidor thrusted in and out, his cock sliding into your wet hole continuously.
"Fuck," Isidor breathed out, "you're so perfect."
Your hole stretched so impossibly wide, taking in the prince deeply. There were a never ending mix of grunts, groans, and moans from the both of you, coupled with aborted renditions of Isidor's name — you were rendered speechless and helpless.
You could feel the sensation vividly — the warmth spreading through your belly, anchoring you. The searing heat that was diffusing in you, building and building until it threatened to overwhelm you. For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, you felt the imminent sensation of your release.
Isidor thrusted, harder, pressing his cock as deep into you as it could go. You clenched around Isidor, muscles constricting involuntarily and rippling around the cock fucking you open. A low groan sounded below you, as Isidor's hips stuttered for a brief second before he found his rhythm again. Your body was wet with the water but the slipperiness of it only reduced the friction between Isidor’s and your body — Isidor took your lips in his, ravaging them.
"Fuck," Isidor panted, voice strained from the effort of plowing into you. "You're so cute." The prince could not seem to stop the honeyed praises from falling from his lips.
Another thrust ripped a moan from your throat. Isidor was pounding into you, his motions merciless and relentless. You clawed at his back, your walls tightening as he struggled to accommodate Isidor's size.
You pushed your hips back down — Isidor's body responded, and he flexed his hips just in time to meet with your downward grind, and that was the last straw. It was enough for you to release once more, and your back arched as you spilled on the thick length lodged right against your prostate, walls quivering. Isidor had come too, and now the both of you were panting, with you seated firmly on the prince's cock. The spilled seed leaked from your puffy and tender hole.
You could feel yourself really about to black out this time round. It was a miracle that you had made it this far — if not for the small break you had had in the bath, you would have collapsed by now. Strong, muscular hands wrapped around your waist, and Isidor was pressing tender kiss after kiss on the marks littered on your skin. It was like the prince was trying to map everything out again.
Lips rasped against your cheek, and you felt a hand brush your loose hair away from your face. Isidor's voice was low and sweet as he spoke: "Rest well, darling."
And with that, you blacked out, your exhausted body slumping against the cold tiles of the bathroom.
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#eroswrites#male reader#yandere x male reader#male reader insert#soft yandere#x bottom male reader#yandere smut#yandere oc x reader#yandere male x male reader#yandere x you#layout inspired by vei sama
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Oblivious
Mattheo Riddle X Hufflepuff reader
Summery: Mattheo is in love with someone, and the reader navigates their way through it. Also Mattheo cant keep his hands to himself.
Warnings: Out of character maybe, Cursing, Friends to lovers, Language, some angst, This is long, fluff
Word count is just under 6k oops.
“There’s the little badger.” Mattheo greeted as I sat in my usual spot right next to him.
I scrunched my nose up at the nickname he had given to me in our second year, a moniker that had yet to die. He bestowed it upon me after I refused to divulge my name in the first month of knowing him. So he cycled through various nick names before settling on my house’s animal.
“Hi Matty.” I spoke in a sing-song voice.
His lips quirked up as he rolled his eyes. He always acted like he hated the name, but I knew he secretly loved it. Instead of responding, he reached up and straightened out my tie that I had haphazardly thrown on. I was late this morning, which was no surprise. Being late was the hallmark of my personality.
“We should get you a green one, since you are an honorary Slytherin at this point.” He said in a sarcastic tone, but his brown eyes sparkled with warmth.
“I could just take yours.” I whispered winking at him.
Mattheo froze for a moment, then let out a cough. His long fingers tugged my collar back down. Blaise made a stupid joke to Draco, Complete with an exaggerated kissy face. A small blush rose to my cheeks.
“Thanks. You are the best” I said, interrupting the awkward tension.
He responded with a genuine smile, one that lingered for nearly twenty seconds before reverting to his usual scowl. Mattheo nudged a plate of food towards me. It was loaded with my favorite things, including a bowl of fruit topped with a generous pile of whipped cream—just the way I liked it. My smile widened until it hurt.
I wasted no time in digging into the fruit. The sweetness of the whipped cream mingled with the tartness of the berries reminding me why it was the best. As soon as I took my first bite Mattheo wrapped an arm over my shoulders turning back to his conversation with his friends.
“What do you want to do this weekend?” Blaise asked, looking at everyone.
“I am going to Hogsmeade with Ron and Harry. They just asked me in the hall.” Mattheo glowered as I spoke, his arm falling down to my lower back.
“Ditching us for the golden trio. That’s low Y/N.” Theo spoke through a mouthful of food.
“I have other friends, you know.”
Everyone exchanged dubious glances, I spent about 95 percent of my time with the Slytherin boys, but I did have other friends. They just seemed to forget it. Draco scoffed. I took another bite of my food hiding my smile. My friends were jealous though they would never admit it.
“What if we meet-“ My words trailed off as Mattheo used his finger to wipe away some cream on the corner of my mouth. His touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, awakening butterflies in my stomach.
“Hey Mattheo.” A female voice said from behind us. We both turned to face her, moving as one.
It was a pretty Ravenclaw girl a year below us. She and Mattheo talked occasionally in classes and the hallway; she had even tutored him for a few months last year. The girl started to fiddle with her blue sweater, shuffling on her feet.
“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out on Saturday?”
Everyone at our table fell silent. Did she just ask him out on a date? I froze. We had all suspected she liked him, but we never knew how Mattheo felt about her. He was a man of few words when it came to feelings.
Mattheo looked right at me, his mouth opening and closing, words failing him. I giggled nervously—did he like her after all? Was he nervous?
“He is free. Let’s all meet in the Courtyard at 9? We can all head out together.” She nodded.
As she walked away, Mattheo squeezed my hand, mumbling something under his breath. I couldn’t make out a single word he was saying.
I think I just got him a date, and it wasn’t me. I pushed him in to another girls’ arms. Merlin, I was dumb.
It was the end of the day, and it had passed by in a blur. I was making my way to the library so Mattheo and I could work on an essay for herbology together. The events of this morning were still raw in my mind, playing over and over. My heart hurt, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.
“Is he ever going to tell her how he feels?” Theo’s voice echoed down the hall loud and clear.
“I mean it’s obvious. Mattheo is fooling no one.” Blaise added.
I gasped as I rounded the corner, my footsteps faltering. It felt like there was another crack added to my heart today. Why, though? I always knew there was going to eventually be a girl that wasn’t just a casual hook up.
“Mattheo is in love with someone?” I whispered, disbelief washing through me like a cold wave.
“No, he just really likes this girl. She is-” Blaise smacked Theo, cutting off whatever else he was going to say.
“Ow” Theo rubbed his arm and glared at Blaise. Ever the dramatic one.
Mattheo never told me about liking anyone. I thought we were closer than that. And Merlin, I agreed to a date for him. What if it was the wrong girl and I just made things complicated? He could have just been looking for a way out of it. Maybe that was why he was tense all day.
“It is not our place to say anything” Blaise bit out bitterly.
“Oh.”
“Why does it look like you two have offended my little badger?” Mattheo appeared; his eyebrow arched in curiosity as he looked at the two of them.
“Uhmm- They. We.” I couldn’t come up with a lie. My brain was trying to comprehend that Mattheo didn’t tell me he liked someone.
He gently grabbed my hands, his touch warm and reassuring, making me face him. His dark eyes bore into mine, searching for an answer.
“Darling? Are you ok?” his tone was soft and filled with concern.
“Yeah, yes. They were talking about sex.” I cringed internally. I wasn’t that innocent, but what else could I say that would end the conversation?
I was getting secondhand embarrassment from myself if that was even possible.
He let out a loud laugh, which startled me to my core. I wasn’t prepared for that reaction.
“I thought I was going to have to fight my best friends for you.” His tone held amusement, a playful glint in his eyes.
Blaise flipped him off, and Theo let out a protest. Mattheo’s hands moved from mine, pulling me into his embrace. His chest shook as he laughed some more. I buried my face into his chest, trying to hide my embarrassment. He smelled of cologne and rain.
“Let’s get to the library; we have an essay to write.” He took my bag from me, slinging it on his shoulder and held my hand as we walked to the library.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but replay the conversation I had overheard. Mattheo liked someone- no, loved someone. My mind was becoming a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Every glance, every touch we shared had felt loaded with unspoken words. Was I reading into it?
When we finally arrived at the library, the familiar scent of books and the quiet ambiance did little to calm my racing thoughts. Mattheo led us to a secluded table, away from the prying eyes of the other students. He set my bag down and pulled out a chair for me, a small gesture that made my heart flutter despite everything.
As we worked, I found myself stealing glances at him, wondering what secrets he was hiding behind that stupid charming smile of his.
We were in the middle of our work... Well, he was. I was reading the same page over and over, my eyes glazing over the words. I was still focused on trying to figure out who the girl he liked was. He hardly talked to anyone when he was with me, which was pretty much all day.
I let out a gasp dropping the book on the table with a thud. The librarian shushed me from her desk, eyes narrowed in disapproval. Mattheo’s hand instinctively reached out and rubbed circles on my back as if it was second nature to comfort me.
Was I in the way? The reason he couldn’t get the girl.
No, he would tell me. Mattheo was blunt like that… but he didn’t tell me he liked someone.
“I can tell you are overthinking little badger.” His thumb smoothed out the worry lines on my forehead. His touch was soft and comforting.
Gods, why did my heart hurt so much?
“Oh, you know I just realized my outline was wrong. I need to start over.” I lied to him, something I never did. And I have done It twice in one day.
Mattheo knew I was lying too. He shook his head, looking back at his paper, his warm hand squeezing my knee, sending me silent words of comfort and understanding. His touch lingered, grounding me, yet making my thoughts spiral even more. The connection between us felt so real, so tangible, but was it just in my head? The uncertainty gnawed at me, making it hard to focus.
As the minutes ticked by the silence between us filled the space. I could feel his gaze flicker to me, trying to decipher my emotions and thoughts. The library's quiet ambiance seemed to mock my inner turmoil, each second stretching painfully.
As the evening drew on, Mattheo set his quill down, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. “Darling, you're not yourself tonight. What's really going on?”
I swallowed hard, avoiding getting any answers I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear. I forced a smile. “Just tired, I guess. It's been a long day.”
He didn’t seem convinced, his eyes searching mine. With a sigh, he gathered our things, his movements slow and deliberate. “Let’s call it a night. We can finish this another time.”
As we walked out of the library, the cool air hit us, a welcome relief. Mattheo’s hand found mine again, his fingers lacing through mine with an ease that made my heart ache. Could I bear to lose this connection if he moved on?
I awoke with a gasp sitting straight up in my bed. My breathing was shallow, and I was drenched in a cold sweat. Tears fell slowly, tracing icy paths down my cheeks. I haven’t had that nightmare in a while. Mattheo was fighting in the war, and I watched him die as I held on to him, begging him to stay with me. It always felt too real.
A wave of panic surged through me as I stood up grabbing my slippers. The torches casted an eerie glow on the paintings that were sleeping as I hurried down the silent corridor. I needed to get to the Slytherin common room. I needed to see him with my own eyes.
I knocked on Mattheos door very gently, my knuckles barely made a sound against the wood. This was stupid. I shouldn’t be waking him up. It was selfish, but I needed to see him breathing.
My vision was still blurry from the tears, heart pounding a mile a minute. The door cracked open very slowly.
“Darling?” he mumbled, sleep thick in his voice reaching out for me. “What’s wrong?”
I launched into his arms holding on to him tightly. His arms caught me snaking around my waist holding me close. Mattheo nuzzled his face in my neck. I pressed my ear to his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.
He was ok. It was a dream. I let out a soft sob. Mattheo shushed me, pulling us into his room. As a perfect he got his room to himself, so I didn’t have to worry about waking any roommates.
“What happened darling?” He asked again, running his finger through my hair untangling any knots they found.
“I- I had a nightmare.” Mattheo raised an eyebrow.
“Again?” I nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No” I mumbled into his chest. “Can I stay with you?”
He didn’t respond, just pulled us to his bed lifting the covers, guiding me in. Once he was settled in, he pulled me to him, tucking my head under his chin. I could feel his lips press a lingering kiss on to the top of my head. He rubbed soothing circles on my back. His warmth enveloped me, chasing away the remnants of the nightmare. I grew tired, and that was how I fell asleep. In his arms, ear pressed to his chest, the steady thump of his heart a lullaby. A reminder he is alive.
My eyes fluttered open as the memory of last night clung to my consciousness. I wiggled around trying to bring feeling back into my leg, a heavy arm still on my waist. Mattheo’s hold tightened, pulling me in closer. The warmth of his body against mine was a nice contrast to the cold dread I felt last night.
I was safe.
Mattheo groaned, a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
“Sorry for waking you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
He cracked an eye open, a sleepy smile playing on his lips. “It's okay.”
“Stay in bed with me a little longer.” His request was gentle, almost a warm plea against my skin.
“We must get ready for Hogsmeade. And you have a date,” I reminded him the word bitter on my tongue.
His eyes darkened briefly before he rolled them, pulling me impossibly closer. He whispered something incoherent, a blend of frustration and longing that I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Stay with me a little longer,” he repeated, one of his hands pushing my hair back exposing more of my face to him.
“Okay. Just for ten minutes,” I complied, my resolve crumbling under the weight of his touch. It wasn’t hard to give in to him. This seemed to make him happy. He said nothing more, moving his hands from my hair down to my hip squeezing gently.
We lay there in silence, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his floor. My chin rested on his chest as I studied his features. The way his dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the faint stubble on his jaw, the curve of his lips. I wanted to memorize every detail, hold onto this moment.
As the minutes passed, I felt calm. A calmness I only ever felt in his presence.
“Matty,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, scared to ruin the moment. “Thank you.”
He tilted his head down to look at me, his eyes soft and full of something I couldn’t quite name. “For what, darling?”
“For being here. For making me feel safe,” I replied, my heart pounding.
His lips brushed very gently against my forehead, a feather-light kiss that sent another wave of tingles down my spine. “Always, little badger. Always.”
We stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the world outside demanded our attention. But for those precious moments, nothing else mattered to me. Harry and Ron could wait.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione had packed our day with activities. It was a nice break from my overthinking. They made me laugh till my sides hurt. A nice break indeed.
Currently, I was standing outside Honeydukes waiting for Ron and Harry. There were so many people inside that you could barely walk through it. It was overwhelming. Between the cacophony of excited chatter and the scent of various sweets was too much for me. I pulled my coat over my lips, trying to warm myself up as the cold wind nipped at my face My nose began to run.
Warm hands wrapped around me from behind, and I let out a surprised squeak. A head rested on my shoulder.
“Hello little badger.” Was whispered in my ear.
Mattheo.
I smiled, turning to face him. I leaned back into his arms that circled around me and looked up at him. He gave me a quick smile. If anyone else saw it, they would miss it, but I knew Mattheo.
“What are you doing alone in the cold?” he seemed annoyed at the thought, his warm breath clouding up in the cold.
“There were too many people in there, and I told Ron I would wait.” I pointed at the window behind me, proving my point.
“Hmmm. I see.”
He did not see. His eyes never left mine.
“What happened to your date?” The word once again bitter on my tongue.
“Not my date.” He bit out. “And she ran off with some boy she wanted to make jealous.”
That look I couldn’t decipher flashed through his eyes again. This was good. Now he had an opportunity to make a move on the other girl.
“Oh.” I bit down on my bottom lip.
“Yeah, so I came to kidnap my girl. Did you eat?”
My heart skipped at his words—his girl. If only.
“Hang out with us. We were about to go get drinks. Plus, I really want hot cocoa.” I pleaded.
He was pulling his scarf around my neck, eyebrows furrowed, contemplating his options. It smelled like him, overwhelming my senses with a mix of his cologne and something distinctly Mattheo. I pushed my nose into it, inhaling for a quick second, seeking comfort in his scent.
“I will make you one, and we can go to the astronomy tower like we always do.”
It was tradition. We spent Saturday nights looking at the stars and reading from a book to each other.
“Matty, I can’t just leave without saying anything to my friends.”
“I will go in and tell them.”
He was not going to take no for an answer.
“Ok.” I caved.
His smile returned, and he pulled my hair out from the scarf before making his way inside. I watched him through the window, anxiety coursing through me. I hoped he was nice to them. It was no secret they hated each other.
He moved through the crowd so effortlessly, his presence commanding attention. Before I knew it, he was back outside in front of me.
“They’re all set. Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking my hand in his. His grip was firm, reassuring, and I squeezed back, feeling a sense of security wash over me.
When I walked into potions Mattheo was sitting at our usual table. Only my spot was taken by another girl who was letting out an obnoxious giggle. I rolled my eyes, making my way to my chair, but then I halted, Theos words echoing in the back of my mind.
Was this the girl?
I didn’t know how much more I could take of this guess-who game. My heart hurt more than I thought it ever could. Seeing him happy with someone else was more than I could bear. I was in love with him. I tried so hard to deny it, to hide it. But I was in love with my best friend, and this pain was getting to be too much.
I needed space.
Another giggle from her solidified my decision to keep my distance. I took the seat next to another Hufflepuff, who raised both their eyebrows up to their hairline, taking a second look to make sure they weren’t hallucinating.
Mattheo spun in his seat and sent me a what-the-hell look. He cocked his head to the side, using his head to point at my chair. The girl still sat there, getting comfortable. I waved and looked down at my textbook, repeating to myself that this was the right thing to do, trying to convince myself.
That’s how it continued for a while. I would sit with my house or walk the other way. My peers began to look at me like I had lost it. I was never at their table or on their side of the room, and here I was for the last few weeks actively being a Hufflepuff.
I showed up to class early to avoid him.
Mattheo kept my spot open and would stare at me from where he sat, whether that was in the dining hall or classrooms. The first few days he wore a questioning look. It slowly faded into one of hurt and confusion. The shine in his brown eyes was dulling.
I needed time. How much time exactly, I wasn’t sure.
Various friends became worried when I stopped taking care of my appearance. My hair was in disarray, my tie was lopsided, and my skirt was wrinkled. I felt queasy most of the time and wasn’t eating as much. The once neatly arranged notes and textbooks in my bag had become a chaotic mess. I stopped turning in homework.
Mattheo knew that I wasn’t eating enough because one afternoon in the library he dropped a sack of food in front of me, giving me a cold stare before walking off. There was a note in there that just said, “Eat.”
My roommates came into the room laughing loudly. From the sounds of it, Slytherin won the Quidditch game. Mattheo would be happy about that. I didn’t move, just stared at the blank stone wall in front of me, feeling the coldness seep into my bones.
Someone landed on the corner of my bed, their hand gripping my calf.
“Alright, no more being sad. We are going to the party tonight,” my friend stated, leaving no room to argue.
I turned my head to look at her.
But I was stubborn. “The Slytherin one? Yeah, no thank you. I am staying in.” Mattheo would be there. If one is avoiding someone, they don’t show up to their house party.
“Please? You need it.” Her bottom lip jutted out hands in a payer motion begging.
“I have stuff I need to do.”
Like stare at the wall till I fell asleep.
“Please? You won’t even have to do anything. I will do your hair and get you ready.”
She gave me puppy dog eyes. I honestly was convinced she would cry if I said no. Everyone would be there, and Mattheo and the boys always stayed in the corner. I just needed to stay on the opposite side. I should get out and find a new normal.
“You must stay with me, never leave my side.” I spoke sternly leaving no room for negotiations.
She squealed, agreeing with my condition.
I was in the thick of the people dancing and singing off-key. The room was a blur of colors and sounds, the music pounding in my ears. I hadn’t seen Mattheo or Theo all night. Theo wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he saw me. I ran into Blaise on the way in—that was over an hour ago, so I don’t think he said anything to any of the gang. My friend had said they were all in their usual corner drinking about ten minutes ago. My guard was down.
I had a slight buzz from the one too many shots of firewhisky I took when we got here. Unfamiliar hands were on my waist, dancing with me. I didn’t push them off, just continued. My brain was too hazy to care. My friend made eye contact with me, wiggling her brows. I turned, facing the person behind me. It was some blonde from Slytherin I never talked to before.
We drunkenly smiled at each other, my arms going around his neck. As we danced, we grew closer. His forehead on mine. Kissing him would probably be a bad idea. But I didn’t really care. I wanted to feel something. Just as I was about to kiss him, my body was yanked away harshly.
“What the fuck, Y/N?” Mattheo growled, my name coming out like a curse. There was a dark look in his eyes, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
Oh, I was in trouble. He never used my name. My heart rate picked up.
“Go away, Matty,” I slurred, pushing my way past someone. The moment was now dead.
In the next second, I was thrown over his shoulder and carried through the crowd. One of his hands held my dress down, keeping me modest. He shoved people out of the way. It wasn’t a hard feat—most of the people here were wasted anyway.
“Put me down.” I smacked his back, but it didn’t even phase him.
“No,” he hissed. “You are drunk.”
“I am not drunk.”
“We both know you are, so stop lying. It makes things easier on both of us.”
I sent a pleading look to Theo as we passed by. He laughed. Of course, he would think this was funny. No one made an attempt to save me. My friend was lost in the crowd, so I was on my own.
He kicked open a door, and once we entered, my nose was met with a very familiar smell. His room. I yelped as I was thrown down onto his bed. It was a little harsher than I think he intended, because he cursed and backed away. I sat up on my arms, glaring at him. Blowing the hair out of my face.
He paced in front of me, looking up at the ceiling, frustration etched in every line of his face.
“I am going back to my room,” I stated moving to stand up.
His head snapped to me, softening his gaze. “You are not leaving till you sober up.” There was tension in his tone, like he was trying to hold himself back.
I glared at his words. “I am fine. I can sober up in my room.”
His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared. It was a little scary to be on the receiving side of his anger. I almost stood up to ease the anger like I normally would.
He thrust a cup in my face, hissing the word “Drink.”
I complied, not wanting to further his anger. His fingers dug through his curls, tugging them out of place.
“Fuck, you look so good.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Darling, where have you been?”
I squeezed my eyes shut at the nickname. A knock on the door interrupted any response I was going to give.
He made no move to answer it. We stared at each other, neither one of us blinking. His jaw set. We were playing an awful round of the staring game.
The door creaked open. I didn’t take my eyes off Mattheo, and his stayed on me.
“Matty, come back down,” a feminine voice spoke in a baby tone behind me.
Merlin. That was the girl, wasn’t it? I was now sobered up. My heartache was back, one hundred times worse than it was before. Now that she was there, and behind me.
Mattheo paid her no attention. I dropped the cup on the floor.
“That is my cue to leave. Goodbye, Mattheo.”
This time I meant it. Goodbye forever. I think he knew it too. He scrambled to catch my hand before I left, breathing hard, eyes wide. He tried to pull me back, but I didn’t budge.
“Y/N,” he said softly, as if my name was a prayer leaving his lips.
The girl behind us scoffed. I looked at him, really took him in. There were bags under his eyes and pain hidden in those beautiful brown pools.
My eyes burned I was doing this to him. I fought the urge to take care of him and take away any pain. But that would mean I would hurt all the time. It was something I couldn’t do. Call me selfish, but I just couldn’t.
“No. No, we are not doing this.” I yanked my hand away and ran as fast as I could.
There was a frantic banging on my room’s door. I didn’t move. My limbs felt like lead, and I had been staring at the wall in front of me since I left the party two days ago. I hadn’t left my room or moved. My friends had brought me food, but it remained for the most part untouched. I was not hungry. I missed my friend. I wanted to run back to him.
When I didn’t answer, the knocking didn’t stop; it just grew louder. I didn’t understand who it could have been. My roommates had all gone out to enjoy their weekend after I convinced them I was okay.
It wouldn’t stop, and the longer it went, the louder it got. Whoever it was, was not going to give up.
“Go away.” I yelled out still not moving from my bed.
It stopped.
“No,” a male voice growled out muffled by the door.
The knocking began again. A groan escaped me. The door was unlocked; they could just enter.
I kicked my sheets off me, cursing under my breath.
Mattheo stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. His hair was messy, the curls out of place. He looked into the dark room behind me, staring into the shadows. When he looked back down, his eyes hardened with resolve.
When his hands reached out, I backed away. I didn’t miss the flash of pain on his face.
“What do you want, Mattheo?” I sighed; my voice heavy with exhaustion.
“Are you okay? Why are you avoiding me? What did I do?” He asked rapidly one question after the other not taking a breath.
“I am fine. Let me sleep.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. He was just as stubborn as I was. The air in the room grew thick, and we were on the cusp of a fight. He wanted to yell at me, and I wanted to yell at him.
“You are not fine. What’s going on?” He spat the words out. I flinched.
“Stop. Please just leave me alone!” I cried out, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to protect my fragile heart.
Mattheo reached out again hands shaking before he let them fall to his side.
“Why are you being so dramatic?” his tone was laced with frustration.
“Fuck you. I am going to shower. When I get back, be gone” I slammed the door my breathing was ragged. I was seeing red.
He was still there when I got back from the shower. My hair was wet and dripping on the floor. He sat on my bed head down and hands in his lap. I ran the brush through my locks.
“Why are you avoiding me little badger?” Mattheo whispered not looking up at me.
“I-I just need time.” I stuttered. Placing my brush on my desk.
“Time?” He questioned confusion showing on his face. He stood up taking slow steps watching me and waiting for me to run.
“Don’t make me say it please.” I whispered, the anguish seeping into my tone.
His hands were on me cupping my face wiping the tears that came.
“I don’t get it. I thought we were- I thought we were closer than this.”
He bent his head, so we were eye level, not letting me escape this time.
“We are Mattheo. I just have a lot going on up here.” I taped the side of my head. His hand grabbed mine clutching on to it. It wasn’t a lie. I did have a lot on my mind.
“Let me in. Let me fix it please.” His words cracked at the end; eyes glassy.
“Matty I will be ok. I just need to get over the fact you are in love with someone. I-“
He didn’t let me finish his words coming out in a hurry.
“I am not in love with just anyone. I am in love with you. I want you.”
“But Theo said-“
“My beautiful oblivious girl.” His hands moved to my neck. His forehead resting on mine. “Theo is an idiot.
“oblivious?” I scoffed.
“Yes, oblivious baby. I have been in love with you since we met. I can’t keep my hands off you, because touching you satiates the need to kiss you.”
I gasped.
“Which if you can’t tell is all the fucking time. The last two and half weeks has been hell.”
It was silent. We were breathing each other in his nose nudged mine.
I stood on the tip of my toes, closing the gap between us. At first, he didn’t respond or move. As I pulled away, he used the hand on my neck to pull me back. His lips moved slowly at first before moving in a frenzy. My feet were suddenly off the ground, and he nibbled down on my bottom lip. Mattheo had me in his hands, setting me on the desk behind us. My legs hooked around his waist keeping him close. He now had his fingers in my hair pulling gently angling my face to deepen the kiss.
I was putty in his hands. My fingers tangled in his soft hair ruining the curls even more. The taste of him was intoxicating something I would never get over. I was addicted. When we parted, I was panting for air. Mattheo moved his lips down my neck trailing to my shoulder. He bit down. I moaned before I could stop it. His lips moved in a smile against my skin moving his lips back up landing on mine again.
“Fuck little badger, I don’t ever want to stop.” He mumbled against my lips.
“Then don’t.” I pecked him once, twice, three times. My heart rate wasn’t coming down anytime soon.
He pulled my face back looking at me. The smile I loved plastered on his.
“You should smile more. I like it.” I whispered drunk off the kiss.
He didn’t say anything but placed a quick kiss.
“Theo and Blaise are going to be unbearable once they find out you are officially mine.” His smile widened.
“Oh yours?” I giggled pressing my face into his shoulder.
“You are mine, baby, and I am yours,” he promised in my ear kissing the shell of it.
“I love you Matty.” I whispered back.
Mattheo pulled my face up
“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that” he murmured, his eyes searching mine for any hint of hesitation.
When he saw none, he kissed me again, this time slower, with a tenderness that made my heart ache. His hands moved gently, reverently, as if he were afraid, I might disappear. We stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, losing ourselves in the connection we had longed for.
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pretty in pink - p.b
‣ paige bueckers x reader!
‣ wc: 2835
‣‣ synopsis: your longtime (not so secret) girlfriend surprises you by dying her hair your favorite color! takes place before and on july 22nd (aka paige's sneakity peakity live). literally just tooth-rotting fluff and a little kissing!
‣‣‣ a/n: this is the fic that won in the poll (i'm not surprised y'all chose paige) but the next one i have scheduled to release is one of the nika ones! hopefully i'll be more consistent with writing in these next few weeks before school starts.
On your way home after a very successful meeting planning out the beginning of the uconn women's basketball team season, especially with media days and pressers, there was only one thing that could've made your night better. The presence of your beloved girlfriend, Paige Bueckers.
You and Paige had started dating in the middle of her junior year and your sophomore year, but that's not to say the two of you weren't harboring feelings for a while before that. Being one of the team photographers had allowed you to spend a lot of time with the uconn wbb team on and off the court, and you were very close with basically all of the players, especially Azzi.
Being in Azzi's year meant that she was the first person you connected with, having two classes with her outside of basketball definitely helped your relationship as well.
So it was nothing less of a delight to her when she would often catch your gaze lingering on her other best friend, Paige Bueckers, for just a second too long at games or certain practices you were called to take shots of.
As little did you know, she had caught on to the fact that Paige bore a huge crush on the pretty photographer who always got the best shots of her, came to check up on her before both her meniscus and acl surgeries and stayed with her multiple nights afterwards, and to top it all off, always gifting her the cutest bouquets of her favorite purple flowers.
She only put up with the two of you respectively complaining to her about your ever-consuming feelings for three ish months, before finally setting the two of you up to privately confess in your hotel room on Christmas Eve after an easy dub for UConn.
After a few shedded tears, excited giggles, slight teasing, and searing kisses, the two of you made it official, not telling anyone on the team, except Azzi of course, until around Valentine's Day, and still keeping it on the down low from the media, but you often joined Paige as her plus one to events pertaining to and outside basketball.
And unfortunately for the two of you lovestruck fools, you weren't the most discreet when making heart eyes at each other. The fans were not oblivious to the way Paige would look for you before, during, and after games, the fact that majority of your best photography was of Paige, and your friendly, but all too coupley sweet, interactions.
With this shipping, of course, came a huge following and obsessed, loving fan base for you and Paige. Fans ate up the aesthetic posts that graced your instagram feed, your occasional but always viral tiktoks, and your carefully curated list of public playlists on spotify and apple music (some that fans noticed had paige's favorite songs on).
And yet, you never outright addressed the rumors, despite your tiktok reposts hinting at the fact that you were dating someone, and small sly remarks occasionally dropped on KK's live hinting at your taken status, you and Paige had never found the need to publicly announce your relationship, reveling in the privacy you two were able to maintain while (badly) keeping it a secret.
That is, up until about a month ago. With the difficult conversation of whether Paige would enter the draft or stay another year at UConn, the possibility of long distance and what the future of your relationship would look like, you and Paige decided that you would make the most out of the last year you had together at university, and that included being able to publicly love up on your girlfriend.
Though you had never decided when and how to announce your relationship, agreeing that you would just go with the flow when it seemed right, Paige had a different idea in mind at how to hard launch your relationship to the rest of the world.
A random KK Arnold live in the middle of your junior year
"Y/n/n, the live wants to see more of you. They just can't get enough of you girly pop, they in loveeee," KK sang out, knowing the reason you so scarcely appeared on her lives was the fact that you were just a little camera shy, not used to constantly being in front of the media like the girls on the team were.
"KK I'm literally bare-faced in pajamas," you whispered from behind the camera, scratching the side of your face as you glanced at Paige sitting next to her.
"Girl boo, ain't no one care. You look good either way, just come say hi to the fans," she insisted, trying to ease you out your shell. Everyone on the team knew what an outgoing social butterfly you were, but social media had always intimidated you to a certain extent, which is why you preferred being behind the camera rather than in front of it.
You glanced at Paige again, who nodded encouragingly and scooted to the side, opening a space for you to take a seat between the two girls.
You sighed as you made your way to the couch, sitting criss-crossed between the two basketball players as KK's arm immediately swung to rest around your shoulders, happily introducing you to her live.
"Y'all if you don't know Miss Y/N, you should. She's our little camera girl and gets us right, EVERY TIME. I don't know if I can allow her to leave after next year because she's the only person out here that actually gets my angles right. Plus, we all in her little bougie apartment right now, y'all don't understand that she lives better than all of us here," You smiled at KK's rambling, she was one of the younger girls you had a particular soft spot for, and she always referred to you and Paige as her parents with how close you guys were.
"Okay so boom, let's do a little q and a with y/n so y'all can get to know who she is. You ready?" She turned to you, fake holding an imaginary mic in her hand as she got ready to "interview" you.
"Well if the fans want to know, who am I to say no?" You shrugged, loosening up a little with how infectious KK's energy was.
"Okay bars, let's start off with what the people want to know," she scanned over the influx of comments coming in to the livestream, picking out a few before turning back to you.
"Easy one first since apparently no one here pays attention to what I say, who are you and why do you know us?" She side-eyed the camera, pretending to be annoyed that people didn't listen to her explanation the first time. Paige sat silently next to you, doing her best to not stare at you lovingly on camera, knowing how intricately fans analyzed any of your interactions together.
"I'm y/n l/n and I'm one of the photographers for the women's basketball team. Have been since I was a freshman, and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon, so y'all are stuck with me," you proceeded to stick your tongue out at Aubrey, who was all the way in the edge of the live's background, but still visible as she pretended to choke herself at the mention of you staying for the next two years.
"Anyways, hmmm," you leaned in to the camera slightly, reading over the questions to find an appropriate one to answer.
"Oh my favorite color, that's literally one of the easiest questions ever. Pink, no doubt about it. I have so many pink things in my apartment."
"Someone said, you should give a little pink tour, you could show them your like matcha station thing and your bedroom, it's like a unicorn threw up pink in there. Plus all your little stuffed animals," KK joked, making fun of your obsession with the color.
"Maybe next time guys, going straight to the bedroom the first time we meet is crazyyy," you teased, inciting laughter from multiple of the girls lounging around you living room.
"Yo chilll," Paige quipped, gently tapping your knee with the back of her hand as she smirked up at you from her slouched position against your couch cushions.
You raised an eyebrow at her teasingly, giggling as you break off her gaze to return your attention back to the live.
"Which one of your stuffed animals is your favorite? Okay so for the most part they're all Jellycats, or like the weighted dinosaurs from Target, but my favorite by far is my little Jellycat bouquet of flowers, it's the cutest thing I’ve ever been gifted," You smiled, excited to talk about a part of your life that the viewers didn't know was about Paige.
When you first came to UConn, you only brought one stuffed animal with you from your vast childhood collection at home, the little pink bunny from Jellycat. But over the past three years, your college collection had grown solely due to the gifts Paige bought you, knowing how much you loved having those parts of her at night when she couldn't make it for some reason or was at away games you weren't scheduled for.
You continued to scan over the comments, doing your best to bite back a smile at the ones freaking out over you and Paige. You were used to it by now, but the thrill of secrecy never failed to make your heart race.
Back to present
Walking up to the steps of your apartment, you had no clue what surprise Paige had prepared for you, as you weren't expecting her to fly back until tomorrow. But when Brittany had called Paige to discuss the game plan for the teams upcoming shoot with a semi permanent hair dye brand, Paige immediately knew the perfect surprise to greet you with after your long separation due to her “world tour”.
Originally, the two of you were supposed to travel together, using the trip as a hard launch, but after some last minute issues with your time off with work and the busy schedule they crammed onto you, you decided it would be best to stay back while Paige enjoyed her solo tour, even though it was far from easy.
The two of you were constantly texting and calling whenever you found a spare minute in your busy days, and it was the only thing keeping you sane the last two weeks. And when you said constantly texting, you meant it.
And apparently, even Paige's friends recognized how down bad she was without you, after Flaujae exposed her for cheesing at her phone while texting you at the WNBA All-Star game, which you immediately found out about by the influx of comments tagging you, questioning if you were the person responsible. You were, of course, but they didn't need to know that. At least for now, to your knowledge at least.
Opening the door to your apartment, you set your shoes down on the neat rack you had set up, hanging up your keys on the wall above it as you made your way to your bedroom, unsuspecting as to what awaited you.
"Oh my god," you shrieked, processing the sight that greeted you as you reached right outside the door frame, mouth agape as your eyes took in the figure perched by the edge of your neatly made, pink bed, grinning at your shocked expression.
"Paige what the fuck, oh my god. You're here, you're pink, what the hell," you exclaimed hurriedly, rushing into your room to envelop your girlfriend in a tight hug, wrapping your arms around her neck as she encircled your waist.
She couldn't help but laugh at your reaction, angling her head up from your stomach so she could speak directly to you.
"Hey baby, you like it?" She grinned, pleased with the way your night was about to play out.
"You're so pink what the hell, when did you even find time to do this?" You questioned, running your fingers through her freshly dyed pink hair, in awe of the way your girlfriend could pull off just literally any look.
"Right before I left LA, figured if I was gonna dye my hair for the shoot I might as well make it my girl's favorite color yeah? But like, it looks good right?"
You raised an eyebrow at her not so subtle dig at you not answering her question, needing the validation from you to approve her new look.
You thought about your response for a second, going back and forth between teasing her a little, just to pull on her leg for shits and giggles, or just fawning over her the way you've been dying to do since she left the warmth of your embrace.
But, inevitable your longing to shower her in compliments and kisses overpowered any need to pester her, and it clearly showed on your face as your mouth broke out in a wide smile.
"You look so pretty baby. On God. Literally the most beautiful girlfriend ever," you gushed, tucking the front pieces of her hair behind her ears so you could take a look at her new piercings as well.
You had quite a few ear piercings from when you were bored in high school, the glint of gold jewelry along your ear almost always prominent since you wore majority of the earrings 24/7, and Paige would be lying if she said her piercings weren’t slightly inspired by yours.
“And these as well?” You teased, referring to her helix and seconds. “So sexy, truly P,” you nodded at her, grinning wide as you leaned down for a kiss.
You sighed against Paige’s lips, forgoing the teasing demeanor you held as you felt the craving for her subside, eager to finally have her back in your arms. Your mouth moved hungrily against hers, using one hand to grasp at her jaw and the other at the base of her neck, holding her tight in a desperate attempt to re-memorize the taste of her lips.
Paige’s grip on your waist tightened, before one hand left to travel down to your ass, playfully smacking your left cheek before grabbing onto the fat to pull you in closer to her, her intentions to drag you onto the bed next to her clear.
You whined as you broke away from her kiss, resisting her attempt to pull you down as you pouted down at her.
“No outside clothes on the bed Paige, I need to go shower first,” you insisted, rubbing your thumb against her cheek.
“You know lucky for me I have quite a bit of free time right now, and an extra shower never hurt anybody,” she quipped back, unwilling to separate from your presence now that she finally had you.
“Yeah?” You smirked, grabbing her hand as you led her outside your room and into the bathroom across the hall.
The Next Day; UConn women’s locker room (i think?)
You glanced up from your phone, watching as Paige moved around the locker room, posing with Ice, Azzi, Morgan, and Carol, setting her phone lower so the camera couldn't see anyone but her.
She raised her eyebrow at you questioningly, silently asking whether you wanted to be shown on the live from your seat in the corner of the locker.
You nodded at her, beckoning her over to sit next to you as you set your phone down, smiling at her as she made her way over to you.
“Since y’all wanna know why I chose pink, thought it was obvious but apparently not,”
She extended her arm outwards so that both of your bodies could easily fit in the frame of the camera.
“You know I had to make it my girl’s favorite color, now all that’s left is for y/n to do hers purple,” She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, making sure you were okay with how easily she referred to you as “her girl” in front of the thousands of viewers.
“Just cause you look pretty in pink does not mean I’m dying my hair purple Paige, I can’t pull all that off like you can baby,” you flirted shamelessly, running your fingers through your hair as you smirked at the blush that rose to her cheeks at your very public display.
“Aight not too much now,” She rose from her seat, patting your thigh off camera as she walked over to Brittany, cheesing and blushing hard as she avoided looking down at the camera until she posed with Brittany, smiling as her eyes skimmed over the flood of shocked and astonished comments regarding your relationship.
“Yeah that’s my girl, what ‘bout it?”
Let’s just say following Paige’s live and your respective hard launch posts on instagram, your phone has never and probably will never again experience such a quick and constant rush of notifications over the span of four days.
a/n: hope y'all enjoyed!!
#paige bueckers#paige x fem reader#paige buckets#paige x reader#paige bueckers x reader#uconn wcbb#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn lives#uconn x reader#uconn women’s basketball#wcbb x reader#wcbb#uconn#wbb x reader#wbb#ncaa wbb#womens basketball#wlw post#wlw#wlw yearning
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Can you make Mash x female reader please.
That when Finn and the other want to know why Mash doesn't love lemon like she do to him. And they got answer from Mash that because he protect reader love
sink into each other ──── mash burnedead x fem! reader.
about. mash actually has a lover, and his friends are to find out about it very soon. fluffy romantic. wc of 500+
notes. if mash don't want lemon i'll have her tyvm
mash burnedead does not return lemon irvine's feelings. how so and why? though the girl doesn't mind that he does not return her feelings back, she promised to always be by mash's side.
she might be oblivious that he does not like her back, but finn and dot could easily tell that mash is not someone of romantical feelings. lance is always suspicious of mash, his mind telling him that there is at least one female that he has had a crush on before. it is impossible that there is none.
to everyone else, they could tell that lemon's efforts of trying to open up mash's heart and at least rent a day or two is impossible. there was never a possibility in the first place. and they felt bad for the girl who tries her hardest to impress or seduce mash.
there was one odd day, where mash is oddly missing from classes. the last time anyone has ever seen him was finn, which mash was eating two cream puffs. he noticed there was a bento wrapped in a very beautiful wine red cloth.
so finn told his friends about the beautifully clothed bento box. and they started sharing suspicions with each other. but nothing came to mind. there was nothing that could date back to mash even owning a fancy piece of cloth. they didn't want to simply suspect him either.
that is, when lance's suspicions came true.
he was walking through the corridors beside the garden and caught a sight at the corner of his eyes. upon having high principals, his curiosity overtook him and he went to poke his nose into the scene.
shock immediately arise, lance's jaw dropping as far as they could. metaphorically, it dropped to the ground, eyes widened until they might fall out. right in front of him, was a scene of his beloved rival and friend wrapping his arms around a student who is dressed in lang's uniform.
when that student broke the hug, it shocked lance even more. with beautiful hair and beautiful eyes that stared into mash's honey ones. she smiled widely and adding more shock to the crown, mash smiled back, although tiny and barely visible. yet it was enough for lance to understand the scenario.
"w-whaaaaat..!" a voice beside lance said in pure shock too, as lance looked beside to find finn's jaw dropped to the ground. "that's what the fancy bento is for??"
lance looked at the two, noticing the girl's hands that held a bento, a box wrapped in cream puff cloth. then to mash, who held the said bento with fancy wrapping.
very soon, you and mash exchanged bento boxes. the burnedead then embraced you in a hug, allowing your body to sink into his. just like that, both bodies were sinking into each other as each second passed.
you are a mage from a prestigious family with two lines on your face. it would only make sense if you sensed two other mages watching you. so in the hug, you slowly slid your through mash's coat and shoot a little spell from your fingers at lance and finn.
"mash, your friends have come to find you."
there was no hiding your relationship with mash anymore. and mash's friends now understand why he doesn't return her feelings to lemon, for mash burnedead already has someone to lean on.
© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.
#﹙🗝️ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐰𝐫𝖎𝐭𝖎𝐧𝐠﹚#mash#mash burnedead#mash x reader#mashle#mashle x reader#mashle magic and muscles#mashle imagines#lance crown#finn ames#dot barrett#lemon irvine
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Buried in a Book | R.L.
summary: While you were part of the biggest friend group in Hogwarts, you’re often in your own world to even register the plans they make.
pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader
includes: remus being the best boyfriend in the entire world, reader feeling a little insecure, reader’s last name is rawlings (no, i didn’t realize how close it was to rowling until later 😞)
a/n: someone spam message me to finish my coryo series please 😭🙏
One of the best things about being in Gryffindor were the people you made friends with. From rule-breakers — such as James and Sirius — to heavy rule followers — Lily Evans herself — it was so diverse. You could throw pranks with the marauders while being a prefect. By the end of sixth year, the group was tight knit and it seemed as if nothing could ever ruin it.
But there was one thing they would typically forget about with their rambunctious nature. They always forgot about you in their plans. It wasn’t as if they did it intentionally. No, it was because you were always off in your own world, and when they made plans you didn’t hear them. Usually one of the girls would tell you, or your loving boyfriend, but you felt awful every time.
Today was no exception.
Sirius and Marlene made plans to Hogsmeade during breakfast for the weekend. And of course the rest of the group seconded that call and hurriedly ate their food to prepare for the trip. Being oblivious to everything that was happening, you continued to read your novel until Remus cleared his throat as a small warning.
Hearing this, you put a finger to your last sentence and looked up at him, eyebrows knitting up in confusion at the lack of noise coming from around you. “Where did they all go?”
“They made plans for Hogsmeade about…” He looked down at his watch, tapping it softly. “… Five minutes ago.”
He stacked the plates surrounding their area, your eyes watching his movements in silence. You thought you were listening to them this morning, but the last thing you heard before you got fully immersed was the next prank Sirius wanted to pull on Severus Snape.
Frowning, you carefully put your bookmark into your book and leaned your head on Remus’ shoulder, voice coming out quiet. “I didn’t realize.”
Remus wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple for assurance. “It’s okay, dovey. You were so invested in your book that I didn’t want to bother you.” He gently helped you up from the bench and pulled your closer to him, his slender fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder. “Besides, I get to have quality time with my best girl.”
A soft smile graced your lips at his comment, but a small part of your mind was eating at you. What if they were talking about something important and Remus wasn’t there to tell you about it? You guessed the girls would, but you would bet they would forget to tell you before you realized they left you.
“Is there anyway specific they asked us to meet then?” You murmured as you entered the Gryffindor common room where only a young first year was sitting by the fire and reading a muggle book.
“I think we both know the answer to that.” He played with the ends on your hair as he pulled around to face you properly. He twisted the ends and watched them unfurl until meeting your eyes.
You looked up and shook your head in amusement as you both said “The Three Broomsticks” at the same time. You scrunched your nose and smiled again when he kissed your forehead as a short parting gesture.
By the time you left the common rooms and made it to The Three Broomsticks, they were just leaving, causing another wave of guilt pass through you.
“There you two are! We were wondering when the both of you would make it.” Sirius pushed in between the both of you to wrap his arms around yours and Remus’ shoulders. “You guys missed out on Evans chugging down her butterbeer because Dorcas dared her.”
You blinked and looked over to Lily in surprise, but the wave of guild began to crash again. “Oh, that must’ve been interesting.”
“Very.” He nudged your side softly before noticing how weary you looked. “You okay there, Rawlings?” His voice got quiet and leaned closer to you. “You and Moony didn’t… You know?”
“Godric, what is wrong with you?” You push him away and dust the invisible dirt off your side. “No, I didn’t realize you guys left us so we went back to the common room before coming here.” You roll your eyes and trudge into Honeydukes with a frown on your face.
“Just a question!” Sirius called after you and look toward Remus instead. He gave him an unimpressed look and peeled Sirius’ arm off of him, raising a brow at the man. “She knows I was joking, right?”
“She does, but she’s not in the mood.” Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius as well before following your steps into the candy-filled store. “And for your information, the time span between leaving us and coming here wouldn’t give us enough time to make it satisfactory.”
Sirius creased his brows in confusion before gaping at his best friend. He looked back at James in shock before watching Remus enter the store with a smirk on his face. “Never in my entire life have I heard Remus John Lupin talk about his game like that.”
You watched young wizards and witches mess with the candy from the corner of Honeydukes, fiddling with your own sweater. Well, technically it was Remus’ but he gave it to you sometime last year. But as you played with the loose thread, the same guilt came back to gnaw on your feelings.
It was fine when it was only you missing out on the unplanned fun, but when Remus misses out on fun that he could’ve seen made you upset beyond belief. You didn’t think your own behavior could affect Remus this badly. And it’s not like Sirius helped when he asked about you and Remus.
“Dove?” Remus rounded the corner and found you biting the end of your thumbnail, making him sigh. He gently pulled your hand away and met your eyes. “What’s wrong, dovey?”
“Nothing.” You mumbled, wiping your hand on your sweater. You grimaced at the feeling but looked at Remus with solemn eyes. “Where’s the rest of them?”
He laced his hand with yours, squeezing it softly. “They went to Tomes and Scrolls. I think they’re buying gifts? I’m not to sure.”
You frowned, “When did they say that?”
“They didn’t. They were just heading in that direction when I left them.” He brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles. He watched your glazed eyes blink to get rid of the wet. “Talk to me, my love.”
You raised both brows at the name and felt your face warm. It was rare for him to call you his love, so everytime it made you feel like a child in a candy store, which was technically half true given the setting.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of annoying I zone in and out of our conversations with that whole group?” You finally spoke after a good second, fiddling with his fingers in anticipation for his answer. “We never get to do anything fun or on time because of me, and I’m not too sure why you still bother with me because of it—“
“Dovey,” Remus gave you a small smile, tilting his head down fully to speak only loud enough for you. “Do you really think I care what we miss with them? As long as I have you with me, I couldn’t care less.”
You gently squeeze his hand, “Don’t you want to hate me just a little bit?”
“Never.” He kissed your head. “Why would I ever hate you for your quirk? I think it’s cute that you get to immersed in your own world when reading. And you know why I love it so much?”
“Why?” You smile and tilt your head up to perfectly meet his own tilted head.
“Because then I get to hear all about what happens from your beautiful voice.” Remus grinned his wolfish grin, adjusting the sweater you have on. “So don’t worry too much about me missing out on those pricks because they don’t talk about anything worthwhile.”
You roll your eyes and let out a noise of surprise when he softly connects his waiting lips to yours. Instantly, you melt and return the kiss with equal passion before breaking apart, smiling giddily at him.
“What was that for?” You lay your cheek on his shoulder as shyness took over your body, especially with so many people around you both.
“Just love you.” He thumbed your waist now, nudging his chin onto your head softly. “And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms
#august’s works 🫧#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#remus x you#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin angst#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin fic#remus lupin headcanon#remus lupin hc#remus lupin hurt/comfort#harry potter x reader#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin my beloved#remus x y/n#remus fanfic#harry potter#harry potter x you#marauders#marauders x reader#the maraunders map#marauders x y/n
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Say It Ain't So
pairing - Virgin!James Potter x fem!reader
summary - James busts a fat one. Porn with glimpses of plot. Maybe.
warnings - 18+ mdni, smut, awkwardness, James is a desperate virgin in this one, hence the weezer title, premature ejaculation, handjob (m receiving), one sided enemies to ???, slight m sub/f dom dynamics if you squint, legs
wordcount - 1.6k
disclaimer - english is my second language. Don't hesitate to correct me!
You hated James Potter.
Your dislike well-known among your friends, none of them dared to ever mention him anymore, fearing another long-winded rant from you. Remembering when the lot of you would stay up after curfew, sharing gossip and talking about your crushes. All of them gasped when you casually shared your feelings about the headboy after they spent what felt like hours gushing about him. Proceeding to list of every single thing wrong with the guy, making your friends regret ever bringing him up.
Did he have beautiful curly hair you just wanted to run your fingers through? Brilliant hazel eyes in which mischief was ever-present? Pretty plump lips, his slightly crooked, overly confident smirk always on them? Well, yes, you could admit that much. But as soon as he opened his mouth, you couldn’t care less about how pretty it was. He'd always disrupt the lessons, the golden boy having no filter or capability to raise his hand, always yelling the answers out or talking loudly with his posse during dinner, unable to control his volume and barely having to face any consquences for his obnoxious nature.
So when Slughorn, who aside from his quirky nature, you quite liked, decided to pair you both together for the last project of the year, you were fuming. At least internally. Your prideful nature and pureblood customs instilled in you by your parents forced you to keep a blank face, only briefly smiling at the teacher when he uttered your name after James', swallowing your rage.
Shortly after class ended, as you were packing your things after quickly finishing your notes, you suddenly heard one of the old wooden chairs in front of you creak. Looking up at the noise, you saw a certain Gryffindor already staring back, a stupid smirk on his face like always, the air of confidence around him ever-present.
“So…,” James started absent-mindedly going through your notes, but you quickly interrupted whatever he was about to say.
“I’ll take care of the project by myself. Can’t have you messing up my grades,” you simply stated, ripping your notes from his hands, frowning at the way he had smudged the last of your sentence. Ignoring your frown, he loudly exclaimed, “Hey! My grades are stellar.” He tapped his finger against his chest, where his perfect badge was. “They don’t give them away for nothing, you know?”
“I also don’t like you,” you said after a moment of silence, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder, quickly walking out.
But he wouldn't let up, following you all the way to the Great Hall, pestering you until you finally snapped right by the Slytherin table.
“Saturday, library, after lunch. No word from you until then,” you almost yelled, your face twisting in anger. Noticing the other Slytherins' snickers, you quickly composed yourself, swallowing your anger. He, oblivious as always, smiled widely, ignoring your state and simply basking in the glory of having won this little duel of words.
Saturday approached faster than you would’ve liked, dreading the obnoxious boy's presence already. But you approached the surprisingly empty library anyway, not one to go back on your word. You frowned slightly, looking around, realizing even the librarian must have taken the day off. Sighing, you called out to James; he was already there, notes and textbooks scattered about. He quickly jumped up from his chair, beaming like always, until his gaze drifted down, his usual aura of self-assurance dwindling a little.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, mouth hanging slightly agape.
You looked down; you were wearing a simple skirt and long-sleeved top, not too different from what you usually wore in your free time. Confused, you lifted your head again, his gaze quickly following, being previously trained on your bare legs. Realizing he had been caught, a blush appeared on his cheeks as he plopped unceremoniously down, coughing awkwardly and focusing on the books laying before him.
“Weirdo,” you stated, disinterest evident, just wanting this project to be over with. But what you saw once you reached the table he was sitting at piqued your interest suddenly. Looking down, a prominent bulge had formed in the front of his pants, straining against the material. A book was quickly tossed over it, but it was too late.
“You’re such a skeeze. Who gets hard from looking at a girl's legs?” you asked, amused, not really expecting an answer, just continuing to stare him down, enjoying watching the high-and-mighty golden boy begin to tremble under your intense gaze.
“..they are your legs,” he mumbled, blush only deepening as his eyes stayed glued to the table.
This made you laugh out loud, gasping for air.
“Are you a virgin or something? Bloody hell,” you huffed out between laughs, a single tear escaping your eye at the comical twist your day had taken.
James didn't reply, groaning in embarrassment and continuing to hold the book tightly over his lap.
“Cat got your tongue?” you said, still smirking but finally having calmed down. “I didn’t even know you were capable of zipping it.”
This seemed to push him over the edge; he picked up his bag and shoved everything in with lightning speed, until suddenly he froze, hearing your next sentence.
“I can help you out if you want,” you said, a mischievous smile adorning your pretty face, putting his own to shame.
All he got out was a quick “huh,” as you pounced, wordlessly pushing him back down onto the chair. He looked up through his glasses, his eyes wide, the cute blush still evident on his face. Fuck.
“You are so pretty,” you whispered aloud before pressing your mouth against his. Short and sweet. It was almost romantic, the way he gently started to move his mouth and the lovestruck look on his face once you pulled away.
He eagerly leaned forward again, knocking his nose against yours before trying again, this time slower, aiming properly while the book he had previously clenched in his lap dropped to the floor with a thud. He opted to instead take hold of your hips, almost moaning at the feeling of the warmth of your skin touching his, slightly poking out from the bottom of your shirt. You, in turn, moved your hand that gripped the curls at the back of his neck slowly down his chest, delicate fingers grasping at the painful bulge in his pants. This made James quickly pull away, a loud moan leaving his now reddened lips as he grasped your wrist, stopping your movement.
“I-” he gasped out. “I-I’m waiting for the right person.”
He regretted talking the second the words left his mouth, seeing you roll your eyes at him, laughing a little at the bizarre turn of events, moving to remove your hand nonetheless.
He quickly went to grasp at your wrist again, pulling it toward his crotch once more, his body moving on its own.
“You need to make up your mind, pretty boy,” you said softly, looking at him amused.
“You know…,” you started after he continued to be silent, he in turn looked up at you through his lashes, blushing, his glasses a little crooked and a dorky smile on his lips, hearing your voice again. “Maybe I’m not the right person… but… I could be your right hand,” you finished, slightly averting your eyes, cringing at your words.
He didn't notice, though, too lost in need for release; he eagerly nodded his head. You laughed a little, removing his grip on your arm and moving to open the Gryffindor's trousers, just enough for you to pull his now hard member out, precum already coating his tip, while pressing another sweet kiss to his lips. Disconnecting from him once more, you lifted your right hand, holding it up to James' face expectantly.
“Spit,” you commanded, and the boy obliged without a second thought.
One long, loud moan left his mouth as your hand slowly moved against his cock, brushing your thumb over the head, gently mixing the precum with his spit, spreading it all over his length. You moved to press kisses to his bobbing throat, his head thrown back in pleasure, as you started to move your hand up and down in a steady rhythm, sucking a small purple spot onto his neck, his gasps and groans only getting louder.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” James repeated over and over like a prayer, lost in pleasure. You lifted your head, stopping your assault on his neck, to look at his scrunched-up face, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open. You couldn't help but stare, the glaring noon sun shining in through the stained glass and making his skin almost appear to glow, colors of the rainbow dancing around his face, sweat bullets forming on his forehead like little diamonds. Fuck. He really was—
“Pretty,” you mumbled, pushing James over the edge-a string of curses leaving him as he came undone over your hand, specks of it staining your skirt all the way to your pretty legs, the reason all of this started in the first place.
He continued to gasp, trying to catch his breath and gasping out apologies for the mess. You silently tugged him back into his pants, amused at the wet spot adorning his own lower half.
You wiped your hand on his pants before zipping him up. Wordlessly, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, swiftly turning around, ready to go take a shower after the ordeal.
“Wait,” you paused in your steps, glancing back at James. “D-do… you… want… to,” he started, before pausing again, finally catching his breath. “Do you want to go to Hogsmeade… with me?”
You glanced ahead, continuing on your path without replying to the desperate boy, only flashing him a quick smirk.
Maybe you didn't hate him after all.
#marauders#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter#james potter smut#smut#fanfic#hp fanfcition#hp fandom#harry potter x reader
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I Can See You
Spencer Reid x F!Reader - Smut (18+)
Description: “and we kept everything professional but something changed, it's something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it's best if we move fast and keep quiet.”. You and Spencer are each other's dirty little secret, no one in the BAU knows what is going on between you both.
Word count: 1,800 approx.
Content Warning: Mentions of f!masturbation, kissing, PinV, Receiving Oral F, swearing, Fingering, dom!spencer, good girl, dirty talk
author note: okay.. so i tried writing a smut. idk how i feel about it. i read smut and think the things people write are really good but when i write it i always think it’s so bad. i hope it isn’t too bad. feel free to give me feedback! hope you enjoy <3
Stolen glances and longing stares, that was how this all started. You and Spencer found yourselves sneaking between each other's hotel rooms while on cases, searching for comfort in a form of lust. The first time was supposed to be a one time thing… never to happen again. Yet, you couldn’t help yourself… you longed for his touch and he longed for yours. Your mind is forever replaying the first moment he made, the way he-
“Earth to Y/N!” Derek announced, waving his hands in front of my face.
“Oh, sorry” you mumbled, realizing your zoning out and complete oblivious state to the world around you.
“What has gotten into you girl” Derek scoffed
“More like who!” emily remarked, causing JJ to snicker “we have seen that extra pep in your step lately Y/N”
You shifted in your seat becoming anxious that people were going to crack onto what was going on between you and Reid. Everyday you were nervous to even look in Reid’s direction… It didn't help that everyone that surrounded you both were some of the best profilers you know. You rolled your eyes putting on a confident facade and prepared your fighting argument against Emily’s wrong, but so right, speculation.
“Right everyone let’s just focus on the case” Hotch ordered, “Agent Y/N’s love life will just have to remain a mystery for you all until you solve this one”
“Oh c'mon Hotch, you are supposed to be on my side!” you called out desperately as everyone laughed, “i am reporting you all to HR for bullying on the job!”
“Boohoo babygirl!” Morgan said, pouting.
Throughout the rest of the flight you all spoke about the case, trying to build a profile upon the characteristics of the murder. Words like sadist and sociopath were thrown around while you yet again zoned out, this time focused on Reid and his soft snores. You had woken up, naked, to the sound of his snores a couple times now. Each time was just as good as the last. You found yourself counting down the time until you landed, wishing the minutes would go by fast.
-
Landing came by painfully and slowly. Some time before the flight landed, Spencer had woken up. He seemed shifty and irritated. Not to mention, he could not take his eyes off of you. You felt yourself become more and more needy for him with every passing second. Clock watching made it worse.
By the time you all arrived at the hotel that you were staying at, it was midnight. Everyone had no energy. The goodbyes and goodnights were a mix of mumbles and grumbles. Your room was right down the hall from Spencer. Emily and JJ across the hall, Morgan next door to Reid, and Hotch was one floor above us all. A dim pale yellow light tried to light the room as you walked through to the bathroom, a hot soak was well needed. Today had seemed to be so long and exhausting.
As you plunged yourself into the bubbles and warmth, you leant back allowing yourself to relax in the tub. Soap suds covered your body as you massaged your aching muscles. You moaned at the release you felt, free from tension that ached your body. As you were massaging your sore body, you felt your mind racing back to Dr. Spencer Reid and your hand inching further to the place you wanted him right now. As your hand grazed your core, you heard a ping to your phone.
You sighed as the moment had been rudely interrupted and ruined. You grabbed your robe, exiting the tub and putting it over your body. Grasping your phone, your stomach fluttered. ‘Spence’. ‘I need you Y/N’. you bit back a smirk, knowing what was about to happen. ‘Don’t let them see you..’ you responded back.
Quickly, you ran to the door ready to let the man you wanted most into your hotel room. It was scandalous and thrilling sneaking around with him. It was what you both needed while dealing with stressful cases. A source of release.. Mentally and physically.
As you opened the door, the slender built boy slipped past quickly into the room to avoid being seen and perhaps questioned as to why he was entering his co-workers' hotel room at 1am. You closed the door silently and instantly you were pressed against it. Spencer’s lips fit yours perfectly. You felt his wet tongue swipe along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. It was heated and vulgar. The desperation for each other was filthy. Your tongues played war with each other until like always Spencer won dominance. You were like a putty in his hands, allowing him to take control of your every movement.
“You don't understand how beautiful you looked all day” spencer rambled, “i've been wanting to get you alone and worship your body since i first laid eyes on you this morning”
You moaned at his sweet nothings, moving your lips to trail down his neck as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. You were eager to rid him of his clothes, eager for him. As your hand went down each button, you slowly freed him out of his shirt. You gasped, running your hands along his chest and to his lower abdomen.
“I have missed you spence” you stated, breathlessly.
He slowly walked you backwards towards the bed, peppering kisses around your face. You giggled at the childish move but felt adored. Slowly, he lowered you to lie on the bed and hooked his arms around your legs giving you a strong tug to the edge of the bed.
“Trust me, Y/N not as much as i missed you doll” he smirked, undoing the tie on your robe.
Your chest rose and fell fast. You lay there in front of him naked and for the taking. Allowing him to see the most vulnerable and insecure side of yourself. He slowly lowered himself allowing his mouth to come in contact with your soft skin. Spencer kissed and nipped with his teeth, your most sensitive areas. Your neck. Your collarbone. Your breasts. You couldn't help but let the moans fall from your lips. He chuckled at your reaction, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted.
Spencer caressed your left breast pinching your nipple. all while he licked, sucked and bit the right one. You felt wetness pool at your core. All. For. Him. slowly, you felt his nose brush down your abdomen as the pit of your stomach flipped. No matter how many late nights you spent together and how much you prepared yourself, you still got nervous when giving yourself to spencer. Even if he was cautious and gentle.
You squirmed and wriggled as you felt his hot breath on your clit. You were dripping with anticipation at this point. Spencer began to kiss each thigh, slowly working his way closer to the place you wanted him most. Soon enough, Spencer pressed his lips against your clit licking and biting. Slowly, he circled his tongue against your clit as you became more and more sensitive with each lap. Your hand tangled in his brown curls, causing him to moan in response. You cried out in pleasure as he inserted two fingers into you and began pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.
“Fuck spencer” you breathed out.
“Does that feel good Y/N?” he questioned you, already knowing the answer from the way you were a mess below him.
“Mhm” you mumbled.
Spencer pulled away from your clit and took his fingers out from with you, gripping your thighs and turning you on your stomach. You heard his zipper become undone. You looked back and bit your bottom lip suppressing a moan as you saw him in nothing but his underwear. You could see his hard bulge and it made you even more desperate for him.
“Look at you so needy!” Spencer whispered, grabbing a condom from his jean pocket.
You eyed him up and down as his teeth ripped the small packet open.
“Hurry… im so fucking desperate” you were a wreck as you tried to speak your wants, “i do need you spencer”
“Good girls wait” he remarked
You watched him slowly slide the rubber on his hard length, he held a strong eye contact with yours. Enjoying the way you watched him, eagerly waiting for him. You bit your lip hard trying to suppress your moans - considering your co-workers were just down the hall and above you. You hissed in pleasure and pain when Spencer unexpectedly forced his entire length into you without warning.
It was raw and animalistic the way you both wanted eachother, needed eachother and fucked eachother. Spencer Reid was a quiet boy. Yet, who you now grew to know and spend time with, you saw him in a much different light. He was a gentle, passionate man who adored and cared for you. Reid didnt just use you for sex… he worshipped your body while he fucked you.
The room was filled with the sound of your breathless moans and the sound of your skin meeting each other. Spencer was deep inside you and with every stroke he made in and out of you, you grew closer to your release.
“You feel so fucking good Y/N” spencer moaned as he flipped you onto your back, allowing him to watch your face as he fucked you senseless.
You tried responding but you were a moaning mess. No words could be formed. You were drunk on Spencer’s cock. With every thrust, your tits bounced, sending Spencer's mind on a spiral.
“You look so fucking good taking my cock, doll” spencer exclaimed, as his hand connected with your clit rubbing small quick circles.
You felt your stomach ball as you grew closer to your orgasm. You cried in pleasure as he thrusted deeper and slower, hitting your g-spot each time.
“I- fuck- please spence” you begged him growing more sensitive to his touch and nearing your finish.
“I know Y/N” he grunted as he entered in and out of you, feeling closer to his orgasm each time, “cum for me”
You cried out at your release, digging your nails down Spencer's back for some stability on the edge of your pleasure. Your ears rang out from the overwhelming stimulation, while Spencer rode out to his orgasm. It came quickly as he collapsed tired and breathless onto your chest. Time passed as you two lay tangled within each other's arms, trying to calm down from your high.
“Y/N?” he questioned
“Yea” you huffed out
“I’m glad you joined the Quantico BAU team” he stated letting out a breathy laugh
“Yeah me too” you smirked, “the benefits are pretty good too.”
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#mgg fanfiction#mgg x reader#mgg#spencer reid x you#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#emily prentiss#derek morgan#jennifer jareau
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Taste Me | C.Sc
Pairing: Seungcheol x reader
Genre: Friends to Lovers, fluff
Summary: Can't friends taste each other? Seungcheol didn't know the answer. But he was certain that it'll be fair only if he could also taste you.
(I) heard you back together and if that's true, you'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you - Taste by Sabrina Carpenter.
Seungcheol couldn’t quite grasp what he was feeling right now. No matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn’t come. The image of you crying earlier today haunted him, replaying in his mind. Your voice trembled as you confessed, breaking down in front of him.
"I feel like trash. I feel unworthy and stupid!"
It hit him like a punch to the gut. This was his fault. He was the one who introduced you to Jeonghan, one of his closest friends. Jeonghan was a good guy, and Seungcheol hadn’t thought twice about it. He believed you'd be in good hands. But what he failed to consider was that Jeonghan had just broken up with his ex only two months prior. Seungcheol had been oblivious to the signs—how Jeonghan had used you as a temporary escape, a second choice until his ex decided to take him back.
Your voice echoed in his mind again.
"I saw them kissing in his car when I was trying to fix everything... Why is this happening to me?"
The weight of your pain sat heavily on Seungcheol’s chest. You and Jeonghan had been dating for three months, and from the outside, everything seemed perfect. He genuinely believed you were happy. But then, out of nowhere, Jeonghan had told him one night that you both decided to go your separate ways. Seungcheol hadn’t pried for details. He didn’t ask why. Instead, he had foolishly apologized to Jeonghan, thinking it was you who had caused the breakup.
Now, as he lay awake in the silence of his room, guilt gnawed at him. How had he missed it? How had he misjudged his own friend? Seungcheol realized too late that he should have been there for you, and not assumed that Jeonghan had been blameless. The thought of you hurting because of his oversight made his stomach twist.
He closed his eyes, but all he could see was your tear-streaked face, your broken voice, and the weight of your words. He owed you more than just an apology. He owed you understanding.
Seungcheol stood waiting in front of your office building, checking the time on his phone. Your shift ended at 5, and he figured a nice dinner might help lift your spirits. When you finally emerged from the entrance, your eyes landed on him, and he could see the surprise on your face.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" you asked, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.
"Wanna go to our spot?" Seungcheol asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He was referring to the little Chinese restaurant you two had frequented since your college days.
You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"
Seungcheol, a freelance photographer, had known you since university when you worked together on a project during your final year. You, a fashion journalist now, hadn’t expected the friendship to last this long, but here you were—still close, still dependable.
Dinner was quiet but comfortable. The usual chatter was replaced by something heavier, unspoken but felt in the air between you two. As you both left the restaurant, Seungcheol walked beside you in silence before finally mumbling, "I’m sorry."
You stopped, turning your head towards him, eyebrows raised in confusion, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
Clearing his throat, Seungcheol added, "You've been through a lot because of me. I feel terrible about it. I should’ve seen what was happening with Jeonghan sooner. I’m really sorry."
You nodded slowly, the understanding clear in your eyes. "It’s about the other night, isn’t it?" you asked, referring to the night you called him, drunk and heartbroken, from a bar. He had picked you up, and in your haze, you had told him everything about Jeonghan—the cheating, the lies, the hurt.
"I should be the one apologizing," you said quietly. "I shouldn’t have called you like that."
Seungcheol shook his head immediately, waving his hands dismissively. "No, call me anytime. That’s what friends are for, right?"
After that night, life resumed its usual pace. You and Seungcheol continued as normal friends—occasional texts here and there, but your meetings became less frequent. That was until one day when Seungcheol showed up at your new apartment to help with the furniture. You had just moved into a bigger place, and he was putting the finishing touches on a cupboard while you sorted through boxes of clothes.
As you carried over a box, Seungcheol noticed something familiar—the colors and fabrics, the oversized sweaters, and a couple of t-shirts that clearly weren’t yours.
"Those are Jeonghan’s, aren’t they?" he asked, unable to hide the hint of irritation in his voice.
You glanced at the clothes and smiled, a touch of irony in your expression. "Yeah, they are. I found out men's clothes are way more comfortable when I was dating him."
Seungcheol felt a strange tightening in his chest. He couldn’t explain why, but the fact that you still had Jeonghan’s clothes didn’t sit right with him. It boiled something inside him that he didn’t know was there.
"Why haven’t you thrown them out?" he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.
You shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Honestly? I kinda want his new girlfriend to wonder where half his wardrobe disappeared to."
For a moment, Seungcheol was taken aback by your response, but then he couldn’t help the grin that crept onto his own face. He liked how you were handling things—turning the pain into something lighter, almost humorous. It was clever and strong in its own way.
Maybe, Seungcheol thought, he could learn a thing or two from you about how to deal with heartbreak. He didn’t quite understand the shift in his feelings, but one thing was becoming clear—he was starting to like the way you handled the world, and maybe, just maybe, he was starting to see you in a different light.
"Throw them, i get you mine." Seungcheol told you and you squealed, excited to get his expensive wardrobe.
*
You still couldn’t fully process what had happened back at the restaurant during your university magazine club reunion. Seungcheol and you had gone together, and to your surprise, Jeonghan was there too, accompanying his girlfriend Jinah, who was also a member of the club back in the same year as you.
Everything had been going well—casual conversations, light laughter—until Jinah dropped an unexpected bombshell, her voice laced with bitterness.
"So, Y/N dated my boyfriend back then."
The entire table fell silent. You felt every pair of eyes turn toward you. Jeonghan's expression shifted immediately, his lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze darted between you and Jinah. You chose not to respond, not wanting to escalate things. But Seungcheol, ever the protective friend, didn’t hesitate to jump in. He stood up, his voice cutting through the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the group.
"Or maybe," Seungcheol said, his eyes locked on Jinah, "it was you who was dating her boyfriend?"
A collective gasp went through the room as whispers filled the air. You could feel the tension thickening as everyone processed the implication. Jeonghan's face darkened, his brow furrowing.
"Did you just insinuate that I cheated on her?" Jeonghan’s voice was low, controlled, but there was a threat behind it.
Seungcheol smirked, his anger barely concealed. "You didn’t?"
And before anyone could react, fists flew. Tables clattered, chairs scraped against the floor, and suddenly the reunion turned into chaos. You found yourself driving Seungcheol’s car back to your apartment, his knuckles bloodied, and his anger still simmering in the passenger seat.
"I can’t believe I was friends with that bastard," Seungcheol spat, staring out of the window as his chest rose and fell with fury. "You dated him, Y/N? I could’ve been the better man!"
You glanced at him, trying to calm him down. "Yes, Seungcheol. Let’s get inside and treat your wounds before we talk about this."
You parked the car and led him into your apartment. His hand was bleeding from punching the table, and you could tell he had tried to restrain himself from hitting Jeonghan. But the moment Jeonghan touched him first, Seungcheol had lost all control.
"Does it hurt?" you asked softly, reaching up to touch his bruised cheek.
He shook his head, still scowling. "I should’ve hit him a hundred times."
You chuckled, pressing an ice cloth to his cheek. "Take it easy, you gave him enough of a lesson, baby boy."
Seungcheol relaxed slightly as you tended to him, and you couldn’t help but smile as you gently rubbed the crease in his furrowed brow. "Thanks," you whispered, appreciating how fiercely he had defended you. He let out a long sigh, the anger slowly ebbing away.
"Why didn’t you say anything to her?" Seungcheol asked, his voice quieter now, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "You just let her talk. You didn’t defend yourself."
You tilted your head, your eyes meeting his. "No words needed," you replied, your tone calm. "She tastes me every time she kisses him."
Seungcheol took a sharp breath, your words sinking deep. He suddenly realized just how close his face was to yours. His breath hitched, and so did yours. You both froze, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between you. His eyes lingered on your face, and you could feel your heartbeat quicken.
"Is there something on my face?" you asked, blinking and blushing at the intensity of his stare.
Seungcheol shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "No… I just… I feel like I want to kiss you right now."
Your breath caught in your throat. The ice cloth in your hand slipped and fell, but Seungcheol was quick to catch it—and your hand. He placed the cloth back in your grip, but his eyes never left yours. Slowly, his hands moved to your cheeks, his touch gentle, his thumbs grazing your skin softly.
"It’s unfair," Seungcheol murmured, his voice low and husky. "If they can taste you… but I can’t."
Your heart raced as the tension between you became almost unbearable. You shifted slightly, uncertain but not resisting. "Aren’t we just friends?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Seungcheol’s lashes fluttered as he gazed at you, his breath warm against your skin. "Can’t friends taste each other?"
Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours softly, testing, waiting. The kiss was gentle at first, a mere whisper of a touch, but when you responded, moving your lips against his, Seungcheol immediately deepened the kiss, pulling you closer.
In that moment, you realized you wanted this, too. You wanted him.
Seungcheol stood up from the couch, his hands sliding around your waist as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. The tension between you two thickened, electric in the air, as Seungcheol gently flipped you onto the couch, his body hovering above yours, trapping you beneath him in a way that made your heart race.
"You make me crazy," Seungcheol whispered, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed soft kisses along the curve of your neck. His hands roamed the contours of your body, setting fire to every inch they touched. A soft moan escaped your lips, spurring him on.
He paused just long enough to pull off his T-shirt and toss it aside before finding his way back to you. His lips crashed against yours, hungry and desperate, as if kissing you was the only thing that mattered.
In between heated kisses, he mumbled, "I can't believe we're making out."
You broke the kiss just enough to look into his eyes, your breath coming in short gasps. His gaze was intense, almost burning into yours.
"I've been wanting this." You confessed, your voice soft but fillfilled with the weight of your desire.
Seungcheol eyes darkened, flickering with something raw and deep. His grips on your waist tightened slightly, his lips parted as he gazed at you, completely captivated by you. In that moment, unspoken tension that had simmered between you both for so long was finally released, and there was no turning back.
Seungcheol's eyes stayed locked on yours, the intensity between you growing as he leaned in again, his lips brushing softly against your jawline, trailing down to your collarbone. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver through you, and you arched slightly under his touch.
His hands moved lower, grazing your sides, his fingertips tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch. There was a desperation in the way he kissed you, like he had been holding back for far too long. You could feel his heartbeat quickening, matching your own.
The weight of him against you, the heat of his skin—it was all overwhelming, intoxicating in the best way. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was pulling you deeper into something you’d both been avoiding for so long. But now, there was no hesitation, no second thoughts—just the raw, undeniable connection between you two that had finally come to the surface.
Seungcheol’s lips moved back to yours, the kiss deepening, more passionate, as his hand moved up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, letting yourself fully give in to the moment.
He pulled away briefly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His voice was soft but serious. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Your heart skipped a beat at the tenderness in his tone. You nodded, your hand reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. "I’ve never been more sure."
That was all the reassurance he needed. Seungcheol’s lips crashed onto yours again, more fiercely this time, his hands pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. The air between you sizzled, filled with the heat of long-buried feelings finally set free.
In that moment, nothing else mattered—just you and him, and the realization that this was exactly where you were both meant to be.
*
"Hey, love," Seungcheol greeted you warmly as you slid into the passenger seat of his car. Without hesitation, he leaned in to press a kiss against your lips, a sweet and familiar gesture that never failed to make your heart flutter.
You had just finished work, and Seungcheol had promised to drive you home so you could make dinner together. After the kiss, you pulled back slightly to put on your seatbelt, but you noticed Seungcheol still staring at you, his eyes lingering on your face with an intensity that made you feel self-conscious.
"Is there something on my face?" you asked, raising a brow in question. Instead of answering, he smirked, licking his lips.
Realizing some of your lip gloss had transferred to his mouth, you quickly reached over to wipe it off, laughing softly as you did.
"You taste different today," Seungcheol remarked, his voice playful yet low. "Where's my strawberry lips?" he teased, glancing at you as he started the car and pulled out onto the road.
You chuckled, shaking your head. "I switched it up—went for cherry this time."
Seungcheol grinned at your response, clearly enjoying the banter. "Cherry, huh? Well, I hope I’m the only one getting to taste this new flavor."
You couldn’t help but laugh as you leaned back in your seat. "You are. And you're the only one who’s ever going to."
His grin widened, looking like the lovesick fool he was. "Then kiss me a lot today, so I get used to it," he added, eyes briefly flickering your way before returning to the road.
There was a new rhythm between you, something that felt right, natural—like it had been waiting to happen all along. You both knew that the line between friendship and love had been crossed in the most beautiful way possible. There was no going back, and neither of you wanted to.
This was where you belonged—together.
#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#seventeen angst#densworld🌼#seventeen scenarios#seventeen series#seventeen drabbles#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen imagine#scoups fic#scoups fluff#scoups imagine#scoups smut#scoups imagines#scoups x reader#seungcheol fanfic#seventeen seungcheol#seungcheol smut#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol imagines
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Big Sister Ⓢ
SUMMARY: Max and y/n navigate through telling Lea she'll be a big sister and meeting Ivy. Part of Verstappen Family verse
WARNINGS: None? Pregnancy, Birth.
A/N: *Requested
"Lea baby can you come here a second?" You sat down with your husband on the couch in the living room where your daughter happily played on the carpet.
"You start." Max quickly whispered.
You both had been discussing for a while how you were going to tell Lea she was a big sister, it seemed like the news couldn't come at a worse time since Lea was having a faze of being extremely possessive of her parents, and even watching Max play with other drivers kids made her sob in anger.
So the thought of telling Lea she would now have to permanently share her parents for the rest of her life didn't seem like the best news to tell her.
"Mommy come play?" Lea whined instead of listening.
"Lea please come here we can play in a second," Max repeated firmly.
Lea knew this meant it was a last warning for her to listen and reluctantly got up to go to her parents.
"Papa up." Lea tapped Max's lap.
Max picked his daughter up before setting her down on his lap facing the both of them.
"So Lea, Papa, and I have some news to share with you okay?" You watched as your daughter nodded fiddling with her dad's fingers obviously oblivious to what was to come.
"Lea you know how much we love you right?" Max asked his daughter.
"More than life!" Lea cheered happily used to hearing it from you both.
"Exactly and you know nothing will ever change how much we love you right? Because you'll always be my baby Lea." You added.
Lea nodded still keeping her gaze down to her fiddling hands.
"Okay, you can tell us how you feel about it Lea but there's no need for you to throw a tantrum okay?" Max asked his daughter who nodded once again.
"Okay Lea mommy is pregnant okay...which means you're gonna be a big sister soon." You laid it all out.
Both you and Max held your breaths expecting a big reaction from your daughter...she continued fiddling with her dad's fingers and Max was about to ask if she had even heard before Lea shrugged. "Okay." she simply said.
Both you and Max shared a look of uncertainty, she didn't look either angry or happy, she was just...indifferent.
"Lea, do you understand there will be some changes soon?" Max asked his daughter.
"Yeah, uhm but Papa I want to keep my cars...I can share dolls but not cars." Lea casually chatted with her dad.
"uh yeah okay." Max was unsure of how to reply. "That's okay I think baby won't be able to play until she's a little older but thank you for sharing your dolls." Max looked at you as if asking for some guidance to which you shrugged.
You both had prepared for any big reaction but had no idea what to do with this calmness.
"Okay...good job Mommy." Lea placed a kiss on your cheek before hopping down from her father's lap. "Can I go play now?" Lea asked to which you both nodded unsure of what else to say.
____________________
"Max" You shook Max awake after spending the last hour walking around in pain and timing your contractions, figuring out if it was finally time or not but once it got too painful to move you knew it was time to wake up your husband.
"y/n?" Max muttered sleepily.
"Max it's time." You voiced the seriousness of the situation.
"Mhm, it's time." Max readjusted his sleeping position before settling to sleep again. You looked at your husband confused before he jumped out of bed. "OMG IT'S TIME?!" He asked loudly now wide awake as he faced you and placed a hand on your stomach watching you groan in pain at another contraction.
"Shush you're gonna wake Lea, Let's go...I texted the boys, Lando should be here any minute." You told Max as he rushed to get some sweats and a hoodie on. You had made a plan that once it was time you'd let Daniel and Lando know so that they could stay with Lea while you and Max headed to the hospital.
Max ran to grab your hospital bags before rushing to grab the car keys and a other few things before helping you into some more comfortable clothes all while reminding you to do the breathing techniques you'd learnt.
As if on queue Lando rushed in with his emergency keys. "Lea is asleep we're headed out now." Max kept his voice down.
"Okay, good luck, text me." Lando hugged his friend and then placed a quick kiss on your cheek before you both headed out.
Once at the hospital thankfully everything was quick and straightforward, unlike your first pregnancy where the birth took a little longer than you would've liked. It only took a few hours before you and Max were holding your newborn baby girl in your arms.
"She's so perfect." you sniffled as you looked down at your baby girl who took hold of your finger with her tiny hand.
"She really is." Max wiped his own tears, it always amazed Max how he felt like he physically had no more love to give between his wife and daughter but looking at his newborn it was like his love expanded a thousandfold.
Max was distracted by the sound of his phone ringing looking down and seeing a FaceTime call from Lando.
"Hey is everything okay?" Max answered worried about how his now older daughter might be coping now that she should be waking up.
"Yeah, Lea wants to know her mommy is okay, I tried to distract her but she won't eat breakfast unless she knows her mom is fine," Lando explained as Max heard his daughter crying in the background.
Max looked at you asking for your permission, you quickly nodded and Max brought the phone towards you being careful not to show your bare chest. "Hey." Lando gasped in awe seeing the newborn in your arms.
He almost got too distracted before remembering he was meant to pass the phone to Lea. Walking towards her he pointed the screen to a crying Lea who quickly calmed at seeing her mom with her new baby sister.
"Lea baby meet Ivy." You spoke softly to your daughter.
Lea was entranced by the baby in your arms. "Hi Ivy...I'm Lea your big sister." Lea spoke softly matching your tone.
Ivy cooed making your heart swell at your two daughters communicating. "I think she wants to meet you, baby." You smiled. "Are you okay my darling? We'll be home soon okay." You reassured Lea.
"I'm okay mommy, Danny said he'd bring me doughnuts." Lea smiled brightly, Max couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's behavior knowing it was always a danger to leave Lea alone with her godfather.
"Of course, he will..." you laughed too. "Lando?"
"Yep." Lando popped back on the screen immediately smiling down at a now happy and calm Lea.
"Max wants to ask you something." You winked before gesturing for Max to turn the phone back around.
"Hey, man...uh." Max scratched the back of his neck nervously never really being good with sentiments. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to be Ivy's godfather?" Max asked his friend a decision that seemed obvious to you when you first realized the connection Lando had with Lea and how easily you would trust him with her life just like Daniel.
"Uh-" It was hard to gouge Lando's reaction without seeing his face. "Yeah, man...I'd love to." your heart swelled again at hearing Lando unable to hide his shaky voice as he began crying.
"Unco Wando!" You heard Lea's concerned voice calling for him.
"I'm okay baby, it's happy tears," Lando reassured her.
"Papa bring momma and baby sis home soon!" Lea called for her dad.
"I will Lea...I promise you I will." Max felt like his heart could burst surrounded by the people he loved the most.
______
"And this is Chals caw, and this is Danny's caw, OH OH this is Papa's caw!" You watched with pride as Lea showed her baby sister her toys despite the fact Ivy's eyes were shut and she was fast asleep in her baby rocking chair.
"I love you." Your husband whispered in your ear as he walked behind you wrapping his arms around you being careful not to squeeze.
"I love you more...and I love them like I never knew I could love before." You leaned your head back on his shoulder as you both just took in how gentle Lea was being with her sister.
"She's going to be such a good big sister." Max smiled.
"She already is." you acknowledged.
"What are we gonna do about him?" Max asked as you both turned to a snoring Lando on the couch.
"Give him a break my love he's barely slept a blink in 2 days worrying about us and looking after Lea." You felt bad for the young man.
"hmm...he really does love us doesn't he?" Despite struggling with verbally expressing love Max knew Lando was indispensable in his life.
"He's family." You watched as your husband laid a blanket over him.
"Yep...he's family." he laughed before joining his two daughters in whatever game Lea had made up for them.
#f1 x reader#changetyre#f1#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1fic#formula 1#verstappen family#lea verstappen#ivy verstappen#max verstappen x reader#lando norris#daniel ricciardo
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DOPAMINE ﹒⌗﹒💒﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ 제노 + fem!reader
in which . . . you and jeno are both too secretive and oblivious for your own good.
. . . BE MY LITTLE SECRET
content&warnings | MDNI smut, profanity, fwb dynamics, reader gets picked up, stomach bulge, kinda angsty kinda fluffy, unprotected sex, idk lmk if something’s missed
word count | 3k
notes | inspired by giselle's dopamine! this kinda went off track from what i wanted but oh well!
. . . KEEP IT HUSH HUSH, BUT I THINK I’M IN LOVE
it’s not the first time you find yourself at jeno’s doorstep this late into the night—and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. but it is the first time that it’s taken him this long to answer the door.
granted, you didn’t send a prior heads up like you usually do, but you didn’t plan on coming here either. you didn’t plan on being stuck outside jeno’s apartment waiting for a response that you’ve half-accepted isn’t coming.
still, you can’t bring your feet to move away from the entrance, like they’re glued to the floor.
you would be feeling ashamed right now if it wasn’t for the fact that you think you’re beyond feeling shameful tonight. which is what exactly led you here, to jeno.
and as if god took pity on you, your ‘resilience’ is rewarded when you hear shuffling from behind the door. the door creaks open and jeno stands behind it, craggy probably from being awoken well past midnight.
his hand cups the back of his neck, stretching his shoulders as he takes in who’s standing in front of him. “yn?” instinctively, his body steps to the side, allowing you space to step into his home.
the second the last syllable of your name dropped from his lips, you find yourself nothing short of lunging at him, arms wrapping tightly around jeno’s neck.
“woah,” he stumbles back, ultimately steadying himself before slowly running a hand down your back. “hey,” he murmurs softly next to your ear, “it’s okay.” his palm continues moving over you as a way of solace, gently pushing the door shut behind you simultaneously.
you didn’t notice how quick he was to offer comfort; not even knowing what ‘it’ was before telling you that it was alright.
you stay wrapped around jeno for what you wished was eternity, but more so like a few minutes. him staying completely silent as you inhaled deep breath after another, attempting to gain composure back.
jeno finally decides to break the silence, “wanna talk about it?”
“no,” you’re quick with your response, though your voice is slightly wavering.
“okay,” jeno faintly whispers, so quiet that you barely hear him.
you unravel your arms around him, pulling yourself away to look him in his eyes. your faces inches apart, “i just need you.”
jeno flickers between your eyes. he presses a delicate kiss onto your lips before taking in a deep breath, “i’m here.”
the ever-so-familiar all-consuming urge takes over you as you crash your lips onto his, breathing him in like he’s the very oxygen you rely on.
as if by habit, jeno immediately reciprocates. his hands positioned over the small of your back, supporting you as you lean back from the sheer force of jeno kissing you back.
the way you take each other in it’s like you haven’t seen him in years. a certain desperation tasting sweet on your lips as jeno presses himself firmly against you.
he hums into your lips before pulling away to catch his breath.
your thumb rests in the place between his ear and jawline, pulling his face closer until your foreheads meet.
through a shaky breath, you whisper, “i want you.”
“i can give you that,” jeno hauls you up into his arms with ease, like all the other times before this. gently pecking your lips as he carries you into his bedroom.
the room is lit only by the warm orange lamp in the corner. his bedsheets a faded black.
jeno reaches the end of his bed, dropping you onto the soft mattress and towering over your body.
he doesn’t say anything, instead letting his eyes tell you everything he’s thinking. they roam all over you, until his gaze finally fixes onto your face.
his breath hitches before he evens it out again. crawling over your body, you can see the muscles in his arms stretch and pull as he moves, caging you inside of him.
he leans down towards you, attaching his lips to your neck. rather than his usual penchant to suck on your skin as hard as he can so as to leave marks all over you, his lips are soft and fleeting against your neck—leaving a fluttering trail of kisses all the way to your collarbone.
you arch your back into the warmth of his lips.
jeno mumbles against your skin, “tell me what you want.” his breath fanning onto your chest.
your fingers lay flat on the planes of his face, the side of your thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. jeno leans into your touch, tilting his head upwards to look at you.
you meet his gaze, both equally dark and lustful.
“i need you…”
there’s a second part to that sentence that you didn’t voice, but you’re sure jeno can fill in the blanks for himself.
on any other given night, jeno would’ve asked you to finish that statement. but not tonight.
his fingers hook into the hem of your shirt, quickly lifting it up and over you as if it’s the easiest thing to do in the world. he tosses the shirt over his shoulder somewhere—you don’t pay attention. immediately, he continues his trail of kisses down onto your chest, over your heartbeat.
his kisses get sloppier by the second, hands tugging at your waist like you can get any closer physically than you already are.
you can’t help the moans that rasp from the back of your throat as his hands make their way up your torso. the warmth of his palm covering the soft flesh of your chest as he hooks a finger into your bra strap.
he pulls his lips away from you, levelling his face with yours again.
jeno runs a hand down your hair, cupping his fingers over your cheek, “you’re so pretty tonight.” his voice coming out as a low, gravelly whisper.
you try to ignore the skip in your chest from that.
technically, he’s not breaking any rules, or rule. the rule being strictly no pet names. jeno thought it strange when you proposed that no matter what, no pet names are allowed to be used, but nonetheless, he went along with it.
“only tonight?” your eyebrows quirk upwards; not passing up on the opportunity he set up perfectly for you.
he subtly rolls his eyes, taking away his hand and planting it firmly into the mattress next to your head. jeno lets silence fill the next two moments, staring at you with an expression you haven’t seen from him before. much more serious than all the other ones you know.
“you’re always pretty. you know that.”
his words knock you speechless, staring at him half-blank and half-stunned as to how you should even respond to that.
you land a soft blow to his chest, “what is wrong with you?” you tease with the slightest hint of a nervous smile on your lips, trying to cut through the tension you’re feeling all over. “i came to get fucked, not… whatever this is.”
“oh, god forbid i be nice for once,” he sighs, causing you to slap your hand onto his chest once again—him chuckling lightly as a result. “who said i wasn’t gonna fuck you as well?”
he presses a faint kiss just off of your lips before moving down to work the buttons on your trousers.
his fingers tug impatiently at the waistband once the button is undone, pulling the fabric off of you. the cool air blankets your bare thighs, and the feeling is quickly replaced by jeno’s hand kneading your muscles underneath his fingers.
"you want to feel good?" jeno kisses your inner thigh, a heat sparking from where his lips touched your skin. "i'll make my pretty girl feel good."
he pushes the elastic band of his pajama pants down, revealing his lower stomach lined with hard packs of muscle.
jeno kneels in between your legs, hand wrapping around the base of his dick—slowly hardening as he pumps his hand up and down his length.
you watch him, flitting between his hand and his expression. jeno sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. just the sight of his cock in his palm is making your hunger pool in between your legs, knees pressing together as you feel the pressure build.
you don't notice jeno watching you as carefully as you were him until he lets a chuckle fall from his lips. "you do need to get fucked, don't you?" he teases with a smile.
your teeth has been sinking down into your bottom lip even without you knowing. growing desperate just at the sight of him kneeling over you.
"so, are you gonna do it or not?" the restlessness ringing in your voice. you feign reaching for your pants slid halfway down your legs, "'cause i can go find someone who—"
"no, no," jeno grasps the wrist that you reached down with, pulling it back up and pinning it to the pillow over your head. "you're staying right here."
he takes your other hand, joining it with the one above your head. though only one of his hands are holding your wrists together, his grip is so tight that you don't think you can break free even if you wanted to.
he leans in, caressing your cheek with his thumb—so close that you can see each individual eyelash lining the edge of his eyelids. "and who can fuck you the way i do?" his eyes travel to your cheekbones, brushing over it with his fingers, "hm?"
"that's a bit cocky, don't you think?" you say, tilting your head to the side and dropping your gaze onto his lips.
his rosy pink lips curve into a cresent shape. "just asking a question, pretty girl."
you're starting to think jeno may be teetering on the borderline of your rule, but you don't bring it up.
"so?" jeno widens his eyes at you slightly, and you meet him with a mirrored expression.
"what?"
"you haven't given me a name."
truth is, you haven't slept with other people since you started sleeping with jeno. and it's not like you're going to anytime soon. even if you did, you know they simply don't compare.
and the worst thing is you know he knows this, too.
"you're so annoying," you want to nudge him away, but he's got your hands trapped.
jeno only smiles an innocent smile, amused at the sight of you writhing to break away under him to no avail. "i'm not going to do anything to you until you answer the question."
you stare into his eyes, and you’re sure he can see the frustration evident in your own.
“really?” is the only response you can give, dipping your chin and cocking your eyebrows up. the tone of your voice telling of your annoyance.
jeno nods, still with that smile on his face—not giving you anything more.
you roll your eyes.
“no one,” your voice low, almost on the edge of being sheepish.
“sorry, what was that?” he tilts his head, turning his ear towards you.
he’s having way too much fun teasing you like this.
you let out a groan. “fuck you,” you spit bitterly, your voice back up to a normal volume.
he chuckles lightly, “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
before you can even think of a witty response to his comment, you feel the friction of him dragging the tip of his cock over your clothed cunt.
“it’d be so easy to just put it in,” his fingers slipping into your underwear, “when you’re this wet.”
he pulls his fingers away, leaning into your face once again. “come on, pretty girl,” he brings his hand up to your lips, pushing them through and letting you suck on it, tasting yourself on his fingers. “tell me who can fuck you better than i can.”
he slides his fingers out, dragging along your lips before completing removing them.
“no one,” you mutter, trying to hide the desperation in you with a breath.
he smirks, “good girl.”
he looks down, bunching the fabric of your underwear to one side before grabbing the base of his cock and lining it up with your entrance.
you’re seeing a side to jeno that you haven’t seen before. usually, sex between you was a quick release. half the time it’s like he’s rushing to get through it with how hard and fast he’s pounding himself into you.
but slowly he pushes himself in you—being gentle with you, almost. moans erupting from his throat before he finally fills you up, as evidenced by the outline of his cock bulging up out of your stomach. the sight of it drives jeno fucking crazy—which is why he always fucks you like a dog in heat.
tonight, though, he’s determined to set a different pace.
his hips stills as your pussy swallows the entire length of his dick. no matter how many times you do it, it’s never something you can fully get used to. your back already arched into him, nails digging into your own palms.
“you always feel so fucking good,” jeno rasps, letting go of his grasp on your wrists and placing it on your waist instead.
he pulls his hips back at a steady pace. you feel every inch of it as it drags against your walls.
with your arms freed, you quickly wrap them around jeno’s neck.
he thrusts into you again, hips stuttering as he lets out a breathy moan. his head falls into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin.
you hold back a cry as he bottoms out, fingers holding furiously onto his shoulders.
jeno builds a steady rhythm, sliding his cock in and out of you—following each thrust with a grunt.
“fuck, jeno,” you whine, thighs clamping tight around him.
he groans, his entire body responding viscerally to his name falling from your lips. and he can’t hold back anymore.
his hips picking up speed as he pounds himself deeper and deeper into you. fingers gripping tighter on your waist and pushing you down on his dick, meeting his thrusts halfway.
he unravels one of your arms from around his neck, laying it out over your head.
“fuck,” jeno lifts his head, leaving your faces mere inches apart. he spreads open your palm, threading his fingers through yours and holding your hand tightly as he keeps up the pace of his thrusts.
your bottom lip is pulled back by your teeth, trying to contain the whimpers and cries that are threatening to escape. you feel the pressure within you building, and creeping dangerously close to its release.
jeno lets out a string of curses, feeling you starting to tighten around him. “baby, i’m gonna—”
with a sudden choke of his words, jeno pulls out. his cock twitching violently as his cum shoots out from his tip, painting your stomach in streaks of white.
the sudden halt of friction leaves your body aching, desperate for sensation again.
your breathing begins to slow as you watch jeno throw his head back, cock still throbbing. looking down, you can see the ribbons of his cum covering your entire torso.
jeno drops his head, seeing the mess he made all over you.
“i’m sorry,” he pants, “i swear to god, you…”
you watch the bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face for a moment.
“‘baby?’” your voice taking on a questioning tone, ignoring your body’s pleading for attention.
“it just came over me, i know—” he breathes heavily, giving your hand a squeeze. “i know you don’t like it.”
“then, why’d you say it?” you sounding more defensive than offensive, surprising even yourself when your voice rings in your ear.
“i don’t know, i—” jeno untangles his hand from yours, pushing his hair back from sticking onto his face. “yn, are we really gonna do this?”
“you broke the rule.”
the bluntness of your statement forces jeno to look you in the eyes.
in all honesty, you’re not upset at this. but just the principle of him breaking the rule makes it appear like you are.
“you have to know,” jeno simply mutters.
“know what?”
“god, yn,” he shuts his eyes, turning his face away from yours for a brief moment. “you think i fuck everyone like this?”
he continues when you don’t respond—how could you even respond?
“you think i even fuck anyone who’s not you?”
jeno’s chest swells as he speaks. he pushes a strand of your hair back, tucking it behind your ear. “i wasn’t being mean earlier when i asked you that question, i—i wanted to know.”
you bite down hard on your lip.
the feeling of not knowing what to say has never settled well within you.
“jeno, i thought we—”
“i know what we agreed on,” jeno cuts you off. “and i’m sorry i crossed that line. you don’t have to—”
“i like you.”
your voice cuts through his. his eyes fixed on yours as he takes in what he just heard.
“what?” jeno’s voice is weak, his face telling of him being caught off guard.
you cup his cheek in your palm, thumb lightly grazing over his cheekbone, “i like you.”
“i thought—”
you press your lips firmly onto his, breaking off the rest of his words. when you pull away, jeno chases after your lips with his own, kissing you like his very life depended on it.
“fuck,” he mumbles against you, letting out a soft chuckle. “you like me.”
you hum as he pulls back, lips glossy under the dim lighting.
“are you saying this is one-sided?” you rib.
a small smirk turns up the corner of jeno’s lips. “you haven’t cum, yet, have you?”
the sudden turn in topic draws your eyebrows together.
jeno moves lower down your body, hands running down the sides of it, until his mouth is hovering over your bare cunt.
“i guess i should show my pretty baby just how much i like her.”
#k-labels#📂 - nct#nct#nct fanfic#nct imagines#nct x reader#nct dream fanfic#nct dream x reader#nct dream imagines#nct dream#nct smut#nct dream smut#jeno smut#lee jeno fanfic#jeno x reader#nct jeno#nct jeno smut
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Rumours
Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)wife
Chapter I: The Chain 🎼 Masterlist
Summary: Three months after leaving him, your inevitable reunion with your soon-to-be ex-husband Aemond isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.
Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, depictions of anxiety, allusions to smut
Word count: 3000
A/N: Edited and done, please enjoy 🩵 Thank you my love @theoneeyedprince for giving this a look-through for me 🫶
Breathe.
In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. In. Hold three seconds. Out.
You haven’t been able to eat anything all morning, far too nauseous to keep even a piece of toast down.
The breathing exercise your therapist had taught you does little to help you calm down.
You’ve felt anxious before, but rarely this intense.
It’s so physical.
You feel it in your stomach turning, chest contracting, hands tingling, head spinning.
You knew you’d have to meet him sooner or later.
Afterall, you’d both decided to stay in the band. You’d just started to gain traction, embarking on your first ever tour across the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.
A once in a lifetime opportunity for an up-and-coming band.
Still, knowing that didn’t make it easier to turn the handle of the door and walk into the studio.
Knowing he’ll be there.
You hadn’t seen your husband, Aemond, in over three months now.
Soon to be ex-husband.
You’d honestly expected the process to be speedier; you hadn’t demanded anything from him, the only thing important to you was that you kept all legal rights you had in relation to the band; the rights to your songs. And he hadn’t really given any conditions himself, yet his solicitors took ages contacting yours.
That’s all you’d heard from him over the summer. Updates from your legal advisers about his.
You’d blocked his number after leaving the divorce papers at your shared flat and moved out, tired of your phone overheating from the amount of times he’d tried calling you.
In the end, Alicent, your mother-in-law, had phoned you, begging you to please meet with her son and talk it out. You told her that you’d already talked plenty and there was no point in continuing indulging in pointless discussion. You’d always gotten along well with Alicent, so having her call you to do her son’s bidding felt so unbelievably awkward. He’d always been such a mama’s boy.
With one final, shaky exhale, you turn the handle of the door and push it open, stepping into the hallway.
With the door ajar, you can hear chatter from the studio.
Everyone’s already here.
Good, then you’d just have to suck it up and face them. Like ripping off a band-aid; only painful for a second.
You spot Helaena first. She gives you a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and straightens up slightly.
You’d met her a few times in the last months; brainstorming song ideas and recording vocals together in the studio.
Besides playing the piano, she wrote songs and sang for the band, just like you and Aemond. She hadn’t asked you anything about him, which you were thankful for. You know she’s anxious about how the dynamic in the band will shift now that the two of you have separated. And her anxiety materialises in the way she starts picking at her nail beds as soon as she sees you emerge through the door.
Next to Helaena sits Jace, who plays bass for the band. He gives you a half-hearted smile, accompanied by tense shoulders and a murmured greeting.
Across the table from him is Erryk, drummer and the newest addition to the band. He seems to not sense the tension that hangs heavy in the room and smiles at you until his eyes crinkle.
His obliviousness almost makes you laugh. It nearly manages to cut through the uncomfortable tension, until your eyes travel to lock with the last person in the room.
You knew that Aemond wouldn’t cause a scene and act infuriatingly indifferent towards you.
You knew that he’d give you a nod and get straight down to business.
Still, you feel a sliver of satisfaction when your predictions turn out to be true.
“So, everyone’s done with recording their parts?”, he asks the room.
He’s already pulled out his laptop, quick fingers typing as he waits for confirmation.
Though the tense atmosphere never really leaves the room, you all collectively try to power through as you discuss how recording went and what else needs to be fixed before the album is ready.
Due to your and Aemond’s separation, and the tumultuous events leading up to it, the band had agreed that everyone would record their vocals and instruments separately; putting everything together in production later. This had slowed down the process significantly, resulting in you being far from done with the album your label wanted you to release at the end of the month.
“As you know, the label isn’t too pleased with the fact that we haven’t finished the album yet-”, Aemond says, eyes still on the screen of his laptop; both his seeing eye and the unmoving one covered by a layer of white mist,
“-But they’ve asked us if we’d be willing to perform some new songs during the tour, to boost sales and get the hype up”
His voice is stoic, every utterance straight to the point. You sit on his blind side, with Helaena between your chair and his, and you take the opportunity of knowing he can’t clearly see you to examine him, searching for any changes since you last laid eyes on him, when his knuckles were bloody and panic reflected in his lilac eye.
He looks exactly like he always does; infuriatingly handsome.
His long, silvery hair hangs loose over his shoulders. His long eyelashes cast down as he inspects the screen of his laptop. His aquiline nose slopes beautifully to meet his perfectly pouty lips, begging to be kissed-
Fuck, stop!
Truth be told, you’d put extra effort into looking your best today, spending an hour on doing your makeup and picking out the perfect outfit. Hopefully you’d succeeded in making it appear much less intentional than it was, suddenly feeling a flash of embarrassment wash over you.
Why do you care what he thinks anymore?
The meeting goes on for another hour. The band’s manager, Tyland Lannister, joins in after 20 minutes, briefing the band members on the upcoming tour. Opening night’s in one week, on Dragonstone, and you’ll all fly out the morning of the show.
As the members of the band prepare to leave the studio, the tension that had previously felt so crushing is now only lingering in the periphery.
Jace and Erryk talk excitedly about all the places they’ll visit during the tour; what they wanted to eat and what they wanted to see. For a second it almost feels like things are back to normal, like the last three months never happened.
As everyone makes their separate ways home, you spot Aemond walk up to a black car and quickly jump in the passenger seat.
Your stomach turns.
You only see a flash of her black hair before the car drives away. The mask of indifference you’d put on cracks slightly at the sight of them together.
You wanted the divorce, idiot.
It still hurts seeing him move on though. He’d done it so quickly; uncharacteristically so.
The first week after you’d left, he blew up your phone trying to get a hold of you.
Despite his inexcusable behaviour, there had been times when you felt guilty for leaving him so abruptly. Even though you knew he deserved it, you also knew that leaving him and refusing to talk to him would drive him insane. What you hadn’t expected was that he’d go and get a new girl a mere week after Alicent had called you.
Seeing them together in real life made you feel exactly as you did when your friend Alysanne had sent you the link to the 30 second video two and a half months ago.
Nauseous.
The video showed Aemond getting out of a taxi in front of a new and chic Braavosi bistro downtown. It was opening night and a few local news sources were there to report. One of the journalists had recognised Aemond, clearly intrigued by the fact that the still-married bandman rounded the taxi and offered his hand to a beautiful dark-haired woman stepping out. As they walked towards the entrance, the reporter chased them down, microphone in hand and cameraman in tow.
“Aemond Targaryen? Already moving on after the separation I see?”, the reporter half-shouts behind Aemond to get his attention.
His date turns around in response to the comment, smiling as her emerald gaze observes the reporter. The news of your separation had been speculated on a few minor fansites after someone leaked an email from your solicitor's office, but neither you nor Aemond had made any statement about it.
He wasn’t planning on giving one now either, unimpressed eye giving the reporter a once-over before huffing in amusement and gesturing for his date to follow him inside.
The reporter, set on getting an answer from the rising star, chuckles before forcefully shoving the microphone in Aemond’s face,
“Women come and go, is that the case?”, he presses with a cheeky wink.
Aemond huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, something like that”, he says, wrapping his arm around his date’s shoulders as he leads her into the restaurant.
You’d later learn that the date from that night was his new manager, Alys Rivers.
Funny how he’d gotten a manager to handle his possible solo work.
Six months prior, when you’d been approached by a talent scout asking if you’d ever thought of doing solo stuff on the side, Aemond had been absolutely livid. After giving the agent a few well-chosen words, he had stormed off, leaving you upset and confused.
It was ultimately his jealousy and possessiveness that broke your marriage, getting to a point where you felt like you couldn’t be with him any longer. Neither as a lover nor a friend.
Now, the only place he can take in your life is as your bandmate; business partner, and nothing more.
You’d seriously considered leaving the band when you decided on leaving him. Still, somewhere deep inside you can’t shake this feeling that what your band has is something unique; something you won’t find anywhere else.
You and Aemond had started the band with Helaena right around the time you’d first met.
The three of you quickly bonded over your shared vision of what kind of music you’d like to make. On top of that, your voices sounded so good together, Aemond providing structure with his precision while you focused on conveying raw emotions.
So you decided to stick it out, work with your ex-husband in order to make the music that you wanted.
You’re an artist. All artists suffered for their art, right? You’d just have to suck this up and get on with it; continue to create art. And the pain would be worth it.
Besides, truth be told, you’d never met anyone quite as talented as Aemond. You’d never met anyone else who understood the music you wanted to create quite like he did.
When it came to music, you two almost had a telepathic connection. As someone who relies a lot on intuition and ‘that feeling in your gut’, you found it hard to describe music and your visions for it in general. But with Aemond you never needed to; he understood. Two minds wired the same.
Unfortunately, that wordless communication only stretched as far as music.
You think back to one of the last conversations you had before you left him.
You’d tried to confront him about his temper and inability to keep his jealousy in check, and he’d promptly ignored you; defaulting into shutting you out.
Exhausted, you resorted to the only solution you could come up with.
“Maybe we should spend some time apart, let things cool down a bit”, you try, purposefully making your voice as gentle as possible.
Aemond, who’d been staring out the window of your apartment in contemplative rage, quickly turns to face you, expression impassive but one eye furious.
“If you want some ‘time apart’ you might as well get on with it and leave”, he says, voice chilly. Sometimes when he’s angry, he sounds so hateful it hurts your heart.
“What do you want me to do Aemond?”, you reply, patience running thin as anger overcomes you, “You don’t allow me to live my life, you hinder any chance of growth I have-”,
“Growth!? What else do you need?”, he spits back. “Do you understand what it means to be married to someone? I do fucking everything for you, you’re my wife!”
“Sure, chain me to our marriage. Keep me shackled to you forever, that’s what you want, isn’t it? While you fuck around town, relishing in the freedom you never allow me”
Your agitated voice matches his. You know your words will hurt him.
Aemond exhales loudly. His jaw’s shut tight and misty gaze piercing. He has a tendency to shut down during fights, especially when he doesn't have a snide remark waiting at the back of his mind.
Aemond’s eyes, locking yours in a death stare, narrow,
“So you want out?”
The flight to Dragonstone goes by in a flash, and after a quick soundcheck at the venue, the five members of Dragon Dreamers start getting ready for the show. 
You and Helaena do your usual routine of getting ready together, checking each other’s makeup and hair.
As the venue starts to fill up, the band gathers backstage, quickly running through your set one last time. You try to shoot a covert glance at Aemond, but he immediately finds your eyes. As always, he looks impeccable.
“Since we’ve finished ‘The Chain’ in production, I suggest we play that as our opening number tonight. It’s fast-paced and will get the crowd moving”, Aemond states, looking at his bandmates for approval.
They all nod knowingly, catching you by surprise.
“I’m not sure I’m familiar with ‘The Chain’”, you say, trying to sound neutral though you suspect he chose a song you don’t know on purpose.
“It’s the one you did some backup vocals on in the studio”, Aemond replies, throwing you a quick look, “Me and Helaena can sing the verses and you can join in during the chorus”, he offers, moving to pick up his guitar, signalling that he’s done with the conversation.
Great, first song on opening night and you’ll stand there like a deer in headlights.
You sigh quietly and grab your tambourine. If you’re not going to sing you’ll at least try to join in by jamming a bit to the beat. Only one thing echoes in your mind,
Don’t let him get to you!
‘The Chain’ starts playing. Steady drums beat in a slow rhythm as Aemond plays a bluesy melody on his guitar, and you realise that it is one of the songs that you and he had worked on when you were still together.
Last time you heard it, you had worked out the melody, but not really pinned down the lyrics. Aemond must’ve taken it upon himself to finish it, completely steering away from the direction you thought the song would take.
‘Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise’
Why haven't you heard anything about this new edit?
A chill runs down your spine.
Has he re-written it to be about you?
‘Run in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies’
Yes he has.
You and Aemond got married at sunrise by the Hightower summer house in Highgarden in June two years ago.
Aemond had proposed to you only five weeks prior, and being so in love that you couldn’t possibly imagine being separated for more than 15 minutes, you decided to tie the knot as quickly as possible.
You just wanted to be his.
That had been one of your fondest memories together; a small ceremony that was only yours.
Now, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.
Memories rotting from within.
You hate it. You don’t want to think about that now.
Damn him. Damn his love. Damn his lies.
‘And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again’
‘I can still hear you saying, “you would never break the chain”’
As he sings, he sounds so angry, his voice is almost foreign to you.
He usually tries to keep his emotions in check, even when performing. Probably too scared to be vulnerable enough to let people know he actually has feelings, you reckon.
You remember the song and the rapid pace it picks up. Trying to ignore what you think is Aemond staring at you from the side of the stage, you dance and sing to the song about your heartbreak.
You let the music consume you as you work the tambourine, dancing and spinning, trying to relish in the feeling of knowing your band had made a killer song.
The audience is loving it. You have never heard them this rowdy before, and you can see the entire venue dancing.
You keep going, trying to distract yourself so your gaze won’t travel to Aemond.
He had played a rough first version of the guitar solo he wanted to incorporate in the song for you when you were still together. It really was phenomenal, fitting perfectly with the climax of the song.
He’s an insanely skilled guitarist, never missing a note and always instinctively knowing exactly what melody will match the feel of a song.
The audience is loving it, screaming and dancing with you.
Feeling braver and with the adrenaline from the performance running through your veins, you come up to your mic and sing along with Aemond and Helaena, chanting in unison.
The three of you sound good, like you always do.
The realisation gives you comfort; there’s still hope for your band.
‘Chain, keep us together’
‘Running in the shadows’
You can do this.
A/N: Thank you for reading! 🫶
#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond x you#my fics#rumours#Spotify
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okay okay hold on hear me out- guitarist percy :0 like.... sitting on his lap while he tunes/fixes his guitar (his hands AHHHHHHH-) and it turns into y'all doing things idk go wild also if ur taking emoji anons can I be 🪐 or 🐾 anon? ty lovely! :D
you can be whichever emoji, I don’t have either of them yet :)
cw: fingering, overstimulation-ish, thigh riding, swearing, percy is mean and teases reader, n this might be the longest smut fic I’ve ever written tbh…
——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
you’re pretty sure he’s aware of what he’s doing to you. it’s utterly tantalizing watching percy tune his guitar so deliberately with his calloused fingers, at the mere thought you feel a rush of pooling heat in your core. your arms tighten around his shoulders at this— yet he does nothing to stop his movements with the stupid guitar. It makes you jealous that an inanimate object is receiving more attention than you are, and that he’s handling it with care. you grow father frustrated.
though you don’t say anything in hopes he’ll realize himself. but you’re pretty sure he’s far to oblivious to notice that you’re internally fighting your hormone demons. you shift your position on his lap so one of his thighs rests between your legs, the sudden patting of your own thighs having you realize the wetness of your poor panties. percy adjusts his arm around your waist with your new position, still keeping you close to him while his eyes never leave the instrument.
slowly, you begin to grind your hips, barely, but just enough for you to feel even a tad bit of friction. with your sudden movements, percy at last looks up to you.
“you alright, sweet girl?”
you nod. “‘m fine. continue.”
he knows that’s a lie. for first, your cheeks flush a pink hue and he can feel the progressive ragged rate of your breathing growing faster with every thrust of your hips along his thigh. you watch as his fingers still toy around with the guitar, having your hips move at a faster pace the more you look. you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your lips at this point. it’s growing unbearable for you to handle.
“perce… can- will you-”
what you’re trying to say is beyond your capacity of understanding at the moment. the words quickly diminish off your tongue as soon as they come out. percy understands what you’re trying to get at, however, laughing and tossing (placing— whatever) his guitar to the side, placing both of his hands now on your waist as you continue grinding along him.
teasingly, he begins pecking along your neck, only adding onto the heat between your thighs. bitch. and you’re sure he’s aware of what he’s doing to you because at this point your intentions are entirely obvious and blatant. you manage to ask him once again to do something. he obliges to your advances and tugs down the zipper of your denim shorts, yet this isn’t enough, you plead for him to hurry his pace.
when he eventually manages to slip your shorts off, his hand instantly finds itself running along your clothed clit— and not to his surprise your lacy panties are drenched.
“gods, you’re soaked.”
“no fucking shit. I wonder why.”
percy laughs again at your clear frustration with him, kissing your jaw now. at a second slow rate he slides those off now too, shoving them into his pocket. you shudder at this. his finger trails from your waist, your hip, and down to your inner thigh, tormenting you with a light brush over your clit.
“percy… please.”
“have patience, sweet girl.”
you dig your nails into his skin in retaliation. he doesn’t react and goes on with his movements. absentmindedly, you whisper quiet begs into his ear until he gives into you and plugs a singular finger into you. you moan from pure pleasure, dipping your head onto his shoulder. your brain grows fuzzy like television static— you practically hear it too.
“perce- fuck- I…”
you’re not entirely sure what you were trying to say. but regardless of this, percy plugs a second finger into you, curling them in a way that makes your tummy twist into knots. you clench around his fingers and in return feel his smile against the skin of your neck. you grind into them as they reach a deeper portion of your insides, trying to reach your climax as you feel it creeping upon you. and percy doesn’t stop for a second, it makes your whole body burn with the sensation of utter pleasure.
your legs nearly give out from the trouble of holding yourself up with them. you’re sure they’ll hurt tomorrow. and not only are your legs a problem, you can’t fucking breathe, concentrate, function properly, do anything in fact, if you’re being completely honest. not until, mocking the trolly problem, like they conductor— in this case percy— had chose to hit you instead of five other people, your orgasm hits you.
you fist a handful of his shirt sleeves into your palms as you ride out the feeling— trying to prolong it as long as you possibly can before his fingers leave you (wanting more, ultimately). panting, you lift your head up to see percy who licks his fingers clean, you let out a quiet moan at the mere idea of that. his hands return, now, back around your waist to steady you as you come down from your high.
“doin’ alright, sweet girl?”
actually, no, you’re entirely wrecked. but it’s better to know that he chose to finger you instead of the damn guitar.
#xoxochb#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson smut#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#riordanverse x reader#riordan universe#riordanverse#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#pjo#percy series#pjo hoo toa#pjo spoilers
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