#excuse the casual slurs

[bellamygate]

just woke up. feelin lurved 🥰

[andromedasummer]

honestly the biggest thing for me in this hamilton (the musical) v hamilton (the person) stuff is just the fact that there is still a hamilton (the musical) fanbase in 2023. that is honest to god mindblowing to me. i thought we'd left the slave owner musical in the past.

[artinvain]

desperate for your take on roommate best friend abby who’s disgustingly obsessed and needy for reader. reader has no idea, and maybe they catch abby getting off to them one day 🤭

honestly thank god for this ask 😫

cw: masturbation (abby), pervy abby, use of term “daddy”, strap usage, cunnilingus (r!receiving)

abby’s perverse, she knows this. the way she stares at you, dewy from the heat of your shower — your sleep shorts a little too short. she can see the curves of your ass cheeks hanging out the bottom. and your nipples perky through your bralet as you sit beside her.

“what movie are we watching,” you mumble to yourself, surfing through streaming services to look for the perfect one. roommate movie night, it should be simple, easy and clean fun. but abby’s favourite part of these nights is that she gets to touch you. not in the way she really wants to — but she can rub her hands up and down your thighs as you rest them on her legs.

god your legs are so soft, so squeezable and she just wants to feel how warm, and wet and soft you are between her legs… fuck - stop it anderson, you’re disgusting she thinks to herself. but she can’t not when she can put her arms around you, and feel your soft breasts against her, your nipples hard and rubbing against her.

“abby?” you say lowly, so close she can feel your breath on her face -

fuck, god - all she could think about is how pretty you’d sound moaning her name, asking - no begging her to cum. “abby please,” she imagines you’d whisper, “please make me cum,”

“yeah?” abby snaps her head toward you, shaking her thoughts and your face is so close, she just wants to pucker those pouty lips and kiss you, desperately lick into your mouth and taste you.

“movie? which one tonight?” you ask, reaching for an unfinished joint in your ashtray and lighting it up, “I was thinking a horror or something, I don’t know,” you say without an aim for an answer and pass her the joint, the smoke filling your head and making a soft smile appear on your face.

“um, hmm yeah, what about saw ten?” she asks and takes another puff, pulling your face in and exhaling as you inhale her smoke, something so intimate shouldn’t be so casual for you two. but it was abby’s perfect excuse to feel just a little bit of your softened lips on hers.

throughout the film, you’d clung to abby, your ass rubbing up against her crotch. her hands on your ribs had slipped and rested on your breasts as you jumped and abby had to stead her breathing. her fingers twitched with the need to flick and thumb at your nipples until you were sensitive and whimpering. your mouth hanging open so she could lick and suck on your tongue while she let her hand cup your warm pussy.

it’s what she’s thinking about now as she whimpers your name softly, her fingers thrusting sloppily into her cunt. she rubs her clit thinking about the sound of your voice shaping around her name. the way you sigh and moan at the taste of the food she’s cooked you. she’s fucked. there isn’t a single thing you could do that wouldn’t have her moaning into her pillow and humping her sheets like she is now.

“god fuck, m’gonna cum, please please baby lemme cum,” abby whines, whimpers your name over and over — her fingers sinking impossibly deeper and pressing on her gspot until she’s shaking. her fingers coming to swipe across her clit vigorously. her hips buck and twitch greedily, as she bites her lip, “please please - cum - wanna cum let me. m’gonna make you feel s’good,” abby slurs.

she didn’t realise she’s been saying your name so loudly, that you could hear her saying your name, “cum, cum, please” you’d heard her plead and so you stand before her door.

“abby,” you sigh,

“fuck,” she murmurs, she’s so fucking close - she can’t stop, her fingers feeling stuck as she thrust them, curled into her pussy. she can feel the coil in her belly ready to snap, especially with the way you just said her name.

“abby? can i come inside?” you ask gently and abby explodes, biting back her moans, except for

“m’cumming!” she groans, her wetness squelching and slicking her thighs. she’s slightly disoriented and elated as she stands on shaky legs. she hadn’t even bothered to pull her sweats or underwear down. abby pretends to yawn as she opens her door.

“hey, sorry -um,” abby stammers at the amused look on your face, surely you couldn’t have heard her?

abby’s question is answered when you reach from her hand and fuck - she forgot to wipe her fingers, you being them up to your face as abby swallows thickly,

“I’m so sorry,” she starts but you cut her off,

“heard you calling my name,” you smile, bringing her fingers to your lips and sliding your soft mouth down around them. abby’s body shudders at the feeling of your tongue licking around her fingers and between them, suckling and swallowing her wetness with a moan.

“I-I don’t understand-“ abby groans when you start to gag yourself on her fingers,

“god fuck you’re so dirty,” abby moans, your eyes closing as she presses her fingers down on your tongue and brings her other hand to cradle your head as she fucks her fingers into your mouth, adding another when you moan. your hands coming to grip her her wrist and bicep.

“look at me,” she says, voice low with lust as your hooded red eyes gaze up at her. “bet you wish it was my cock gagging you huh?” abby cooes and watches as you squirm, your thighs tightening.

“god, you’re just as needy as I am for you,” she moans, removing her fingers and kissing you, you both moan at the first contact of your mouths. you bite her lip and suck on her tongue as she gasps, and she whines at the faint taste of herself on your tongue.

abby pulls you into her room and closes the door behind you by slamming you into it, her thigh between yours and encouraging your hips to move against her,

“god I’ve thought about this so much, wanna - need to do so much to you,” abby mumbles into your neck between kisses, “have to make you feel good,” she whines as your hips start to falter,

“oh baby, you sensitive? did all that smoke make you go stupid?” she asks and you moan,

“yeah? my pretty girl got all needy f’me hearing me moan your name while i make myself cum?”

your back arches against the door as your cum, hips bucking and clit rubbing against abby’s sweats, your lacy panties rubbing against your clit. abby pulls you onto her bed and is feverish in the way she undresses you, kissing and licking and sucking desperately at your soft flesh. her mouth latching to your nipple as her free hand finally, finally cups your wet pussy and moans around you breast as her fingers feel how wet you are.

abby starts to suck on your other nipple as her fingers circle your clit and you moan out her name. “fuck,” abby pops off your nipple and uses her fingers to flick your wet nipple, “love hearing you say my name,”

she kisses down your belly and starts to kiss your clit gently, licking and suckling and then pulling off, teasing until you whine, your hips bucking and your hand leaving the sheets to grip her hear, try to pull her face further into your cunt. and she lets you, sticks her tongue out gratefully, groaning when you start to buck your hips against her face.

“god, fuck m’sorry, you just feel so good,” you whimpers, biting your lip and moaning as abby pulls you closer, rubbing your thighs as you ride her face. “oh my god abby, yeah like that,” abby’s tongue is rolling against your clit.

abby groans when your bucking hips falter and holds you down, she licks into your hole and then back up your cunt to suckle your clit, she brings two fingers to circle your hole and then eases them in, chuckling when your back starts to rise as she curls her fingers gently and you yelp when she starts to rub your gspot.

“yeah baby, that feel good?” you nod and “words,” abby places short sharp smacks to your clit and then soothes the ache by lavishing her tongue over your clit and you cum, your legs tightening around her head “yes! yes abby feels good, good m’cumming fuck!” you near yell, your thighs trembling.

abby can barely breathe but the sweet scent of your pussy, your wetness increasing around her fingers and she moans licking around her fingers as she fucks you through your orgasm. except she doesn’t stop, she continues to such your clit and adds a third finger to your softened, gummy, wet cunt.

“abby, oh fuck-“ you whine trying to squirm away from her but abby pulls your thighs apart with a grunt and gets between your legs so you can’t close them around her shoulders.

you bulky blonde, curls her fingers in and out of you, crooking them so they’re rubbing up with pressure against your walls. “oh my god,” you groan gutturally and your eyes roll back.

abby’s so entranced by you, your pretty face all scrunched up in pleasure, “I know baby, I know, must feel so good,” she spits at your entrance and her fingers slip in as her fingers hasten, her thumb rubbing at your clit.

“god, so you are fuckin’ easy, didn’t even have to do any anything,” she chuckles, groaning as she watches you and your head falls back into the pillows, your hands both pushing her away and tugging at her braid. “you just fucking threw yourself at me, pretty fucking slut,”

you whine out the coil in your belly tightening again, tears welling up in your eyes as abby kisses your belly, “oh god you look so pretty crying for me, wanna stretch you out on my cock, make you cry some more,”

you cum again whining her name, your eyes blinded by white hot pleasure and abby keeps going, fucking you through it and then relaxing, pulling out gently as you calm down.

abby moans sucking around her fingers and near gagging herself on them, her hand rubbing up and down your thigh as you twitch. “can I baby? get you cock-drunk and cumming f’me again?”

you hum, and before you can register her leaving, abby’s crawling between your legs and rubbing her lubed strap through your wet folds and bumping your clit with each thrust of her hips until your hole is clenching, “please abby, please fuck me — I’ll be so good for you, so good,”

“aw god you’re so pathetic, so sweet for me when you beg,” abby chuckles, lining herself up with your hole and rubbing your thighs, sliding in and watching your face contort in pleasure and then moaning when she looks down to where you’re swallowing her cock, her strap disappearing inside you and covered in slick when she pulls back.

“precious, you look so good,” abby moans, winding her hips, “yeah, yeah, abby cock so big - d-daddy please oh my god so good,” you babble and abby leans over you, feeling your breasts pressed against hers, “what did y’call me?”

you can’t even blush, too fucked out to even register your words, but again the title tumbles off your lips - “daddy, please,”

“oh fuck,” abby groans, leaning over you and tightening a hand around your throat.

“god good girl baby, want you to cum for me yeah? let daddy know how good you’re feelin” she moans, fucking into you, her forehead pressed against yours.

“cum for me honey, be a good girl for daddy,” she moans and you do, shivering and cumming, back arching and your nails scratching down abby’s back.

🤭🏷️ @lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @emiliabby

[parkerluvsu]

can u write something about art and reader having high sex 😛😛😛🙏🏻🙏🏻 like idk just like a chill night at the dorm at stanford or something where they smoke a couple blunts and grind on each other idk!!!!!!!!!!!

MOONLIGHT (art donaldson x fem! reader)

sometimes you felt like a bad influence on art.. he wouldn't let anything that wasn't on his pre-planned diet touch his lips before he met you. but from the first puff of your joint under the bleachers of the tennis court, he was hooked. not just on the woozy feeling he got when he took too long of a hit, but on the feeling of having you around him.

the more you two hung out, the more art associated the feeling of his head in the clouds, not with the large puffs of smoke drifting around his room, but you the feeling of you sitting next to him, your legs draped over his. art feels guilty, if he got caught, he'd absolutely get thrown out of the tennis program, and probably never be able to attend a good school again, but on the other hand.. your sweet giggles as you blow smoke into his face gave made him forget all the consequences if he got caught.

the problem with you (and it's not even really a problem to art.. he thinks you're perfect) is you like things casual. sure you've made out with art in a haze of smoke, maybe grinded a bit over his jeans in the back of his overly clean jeep, and he can't even count the times that you've texted him "you up?" at 2am, but he's never been your "boyfriend".

art knows it would be hard to have a serious conversation with you without the guise of just coming over to smoke, so he shoots you a text.

art: hey can i come over? need to relax :)

the buzz of your phone from the desk beside you steals your attention from your math homework, a welcome distraction. you text him back quickly, eager to have an excuse to smoke.

an eager knock on your door comes only minutes later, arts face a mixture of nerves and excitement, like a kid sneaking candy from their parents. art looks as cute as ever in his wrinkled stanford shirt and his checkered shorts, hair tussled from a night at practice. "cmon in artie" his cheeks blush at the nickname as he enters your dorm, making himself comfortable in the cozy chair in the corner. you pull out the box of paraphernalia from under your bed, flower stickers peeling off of the box from overuse. you tilt your head to the side, looking at arts body language, his constant shifting telling you he's trying to seem calm but he really isn't. "what do you wanna smoke?" you ask him, knowing what his answer will be before he even opens his mouth, "whatever you want".

that seems to be arts answer for anything, "whatever you want", sometimes you think if you walked off the edge of a cliff he'd do the same. art was one of those people who followed everything you did, the way you sat, the way you talked, and even your vocabulary, he would shift to be more similar to you. even when he smoked for the very first time, he watched you inhale so deep and hold it in before blowing a large cloud of smoke into the air, he tried to do the same.. but ended up greening out and throwing up in the trashcan next to the tennis courts. the truth is, art would do that all over again if it meant even one more second with you, and he knew it was clingy and definitely too dependent for the casual situation you were in.. but he can't help himself.

me: sure, come over anytime

art is a lightweight in every sense of the word, whenever Patrick would take him to a frat party to get totally wasted, all it took was one red solo cup full of beer to have art stumbling over his own feet. It was the same with weed, it only took one hit for art to start slurring his words, his body pretty much melting into any surface near him. currently, it's the cozy chair in the corner of your room, but you can see his eyes drifting towards the cozy blankets on you bed. "art, you know you can go sit on my bed right?" his eyes widen and he shuffles over, flopping down on the bed in such a way that would make sober-him flush with embarrassment. you giggle as he wraps himself in the blankets, his head lolling onto the pillow. art blearily watches you come sit on the bed too, leaning against the wall for support. the sight of him tangled up in your blankets reminds you of previous late nights spent together, causing a flutter in your stomach that you're a little ashamed of. art leans over to give you the joint back, your fingers brushing together softly. "y'know you look super pretty right now" art says, "n-not that you don't always look pretty but like.. right now especially" he revises his statement, he's always such a people pleaser. you laugh, taking a long hit from the joint before giving him a wide smile. "thanks artie, you're pretty too" you reply, knowing he likes being called pretty, even though he'd absolutely never say it, the way his ears go red gives him away every time.

as the night goes on, and your shared joint turns into a stub, you find yourself closer to art than you thought you were, your sides pressed up against each other as you lay on your backs, staring up at your ceiling. the boring white paint suddenly seeming very interesting until you felt movement beside you, art was tuning on his side and leaning his face on his hand. you blink, "what are you looking at?" glancing at arts eyes that were fixed on your face. "you" art says simply, causing you to shake your head and laugh. "i know that art.. but why?" you ask, pressing for an answer from him. "dunno.. just your face is nice" he says, his face dropping into your shoulder. arts breath was hot against your neck, making you almost want to pull away, but you'd never do that, enjoying the weight of him against you. arts breathing rate increases against your neck and you wonder why until you feel a pressure against your thigh. "art.." he hums in response, only focused on the small sharp movements of his hips. you know how quickly he shifts from being all innocent and sweet to taking what he needs.

you're such a sucker for art, especially when he's high and he can't hide his feelings like he usually does. you shift your leg to the side to help him, inciting an immediate response of his eyes fluttering shut against your shoulder, his eyelashes tickling you gently. the position that you maneuvered into allowed arts leg to slot between yours as well, letting you slowly rock your hips against his leg, the feeling of his bare skin only making you feel more pleasure. before you know it, art is pressing hot kisses into your neck and your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck. "mmmmmfuck" art groans against your neck, even though he's feeling less woozy than earlier, he's still sensitive, just the feeling of grinding against you having him teetering on the edge. suddenly, you feel his hips stutter and a dampness cover the front of his shorts. art holds his breath for a second before his whole body goes limp against you, his fingers not clenching the sheets anymore.

a comfortable silence falls between you, before art breaks it with his soft voice. "can we go again? 'm sorry i just.. i need you" he whines out, still not showing his face. you giggle softly and nod, lifting up your hips to pull off your pajama pants and panties, art doing the same with his shorts and boxers. "how do you want me?" you ask, sending a flutter of butterflies into arts stomach because of the sense of control you're giving him. art thinks for a second, "can you turn around..? please" he asks, a bit of hesitancy in his voice. you nod, turning to face the wall next to your bed, your back facing art. his gentle hands maneuver your legs into a position that's easy for him to slip into you. he does so slowly, more for your sake than his, he thinks if he pushed inside of you too fast he would surely cum prematurely (not like it hasn't happened before).

you feel art shiver against you, his hips pausing when he enters your fully, his balls resting snugly against your ass. art could truly stay like this forever, if he had the patience and resolve.. but he doesn't, his hips snap into yours quickly, the overstimulation getting to him. he wraps his arms around your stomach, holding you close to him, his head yet again smushed into the crook of your neck. every thrust he gives you feels like it's punching the air out of you, art isn't even pulling all the way out anymore, just humping his hips into you the best he can. even in his delicate headspace, art still wants to please you first, his fingers making their way down your stomach before rubbing messily at your clit, his fingers catching on your nub every few circles, causing you to tighten up around him. art is close, you can always tell by how his voice shifts from more coherent to just straight up blabbering, "mgh.. god.. 's so warm.. you're so warm.." "it feels s' good.. it's feels good to you too right?" "gotta be closer to you.. wan' be closer to you" but you snap to attention when he moans against you, "please be m' girlfriend please.. i wan' you to be mine.." you're sure art has no idea what he's saying until he repeats himself, almost sounding like he's about to cry. you nod quickly, "y-yeah artie okay.. ill be your girlfriend.." now you swear he actually sobs, his hips making one last deep thrust before you feel him fill you up, the sensation sending you over the edge right after him.

art stays inside of you for a minute, dating his breath before pulling out, grabbing a tissue and helping you clean up. when you open your eyes, arts looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. "um.. did you mean what you said?" he asks quietly, his head bowing down quickly, as if he didn't want to see your reaction. you think back to your agreement, sure it was in the heat of the moment, but would it really be such a bad idea to say yes? you pause, and arts head droops even lower, expecting the worst. "art you know ive purposely been keeping this casual.. but i.. i trust you now artie, i do want this to be serious" you reach out for his hand, squeezing it gently. arts face lights up like a kid getting the one present they wanted for christmas as he quickly hugs you. "thank you.. thanks, you won't regret it i swear" you smile, pulling the blankets over the both of you, snuggling into arts chest as you admire the beautiful rays of moonlight streaming into your bedroom.

art is easily entranced by the quick movements of your fingers as you roll a joint, it sounds silly but he's always admired the fact that you didn't buy pre-rolls, preferring to be more independent. you lick the paper to get it to stick shut (and art is grateful you were too focused on that to see the way his eyes widened when you did) and root around your drawer for your lighter, a stupid pink one decorated with hello kitty that you got for your birthday. art couldn't help but find it endearing, the way you were so independent and "too cool" for a real relationship, but you still kept all the things that people gave to you, even if they weren't to your taste. the click of your lighter snapped art out of his observations, the light from the tiny flame illuminating your face in a way that made art want to take a picture, the fluttering flame casting an orange glow onto your skin. the strong smell of the joint caused art to become a little lightheaded even though he hasn’t even taken a hit yet, his fingers grabbing the joint from you after a couple failed tries that make you laugh, the soft giggles a soundtrack for the night.

[synthetic-sonata]

i really hate the. counter culture? is that the word??? of like ppl around early teens to mid 20s acting like assholes and reclaiming slurs and then Using them as slurs and just never respecting peoples boundaries and being rude assholes to even fucking strangers bc its "funny" or w/e and they do it in a veil of being progressive, or... something .

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seventeen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, DARK THEMES, Sexual Harassment, Asshole!Berkshire, Extreme Depictions of Violence, Blood, SMUT, PIV, Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Emerging from the closet, you and Mattheo shared one more fleetingly charged moment, your eyes locking in a silent exchange laden with unspoken emotions. With a subtle nod, you both returned to your seats, seamlessly slipping back into the roles you had mastered--the poised Ravenclaw and the bad, rebellious Slytherin. The transition was flawless, but beneath the composed exteriors, a storm of emotions raged.

As the game progressed and the night drew on, your eyes locked with Mattheo's from across the circle more times than you could even begin to count--and as the rest of the room remained blissfully unaware, you were acutely attuned to the dance of hidden desires, an intimate connection that thrived in the shadows.

The game of truth or dare continued, growing more wild with each passing round, until most people involved became to tired to continue. In the midst of all of this, Emily and Tom seemed to hit it off, engrossed in their own conversation which seemed to have started before you had even returned from the closet with Mattheo--and as much as the sight was slightly confusing, you were profoundly grateful for the unexpected friendship between them. It undoubtedly relieved the pressure of having to engage with Tom.

As the night wore on, exhaustion settled deep within your bones. Berkshire, thoroughly intoxicated, was gently escorted to his dormitory by Malfoy, his usual disgusting arrogance now replaced by a drunken stumble. Despite the lingering adrenaline from the evening's events, weariness tugged at your limbs, pulling you towards the comfort of your dormitory.

While Emily and Tom remained engrossed in their conversation, you seized the opportunity to excuse yourself quietly. With polite smiles and casual goodnights, you bid farewell to the remaining members of the circle. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, your energy waning with every movement. The echoes of laughter and conversation faded into the distance as you navigated the familiar corridors, the subdued glow of torchlight guiding your way.

Taking a moment to escape the confines of the castle, you stepped into the tranquil courtyard, leaning against the railing and seeking solace under the vast expanse of stars. The night air embraced you, carrying with it a soothing whisper of tranquility. Breathing in deeply, you let the cool breeze wash over you, attempting to shed the lingering tension from your bones after the intense evening you had just endured.

And in the midst of your attempts to find serenity, the peaceful atmosphere shattered like fragile glass, stumbling footsteps making their way toward you. As you glanced over, you watched an inebriated Berkshire stumble his way into the courtyard, bringing himself dangerously close to you, his usual arrogance magnified by the influence of alcohol. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, fixated on you with a disturbing intensity.

"Shit...what do we have here?" he slurred, his words laced with drunken confidence. "A little bird all alone in the night...don't you know it's fuckin' dangerous to be out here all by yourself?"

Your disgust was palpable as you shot him a withering glare. "Save your pathetic lines for someone who cares, Berkshire," you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain. "The only thing dangerous is my dwindling patience at the mere sight of you."

"Why're you such a bitch, huh?" he slurred, his words carrying the stench of alcohol. His proximity was uncomfortably close, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be 'cause you secretly like me, right?"

Your jaw clenched, a mixture of annoyance and disgust bubbling within you. His words were as repugnant as his alcohol-laden breath. The tension you had been trying to relieve was now replaced by a different kind, a sharp pang of frustration at having to deal with his inappropriate behavior.

"I suggest you find your way back to your dorm," you retorted, your voice firm despite the rising irritation. "Your delusions won't make your company any more welcome."

Berkshire's drunken persistence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, his obnoxious confidence seeming to inflate with every word you uttered. Before you could process it, he closed the distance between you, his movements erratic, invading your personal space. His clammy hand shot up, gripping your jaw with a force that made your teeth clench, forcing your eyes to meet his in a cruel display of dominance.

"Why won't you just admit it, huh?" he slurred, his words punctuated by the reek of alcohol on his breath. His bloodshot eyes bored into yours, his arrogance seemingly impervious to your clear discomfort. "You can't deny the attraction, sweetheart...I see it in the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."

Your patience snapped like a taut rope. Anger flared in your chest, hot and searing. With a swift movement, you pushed his hand away from your face, your voice cutting through the night with icy precision, a steely resolve in your voice that should have been enough to ward off any sane person.

"Let me make this abundantly clear, Berkshire," you said, your tone as sharp as a blade. "There is no secret admiration, no desire, and certainly no fucking attraction. You're nothing more than a nuisance, and I have no patience for your delusions. Now, back the fuck off before you regret testing my tolerance any further."

Despite your unwavering stance, Berkshire's drunken laughter reverberated through the courtyard, a disturbing echo of arrogance undeterred by your resistance. He jeered, taking another step toward you, his movements unsteady but determined. The cold, unforgiving metal of the railing you had been standing in front of pressed into your back as he cornered you, his breath reeking of alcohol and menace.

Panic clawed at your throat, but you refused to show weakness, your eyes meeting his with a defiant glare. "Berkshire, what are you-"

Ignoring your words, he advanced further, backing you up against the railing until there was nowhere left to retreat. Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of his aggression bearing down on you. And then, in a moment of terror, he grabbed you, his grip surprisingly strong, squeezing tighter than you had ever expected. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers dug into your arms, pain flaring through your limbs. The situation had escalated far beyond your control, and the realization struck you like a physical blow.

"Let me go," you demanded, your voice strained but resolute, despite the fear tightening your throat. But Berkshire only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, his drunken gaze wild and unpredictable. "Enzo, fuck, stop..."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, he breath grazing over your neck as he pressed himself against you. "You're such a fucking-"

Before Berkshire could finish that sentence, a familiar voice--one usually somewhat smooth and composed, cut through the air with a terrifying intensity.

"Berkshire…if you don't get your fucking hands off of her," the threat in his tone was unmistakable, a promise of unspeakable consequences if ignored. "I fucking swear-"

But Berkshire, lost in his drunken rage, remained heedless, his eyes glazed over with a dangerous mixture of anger and entitlement. “Shut up, Riddle…she fucking wants me…”

You caught Mattheo's eyes from over Enzo's shoulder, ones that once held a glimmer of restraint now blazed with an uncontrollable anger that seemed to ignite the air around him. His usual composure shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fury.

In a heartbeat, Mattheo closed the distance between him and Berkshire, his movements fluid and almost supernatural. His hand shot out like a striking serpent, fingers wrapping around Berkshire's throat like an unyielding vice. The grip was tight, a clear message of the danger Berkshire was in.

“I warned you,” he hissed, and with a swift, powerful motion, Mattheo ripped Berkshire off of you, sending him crashing onto the unforgiving stone ground, a stunned gasp escaping his lips upon impact--Mattheo’s throat was shredded with anger as he growled, “I fucking warned you…”

You stood frozen, your lungs burning as you desperately gasped for air, your vision swimming with a heady mix of fear and relief. Mattheo, his eyes ablaze with fury, descended upon Berkshire like a vengeful deity. His arm darted out, fingers clenching Berkshire's collar in one hand while the other transformed into a merciless fist.

“Stay the fuck away from her…you don’t fucking look at her, you don’t even fucking breathe near her…do you fucking understand me?” Mattheo didn’t wait for a response, the first punch landing with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like a thunderclap. Mattheo jostled Enzo in his grip, practically spitting his words against his face. “No one gets to fucking touch her…no one except me…fucking no one…”

A momentary pause hung in the air, a fleeting heartbeat of stillness, before Mattheo struck again. And again. And again. He was possessed, every punch a release of the pent-up rage that had been simmering beneath the surface, each blow fueled by a primal instinct to protect, to defend, to punish the one who dared to harm you.

Berkshire's face transformed into a grotesque mask of crimson, his features distorted by pain and fear. The courtyard seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Mattheo's anger, the sound of his blows drowned out by the rapid thudding of your heart--and it wasn't until Draco Malfoy, his normally composed demeanor replaced by wide-eyed shock, entered the fray, that Mattheo's onslaught finally came to a halt.

Malfoy, his strength surprising for someone so slender, managed to pull Mattheo off Berkshire, the latter struggling like a wild animal, his rage still burning brightly, his chest heaving with exasperated fury.

"What the fuck happened here?" Theodore dropped to his knees next to his fallen friend, a mixture of concern and disbelief etched on his features as he met your stunned eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind struggling to comprehend the violence that had just unfolded before you. The shock had rendered you speechless, your throat dry and constricted, words caught in the whirlwind of your emotions. "Yes...I'm okay..."

While you attempted to spit out words, Mattheo's heaving form, still seething with raw anger, ripped himself free from Malfoy's hold. With a voice that carried the weight of his fury, he spoke on your behalf, the words sharp and cutting through the air.

"Berkshire thought he could lay his fucking hands on her is what happened," his voice was cold, each word laced with contempt. "After I warned him...I warned him how many fucking times..."

Mattheo's aura, once magnetic and enticing, was now a tempest, an embodiment of wrath that crackled in the air around him. The atmosphere seemed to vibrate with his intensity, as if the very stones beneath your feet could feel his fury. It was a chilling reminder, mostly to you, that beneath the composed facade, there was a force to be reckoned with, a protector who would stop at nothing to shield you from harm--and that thought did inexplicable, disgustingly shameless things to your fucking body.

Draco Malfoy, his usual cool composure momentarily shaken, stepped away from Mattheo, his eyes assessing the situation with a discerning gaze.

"Let's get him to the hospital wing," he suggested to Theodore, his voice cutting through the tension. Nott, too, recognized the need for immediate action, nodding in agreement, before briefly meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry about him...there's no way he hasn't learned his lesson now...fuckin' sorry little prat..."

You nodded in response as the two of them lifted Berkshire, supporting his battered form between them. As they glanced between you and Mattheo, it was as though a silent understanding passed between Draco and Nott. Their glances met, a knowing look shared, acknowledging that there was something more beneath the surface of this situation. They sensed the unspoken connection, the invisible thread that bound you and Mattheo together, but they chose not to pry. Instead, they respected the unspoken boundaries, allowing the complexities of your relationships to remain your own.

Meanwhile, Mattheo turned his attention back to you, his eyes a tumultuous blend of emotions, the storm within him slowly subsiding as he registered the shock lingering in your eyes. With a soft yet determined expression, he stepped closer, his presence becoming a comforting shield against the aftermath of the confrontation that had left both of you shaken.

"Raven, I'm so fucking-" he began, his voice thick with regret and unspoken apologies.

"I'm fine, Mattheo." You cut him off, your heart pounding in your chest, the sight of his breathless, bloodied and dishevelled form doing dangerous things to your cunt--and you knew, more than anything, you just wanted to be alone with him. "Please just take me back to your dorm."

His brows furrowed in confusion, but the desperation in your eyes didn't leave room for questions.

"What-" he started to inquire, but you took a step closer, your neck arching slightly to catch his dark, penetrating gaze.

"Take me back to your dorm," you repeated. "Please."

Upon hearing the raw desperation in your voice, Mattheo nodded, his fingers gently finding yours as he immediately led you down the hall and through the empty corridor to his dorm. The moment he pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside, it felt as though the temperature in the room had increased to a million bloody degrees. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a potent mix of fear, desire, and the undeniable pull that had always existed between you, intensified now by the events of the night.

As you cautiously stepped into his dorm, your eyes were drawn to the familiar sight of the astronomy book lying open on his desk. The memory of the last time you had been in his dorm flashed in your mind--the same book, sitting untouched on his desk, an odd object in the midst of his carefully curated chaos.

"Why do you still have this out?" you questioned, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Mattheo hesitated, his stormy eyes locking onto yours in a moment of vulnerability.

"Can't a man indulge in the mysteries of the stars whenever he fancies?" he retorted with a smirk, attempting to deflect the gravity of the situation. His voice carried a hint of playfulness, but the tension beneath the surface was palpable. "Or perhaps stargazing is an art reserved solely for beautiful little ravens, hm?"

"Is it because of me?" Your stare bore into him, a mix of curiosity and suspicion flickering in your eyes. “Is it because of me that you have this book?”

He didn't deny it; instead, after a long, silent moment, he simply nodded, almost impenetrably, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a silent admission, a confession that hung heavy in the charged atmosphere of the room. In that moment, the undeniable pull between you became almost tangible, the invisible thread connecting your hearts growing stronger, defying the boundaries you had desperately tried to impose.

You stepped toward him. "Did you miss me, Mattheo..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his expression enigmatic yet stoic, a mask of his usual arrogance and charm slipping back into place. His silence lingered for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Then, in a voice that held a depth of emotion he was trying to conceal, he replied, "Maybe I did, Raven..."

You moved closer, the air crackling with need as you closed the distance, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally stood before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you dared to reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm, and beneath your touch, you could sense the subtle tremor that betrayed the restraint he was exercising. Your breath caught in your throat as you tilted your head, your lips hovering just millimeters from his.

"Don't be shy, Mattheo..." you murmured, teasing him with your fingers as you trailed over his jawline. "Why don't you show me how much you missed me..."

Mattheo's jaw clenched under your touch, his dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that matched the simmering desire between you. You sighed when his hands, strong and possessive, found their way to your hips, pulling you closer with a magnetic force that left you breathless. His restraint wavered, the barrier between temptation and surrender growing thinner by the second.

"Salazar fucking save me..." Mattheo's voice was a raspy whisper, a plea and a challenge rolled into one, his vulnerability veiled behind a facade of arrogance. "Who the hell are you..."

You leaned in, your lips hovering dangerously close to his, your eyes locking onto his with a daring intensity.

"Sorry to break it to you, Riddle," you purred, your voice a seductive melody that echoed in the charged space between you. "But I'm afraid not even your maker could save you now..." a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your breath mingling with his. "Better start counting your blessings..."

"Blessings, huh?" Mattheo's lips curved into a half-smirk, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'd much rather count the seconds until I can taste those sweet fucking lips of yours..."

His words sent a jolt of desire through you, your heart pounding in response to his brazen confidence.

"Gods, you really are a changed man, aren't you?" You murmured, fighting your smirk as his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. "You were never one to wait for permission before..."

"Raven," his voice was a low, raspy whisper, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter. "You're really testing my fucking patience here...and you should know I'm not a patient man..."

Your smirk grew, heat flushing your cheeks, your fingers tracing a tantalizing path along the underside of his jawline, now, teasingly slow.

"Maybe I enjoy testing your limits…maybe I want to see how far I can push you..." you muttered, your voice laced with playful defiance. "Or perhaps I just like watching you squirm, Riddle...perhaps I want to hear you beg for me..."

Mattheo's patience snapped like a taut wire, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and desire.

"Look at you, huh...all fucking smug..." he growled, his voice edged with playful frustration as he peered down at you. "You've kept that pussy from me for over two fucking weeks and now you want to tease me like this? Did you forget how bloody fast I can make you crumble for me..."

Your defiant facade began to crack under the intensity of his gaze, a shiver running down your spine.

"Gods, maybe I did..." your voice barely above a whisper, the defiance replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Maybe I need you to remind me..."

"Shit...there she is...there's my good fucking girl..." he murmured, his tone a mixture of reverence and desire. "...tell me what you want, Raven..."

A sigh of satisfaction slipped past your lips as his hands tightened their grip, his touch searing into your hips as though he was trying to hang on to his last shreds of willpower. With a trembling voice, you met his dark, penetrating eyes, wetting your lips as you let yourself drown in their depths.

"You," you whispered, your voice a husky admission. "I want you."

He exhaled. "Then fucking have me."

In a whirlwind of desire, his lips crashed onto yours, sending your senses into a frenzy. Your eyelids fluttered shut as both of you inhaled sharply through your noses, trying to catch your breath amidst the electrifying kiss. His hands, strong and possessive, tangled in your hair, pulling you closer with an urgency that matched the racing beat of your heart. Your lips parted in a soft groan of surrender, inviting him in, and his tongue slipped between your teeth with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

His lips moved over yours, claiming every inch as though he needed you to survive, and your fingers found solace in the dark waves of his hair, gripping them tightly. Mattheo responded with a primal sound, a low grunt of satisfaction that resonated between your entwined bodies. With a swift motion, he spun you around, his lips never leaving yours, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees met the edge of his bed. The kiss deepened, his mouth exploring yours with a deliberate slowness, his fingers continuing their sensual dance through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, melting the space between you.

Mattheo's tongue danced a tantalizing dance inside your mouth before he withdrew, leaving a lingering connection between your lips. In that moment, silence enveloped both of you, rendering you nearly motionless, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to say, think, or do. You felt the undeniable hardness of his arousal pressing against your belly, causing a flicker of anticipation to ignite within you. Your hands instinctively moved towards the hem of your shirt, but he halted you with a gaze as hard as stone.

"No," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Let me."

A flush of scarlet painted your cheeks, but you nodded in silent consent, your throat tight with anticipation. His fingers bunched the fabric of your shirt, lifting it up and off of you. As you raised your arms, granting him permission to undress you further, he completed his task with deliberate care. The fabric landed on the floor with a soft rustle, discarded and forgotten, while his eyes roamed over every newly exposed expanse of your skin.

It was a ritual you knew you’d never tired of, the way he looked at your body as if it was a masterpiece, a gift he hadn't been prepared to receive.

Under the intensity of his gaze, a cascade of warmth flooded through you, your skin tingling with awareness. His hands skillfully moved behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pushed it off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your arms, his fingers skimming over the surface of your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question, before gracefully sinking to his knees in front of you. His warm breath ghosted over your belly, holding your stare as to ask for permission before he hooked his thumbs under the rim of your pants and panties, peeling them down your thighs, revealing your sensitive sex to him--inch by torturous inch.

A shiver rippled through your nerves, sending a thrill down your spine as his molten-gold eyes held yours with hunger that seemed to consume everything in its path. His gaze didn't waver for a single moment, even as he expertly removed your shoes and tossed them aside carelessly.  As he rose, his palms trailed over the contours of every curve, his touch igniting a trail of electric sensations in their wake. He towered over you, a commanding presence that left you breathless, and one of his hands delicately cupped your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip with a gentle intensity that sent your heart racing.

"Lie back," he murmured.

Your fingers quivered with anticipation as you nodded, succumbing to the electric tension in the air. Slowly, you eased yourself back onto the mattress, adjusting your position so you could lie flat against the soft bedding.

Mattheo prowled around the perimeter of the bed, his intense gaze scorching your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each step he took seemed deliberate, his movements exuding a raw, primal energy. After a moment, he paused, his fingers deftly working on the buttons of his bloodied dress-shirt. With a fluid motion, he peeled off the fabric, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest. His pants followed suit, dropping to the floor until he stood before you in just his boxers.

From this angle, the sight of him made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch in your throat. The raw masculinity and confidence he exuded was both breathtaking and overwhelming, leaving you yearning for more as he loomed over the bed, the outline of his throbbing cock straining the fabric of his boxers doing unspeakable things to your body--the sight of it against the background of hard, tense muscle made you clench, and you bit your lip to hide a moan that was sneaking its way out of your mouth.

And even though you knew he noticed, he said nothing, even as his knee dropped into the mattress, even as he shifted, crawling over you, until he hovered above you, looking more fucking angelic than he ever had before, looking like a man filled with devotion, passion and need.

"Mattheo..." fear was mixing with the pull of lust. You'd never seen him like this. "Matty, I--"

"Shh," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from your temple. "Relax for me, princess..."

You drew in a shaky breath, and nodded--and his lips pressed into yours, plush and wet, before he moved, leading a tingling line of kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, to your neck. Leaning in, he caressed your throat with his warm mouth and you gasped, back arcing into him. In response, Mattheo purred, laying layer after layer of soft, wet marks on your sensitive flesh. One large hand slid down your arm while he kissed his way to your breast, nuzzling his cheek into the valley of your chest before drawing a nipple between his lips.

A cry escaped you, your hips bucking into his abdomen. "Oh, Gods..."

"Shh," he said again. "Relax, angel..."

The nickname he called only made you want to writhe more. Your mind internally fucking screaming with need. Taking a deep breath, you nodded anyway.

"My angel," he repeated, planting slow, soft kisses on your stiffening bud. "My fucking sweet little angel..."

He took your nipple into his mouth again, moaning while he suckled it swollen, his hands painting pleasure on your swathes of naked, aching skin. You whimpered, nibbling on your lip to silence any sound, hands slowly slithering their way through his messy, yet beautiful fucking hair. As you tightened your grip on his strands, a groan slipped past his teeth, and he flicked the tip of your peak with his tongue before releasing it, mouth making a hot trail along your navel, his hands massaging up and down the outside of your thighs.

"You're doing so well," he whispered into your stomach. "You're so fucking beautiful..."

"Matty..." you whined, his words creating a storm of bliss in your chest. You didn't know what else to say.

"Keep being good for me..." he kissed his way to the mound of your pussy, holding a rumble in his chest as his lips grazed the top of your slit. "Are you ready?"

Are you ready? He just fucking asked if you were ready. As you gazed at him, his pink lips glistening with saliva, eyes smoldering with desire, the answer became crystal clear.

"Yes," you said. "Yes, I'm ready."

Without further hesitation, Mattheo lowered his head between your legs, your entire body jolting in pleasure   as he licked a broad, flat band up your sex, feeling your fingers twirling in the curls of his hair. His mouth was hot and eager as he showered your folds with deep, heavy kisses, sending shivers of delight throughout your entire being. Mattheo's hands held your thighs in place as he slicked his strong tongue in between your slit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core. Your eyes were fixed upon him, unable to look away from the sight of him worshipping your cunt with his mouth.

"You taste incredible," he cooed, leaving soft kisses along the crease of your thighs. "You know that I thought about this little pussy everyday, don't you?"

Your breath hitched. "Y-you did?"

"Mmhm."

He returned to working his tongue along your inner-folds, gathering your juices along the tip, humming while he swallowed--he was deliberate, taking his time to memorize every bit of your pussy, to draw as much cum from your core as he could. You whined, your clit desperate for attention.

"Matty..." you pleaded, "please..."

Mattheo's gaze met yours as he hummed, sealing his lips around your swollen nub. The intensity of the pleasure collided into you, causing a wracking sob to escape your lips as your eyes closed in ecstasy. His  grip tightened on your thighs, tugging you closer to his face. As he sucked on your clit, he gradually built up the pressure, block by block, pushing you towards the peak of orgasm.

Your hips relentlessly rolled into him, urgent moans filling the air as you fell further and further toward overwhelming bliss. "Fuck, Mattheo...Gods..."

His hands left your thighs, exploring your body, gripping and kneading any inch of flesh they could find, until they finally rested on your breasts, thumbs tracing small, gentle circles on your hardened nipples.

"Oh, fuck," you said, "fuck, fuck..."

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, any words leaving your lips devolved into incoherent wailing. You teetered on the edge, straining against a wall of unrelenting bliss that threatened to overtake you completely. Then, with two hard sucks, Mattheo eased you over, drawing out your climax long and slow against his mouth. Ecstasy consumed you, numbing your skin as your limbs shook and trembled. Every sensation was intensified as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, groaning as your juices coated his lips, your core throbbing and pulsing at his chin.

It felt like an eternity before he finally released you, dragging his tongue up the top of your slit as he panted and gasped for breath alongside you. The aftermath of your intense orgasm left both of you struggling to regain your senses.

Your head rolled along the mattress, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Mattheo...that was..."

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your center, and returned his focus to your belly, kissing a steady path to your sternum, his hands still stroking at your skin. "I need you to know how much I missed everything...and I mean fucking everything..."

"Oh," was all that left your mouth, teeth pinching your lip when it began to tremble.

"From your perfect fucking tits to your filthy little mouth..." one hand started to palm at your breast, the other still gliding up your side as he inched forward. "From those delicious fucking thighs to that pretty little pussy..." he was at your neck, now, rasping into it, the heat of his body enveloping you. "Every inch of you is fucking perfect...fuck the drugs Raven, you are my insatiable goddamn addiction..."

Every syllable that escaped his lips seemed to caress your very soul, igniting a wildfire of longing within you. His words were like a spell, weaving around your heart and wrapping you in a cocoon of desire. You craved him in a way that transcended the physical, a hunger that went bone-deep. It wasn't just the touch of his skin against yours that you yearned for; it was the merging of your essence, the melding of your souls into an ethereal dance of passion. You wanted to dissolve the boundaries between you, to lose yourselves in a realm crafted solely for your bodies, where every touch and sigh was a symphony of fervor.

And as you met his gaze, there it was, in his eyes--an unnamed emotion that pulsed between you, an unspoken truth that bound you together in a way words could never encapsulate. It was a force beyond reason, an irresistible pull that drew you closer, time after fucking time again.

"You once called me a plague but fuck...you have no fucking idea..." his voice, raw with desire, clawed its way out of his throat. "I haven't even fucked you, Raven...how the fuck have you done this to me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, fingers instinctively curling in his hair. "Do you want to?..."

Mattheo hesitated, as if time itself hung suspended. His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your words, and then, he answered, his voice a low rasp,

"Of course I do..." he breathed. "But after what happened tonight-"

"No," you cut him off, your body moving restlessly beneath his. "After what happened tonight, I only want you more...I've never fucking wanted you so fucking badly, Mattheo...it was you who defended me, not Tom, not Zabini, you...it's always been you..."

Mattheo's jaw tensed, his eyes darkening, his chest heaving. "You want me to fuck you..." he said, as though he was trying to make himself believe it. "You want me to take your virginity..."

You nodded, a silent confirmation of your desire, but Mattheo's fingers found their way to your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle, yet firm. He held your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation, any uncertainty.

"Say it, Raven," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You know I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to take your virginity."

Your breath caught in your throat, his proximity overwhelming your senses. With a shaky inhale, you met his intense gaze, your voice coming out as a mere whisper, "I want you to take my virginity, Mattheo."

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, the desire in his tone making your core scream. "You know that means-"

"I'm yours." You cut him off. "Even though all of this could fuck up my entire future, I don't care...I'm yours...I submit my sanity to the disaster that is sneaking around with you, Mattheo...I don't want the safe option, I don't want soft or subtle...I want dangerous, I want messy, I want sins...I fucking want you..."

"Salazar fucking save me..." he breathed after a long moment of staring at you, shifting himself to pull down his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free, smacking against his belly. "You really are a little fucking devil..."

You clenched at the sight of his dick, head glistening with precum, twitching insistently as he shifted, looping an arm under your neck and cradling your head, his face nestling into your neck while his other hand directed the head of his dick against your wet folds, slicking itself along your wetness, your entire body tensing at the foreign sensation.

He was so fucking big...you weren't sure if, "are you even going to fit...you're so fucking-"

"Shh, Raven." Mattheo huffed against your neck, angling back to meet your eyes, that devilish smirk plastered across his lips. "I'll make it fit."

At his words, you clenched again, unable to deny the intoxication of his primal arrogance, his eyes fixed on your face as he angled himself at your core now, the anticipation radiating off of him only fuelling your hunger, sending thrills through every inch of your body.

"Relax," he breathed, eyes boring into yours, the hand behind your head keeping you in place. "And look at me...I want you looking into my fucking eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."

With a nod, you held his stare, and slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside of you, inch by inch, letting you gasp and wince while his thick length stretched you open, until he was fully sheathed within your tightness. The sensation was overwhelming, stretching you to your limit, beyond anything you ever thought possible, and Mattheo only seemed to grow harder with each gasp that left your lips. With him completely seated inside of your cunt, you felt him pulsing at the hilt, felt his already urgent need to cum inside of you. But instead of moving right away, he jerked you closer to his chest, his lips softly grazing yours as he brought his hand to cup your jaw.

"Are you okay?" His voice was torn, shredded, nearly unrecognizable.

You nodded, holding his eyes. "I'm okay."

"Shit, Raven..." a deep groan left his chest as he exhaled, pulling out and plunging back in as slowly and carefully as he had the first time. "You're so fucking tight...fuck..."

You mewled--between the passion in your chest and the newfound sensations between your legs, your head was spinning, something was close to bursting. His skin was so hot against you, and you gripped him tighter, another moan leaving your chest, chin shaking beyond your control, the pleasure and pain commingling in your mind as you surrendered to his skilled touch--Mattheo stared at you through it all with gleaming eyes before he smothered your lips with a kiss, burning and short.

"Is this what you wanted?" The low thunder of his voice melted in your ears, and he murmured your name. "Tell me..."

Your fingers dug into his skin, your voice torn between gasps. "Yes, Mattheo..." you mewled. "It's all I've wanted."

He leaned forward, lips feathersoft on yours, kissing you, still easing his cock into you with careful rolls of his hips. The grip at your head soothed your scalp--and you could feel it, could feel yourself blending with his body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you, could feel your pulses pounding in pace, could feel the unspoken, intangible harmony coiling in your blood.

"Who else can make you feel like this, hm?" His embrace constricted you, now, stilling you while he rocked deep into you, stuffing you full, his free hand travelling down your belly, grazing over your clit--and you choked, whimpered, limp in his arms. "Tell me who this tight little pussy fucking belongs to..."

The pleasure was overwhelming, earth shattering, entirely all encompassing. Your lids fluttered, your brain spinning. "Oh, Gods...oh my fucking-"

"Look at me, Raven..." he ordered, voice torn. "Look at me or I'll stop."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, nails biting into his skin, heart pounding in your throat as you felt your sanity dangerously fucking close to shattering, your entire body encompassed in a pleasure that you've never known, a pleasure that only Mattheo fucking Riddle could give you, one that burns you from the inside out, one that shatters every inch of your resolve, leaving you bare before him.

"Tell me..." he whispered, his fingers twirling your clit. You could tell he was close, too. "Fuck...fucking say it…”

"You," you mewled, lost in the melted chocolate swirls of his irises. "It fucking belongs to you, Mattheo...fuck...only you..."

"Shit..." he groaned your name, sucking at your shoulder, tongue leaving hot lines on your neck. "You love being dirty for me..." his fingers whirled your clit faster. "You love being my nasty little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, Mattheo..." you wailed, body trembling beneath him. "I love it..."

"Fuck--" A feral kiss bruised your lips, his cock splitting you with long thrusts. "That's it..." he muttered your name against your mouth. "Cum--cum for me, let me feel you..."

You shattered. "Gods--Matty! Fuck..."

Euphoria rended you wide, tearing at the seams of your sanity, and you fractured, convulsing with the sheer strength of your climax. Your walls spasmed around his dick, milking him hard, and Mattheo held you, mouth meeting yours as he came, hips hitting you with every rush of rapture as he quickly followed after you, spilling his release inside your cunt. This seemed to last for minutes, the aftershocks of bliss rippling through your bodies at once while you remained there catching breath, still connected.

You were wilted, spent, a collection of skin and cum and sweat, and when Mattheo finally pulled out, he slumped down on the mattress beside you, pulling you back into his chest, nothing but the collective sounds of your exhausted panting filling the air, neither of you willing to move even though you knew you couldn't stay here all night--but your drooping lids didn't care, your body succumbing to slumber without giving you a choice.

And as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but question how a boy who once had been the bane of your fucking existence, had now become the centre of it.

———————-

Find eighteen here->

[baelabong]

ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ

(ʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ

plot: yunjins been cheating. but she didn’t mean it … right?

notes: toxic yunjin, dumbass y/n again, istg guys the only things that gain attention iz my karina and winter fics 💔💔

you sit on the couch, your phone clutched in your hand, staring at the screen, waiting for yunjin's name to pop up. it doesn’t. hours pass, and the ticking of the clock feels like a taunt. where is she? you tell yourself it’s nothing—she’s probably stuck at practice or maybe went out with the girls, but that nagging feeling in your chest grows heavier. it’s been too long.

finally, you hear the door creak open. she stumbles in, not her usual put-together self. she looks messy, worn-out. the smell of alcohol hits you before she even speaks. when she does, her voice is low, slurred.

"hey, baby," she tries to smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. her gaze is distant, foggy, like she's not really here with you.

"where have you been?" you ask, trying to sound casual, but the hours of waiting twist your voice with anxiety. you hate sounding paranoid, but you can't help it anymore.

"just out with the girls. practice ran late… then drinks," she mumbles, her words stumbling out, as if she’s trying to get past them quickly.

you get up, moving closer, searching her face for something, anything, that makes sense. but her eyes—they’re empty, evasive. "why didn’t you answer my calls?"

"didn’t hear it," she shrugs, still avoiding your gaze. "too loud, i guess."

it's weak. her excuses always are. and it's not just the excuse, it's the way she says it—like she doesn’t care enough to make it believable. your stomach twists, a cold knot forming. there’s more to this, you can feel it.

"yunjin, what’s going on?" you ask, your voice wavering despite your effort to stay calm. you’ve been through this too many times to ignore the signs.

she sighs, running a hand through her hair. for a second, her tough front slips, and she looks at you, really looks at you. "i... i messed up."

your heart stops. "what do you mean?"

"i was drunk, and... i kissed someone else."

her words are like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of you. you take a step back, needing space to think, but your mind is spinning. "you kissed someone?"

"it didn’t mean anything," she rushes, stepping toward you, but you back away again. "it was just a stupid, drunken mistake. i swear, it only happened once."

the room feels too small now, the walls closing in. you trusted her. after everything, you trusted her, and she... "how long has this been going on?"

"what? no, i told you, it was just once—"

"how long, yunjin?" your voice is louder now, anger bubbling up. you don't want to be the fool who believed her lies for too long.

she hesitates, her eyes darting away for a moment before coming back to you. "just once," she insists, but the doubt in her eyes says otherwise. "i was drunk. it meant nothing."

you want to believe her. god, you want to believe her so badly. but the way she's been acting lately—distant, secretive—there’s more to this.

"i deserve the truth," you say, your voice shaky but firm. you’re done playing this game.

she steps closer, softening her expression like she’s trying to lure you back in. "baby, you’re overthinking this," she coos, her voice sickly sweet, the kind that used to comfort you but now just makes you feel uneasy. "it was a mistake. everyone makes mistakes."

"but you didn’t tell me," you push back, feeling a flicker of anger spark in your chest. "you hid it from me."

"because i knew you’d overreact," she snaps, her patience thinning. "you always do this. you always assume the worst."

her words sting, making you question yourself. am i overreacting? was it just a one-time mistake? you’ve been second-guessing yourself so much lately, it’s hard to tell anymore.

yunjin’s close now, her eyes locked on yours, her voice dropping lower, more intimate. "you know i love you, right?"

"yeah, but—"

she cuts you off, cupping your face in her hands. "i love you," she whispers, her thumb brushing over your cheek, her touch soft but with an underlying tension. "you’re the one i come home to. don’t let something this small ruin us."

her words start to blur the lines in your mind. maybe it’s not as big of a deal as it feels. maybe you are overthinking. she’s here, isn’t she? but then, the memory of all those nights alone, waiting, wondering—those doubts flare up again.

"yunjin, i can’t just forget this," you murmur, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you. "you hurt me."

for a moment, her eyes harden, just for a second, before she puts on a sad, almost pitying smile. "i know, and i’m sorry," she says, but her voice feels insincere, dripping with mockery. "but you need to stop being so paranoid. it was one kiss. do you really think i’d throw everything away for that?"

your mouth opens to respond, but she silences you, pressing a finger to your lips. "shh, don’t ruin this," she whispers, stepping even closer, her body pressing against yours. "we’re good together. you know that."

her other hand trails down your arm, sending shivers through your skin. you should push her away. you should be angry, but instead, her closeness overwhelms you, clouding your thoughts.

"just let it go," she murmurs before pulling you into a kiss, one that’s not soft or reassuring. it’s possessive, controlling, like she’s forcing you to forget everything else.

and somehow, it works. the fight drains out of you as her lips move against yours, your mind going blank. you forget the pain, the doubt, the questions. it’s just her now, her hands on you, her breath mixing with yours, until all you can feel is her.

when she pulls back, you're breathless, but not from the argument—from the way she’s made everything else disappear.

"see?" she whispers, her lips brushing your ear. "it’s just you and me, baby. nothing else matters."

you nod, your mind too hazy to argue anymore. "just us."

[cherry-pop-elf]

Drink With Me

George Weasley x Reader

AN: For poor @im-trying-my-best-yall who needs some needed fluff

Sum: George has been acting pretty weird around you recently. He keeps trying to say something to you, but whenever he does he seems to switch topics right before he says it. You figured he’s just stressed about planning for WWW after school ends, but it’s getting annoying now. So you confront him

Warning: Short and Sweet

“Georgie! Hey, I gotta ask you something!”

There you hurried after him, to cut him off from heading to his next class. The rare times he and Fred weren’t glued to the hip. George took up new class that just wasn’t Fred’s speed. Was something about Baking if you recall correctly. Fred prepared to cook. Had to take the chance, while he’s alone, so no one could intercept you both.

“Hey shortie, what’s up?” He would ruffle at your hair, as you quickly fixed it. Those Weasleys and their string bean genes. Made him tower over you. Always left with a hurt neck if you talked to him too long. Hopefully this will be short.

“You’ve been trying to ask me something for the past few days, and I figured now that I caught you that you can tell me. So what’s up?” You asked him. Asking seemed to be what he feared the most out of you.

His wand was soon rubbing his neck, his freckles cheeks flushing, and his doe eyes darting. He just seemed to instantly clammer up. Just not seeming to be the confident ladies man he normally is. He is just a wet hand mess. What was going on?

“Oh yeah….That. Yeah uh….Um.”

Oh how his eyes were darting around. He was trying so hard to find an excuse to not Ben in this situation right now. To find something to make him shut up. To escape this pin. But no one was around. No one anywhere, not even Peeves to give mercy to the bastard in the Gryffindor Robes. He needed to face this head on.

“Was um. Just wondering if you wanted to hit up the Three Broomsticks together. That’s all.” He tried his best to act casual, and shrug. Made you all the more confused.

Why is this making him so flustered?

“Ok…..Werido. That sounds nice. We could hit it up sometime after class. Fred and Angelina should be-“

“Without them…..”

Oh…..Oh.

Just the two of you. No brother, no other friends. Just the two of you. Like a date. Like a normal date that normal couples do. Normal normal normal little dating. Just a date between two people. A date date.

“……I uh. Yeah, I think I can do that.” You swallowed, as this was starting to really register now. He wanted to ask you out on a date. Still, why was he so flustered over it? He’s asked out plenty of guys and gals before. Never sweat this much. Even Fred straight up called Angelina across the table to the Yule Ball, and that was the end of that. What made you different?

“You weren’t dared to do this, were you?”

He stared down at you with the most offended expression possible. As if you called him a blood traitor. Some kind of slur that would make Molly faint. He looked ready to smack you, but of course he wouldn’t. He never would lay a hand on you. Unless you asked.

“What?! The hell you mean ‘was this a dare-�� bullshit? No! This isn’t some dare. What gave you an idea like that? Fred and I have standards. Pranks like that are not only overly simplistic, but there is no joke at the end of it. Who’s laughing? No one. Give me some respect-!”

He gave you a hip bump, and it made you laugh. Helped you feel a little better over the whole situation. Maybe you were different for other reasons. Maybe he was bashful because you two had been friends for so long. It is pretty awkward to ask a friend out. If they say no, well….You can’t really take back what you said.

“Ok ok, I’m sorry Mr. Weasley. I shall never question your pranking methods again. Now hurry to class, before you get detention. If you get detention we can’t grab butter beers. Go on and get-!” You hip bumped him right back, and he gave that cute crooked smile. One that showed there was no worries to ever hold. That he’s all laughter.

“Alright I’m gone! All gone! Poof!” And down the hallway he went. Vanishing around the corner, as you now were dancing a squealing. Flapping away at your robes in total utter glee.

George Weasley asked you out.

Had you stimming like crazy, unaware that a certain red head had his own stimming session all the same. Flapping his hands to try and calm down. So damn happy you said yes.

[nthspecialll]

Bill Williamson shaped by an army knife

(This post is a casual explanation(ish), not meant to defend but rather explore and discuss Bill Williamson's character and how it is shaped by the army, it has also been sensitivity and proof read by a native to ensure that I did not accidently word anything in a way that would hurt the native community)

As many knows, Bill Williamson was in the army, and if you look closer you can see the many different ways in which it formed him, the ways in which a constantly stressful envioment filled with death shaped the person he is.

I am going to mention the one thing that stood out to me first, racism. Now hang on when I say this, he isn't, he is not racist, but you know what he is? A parot who got fed words and repeats them. And why would I say that? Do I have evidence? Yes.

The two characters we see Bill go after is Javier and Lenny, he calls Lenny "boy" and says "come over here!" or "I don't like your attitude", meanwhile with Javier he straight up calls him a slur. But something to notice is that Bill praises both of those characters at other times. Bill calls Lenny "son" and yells to everyone about how amazing he is and the proud almost fatherly instrict is oozing. With Javier there is a similar interaction where he is drunk and he is yapping Sean's ear off about how amazing Javier is.

We do not see that with Micah (That I can find), the only possitive thing Micah says to either of them is "you aren't so bad, for a greaser". Another thing to point out is that Micah is constantly belittling both Lenny and Javier, saying things like "you can write and everything, unusual for one of you. Oh you know, hoodlums," Bill does not, he does not belittle them.

So why would he say such things? Because he was angry, and why would he say that because he is upset?

Bill was in the army, common knowledge, uncommon (or at least commonly forgotten) is the fact that he fought the American Indian War. He did not fight other white people, he fought the native americans, and they were scary. He tells that story himself in a camp interaction, talking about how scary it was, and I do think he was frightened and not just empty words as he at the end jumps at the sound of a neighing horse.

Bill saw people get murdered, he saw his friends get slaughtered and he was told by the army to turn that anger towards the natives. The army implimented racist ideologies to excuse the genocide they were making and to rile their armies.

I often think of the line between Bill and Dutch where Bill says "I saw things!" and Dutch says "I am sure you do! But I don't think you could understand it" and I think that is spot on. Bill saw his friends dying, he saw his comrades dying, people he was likely as close to as he was the VDL gang (I will return to that later) dying. All he saw were these people murdering his friends, not that those people were fighting for their right to exist, and for every body the army framed it all on the natives, that it was all their fault, without mentioning anything that the army was doing to the natives.

The only times Bill acts out in a racist manner is when he is angry and he is often angry at himself, but he has always been told that when he is angry he should direct it towards people of color by the army, so he does. He does not believe it, but he does it anyways. There are a few times, like in the camp interactions mentioned, where he is not angry, but that is simply the brainwash that the army put him under to justify killing. He is saying those things because he has been told to.

He says the words but they seem empty as his actions are more supportive of his friends than anything.

Another thing I noticed is how protective he is of the gang, not just of Dutch, but the gang, even though he is painted as lazy, many times he is not, especially when it comes to protection. I often see him standing at the edge of camp even when he is off guard, and in that one camp interaction where strangers find camp, he is there, he is watching over them, in the Valentine robbery he was also smart enough to know to bring backup, he knew that if things were to go wrong, he needed to have someone there, Arthur.

Now some people are going to come and say "Oh but he didn't realise the security job was a trick," no, he did not, do you know who also did not? Dutch, Lenny, Karen, characters whom it was mentioned in front of. The only ones who did realise were Arthur and Sean, and despite Bill trying to throw the blame off himself at first, he does blame himself, there are interactions of him saying he blames himself for Sean's death. Similarly when Angelo Bronte offers up money, he is not planning to take it, he is making sure no one else is, I got a whole post on that.

One of the other things about Bill, is that people say he did not care when Lenny died. I do think he did, he has so many camp interactions where he is calling Lenny son, being proud of him and so on, but I do think that the army got to him there too. When in battle people die, people die often and you cannot stop because they do, no matter how much you loved that person, if you are on an open battle field charging towards the enemy, you do not have time to stop.

When in the army you are expected to be a tough manly dude, in chapter six Arthur can ask if Bill is okay and he never gives a real answer, instead he shifts the convosation away. Bill believes he is not allowed to show weakness because doing so in the army was not allowed, anything unmanly was not allowed. I do also believe that is where he gets his fucked up realtionship with his sexuality (I am not even going to explain why I think of him as queer, I do believe others are able to see if, but also if anyone says "No he aint!" that is a fair opinion but the va does hc him to be queer), wanting to flirt (or at least befriend) Kieran but not knowing how to without coming off as unmanly.

Returning to how he would care for the army friends he made, is how he ended after he got thrown out. Bill says his biggest fear as a kid was to be an alcoholic and look at where he ended up. He even says he completely lost himself after the army, that Dutch "saved Bill Williamson."

Well even if it was not everyone whom he liked, there was at least one person. If we look at his letter from the army, he is thrown out for attempted murder and deviancy ("the fact or state of diverging from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual behaviour." aka can be used for homosexuality). An interesting thing to note is that both of those alone is enough to throw someone out of the army, so why is both there unless they happened at the same time? I see it likely that Bill was discovered with a lover and either the person found them attacked Bill and lover or Bill attacked the person who found them to silence them. Either way, Bill did not succeed and instead he got thrown.

Tags: @cupidsbeartrap

[ivoryrebellionmess]

Spooky Remorses III

Part I Part 2

Summary: You dated Jax for a year and a half, it was great. You fought sure, but that's a given if you´re both stubborn (and he's constantly in danger). Gemma didn't like the relationship, and she made sure that it ended. Now, months after the breakup, your friend takes you to a Halloween party that just happens to be SAMCRO´s.

warnings: 18+, mdni

A/N: hiii so sorry for taking this long. hope you like it <3

tw: foul language, kinda hooking up with your ex, jealous jax, smoking,a little bit of spice, alcohol, gemma being mean af

Word count: 5451

Jax cursed the moment it happened, light and noise snapping him into reality. Anger and frustration bubbling up inside him again as he took a step back, missing your touch immediately. It was too late to hide what had been happening. Just in case you thought otherwise, Tigs face as he studied the both of you made it clear. His demeanor went from shock to amusement in a matter of seconds. He knew he had interrupted something.

A sly grin spread around his mouth as he teased. ¨Well, well…what do we have here?¨. He was slurring, which meant he was drunk, which meant the little common sense he usually had would be nowhere to be found. This was not a good moment for him to be running his mouth. 

But you could not worry about that right now, your mind working on finding an excuse, gulping as you realized none would be believable. Even if he was tense, Jax managed to get his voice to sound casual, ¨It ain't what you think, man¨. You studied him, he really did seem calm. You could only pray you looked half as composed as he did.

It probably didn't matter, since Tig´s motivation seemed to be pushing Jax´s buttons. He eyed you, taking in your divelished state, and nodded towards Jax, ¨Looked like were about to rip each other's clothes off in public, brother¨. 

The bluntness (and accuracy) ripped a surprised chuckle from your throat. Jax shot you a warning glare, he didn't need you egging Tig. His brother took a step closer, ¨Come ooon, what were you really up to?¨. He was teasing, the answer was obvious. About as obvious as the blonde man´s anger. 

Only then you noticed the cigarette, carefully placed on the picnic table. Needing something to do, you took a drag.

Jax´s voice turned your attention back to them. ¨I said it wasn't what you think. We were just talking¨ . You could tell he was trying to control his irritation, and you wondered how much more he could take before doing something stupid. Something else , the voice in your head reminded you, everything that had unfolded against that picnic table had been stupid. 

Once again, the door opening shed light and noise on the parking of the clubhouse; a very different scene unfolding this time. Chibs came out laughing and screaming, ¨Is the screaming match over or do I still get to watch some?¨. He had clearly been ready to get a jab at your fighting with Jax. This only made Tig smirk, shooting back, ¨Oh, I bet they were about to scream¨. 

Even if you had stayed away for months, their mannerisms didn't surprise you, and they sure as hell didn't scare you. So you just replied, taking another drag, ¨We were just having a smoke¨. The small time out you had awarded yourself had actually calmed you down, your voice coming out almost normal. As if your biggest desire wasn´t hearing Jax moan your name. 

The tension between you did not go unnoticed by the scott, it seemed to amuse him. ¨Just a smoke, aye? Looks like a lot more than that¨.

To that, you only shrugged, not daring to let your eyes wander to Jax. ¨So maybe it was a smoke and a talk, so what¨. Jax was silent, trying to keep his expression neutral. It was hard to do when all he could think about were your thighs around his head. The little capacity for logical thinking he had knew his brothers would not buy your lies. No one would. Even if they didn't, he needed them away, he needed you alone again. Maybe you'd still be caught up in the heat of the moment and he could get you into bed. Or anywhere really, as long as no one could interrupt. The longer they stayed there, the longer your brain had to racionalize how bad of an idea having sex with him was.  So he breathed deeply before speaking, ¨Yeah, a talk and a smoke¨. 

Chibs clearly read the situation and nodded, never losing the grin on his face. As he started walking back to the party, Tig decided he hadnt had enough fun yet, poking again. ¨Whatever you say brother¨. He patted Jax on the back after mocking him. That successfully riled Jax up, his warning was low. ¨Watch it¨.

You could see the anger in his shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched, his knuckles white. You looked over at Chibs for help, there was no need for the situation to escalate. But nice as he was, he was still a Son, and he would not get between his brothers. You were starting to get anxious, the shift in the atmosphere was noticeable. Not playful anymore, no one was grinning, no one was laughing. 

¨What's the matter Jax, cant handle some friendly banter?¨. It made you cringe, you took a step towards them before you could think about it. 

Jax´s gaze went to you for a second, his muscles tensing. He knew why you'd done it, if Tig kept it up it could very easily lead to a fight. As much as he didnt want that to happen, his brother was pushing his buttons, all of them. ¨You know I can handle it¨, his teeth clenching, ¨We´re not here to have a pissing contest¨. He was trying to stop the fight from happening, he really was, you could tell. 

So you looked at Tig, who seemed to be having the time of his life. He raised an eyebrow at you, wondering if that was an easier route to bothering Jax. As soon as his blue eyes landed on you, you regretted ever moving. Jax´s patience was probably running short after your little ¨talk¨. It always was, to be fair. But someone coming for the people he cared about, that was his weak spot, even on his best day. ¨Just having some fun, brother¨. 

You looked at the blonde, his smoldering gaze already on you. He could see the worry in your eyes, and it somehow helped him keep it together.

It was only the calm before the storm.

He took a deep breath, and with his exhale came a low growl, ¨You´re playing with fire¨.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, his growl going right to where you needed him most. Even if it was subtle, Jax noticed, even now he had an effect on you. His eyes darkened, his anger growing. Angry that you also had an effect on him, angry that his brother had interrupted, angry that he let you go. 

The short interaction had not gone unnoticed by Tig, who had decided this would be his winning statement apparently. ¨I´d like to play with that fire, if you're not gonna finish what you started¨. He hadnt meant it, hadn't even looked at you. That didn't matter. Not to you. Not to Jax. 

Before you could speak up for yourself, Jax stepped forward, ready to start an actual fight. You caught his arm, trying to stop him. He turned to look at you, ¨He needs a lesson¨, he grumbled. Worry was dripping from all of you: your eyes, the hand on his arm, the fingers gripping his skin. There was a plea in your eyes.  A plea to prove to you that he was different from what he used to be. A plea to give you a reason to stay. You came even closer, your chest touching his back, and whispered into his shoulder. ¨Baby, it's not worth it¨.

He could feel your body pressing up against him, your breath on his neck, the way ¨baby¨ had fallen from your lips,...He wanted to prove to you that he could be different. So he let out a deep breath, slowly. Frustration and desire burning within him. You were right. It wasn't worth it. 

You felt like you could finally breathe, you let your head rest against Jax´s back, your hand absimentally running up and down his forearm. 

It didn't last, Tig couldn't help himself, letting out a last jab as he turned around. ¨Guess you two lovebirds going to make up now, you're welcome¨. You dropped your arms yo your sides, muttering under your breath, ¨For fucks sake Tig¨. And you truly couldn't blame him when Jax finally grabbed him by the collar and punched him. 

His anger took the best of him, slamming his brother against the wall. Tig had pushed and pushed, and was now getting the fruits of his hard labour. Watching the fight unfold, you mentally prepared yourself to clean up Jax after. This was what you´d been dreading since Tig came out. It was scary how quick you seemed to be able to fall back into the violent routine. Instead of freaking out, you were making a list of the injuries Jax would have, and how to patch him up. You were freaking out too, of course, in the background.

You could take the sight of a few punches and minor injuries. But then the fight started to escalate, you looked at Chibs. He seemed worried, he hadn't moved and he wouldn't. This was a matter between Jax and Tig. But at least he seemed worried, right?

They were both covered in sweat, their faces bloody and their breathing ragged. Still it didn't look like they were willing to give in. Well, they would stop, one way or another. Against your better judgment, you stepped closer. Close enough that they could accidentally hit you. 

¨Aye, stop that!¨, you just pretended not to hear Chib´s warning. You heard him get closer as well. And you were not the only one. 

The bloody men looked up at you when they heard Chibs yell, surprised at your closeness. They had been so focused on each other they hadn't noticed your approach. Tig´s eyes showed disbelief and something close to pride, Jax´s darkened. He was bothered, what a surprise. 

Your eyes were sternly going from one set of blue eyes to the other, ¨You two done now?¨. Tig chuckled at your bravery, treating them like misbehaving children. Jax´s eyes softened, as he wiped blood from his lip. ¨Yeah, we´re done¨. 

They got up and hugged it out. Unbelievable. 

¨Great¨, you held your hand to Jax, ¨C´mon, let's get you cleaned up¨. You knew the gesture meant something to the guys who were a part of the club. It meant something to you too, it just happened to be something different. You did not give a flying fuck if they took this a sign of a great old lady or whatever. You hoped neither did Jax. He looked at your hand, at you, at his brothers. He knew the other bikers were sizing up the situation, he didn't care right now. All that he cared about was the way you were looking at him, the way you cared for him. So he took your hand, allowing you to lead him. 

As you walked you looked at Tig, ¨You good?¨. He nodded, smiling. ¨Nothing I can't handle, doll¨

You didn't smile back, instead giving him a piece of your mind. ¨Don't ever speak about me that way again¨. It wasn't a warning. It wasn't a threat. It was a statement.

You then turned to keep walking, going straight to Jax´s room, knowing the route by heart. His hand was still on yours, neither of you cared about the outrageous amount of looks you were getting as you entered the clubhouse. He only cared about the way your fingers were intertwined. You only cared about repeating yourself: this was the last time you did this. You didn't believe it. His hand in yours didn't let you believe it. It was such a small gesture. And yet it felt like so much more. 

As you entered the room, he shut the door, enjoying the darkness and silence. His eyes were roaming your body in front of him. Your soft voice stopped a string of ungentlemanly thoughts. ¨Wheres the first aid kit?¨

He started to walk to the bathroom when you scoffed ¨Sit, where is it?¨

He wanted to get it himself, to not let you win, but his body thought something else. Jax made his way to the bed as he answered with a sigh, ¨You know¨. You did, you knew a lot, maybe too much. So, with that, you made your way to the bathroom and opened the cabinet where you knew you´d find what you were looking for. 

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to stand between his legs, leaving the first aid kit on the bed. You brushed the hair out of his face to examine the damage. He let you, simply looking up at you. 

Jax could feel the heat from your body, the tingle of your fingers against his forehead, a familiar feeling started to settle in his stomach. 

¨You won't need stitches so that's good¨, you seemed unaffected by the closeness. But the way your fingers were tracing his face certainly affected Jax. He had seen this before, you switching into nurse mode as a way to cope with the anger his injuries caused you. 

¨How´s the rest of your body feeling? Any cut I need to clean up urgently?¨. Even if he understood what was happening, he couldn't help but feel disappointed that you weren't closer, caressing him…treating him as a lover instead of a patient. But you were not his lover, not any more. He wasn't fooling himself either, this was how you´d acted most of the times you had had to patch him up. 

No matter how you looked, your head was swirling with a million thoughts and feelings: this is  a mistake, you shouldn't be here, leave now, you promised to yourself you wouldn't do this again, look at him, he is so pretty, he needs you now, no he doesn't, he's an adult, he did this to himself, it's not your responsibility to fix him. 

It was his smooth voice that stopped your brain, ¨Uh, rest of me is fine. Nothing serious, just some scrapes and cuts¨. He was trying to calm you, seeing right through your facade. It did not work, riling you up even more. 

Your voice came out sharper than you mean to, ¨I'll say if it's serious or not¨. Not giving him time to reply, you grabbed a gauze and disinfectant. ¨This is gonna sting¨

Jax swallowed nervously,  whether that was because of the pain to come or your cold attitude you didn't know. When he looked up at you his heart skipped a beat. ¨Go ahead. I can take it¨. Something about his bravado bothered you, it seemed like he was proud he could take a few punches. ¨Yeah well, you don't have to¨ you started cleaning a cut in forehead ¨That was stupid¨

He didn't answer right away, or at all for that matter. He did, however, wince when the disinfectant touched the wound. Not a sound came from his mouth. That did not mean he was still, at all. It wasn't only the pain, it was your closeness. Jax wanted nothing more than grabbing your hips and pulling you into him. Even if you were being cold, you used to straddle him when you were dating, letting his hands roam your body. Not this time. This time felt aseptic on your end. It was a defense mechanism, you couldn't let yourself fall into this routine again. You still remembered the anxiety, the sleepless nights knowing he was in danger, the fights, the jealousy. And worst of all, his mother, a constant presence in his life, undermining your every move. Maybe you could´ve taken it if it had just been the memories from months ago. Maybe. But now? After what had just happened? All of those got mixed up with his rough breaths, his lips on yours, the taste of his kisses. And you couldn't help but yearn for it to happen again. That bothered you the most, the good parts of relationships usually weighed more on you than the bad ones. 

And the good parts with Jax were great, he was caring, attentive, you could have named a million qualities. But nothing mattered more than the way the world didn't seem to matter as long as you were together, the way your stress dissipated as soon as you saw him, as soon as your hands were on his body. With Jax living such a dangerous life, that had been especially addictive. The absolute relief after he came back from a run. 

The bad had been there too,of course, now more present than it had ever been after the breakup. You´d been in this position way too many times, patching him up after a fight that could've been easily avoided. Yes, you agreed that Tig had it coming, but only because you knew Jax, he had little to no control. The only way he knew to defend himself was violence. At first, you thought you could fix him, teach him another way,...

But there was no other way if you were a Son. 

How you managed to make your voice sound emotionless despite your internal turmoil, you didn't know. ¨Was it worth it?¨. It was an unfair question, you knew, but you didn't care. After realizing the harshness of your question, your hand instinctively went to his cheek, then following a route of its own to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck. 

Jax tried to speak, but the words kept getting stuck on his throat. Or in his head. What was he supposed to answer? He knew what you wanted to hear, but he wasn't sure he could give that to you, not without lying. So he was honest, ¨I don´t know¨.

Using the leverage of your hand tangled on his neck, you tilted his head to look at a cut on his chin. ¨Typical¨, you scoffed at his answer. Clearly you weren't happy with it. 

This time, when the gauze grazed his skin, the blonde hissed. Focusing on the feeling of your hand touching him made the pain slightly less…well, painful. He could see the frustration in your eyes, and it made him feel guilty. Guilt was not what his tone showed when he retorted, ¨It´s not that simple¨

When your eyes locked on his, your cold mask was gone, something much deeper replacing it. ¨Yes it fucking is¨, your voice trembled as you wiped the blood under his nose and checked that it wasnt broken. Even through the pounding in his ears, he could tell the tremble of your voice had nothing to do with weakness or sadness. Maybe in a second level. But the surface was plain anger. Maybe mixed with something else? That much he could not decipher, the pain in his head more present with every passing second. 

Your brows furrowed as your eyes zoned in the cut you were dreading the most, the one on his lower lip. You tilted his head and held him steady as you cleaned him up. His breath hitched. He looked up at you. You were beautiful, concentration evident on your face. He had no doubts now, he knew he still loved you. He knew he would never stop. You could have, should have left. But you were there, taking care of him. Did you still have feelings for him? Had he completely messed up, or could you work things out?

The second the gauze made contact with his skin, those thoughts stopped. All of his energy focused on not flinching, not making a sound. You caught onto that, you always did. And you rolled your eyes, you could not believe he was still playing tough. 

Jax eventually winced, his eyes finally leaving yours. It did soften you, it shouldn't but it did. So you blew a little on his lips, hoping it would alleviate his pain. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you said ¨Sorry¨. 

Jax closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the feeling of your breath on him. He missed you, having you close, your touch,... When he opened his eyes, he saw the conflict in your eyes clear as day. There was anger, frustration, and something else.

You took a step back. You saw his hand run down his leg, on its way to get a hold of you, to stop you. A sigh left your lips as you sat next to him and extended your palm, ¨Gimme your hand¨.

His knuckles were bloody and already starting to bruise. For some reason, you wanted to cut him some slack, so you teased him. 

¨We also had not done this in a long time¨. Placing his hand on your thigh might not have been the greatest idea. Without even thinking about it his fingers wrapped around your knee. The squeezee brought back so many memories, memories a part of you wanted to repeat. 

He answered lowly, ¨No, we haven't¨ . You could hear the smile on his voice though. 

Maybe it was the familiarity of the scene, but your mouth moved before you could think. ¨Sure didn't miss this¨.

It took Jax a few seconds to process your words, eyes burning into your thigh. He noticed your flush, the way you seemed to be having a hard time keeping it together. He chuckled softly at your jab, moving his hand up. ¨You never complained about it before¨.

A smile crept into your lips, no matter how much you tried to stop it. ¨I was too busy complaining about the fighting to also complain about patching you up¨.

You were both smiling now, his hand higher and higher, closing in the hem of your dress. The tension, a mix of anger and desire, made the air thick. Most importantly, it made it hard to focus on anything else. The sting of the disinfectant was still there, nothing compared to the pain in his chest. He knew his teasing tone would get to you, ¨And here I thought you enjoyed nursing me back to health¨. 

It bothered you, because it was partly true, you did enjoy it. ¨I wish I didn't need to¨. A pang of hurt crossed your eyes at the sight of the cuts in his face. That was also true, you wished he didn't get himself in situations like that. 

The ache in your eyes made Jax want to pull you into his arms and take care of you. Instead of doing that, he squeezed your thigh harder. ¨I know¨, he fought the urge to lean into you, ¨I´m sorry¨. 

You took a deep breath, Jax though you seemed to be trying to be composing yourself. ¨So, who's been cleaning you up these last few months?¨. You´d finished cleaning his knuckles but made no move to let go of his hand.

¨No one¨. Jax looked over at you. ¨I´ve been doing it myself¨.

You shook your head, stifling a laugh. A bitter one. ¨So fucking stubborn¨.

As you examined his hand, the other flew to your thigh. His fingers gently caressed your skin, eyes looked on yours. The next time he spoke, his voice was laced with playful defensiveness, ¨I prefer the term independent¨.

You enjoyed the banter, the playful jabs. You were still trying not to smile when you looked at his blue eyes, ¨Bite me-¨.

His hand started tracing patterns on your upper thigh, the hem of your dress didn't seem to be a barrier anymore. The other one caressed the back of your neck, making sure your stare didn't leave his. But they did, you were looking at his lips, they were now wearing a smirk. 

¨Is that a dare or a request, darlin´?¨

Shaking your head as you untangled yourself from him, you laughed. ¨Okay¨, you got up and stood in front of him, ¨Take off your shirt¨.

Jax let his eyes explore your figure, letting out a low whistle. He got up and obeyed. You told yourself you were studying his bruises. It was a lie, your eyes had immediately gone to his v line, then slowly made their way up, studying every inch of his exposed skin. 

You still managed to scoff when you saw his grin. ¨Drop the cockyness, I have to check the cuts¨. Your eyes betrayed you once again. His neck. His arms. His hands. His hips. Thankfully his voice stopped your train of thought, which would lead nowhere good. He shouldn't have sex in his condition, you had to get your shit together. ¨Sorry, sweetheart. Can't help it with you looking at me like that¨. You smiled, shaking your head. 

For the second time that night, a door opening interrupted an intimate moment between you. Gemma stood on the doorway, hands on her hips. Everything about her screamed I´m not happy about this. 

¨Hey baby, need help cleaning up? I heard what happened¨. The vibe was as tense as it could, she did not acknowledge you, and you did not acknowledge her. She had been the reason you two had broken up, so you clearly were not happy about her presence. 

Jax seemed to deflate at his mothers presence. He swallowed, realizing how the scene looked. The intimacy of the scene was palpable…until four seconds before. After a few seconds of Jax not answering, you took initiative on the conversation. ¨Everything's under control here¨. 

At the sound of your voice he seemed to wake up, ¨Yeah, she was helping me¨.  Gemma's eyes slowly made their way to you, icy and sharp. ¨Was she now?¨. You squared up, ready for a fight. 

Jax took a step towards you, knowing how ugly things could get between you and his mother. It did nothing but rile you up, ¨I guess I was faster¨, the than you was left unsaid. But understood by all. 

Gemma narrowed her eyes, taking a step into the room. ¨And what's that supposed to mean¨

If anyone who knew you had to say what your biggest flaw was, the answer would be unanimous. You were mouthy. So, as expected, you snapped, your voice higher. ¨Just saying, I was here cleaning him up first¨.

The other woman puffed, ¨Been taking care of him longer than you have, sweetheart¨. She looked about ready to throw a punch. You were scared she might. So was Jax apparently, since he stepped in front of his mother. 

¨Stop, both of you. This is not the time or place¨. You looked at him, wondering if this was him stepping up for you. For the first time. So you stepped back and tried not to make it  worse. You could see his shoulders relax slightly, then turning to Gemma. His voice was dripping with authority, ¨Mom, I appreciate your concern, but she's right. She was here first and she´s the one taking care of me¨.

The authoritative voice was hot, but the fact that he was defending you? You could've died on the spot. So many thoughts started filling your head, ways to thank him. Jax saw the look in your eyes, slightly darkened and full of hunger. 

He looked back at his mother, ¨Maybe you should go, let us finish here¨. Your gaze went to Gemma, genuinely curious as to how she'd react. Her jaw was clenching, she knew she'd lost this fight. That did not mean she had to concede graciously. She turned, leaving the room and slamming the door. 

Jax sat back on his bed, running his hands through his hair. ¨I swear, she´s gonna give me a heart attack one day¨.

Your voice was calm as you sat next to him, rubbing his back, ¨I hope not¨. A low moan left his lips when your hand landed on his back. 

¨Ain't no one I'd rather have give me a heart attack than you, baby¨. His laugh was a low rumble. A rumble left unheard by you, his sentence awakening something in your stomach. He could see the effect of his words on you, a lazy grin appearing on his lips. Jax leaned into your touch, ¨What´s going on in that pretty little head of yours?¨, his voice was soft. 

¨Nothing¨, your hand came across something wet. Blood. ¨You have a cut there?¨. You were already reaching for the gauzes. 

¨Must´ve gotten it in the fight, I´m all banged up¨. He smiled at you, eyes sparkling. ¨But I´ve had worse, darlin´¨.

The gauze already going over the wound, you didnt loose a beat. ¨Yeah, well, you´re about to¨. You loved the comfortable place you were at right now. Jax did too, a laugh making his chest rumble. 

¨You´re full of sass tonight, aint´ya?¨

That took you by surprise, you´d always been sassy. Especially around Jax. ¨Wasn´t I always?¨. The hand on his back went up to his neck, and there you felt his shoulders go up and down as he laughed. 

¨Nah, not like this. You´ve always had a tongue but tonight, sweetheart? You´re just going out of your way to give me a hard time¨. You scoffed at that, shaking your head. ¨Maybe you deserve it¨.

Jax´s eyes sparkled with mischief, ¨Oh yeah? And what do you think I deserve?¨. His voice got lower, and you felt it on every part of your body. Some more than others. You got up and threw the gauze in the trash, then kneeling in front of him. ¨You´re going out of your way to piss me off lately¨.

He loved this vision of you, fiery, feisty and ready to snap at him. He lowered his face closer to yours, and purred ¨And how am I doing that exactly, baby?¨.

¨You´re trying to get me all riled up¨, as you looked at his naked torso you saw bruises forming, ¨Fuck Jax-¨.

He chuckled, trying to dismiss your worry. ¨Come on, darlin´. Not the first time I´ve been all banged up…also not gonna be the last¨. He pulled you up, hoisting you onto his lap, his body warm against yours. 

You caressed his face, ¨That's the problem, I can't handle you getting hurt over and over again¨. His expression softened, his heart aching. Jax knew you were worried about him, he knew you cared. You knew that too, that was the problem.

¨I know¨, his voice was soft, ¨But this is my life¨. He was tired, you could tell. And if you were being honest, you did not want to have this conversation. So you didn't. You got up and looked at him, he was a mess.

¨You should take a shower, you look like shit¨. His laugh warmed your heart, his eyes were sparkling.

¨Ain't you a sweetheart, telling me I look like crap¨. But as he looked down, he realized he did. ¨Guess you´re right, not the prettiest sight huh?¨

¨Not right now¨, you were still laughing when you signaled the bathroom door, ¨Go on, I'll bring you something for the pain¨. 

Jax shook his head, but got up and started walking to the bathroom. He appreciated your honesty, any other woman taking care of him would´ve lied. Not you, you straight up told him he looked like shit. He loved that. ¨I´ll go shower, but you better bring some good painkillers¨. His tone was lighthearted.

¨Oh yeah, you´re gonna need them¨, you couldn't help but tease him as you made your way to the door. 

Jax rolled his eyes, pretending to be bothered. ¨You´re enjoying this way too much¨. With that, he stepped closer. You smiled, not stepping back. He kept going until he was towering over you. He was wearing a smug smirk, that could be very good or very bad news. ¨You just love seeing me like this, don't ya? All banged up, needing your help, ...¨

Bad news it was then. Your demeanor changed radically, playfulness long gone. ¨No, I don´t¨.

His smile faded, knowing he had ruined the moment. ¨Sorry, darlin´. I was trying to lighten the mood¨. One of his hand traveled up your arm, caressing you. 

¨I know, I´m just messing with you¨. You laughed lightly.

He mirrored your smile, ¨I swear, you´re gonna be the death of me¨.

As he started to walk to the bathroom, he looked at you over his shoulder, ¨Gonna stick around while I shower? Make sure I don't faint?¨. The domesticity of it all was drowning, nor necessarily in a bad way, but it was a lot. You winked at him, ¨Sure¨

¨No peeping¨, he gave you a stern look before closing the door. 

[lovelettersforthedamned]

https://www.tiktok.com/@iamsmexi/video/7253633823198498090

trying to convince frat!peter that you arent drunk when you very much are -🎀

Miss. Mind Reader

--genre: sfw, fluff!!!!

--pairing: frat!peter parker x f!reader

--word count: 0.8k

--warnings: mentions of alcohol, reader is drunk, mention of sexual activities (does not happen), reader is silly and drunk and wants to prove peter wrong (but fails).

oh frat!peter, how i've missed you...

--gif credits: @juliaroleplays

Your head was swirling, but not in the way that makes you want to throw up, not yet at least. The bass of the music bumps throughout your body, making you sway messily to the beat. With your drink in his hand, Peter carries a casual conversation with a few of his brothers. He’s not really listening, he nods carelessly as he pretends to listen. His real focus is on you. He knows that you’re able to take care of yourself in this state, that’s not what he’s thinking about. Peter’s mesmerized by the sight of you, dancing, carefree, and definitely drunk. 

It’s the moment that you trip over your own feet when he decides to excuse himself from the group. A couple of ‘excuse me’s and some weaving around the crowd later, he finally makes his way right behind you. You are too distracted to notice Peter’s presence until you feel a hand slide around your waist, making you jump. “Hey! Why is your–,” your anger fizzles out as soon as you see whose hand is around you. 

Peter lowers his head to your ear, speaking loud enough to make sure you heard him, “You ready to head out, bug?”

“Yeah, just give me a second,” you yell back, unaware of your volume, “I wanna get one more drink before we leave!”

“Yeah, no. You’re already plastered, babe. One more drink and you’re going to be face down on the front lawn in an hour, I guarantee it.” 

Peter doesn’t even give you time to respond before he holds your hand and guides you out of the crowded room. He almost makes it out of the house before another one of his brothers calls out from the stairs, “Hey Pete! You coming back later?”

He pulls you into his side, keeping you stable as you’ve begun to rock back and forth, “I need to make sure she’s alright, so I’m going to stay the night. I’ll see you at class tomorrow.” Peter opens the door with a thumbs up from his brother on the stairs he leads you outside. 

The cool night air hits you and causes a chill to run up your arms, making you nuzzle into Peter’s side. You’re still walking funny, but you’re trying to hide it to the best of your capabilities. You think you’re doing a good job, but as Peter looks down at you, he can’t help but laugh. “Are you feeling alright, bug?” 

You clear your throat and fix your posture before you respond, “I’m fine Peter. Why do you ask?” You’ve stopped leaning into him, your posture is stuck straight as you toddle towards your apartment. “I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re asking,” your voice is almost robotic as you talk. If Peter wasn’t sure that you were drunk already, that last sentence really tied it all together. 

You two slowly but surely make your way up the stairs of your building, Peter mostly behind you with a hand on your back to ensure you don’t fall backward. As soon as you reach your door, Peter sticks his hand in his pocket to grab your keys. Since the beginning of your relationship, Peter has always held your stuff for you, especially when you’re planning on drinking.  

As Peter was about to put the key into the lock, you smack them out of his hand, “If I was drunk, would I be able to do that?”

Peter, standing there completely dumbfounded at what you just did, responds, “Do what?”

You’re in a fighting position, your hands curled into fists as you slur your words, “I was able to sense what your next move was. My mind knows exactly what is going to happen, baby. I’m psychic!” 

“Mhm, okay miss. mind reader,” he bends down to pick up the keys off of the floor, “what’s going to happen when we walk through the door?”

You think for a second as Peter twists the key, waiting for your response to fully open the door. He looks at you with a smirk, awaiting your answer. You smirk as you finally find it, wrapping your arms around his torso, “So should I undress right now, or should you?” 

“Yeah okay,” he kisses the crown of your head as he pushes open the door, “I was planning on going straight to bed, bug, but you’ll get me next time.”

And just like that, his response flies over your head as you’re smushed against his hold, his touch suddenly becoming extremely comfortable. As you stumble into your apartment, Peter knows that you’ve officially reached the point of intoxication to where you’re extremely sleepy. 

The rest of the night is slow. You’re already tucked in bed with a pair of pajama pants and one of Peter’s shirts when he starts taking off your makeup, a glass of water, and Advil on the dresser next to you when you’re completely out. It’s nearly two in the morning when Peter slips into bed beside you. He’s not going to class tomorrow. 

--author's note: FRAT!PETER IS SO BACK!!!! also, writing him comes so easy and i love him so much. another hit from 🎀 anon!!!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support me and your fav writers! my asks/inbox is open for requests, or if you just wanna chat!! ok, ily bye<33333

[37sommz]

000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: only angel [6.7k, smut]. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis:⠀michaela's all alone after her first podium. ✼. notes:⠀part two to the dts episode! did i take loose inspiration from hamilton's "say no to this"? yes. did this end up being way way way too long? yes. ✼. warnings:⠀18+, mdni, general language warnings, explicit sexual content, pwp, cheating, unprotected sex, jenson has a potty mouth, cheating!

✼.⠀SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 — tuscany, italy

Michaela stepped out of the shower, the warm water washing away the leftover champagne that stuck to her as if a second skin. Her skin glowed with the fading adrenaline of the day's exertions, the faint memory of the history made still ringing in her ears. As she toweled off, the sound of the distant Tuscan celebrations seeped into her luxurious hotel suite.

The air carried the glorious scent of victory, mingled with the faint aroma of leather and gasoline that clung to her like a signature perfume. She wrapped the delicate towel around her athletic figure, her muscles still humming from the exhilaration of the podium finish.

Her eyes scanned the room she had called home for the last week, taking in the plush, soft furnishings, the walls adorned with elegant artwork, the balcony beckoning with a breathtaking view of the vineyards the hotel boasted as being the source of their rich wine. Yet, amidst the opulence in celebration, there was a hint of loneliness.

Olivier had called her to explain his reasons for not showing up for the race weekend. She honestly didn't remember what excuse he used this time, leaving her to navigate the after-party alone. Though a nagging feeling gnawing at her loyalty reminded her of the difficulties the long-distance presented for the two of them, she traded the feeling in favor of the awaiting festivities just downstairs. She sighed, her breath misting the mirror as she readied herself for the evening ahead.

The bar was a buzz of activity, a cocktail of laughter and clinking glasses. Each face was a blur of familiarity and she felt a strange sense of detachment, as if she was watching the celebrations as a third party. The weight of the podium trophy held heavy on her heart as she found herself oddly alone. She had dreamt of this moment, but somehow the reality was bittersweet without so much as a family member, or even Olivier himself, beside her to share in the triumph.

She was more than aware Alex and Lando were off and away, likely already inebriated beyond recognition as she was intentionally late to her own after-party. Her eyes searched the room, hoping to find their friendly faces amidst the wave of strangers.

Unable to find their familiar eyes, a piercing blue-eyed gaze cut through the crowd like a knife to find hers. Jenson Button, lounged in the corner, a whiskey in hand, his eyes locked on hers. Michaela had been unaware the Brit had even been in Tuscany at all. Her mind scrambled to find an inkling of recognition of his presence at the Grand Prix but was left unable to as her mind slowly drew her attention back to the blonde former champion.

As if possessed by his gentle light, her feet carried her to the bar. A few bodies separated them as she claimed a place alongside the black and gold accented bar. Murmurs of congratulations from people she did not quite recognize were received on gracious ears and short exclamations of gratitude. Her impatience is tangible as her eyes flit back to Jenson's awaiting invitation. Unable to tear herself away from the continuous pour of well wishes and slurred speculations about that elusive Ferrari contract.

With a knowing smile, Jenson approached her, his move casual yet flooded with confidence. He leaned against the bar next to her, "Mind if I buy you a drink, Miss Sommers?" The way he spoke her name, with that hint of a smile in his voice, sent a thrill down her spine. She hadn't seen him this close since their brief interactions during her Formula 2 days nearly two years ago, and she had to admit—under the dimmed lobby lights—the years had treated him well. His eyes twinkled with a mischief that seemed to have only grown with age from his iconic days with Brawn.

"Mr. Button," she replied, her voice a soft purr, the slight buzz she carried with her from the shot of tequila Lando had convinced her to take earlier providing a humming tease to her accent. "I could never turn down a free drink."

The bartender, a young man with a wide-eyed smile in awe of the surrounding wealth, nodded at Jenson before crafting an elegant cocktail. The shaker rattled with ice against glass, a mixture of mint and lime swirling before Michaela's eyes. Jenson's own never left hers as he took the drink from the bartender, passing it to her with a nod.

"To your podium," he said, his voice smooth and direct like the whiskey in his own glass.

Michaela took the offered cocktail as a tremble of anticipation ripped through her spine. "Thank you," she whispered.

Her voice went weak as their fingertips brushing against each other's, sending a spark of excitement through her body. She took a sip, the cool cocktail a welcome contrast to the heat rising within her. She watched him over the rim of her glass, his eyes drinking in her presence. The touch of their fingers lingered in the air, unspoken words hanging like a promise between them.

"How have you been?" Jenson asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the marble floor and up her exposed legs. "I feel like I haven't really seen you this close since..." His words trail off as he catches sight of the silver 'O' that gleamed against her brown skin in dip between her clavicle bones.

Michaela took a deep breath, her heart racing as she felt his gaze linger on the necklace that Olivier had given her. It was a simple token of love, a reminder of the life she had waiting for her outside of the racing world. But, at this moment, it felt like a reminder of the invisible string tightening around her neck. She set the cocktail down, the chilled glass leaving a wet ring on the bar. "I've been busy," she replied, a chuckle leaving her lips in a whisper only heard between the two of them.

"Busy making history and such?" Jenson released a chuckle of his own. Michaela nodded softly, her eyes leaving his for the first time since he approached the Australian. Unable to keep her eyes away from his figure for too long, they lifted back up to his baby blues. The smile lines framed his face as if the borders of a portrait.

"It's quite the life to live, isn't it?" she said, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. The chuckles grew into laughter between them, the sound echoing through the bar as they reminisced about their early days in the sport, exchanging stories of the grueling training and the relentless pursuit of just one less millisecond. The whiskey in Jenson's glass swirled in rhythm with their conversation, the golden liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight adorning the sides of the bar like a liquid fire. A fire that mimicked the one filling her to the brim with a tensioned heat.

Michaela felt a strange, overwhelming comfort in Jenson's presence, one that was oddly familiar yet thrillingly new. His stories of his own glory days painted a picture of a man who had been where she was, a man who understood the highs and lows of the world she loved so dearly but could hurt her so deeply. A man who understood things Olivier could never dream of understanding.

His words danced around the topic of her personal life, hinting without asking, and she found herself leaning closer, eager to escape the shadow of Olivier's absence.

"You know," Jensen said, his eyes darkening slightly as they searched hers, "Sometimes you need to enjoy the moment, without the noise of everyone else around you." His words brushed against her ear as he leaned down towards her as if selecting his words for her ears alone.

Michaela's heart skipped a beat. The warmth of his breath against her ear sent another shiver of want and anticipation down her spine. "All alone?" she quizzed, her voice a careful whisper. If they remembered they were in a public setting, it didn't show. The curtain of attention surrounding them seemed to fade away as Jenson's fingers reached out to brush gently against Michaela's silver adorned wrist.

"I've got a room upstairs," he offered, his voice a seductive invitation that seemed to dance on the very edge of propriety and good behavior. "It's quieter. We can...talk."

Michaela can barely bring herself to laugh at the mischievous glimmer in his eyes in extension of the invitation. "Talk?" Is all she can muster before taking in a deep breath that visibly raises and lowers her chest.

Their eyes lock in an answer as the silence stretches out between them, charged with the weight of their unspoken desires. The room seems to hold its breath, the laughter and chatter of the celebrations fading away into a very distant hum.

Michaela's hand lingers on her cocktail, her fingertips leaving their prints on the glass. She considers his proposal, the promise of a private, intimate space calling to her in a way that she hadn't anticipated being so keen to accept. The hotel room upstairs, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of her colleagues, various C-listers, and the sponsors that adorn the sides of their carbon fiber machines. The suffocating weight of her own thoughts leaves her with little breath to gasp. With Olivier so far away, the choice—so close to her—feels almost irresistible.

Jenson's hand moved from its place atop the bar to Michaela's waist. His touch was feather-light as it brushed over the material of her satin mini-dress. The action is casual as if he had no worry about the prying eyes that Michaela tended to draw over to her considering her position in the sport. Tonight of all nights was a night she should have been on her best behavior. She should have been circling the room, schmoozing with the donors, and sharing glasses of champagne with her much drunker rivals. Instead, she was held captive to Jenson's wiles. The heat of his gaze as it swept over her figure drew a heat into her face.

Suddenly she was grateful for the low lighting of the crowded hotel lobby.

Then, with a nod of her head, she set her cocktail down and allowed him to lead her away from the thrumming bar. His hand slipped to the small of her back, a gesture that felt far too intimate for the public atmosphere of the after-party dedicated to her success. The warmth of his palm sizzled through the too-thin fabric of her black dress and the coolness of the air-conditioned lobby did little to dissipate the heat sizzling between the two drivers.

The elevator ride to his suite was an eternity, the air thick with unspoken desire. The gentle rock of their movements as they ascended in the elevator seemed to mirror the tumultuous waves crashing within her. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tornado of 'what if' and 'should I' that she couldn't quite contain.

As if he sensed the uneasiness that permeated through the younger woman, Jenson's hands grasped her body, pulling her flush against his solid physicality. Releasing her for a split moment, his steady hands reached for her lowered chin. Pulling her attention back onto him, there was no need for words to be exchanged in the quiet elevator. Within another split second, his lips were on hers in a heated dance.

Michaela's eyes fluttered shut as she felt her knees buckle into his embrace. Her hands found his shirt, gripping tightly as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss of temptation that was Jenson Button. The action only brought him closer to her, pushing her infinitely closer to danger. His kiss was everything she hadn't known she craved: firm, confident, and hungry for more, more, more. It was a stark contrast to Olivier's smooth pecks, which had grown routine with time.

Desperate to feel impossibly closer, Michaela's fingers tangled in his dirty blonde locks. Wisps of her white manicured nails interlocked within his curls as her head fell back against the elevator walls with a moan. His lips attached themselves to the edge of her jaw, leaving sloppy kisses down the column of her neck. His right hand raised to cup one of her breasts, drawing another gasp of his name from her lips raw from the hungry kisses they shared. With a growl, Jenson grasped the back of her thighs, squeezing with an urgency unfamiliar to Michaela. Another moan and their lips were back together, Jenson's hands wandering along her backside squeezing occasionally before chuckling at her surprised whines and whispers.

When the elevator chimed, signaling their arrival, they broke apart, unwilling and breathless. The corridor was a blur as Jensen guided her to his suite, his hand never leaving her lower back as if she were a piece of art he was afraid to smudge. As they finally reached his door, Jenson maneuvered the smaller woman to stand in front of him. One hand fumbled for his key card while the other dipped underneath the skirt of her dress, gently playing with the hem of her lace panties. Michaela's hands reached up behind her, embedding themselves in Jenson's golden salted locks, tugging against them whenever his fingers swept against her heated skin.

"Jens," She gasped with a moan as a finger slipped into her underwear to toy at her folds. Her eyes rolled back as the anticipation of his touch crashed over her like a wave.

His response was a sultry, "I know", that makes her lose all sense of direction.

"If you don't get this door open..." She began to threaten. The words die on her lips as he presses his cock against her backside, the force pushing her against the locked door.

"Fuck..." She drawled out with another desperate moan, her hands falling to rest in front of her, steadying herself after the sudden movement.

"If I don't get this door open, I'll fuck you right here against this door for everyone to see." Jenson offered with a threat of his own. Feeling her arousal as it seeped through the delicate lace was enough to help him find the strength to wrestle the door open finally.

The door closed with a gentle click behind them, and suddenly, the world outside was gone. The noises of the hotel were swallowed up by the thick carpet beneath her heels. The weight of their encounter grew heavier in the quiet, luxurious room all the way up on the fifteenth floor.

Michaela looked around the suite, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and anticipation. The grandeur of the space was lost on her as Jensen's hand found hers, leading her through the dark space. The lights of the city center below them flooded into the room with a romantic light. Her heart raced, her thoughts racing faster than the car she'd driven onto podium position earlier that day—or the day before—she wasn't sure she could think clearly with the haze of lust lingering over her. The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow that reflected off the polished surfaces, giving the space a warm, inviting feel. The king-sized bed at the center was untouched, the sheets a crisp white, a stark contrast to the dirty thoughts swirling between them.

Jenson's hand slid around her waist, his thumb tracing the line of her hipbone as they approached the edge of the crisp bed. He pushed her gently, and she fell backward, the mattress enveloping her in a cloud of lust. He stood over her, his body a shadow in the dim light, his eyes burning into her wide-eyed soul. The warmth of his hands as they slid up her legs sent a delicious shiver through her body, drawing an exhale out of her that brought a smirk to his face. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, made her feel powerful, desired—like she could conquer any race he put her in.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. The tender touch sent waves of heat through her body, pooling at her core. She squirmed beneath him, eager and begging for more, but he took his sweet time.

"Patience, my love." He hummed against her skin. A longing whine left her lips before she could process the sensation he sent wracking through her.

His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, the light pressure making her arch up into his touch. Her hands found his hair again, tugging him closer, urging him on. His tongue followed the path his hand had laid, circling the edge of her panties before slipping them off.

Michaela's breath caught in her throat as she watched him spread her legs, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt vulnerable and exposed in the best way possible, as if she were laying bare not just her body but her soul. His mouth was a warm promise against her flesh, the contrast of his soft tongue against her sensitive skin driving her wild. She could feel her arousal growing, coating his lips as he kissed and licked at her.

"God," He groaned against her. The vibrations of his words sent shocks through her as her head pressed back deeper into the lush pillows beneath her. "You taste so good for me." Lost in a daze of need, Michaela could barely find the words to respond to his praise.

The first touch of his tongue to her clit was electric, sending a jolt through her that made her back arch off the bed. Her hands tightened in his hair, urging him to continue, as she let out a guttural moan. Still without words to respond to him, Jenson took his sweet time, teasing her mercilessly with his mouth, exploring every inch of her until she was panting and begging for more.

The tension grew unbearable, her body tightening like a coil ready to snap. "Stay still for me." He muttered between kisses to her most sensitive parts. "Wanna make you feel good. Gonna make you feel real good." The whispers exchanged between their ears only served to increase the intimacy of the situation.

As Jenson's hips pressed into the bed to relieve the stiffness of his straining cock, Michaela's eyes opened to meet his staring back up at her from between her open legs.

"Fuck—" She sobbed at the sight.

"Hmm, ah!" She cried as his thumb reached out to draw circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Yeah?" He drew out, pulling her legs impossibly wider as they threatened to close around his head.

Michaela still couldn't find the words to respond, her body lost in the intensity of sensations he brought as he worked her over. The strokes of his tongue grew faster, harder, each one bringing her closer to the edge. Her nails dug into his scalp, her body writhing under his seasoned touch. The room filled with the sounds of her gasps and moans, a sweet soundtrack that grew louder as she neared climax.

As her legs began to shake, Michaela released a high pitched moan, one that instantly drew a groan out of Jenson in shock her voice could sound that whiny, that desperate, for him.

"Shit! I'm gonna—" Her words cut off once more as the trembles ripping through her signaled she was close to her first orgasm. "Please don't stop." She hummed, almost babbling nonsense as Jenson worked through the thread that threatened to snap inside the pit of her belly.

He hummed from between her legs, "That's it, love." His head raised from its position as his fingers replaced his lips. Fucking into her walls at a pace that leaves her unable to form any kind of discernable sentence.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she stifled a scream. The orgasm ripped through her like a tornado, leaving her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. He watched her, his eyes hooded with desire as he stroked her through it, his hand moving almost lazily.

"Good girl," He whispered out into the night. As his head dipped down at the feeling of a sudden chill he realizes Michaela's wetness has dripped down over his fingers. A gentle, "Fuck, Michaela, baby, you're dripping all over me."

With a laugh, Michaela comes down from her high suddenly shy in the older man's arms.

"It's just my way of complimenting you." She giggled before running a manicured hand through her tousled dyed locks.

Her face flushed in half embarrassment and half lust as she pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch Jenson lift his arousal coated fingers to his lips. He kept a hold over her attention as he sucked her essence from his fingers before rising from his spot on the bed to stand on his feet.

"Think you can do it again on my cock?" He mused with a raised eyebrow. With a playful roll of her eyes, Michaela nodded, unable to respond verbally—that seemed to be a recurring theme.

Catching her completely off guard with a squeal, Jenson pulled her by her bare legs to the edge of the bed. Stood in between her wide legs, he begins to work at the buttons of his pressed dress shirt. At the sight of the former champion undressing, Michaela finds the strength to rise to her feet. The four inches Jenson has over her are just enough for her hands to bat his away to undo the buttons herself.

Her careful fingers make quick work of the shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and revealing the chiseled abs and the dusting of hair that trails from his chest down to the waistline of his trousers. She runs her hand over his stomach, feeling the muscles beneath her touch. His eyes lock onto hers, and she sees that familiar hunger back in his gaze, the same hunger that she feels return deep within her core.

"I'm all yours, superstar." He whispers into her ear as his head dips to attach his lips to the length of her neck. "Take me however you want. Just wanna celebrate you for being so good." 

His words coupled with his actions sent another wave of arousal crashing over the Alfa Romeo driver. 

"So talented." He adds, accenting the compliment with a kiss that sweeps Michaela away from whatever thoughts she had left in her distracted head.

Her hands fumble with the buckle of his belt, a task she hadn't done in what feels like an eternity. The clink of the metal echoes around the room as it hits the carpeted floor. A thrill runs through her as she feels his hard cock pressing against her stomach through the fabric of his boxers. Her eyes never leave his as she takes the fabric in her hands and pulls it down, freeing him to stand tall before her.

Michaela's breath hitches in her throat at the sight of him. Jensen is a beautiful man, sculpted by the years of rigorous physical training and his unmistakable British charm. Her eyes take in the full length of him, a silent appreciation before she takes him in one of her hands.

"You're so pretty," She murmured out to him as he released a hiss in reaction to the soft touch to his stiff length.

"Me or my cock?" He spoke mirthfully as he relished in the feeling of one of her hands on his sensitive muscle and the other finding a familiar place in his tousled graying hair.

"Both." Michaela responded with the most decisiveness in her voice since they had arrived upstairs. They share another laugh before Jenson moans out loud for the first time all night.

With a flutter of kisses to the length of his strong, clenched jaw, Michaela took in the sight of him all pliant in her grasp. The man in front of her was straight out of a fantasy. Never in all her years of pining over the man did she ever envision herself in his position. Blissed out of her mind from his fingers and drawing him to the edge of orgasm.

Jenson's hands found the zipper of her dress, pulling it down her body with a gentle force. As she watched him, her chest rose and fell with every shallow breath as the fabric fell away, exposing her naked body to the coolness of the room. Her hand stilled on his cock as he gathered her straightened hair into a makeshift ponytail. With a forceful yank, he pressed her naked body against his, slipping his tongue into her mouth as it fell open with a moan.

The light kisses grew into a trail of heat down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts. His tongue flicked over one of her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine as it hardened to a tight peak. A manicured hand reached down to cup at one of his heavy balls, a mixture of their moans mingling into a dance in the heavy air.

Michaela took the opportunity to guide him backward until he laid on the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees on either side of his hips, her body hovering over his. Her eyes never left his as she took his length into her grasp. The feel of him pressing into her soaked cunt was intoxicating, the sound of his labored breathing music to her ears.

With a gentle squeeze of his base, she began to slide down his cock. The feeling of him stretching her was nothing short of glorious, the burn of his size between her thighs a delicious punishment for the temptations she had been resisting from the moment his eyes locked on hers downstairs in the bar. With a whiny groan, she took him in inch by inch, her eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy.

"That's it, baby." He encouraged her as she took him in. His strong hands grasped at the skin of her waist, gently providing an aid to guide her down, filling her to the brim. As she bottomed out, they both released a share of breath they had both held in.

Michaela began to rock her hips in a steady swirl that grew more desperate with every second. Jenson's eyes rolled back in his head, his moans growing louder as she worked herself over him. The sound of his pleasure drew sounds of her own as she began to bounce over him gently. One of his hands drift down to palm at her firm ass, squeezing at the skin before catching her completely off guard with a spank to the perky muscle. Her abs contract as a loud moan rips through her throat to goad her on to bounce faster in pursuit of a shared high.

Their rhythm grew to match the beating of their hearts—fast and erratic. The bed squeaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall in a pattern that surely could be heard outside the suite. But neither of them cared. The only thing that mattered was the view of each other, blissed out, horny, and chasing the high that seemed to be within their fingertips.

"I'm so close, baby." Jenson grunts, his head falling back against the pillows as his hands squeeze at Michaela's curves. "Come for me, yeah? Be a good fucking girl and come all over me." His words only serve to push Michaela further to the brink of total insanity, the only thing relevant in her mind is the pursuit of pleasure.

"Wanna be good for you," She whined, "Need to come for you." Jenson hummed in appreciation as a hand reached between their bodies to toy with her overstimulated clit.

Michaela's eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open as she began to feel the beginnings of another earth-shattering orgasm. She threw her head back, her hair falling over her shoulders, and her moans grew louder with every thrust.

Jenson's words of encouragement did little to quiet the loud moans that escaped Michaela's mouth. Her hips stuttered above his as she ground down into him before the current of her orgasm ripped through her totally.

"Jens—Jens—Oh my fucking god, Jens—" She stuttered, her voice growing higher pitched with every passing second. Her nails dug into the skin of his chest, leaving red marks that stood out against his tanned skin.

With one final, powerful thrust, Jenson felt himself let go. His cock twitched inside her, filling her up with ropes of his warm, thick cum. The feeling of her pussy tightening around him as she came was more than he could handle. He groaned her name into the darkness, his eyes rolling back as his hips jerked upward involuntarily. Michaela's thighs held him hostage as she continued to whine out into the dark, completely uninhibited by the warm rush of her orgasm as it coursed through her.

Her walls tightened around him as she milked him for every drop of his cum. The warmth of his release inside her only heightened her own pleasure as it sent aftershocks through her body. She collapsed onto him, her breasts pressed against his chest as she struggled to catch her breath. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as their hearts raced together. He murmured faint words of appreciation into her ear as his palms pressed into her sweaty back, massaging the knots from the strain of her two orgasms.

Their bodies remained intertwined for several moments, basking in the afterglow. The room was silent except for their heavy breaths and the occasional twitch of his cock inside her. The smell of sex filled the air, thick and potent, a stark contrast to the prior freshness of the untouched hotel suite.

Michaela leaned her forehead against Jenson's neck, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath her skin. "I can't believe that just happened." She whispered, her voice still strained from the exertion.

Jenson could only laugh in response, his hand still traced patterns over her brown skin. "I heard you had a major crush on me back in the day. I figured I'd test the waters, see if that crush still held up." When he received a scoff in return as Michaela slowly freed herself from his hold to lay to his side, Jenson laughed again.

"I'm serious!"

"Don't flatter yourself too much, Button," She grinned up at him. "I just wanted to thank you for the drink. You know, properly."

Jenson's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You're welcome, Sommers. Anytime you need celebrating, you know where to find me."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and airy. "I'll keep that in mind." She rolled onto her side to observe the outline of his features. The warmth of his body left a ghostly imprint on the cooling sheets. The silence that followed was filled with a new kind of tension, one that was more comfortable, more intimate than the frantic passion that had brought them to this moment.

Jenson's fingers trailed lazily over her bare shoulder, sending shivers down her spine. "So, what's next for you?" He asked, breaking the quiet.

Michaela took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "The Russian Grand Prix, in two weeks." She said, her voice still a little breathless. "I need to keep this momentum going, prove I'm not just a one-hit wonder."

Jenson nodded, his hand still playing with the sensitive skin of her shoulder. "And what about the boyfriend?" He asked, his voice a gentle caress despite the panic that sets into her body.

Michaela swallowed hard, the mention of Olivier bringing a sharpness to the air. She couldn't hide the shock she felt when she realized that Jenson knew more about her than she had previously thought. "What about him?" She asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

Jenson leaned in, his mouth grazing her ear as he whispered, "Is he going to be okay with this?" He didn't miss the way her body stiffened at the question, the way her breath hitched. "I know you're an adult, love, but I want to make sure you're not going to get hurt."

Michaela rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling, her chest still heaving from their exertion. She bit her lip, thinking for a moment before speaking. "It's complicated." She finally said. "But I can handle it."

Jenson studied her for a moment before nodding his head. "I know you can." He leaned in to kiss her cheek before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "But remember, if you ever need anything—anything at all—I'm here for you."

Michaela felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify. Gratitude? Lust? The aftermath of their encounter had left her feeling more than a little vulnerable. She watched him as he walked naked across the suite to grab a bottle of water from the minibar. The moonlight played over the muscles of his back, highlighting the scars from years of racing.

"Thanks, Jenson." She murmured, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand. "For everything."

He settled back onto the bed beside her, his cock still half-hard from their encounter just moments before. "Don't worry about me." He took a swig from the bottle before passing it back to her. "You deserve to be celebrated."

Michaela took a sip, the cool water soothing her parched throat. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of Olivier so far away doing God knows what instead of being at her side. "What about you?" She asked, changing the subject. "What's next for you?"

Jenson took another gulp from the bottle before setting it aside. "Well, I'm technically retired from racing now," he said with a shrug. "But I've got plenty of things to keep me busy. Commentary, appearances, the occasional Le Mans race. It's a calmer life." His eyes searched hers, a silent question hanging in the air.

Michaela nodded, understanding the unspoken inquiry. "Yeah, I can imagine. Must be a big change after being in the thick of it for so long." As Jenson considered his response, he drew the Alfa Romeo driver into his body. With her head rested upon his broad chest, he pulled one of her thighs to rest over his. Then, hand found hers, threading their fingers together.

"It is, but I don't miss the pressure. It's nice to be able to enjoy the sport without the weight of the world on my shoulders."

Michaela nodded, her mind racing with questions about his life outside of Formula 1. "What's it like? Watching from the sidelines?"

Jenson's thumb traced circles over the back of her hand, the gesture brought an unfamiliar comfort to her conscience. "It's different, sure," he said, his eyes drifting to the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the moonlit Tuscan landscape. "But I've had my time in the spotlight. Now, I get to enjoy the sport in a new way."

Michaela turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow. "Do you ever miss it?" She asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

Jenson looked at her, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in a small smile. "Every now and then," he admitted. "But I've had my time in the sun. Now, I get to see the next generation take over and make their own history." His eyes searched hers, a hint of admiration sparkling in his gaze. "And you, my darling, are going to be a big part of that history."

Michaela felt a blush creep up her face at his words, her heart swelled with a mix of pride and bashfulness. She knew she had more than enough talent, but the fear of not living up to the hype of being the first was always present. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"You're welcome," he replied, his own voice a little hoarse from their earlier passion. He leaned over to kiss her forehead gently. The heat in Michaela's cheeks only continued to warm. "But it's not just my opinion. You're genuinely brilliant behind the wheel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone drive with the precision you have."

The truth in his words washed over her, filling her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the post-orgasm glow. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "That means a lot coming from you."

Jenson's smile grew, his eyes tender as they searched hers. "You know, I always had a soft spot for you, even when you were tearing it up in F2 against Leclerc." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "You've got a fire in you, Mick. Don't ever let anyone dull it. Not even that idiot you call a boyfriend."

Michaela felt the weight of his words, a strange mix of comfort and accusation that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't know him," she murmured defensively, even though she knew he was right.

"Maybe not," Jenson conceded lowly, "But he should be here with you. I know what it's like to love this sport. And if he doesn't support you, if he doesn't understand what you're fighting for, then he's not the one for you."

Michaela remained silent, his words echoing through the quiet hotel room. The cool breeze from the open window blew with the curtains, the only sound aside from their measured breathing. The truth in his statement stung, but she couldn't deny the truth in his support, the way his arms felt around her, and the comfort in his voice. She knew that Olivier had his own ambitions, his own disappointments with his racing career to work through, but they were starting to feel like they were in different worlds.

Taking a deep breath, she let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her thoughts. "I know," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to the ceiling. "But it's complicated."

A moment of silence enveloped the two lovers before Michaela's eyes drifted back to see Jenson's eyes already focused on her face. Pushing aside her shyness as she offered a hummed joke, "He's French. Everything's complicated with them."

Jenson's chuckle rumbled in his chest, sending a thrill through her as she felt his hand caress her bare side. "Well, you're a woman in Formula 1. I'd say you know a thing or two about complicated." His hand grew bolder, stroking her hip, pulling her closer.

Michaela couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a sense of calm with him that she hadn't felt with anyone else. "You're not wrong," she said, her voice a little shaky.

Jenson leaned over, kissing her gently on the lips, the taste of her own slick still lingering on his mouth. "If you need anything, you know where to find me," he whispered as his thumb brushed against her tanned cheek.

Michaela nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the touch. She knew that she was playing with fire, but the warmth of his embrace felt too good to resist. "What happens next?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper against the stillness of the night.

Jenson leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers. "Whatever you want, my love," he replied, his voice a gentle caress. "Whatever you want."

Michaela felt a thrill run through her at his words. Her hand trailed down his chest, playing with the patch of hair that grew from his navel to his pelvis. "I want you," she murmured, the words coming out with surprising ease.

Jenson's eyes darkened with desire, and he rolled her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs. He took his time, kissing her neck and her collarbone, his teeth lightly grazing her skin. His cock was already on the way to being hard again, a testament to his endurance. "I'm all yours," he breathed against her ear, his hands cupping her face as he stared into her eyes.

✼. taglist:⠀

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@thearchieves @doodlehunz @evie-119

@bxdbxtxh @seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn

@99snse @ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut

@hiireadstuff @emilyval1 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @tellybearyyyy

@melancholyy-hill @vallusvsu @futuristiccroissantlampsludge

@treehouse-mouse @sunfairyy

[best-transgender-character]

Hi everyone. I've been putting some thought into the best way to bring this up without making light of it, since this is a serious topic and this is a very unserious blog. I don't want to reblog a bunch of individual posts without context and explanations attached, but if I find posts that I feel are thorough and explain what is going on, I may reblog them. Here is a summary, for anyone completely unaware of what is happening:

A trans woman (Rita, URL was Predstrogen, now Cyprederone) has had her account falsely flagged as NSFW and banned multiple times as a result of a transmisogynistic harassment campaign against her. You may have seen people talking about how her transition timeline has been flagged mature content, multiple times.

Support have been unhelpful when it comes to the harassment, and dubiously helpful about restoring accounts until this latest event.

People reached out to Photomatt about the topic, who is the CEO of Tumblr. He decided to respond, claiming that Rita was personally harassing him and posting death threats about him. This does not line up with the official reason why Rita was banned, which was "sexually explicit materials". The "death threat" was a slapstick post about an exploding car full of hammers. Matt threatened to contact the police or FBI about the threat, used neutral pronouns for Rita despite being informed of her pronouns, and even referred to her as 'it' in one sentence. He referred to Rita as "pergstrogen" in one post, which may be a particularly unfortunate typo, but may also be an ableist slur. He also sent people direct messages about the topic. Matt denied any possibility of transmisogyny playing a part, and suggested that people who feel this site is not safe for trans women should just leave to a different site.

Rita has been banned for life. Several people criticising Matt for this have also been banned.

Please pay attention to this, read other posts about it, look at Photomatt's blog (archived as of 21/02) to see the way he has handled this and Cyprederone's blog to see Rita's statement.

Here are all of Photomatt's posts about the topic, please check the notes of them to see people's responses as well as people archiving his comments. Edit: These posts have been deleted. I'm unsure if there is an archive somewhere of the comments, but these links are now the webarchive links to these posts.

You gonna do anything or make any statement about the rampant transmisogyny on this hellsite (original post with they/them) (first edit with "the account") (second edit with she/her) (archive of most recent edit)

I love this site and I’m sorry so many people are determined to ruin it.

So, the terfs and neonazis are fine, but a trans women giving threatening you is where you draw the line?

You should really feel bad about how transphobic tumblr is

all you ever do is drop the ban hammer on trans women you don't like, while casually ignoring the harassment they face

can I report your beahviour, or?

it's been four hours and nothing you've said has made this decision look better

Why did you misgender her lmao

❤ (heart emoji) [I don't yet have an archive of this. Please reach out if you have an archive of this, although there wasn't much relevant in this post.]

I'm continuing to get harassment and death threats here

My Beliefs and Principles

Tweeting Rita's saved URLs

He is further arguing with people on Twitter.

[Edit] Staff have now made a PR statement about the topic.

Please give trans women your love and support, and remember that this is deeply serious transmisogyny, not just an excuse to joke about car hammer explosions.

[extra-gray]

— DRUNK

MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI!!

PAIRING: Choi Jongho x FtM/Afab Reader

WARNINGS: Anatomical terms like (pussy, clit), dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, pussy eating, creampie, cum eating (tell me if I missed anything)

WORD COUNT: 4k+ words

SYNOPSIS: One night, while drunk with Jongho and the rest of Ateez, you accidentally admit that you want Jongho to fuck you. How will he react?

A/N: Please excuse any mistakes! Feel free to give me any suggestions/prompts via my ask box <3

That following morning, you wake up with your head pounding. And then you start to notice how stiff your body feels. When you finally open your eyes, you realize you’re not in your bed. Matter of fact, you’re not even home.

You sit up in a panic, but quickly realize you were at Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Jongho’s dorm— where everyone gathered last night to drink until they passed out. It slowly came back to you, but you were more focused on the fact that you had been passed out on the floor. Inches away from the couch.

Once you calm yourself down, you notice the jacket on your lap that you had been covered with. When you pick it up to inspect it, you realize it belonged to Jongho. It was the jacket he wore last night. You can’t help your fluttering heart, thinking about him being just as drunk as you but still going out of his way to be a gentleman.

But the sweet moment only lasted a second more before you heard a groan from the hallway. You tried your best to stand, Jongho’s jacket still in your arms as you stumbled trying to catch your balance.

Looking around the house, you cringed. It was a mess. And all the members of Ateez were also passed out in random places. Except Jongho, who was the one groaning in the hallway.

He clearly just came out of his room, probably struggling to stay upright. At least he got to his bed.

And then there were images of last night hitting you like a truck and flooding your mind all at once. When you met Jongho’s eyes from across the room, you froze.

“Jongho…” you say from where you sat on the couch next to him, both of you drunk and singing along to whatever songs were on. All the other members were playing in the kitchen.

You couldn’t even see straight, or talk without slurring your words.

He turns his head towards you, and you’re barely aware of how close you were. You smile and put your hand on his thigh.

“I want you to fuck me.”

As you watch his eyes widen, the moment was suddenly interrupted by Mingi’s loud voice, “Guys! Come play this next round with us!”

Before you could even think to speak, both Mingi and Yunho were pulling you guys to the kitchen. You almost immediately forgot about your confession since you were so drunk, and it seemed as if Jongho did too.

You shake your head, not wanting to remember anymore. You slap your hands over your face and rub your eyes, “Jesus Christ…”

“Headache?”

You lift your head in confusion. Did Jongho not remember? If he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking so casually to you like this.

Clearing your throat, you drop his jacket to the floor so he wouldn’t see you had it, and nod, “U-uh… yeah.”

He hums and makes his way to the kitchen, with you slowly following. You lean against the counter and watch him pour a glass of water. He hands it to you.

With his arm outstretched, he looks at you with unwavering eyes. You silently confirm it in your head. There’s no way he remembers. He wouldn’t be that calm.

So you smile sweetly as always, taking it from him and trying to ignore the way your heart dropped to your stomach as your fingers brushed together, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

You look into the living room and look at the members’ sleeping faces while you sip on the water. It seemed like everyone collectively agreed to sleep on the floor.

Jongho started brewing coffee, “Do you want me to make you some?” He asked with his back turned to you, “It’ll help with the hangover.”

Honestly, you couldn’t even handle being alone with him right now. Well, as alone as you could be with an apartment full of unconscious men on the floor.

Coffee sounded amazing, but you needed to get out of here. You begin to quickly drink the rest of your water, a feeling of unbearable anxiousness in your chest.

When you finish, you place the glass down and go to the cabinet to grab a trash bag, “I’m gonna clean up and then go home, alright? I’ll get coffee on my way back.”

Reaching up to open the cabinet, you feel a warm hand on your lower back. It startled you, and your body went hot. You turn your head to see Jongho inches away from you, and you lock eyes again. You wanted to die. You couldn’t help the dark blush that spread across your face.

“I’ll make them clean up after themselves. I’m sure you’re tired, so you can just go home. I’ll walk you to your car.”

His hand drops from your back. You shiver.

“A-are you sure?” You ask.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

So you both put on your shoes and walk out the door. He gets the elevator for you, and it was dead silent. Even the walk through the parking lot. At times like these, you wished Jongho wasn’t a gentleman.

You stop by your car and turn to him awkwardly, “Um… thanks. Thank you,” you go to open the door, your anxiety still pounding in your chest. But then he speaks, halting your movements.

“Did you mean it?”

Your hand stays firm on the handle, your stomach suddenly in knots. You honestly feel dizzy, blood running cold as you hoped and prayed he didn’t mean what you think he meant.

“Mean wh-what?” You respond in a near whisper, unmoving. You couldn’t face him.

“What you said to me last night.”

You can’t breathe.

His tone isn’t angry, but it’s firm. You can tell he’s serious. When you’re quiet for a bit too long, Jongho’s hand slams against the car window. His palm flat against the glass as he traps you there, his chest brushing slightly against your back.

“I know you remember.”

You jump at the sudden movement, and then your body stiffens. You clench your jaw to hold in the gasp that almost threatened to come out, breathing heavy and unsteady. You could hear your heart in your ears.

You can feel him leaning in closer then, his breath ghosting your neck. He’s looking at you through the reflection on the window, and you’re looking back. His expression was unreadable. Blank.

“Did you mean it…” he spoke slowly, gaze unwavering, “When you said you wanted me to fuck you?”

The atmosphere was suffocating. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was as if your silence confirmed it, because he hummed and stepped away.

“Don’t worry,” his tone was casual now as he turned to leave, “I want you too.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You’ve been a lot clingier with Jongho lately,” San says before he shoves a bite of food in his mouth. Next to him was Wooyoung, both sitting side by side across from you and Jongho in the booth of the restaurant they brought you to.

“He has!” Wooyoung perked up, as if he’d been thinking it at the moment as well.

You and Jongho were sitting a bit too close, him silent as his hand groped at your bare thigh under the table. You were trying your best to keep it together, joining in the conversation every once in a while or laughing to make everything seem normal.

When in reality, you were fucking soaked. The feeling of Jongho’s strong hand on your thigh made it extremely hard to focus. Why now, and here out of all places, has he decided to make a move?

It’s been over a week, nearly two, since the incident. And not once has Jongho acted any different, or made any sort of move. You had been restless, waiting for a sign. But you started to lose hope, and your insecurities took over.

You even questioned your sanity at one point. Did Jongho actually confess? Did you hear him wrong? Maybe he changed his mind.

It was torture, pretending everything was normal around him and everyone else. He never even gave you a lingering glance. So why now?

“H-have I?” You stuttered, laughing a bit too nervously as you fumbled with your chopsticks to take way too big of a bite so you wouldn’t have to talk.

You glanced over at Jongho, who had no expression on his face. As usual. And then his hand snaked further up your thigh, pushing up your shorts. You nearly choke.

Wooyoung narrowed his gaze, “And how come he lets you hang all over him? I thought you hated skinship!”

Jongho raised his head at that, now looking at the two.

“Why don’t you hit or push him away like you do us?” San added.

He blinked a few times, all while his hand was grabbing at your inner thigh. He made you spread your legs, pulling one close to him so your thighs were touching. You actually choke this time.

“Hey, you okay? Do you need the heimlich?” San asked like a worried mother, and Wooyoung pushed your drink towards you as you coughed violently, beating on your chest.

Jongho removed his hand from your thigh and started patting and rubbing your back, grabbing your drink for you and holding it as you sucked on the straw.

After you slightly recovered, you take the drink from Jongho, “Ah… thank you—“

Then suddenly, his thumbs are brushing against your cheeks to wipe your tears. When he looks into your eyes, his movements halt, and your chest feels hollow.

You felt something deep inside, entranced by his beautiful eyes. But the moment only lasted a second before he cleared his throat and looked away— burying his face in his food.

San and Wooyoung just watched in silence, with Wooyoung biting back a big shit eating grin.

The rest of the night was fine. Jongho didn’t touch you again, and he barely spoke to you… but it was fine. You were riding in the backseat with him, San driving and Wooyoung in the passenger seat. They were having their own conversation, and you just stared out the window.

You honestly felt depressed, and it would’ve been clear if the car wasn’t so dark. The only indication anyone had was your silence, which wasn’t exactly out of character for you. But you didn’t care right now.

It was upsetting, being teased, thinking you might finally get what you’ve been wanting, only to be ignored. You were frustrated, and tired.

And then, you felt Jongho lean in.

He brushed your hair behind your ear and whispered, his voice low and silky smooth, “When we get back, I want you in my bed immediately. Undressed.”

Your body ignited almost instantly, throbbing with the most intense desire you’ve ever felt. It was debilitating in the moment, making your head spin with the thoughts you’ve been trying to push down forever.

And then San pulled up to the dorm building, where Jongho, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong stayed. San was sleeping over, just like you were, so you all headed up to the apartment in mostly silence.

“Hongjoong won’t be home tonight, so he said you can sleep in his room,” Wooyoung said as he unlocked the front door, “We’re gonna hang out in the living room if you guys wanna join.”

You glanced over at Jongho and then back to the other boys, “Uh… I’m actually quite tired. And Hongjoong’s bed is comfy, so I’ll just go to sleep now,” you smile softly, “But I’ll make it up to you guys by cooking breakfast in the morning.”

You say your goodnights, and Jongho distracts them while you slip away to his room.

Being in Choi Jongho’s room made your heart flutter. He’d never let you in before. It smelled like him, and your body started getting hot. Skin prickling while you looked around.

Hesitantly, you began undressing. Removing one article of clothing at a time, slowly as your hands shook. You felt so insecure in the moment, wondering if Jongho would really like what he saw.

Once fully naked, with a slight chill to your skin despite being on fire with lust, you climb into his bed. Leaning your back against the headboard. Filled with the smell of him, you grip at the sheets. Just being naked in his bed made you unbelievably horny.

You could feel yourself dripping in anticipation. Your chest was heaving. One of your hands rested on your lower stomach, and you could hear the sound of laughter in the other room.

It was hard, your clit. Throbbing, even. Your legs spread, and your hand inched lower and lower. Until your fingers come in contact with your stiff length.

You moaned, “Jongho…” and let your fingers trail even lower to tease your dripping hole. You kept your eyes closed, whimpering while you imagined Jongho’s touch. And then they slipped inside, reaching as far as possible.

You were so wet, you could feel it dripping down to your ass. And you weren’t even worried about making a mess right now, pumping your fingers in and out your pussy. Filling the silent room with lewd noises.

“Fuck,” you whined, “J-Jong—“ you fucked yourself harder, curling your fingers and ramming into your g spot with a desperation that you’ve never felt before.

And then, the door clicked open. You almost didn’t hear, until it loudly closed.

You jumped, startled, and pulled your fingers out immediately. You close your legs and wrap your arms around your chest, snapping your neck towards the doorway. It was Jongho.

Your face flushed a deep red, and you opened your mouth to speak, before he interrupted you.

“Were you touching yourself?” He spoke, his soft voice ringing in your ears. But there was an obvious hint of dominance behind it. He locked the door, and let his jacket slide off his body and to the floor.

Your throat suddenly went dry, “I—“ you swallowed as you watched him undo his belt slowly.

“You want me that bad?” He sounded condescending, his eyebrows raising. Your eyes dart to the belt that thunked on the floor, and quickly back at him.

He smirked, walking closer, “What’s the matter, baby?”

Baby. Hearing that from him made you weak. Your body trembled, and your insides ached.

He climbed onto the bed, “Have you changed your mind?” Getting real close until his body hovered over yours.

You didn’t hesitate even a second to shake your head, chest heaving as your blood pumped violently in your veins, “N-no.”

“Then…” he grabbed onto your knees and pushed your legs apart forcefully, “Show me how you were touching yourself.”

When he forced your legs open, you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped your throat. Desperate and whiny. Filled with pure lust. His strength made you gush with even more arousal.

He looked down, and you saw his eyes sparkle. One of his eyebrows twitched. He exhaled heavily, “God… you’re this wet for me?”

He licked his lips while your hand trailed down the front of your body to rest on your pelvis, “I can’t help it…” you spread your folds for him, your clit throbbing, “I need you so bad.”

You can see him clench his jaw, and his hands slide down to grip at your soft thighs, “You’re fucking soaked baby…” he pressed against you, making you feel his clothed erection. You were taken over by an intense heat, and you began touching yourself like he asked.

He smiled and lifted his shirt up over his head, pulling it off and exposing his soft, naked torso. You were almost drooling, fingers slipping inside your hole once again. He was so hot, and so close. You couldn’t take it.

“Kiss me. Please.”

He obliged, smirking before allowing your lips to meet. You moaned as soon as they did, melting into the softness of his. Your free hand going to touch his chest, while the other pumped faster.

The kiss was quick, sweet, and electrifying. You begin to whine in protest when he parts, almost opening your eyes, but Jongho drinks your voice as he kisses you again.

This time, slipping his tongue into your mouth. All the while, his hands were roaming your naked body. Feeling every inch, groping everything he could. You were so close, his clothed cock pressed against your soaking pussy, and the rough material against such a sensitive place made you even hornier.

You moan into the kiss, falling apart at the seams while you tasted him. You felt hollow, almost like you were floating. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and you realize how long you’ve wanted this. How long you’ve needed this. You take out your fingers and start moving your hips against his, soaking through his jeans as you rubbed against him.

You deepen the kiss then, tilting your head ever so slightly to taste more. You can hear and feel his breath getting quicker by the second, his hands getting needier. Scratching lightly down your ribs, gripping at your hips, and coming back up to graze over your nipples.

And eventually, he was moving too. Your hips were in sync, parting your lips to take in air for only half seconds. You sucked on each other’s tongues, bit each other’s lips, moaned in each other’s mouths. It was pure bliss.

Your hands go to his shoulders, squeezing the muscles, and then he finally breaks the kiss. Your eyes open, your vision hazy, but you’re focused on the beautiful man above you. He’s panting. His lips still parted, eyes hooded and staring.

Still out of breath, he places hot wet kisses down your neck, snaking his arm under you when you arch your back.

“Fuck,” you roll your hips more, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He sucks and nibbles at the sensitive areas of skin, and stops by your ear, “Undo my jeans.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you absolutely didn’t want to hesitate. He reattaches to your neck, eventually going for your throat to bite harder and leave darker marks.

Your shaky hands slide down the front of his body to his jeans, and you fumble with the button until you get it. And then you pull down the zipper.

You take a moment to feel everything. Jongho’s soft lips exploring your body, his nails digging into your waist, the waves of pleasure every time your chests touch. His scent is so thick, so strong. Nearly suffocating, in the most addictive way. And then you set him free.

His pants and boxers are pulled down to his thighs, and he hums in your ear. His actions pause as he maneuvers them all the way off, and you finally look at his fully naked body once he sits back on his knees.

“Jesus christ—“ you almost choke. His thick thighs looked even better uncovered, and my god his cock.

It was hard and pulsing, his flushed tip peeking out of his foreskin. He was above average in length, thick, and his balls were big and full.

He reached down to cup his balls and squeeze, “Is this what you want?”

You have never seen this side of Jongho before. The confidence was oozing off of him, and rightfully so. You spread your legs impossibly wider, your hard clit throbbing just like his dick.

“Please.”

Your voice was hoarse. You couldn’t stand another second without his cock. So he grabs you by the waist and pulls you down the bed, until your soaking pussy comes in contact with his length. His warmth radiated through your core, and hold onto his biceps.

“So fucking wet…” he sighs, grabbing his cock and rubbing against your clit. Poking your hole and then sliding through your folds again.

“Shit,” you swallow hard, “Please fuck me, Jongho. Please. I need you so fucking bad.”

He looks you in the eyes and wastes no time sliding his dick in, not even giving you a minute to adjust to the size. He seems to smirk at your expression, one mixed with pleasure and pain.

You gasp, arching your back as your eyes close. He hits your cervix, and you can feel his warm balls against your ass. Your nails claw into his biceps.

“Look at you…” he cooed, his right hand running down your body as the left grabbed your thigh and pushed your leg up, “That pussy opened up so good for me.”

His words made you throb around him, and you could hear his breath shake slightly. His self control was amazing… but there was no doubt he was just as pent up and horny. Just feeling how stiff he was inside you was proof enough.

You open your eyes, and you reach out to pull him in so you could kiss along his jaw. He moans, and you feel him pull out halfway— dragging along your walls. And then he slams back in, making you cry out a bit louder than you should have.

“J-Jongho!” You bury your face in his neck, whining into his soft skin as he continues to ram right into you with deep strokes. Ones that nearly take your breath away each time.

“You’re doing so good,” he says lowly as he looked down to watch the way your pussy swallowed him, “Just keep taking it like that, babyboy.”

“Oh my god—“ you gasp and cling to him tight, feeling your body start to tingle as the sound of him fucking you filled the room, “Fuck! Fuck me!”

You don’t even think about San and Wooyoung in the other room, how there’s no way they can’t hear you right now. Because Jongho’s dick felt way too good… and his moans were becoming more frequent. And they were right in your ear.

You could hear his labored breathing, his groans, his gasps. And then he sits up, manhandling you and pushing your knees up to your chest. The way he effortlessly maneuvers you has you even more breathless than before. He pulled his dick out of your tight hole, and he bends down until his mouth is on your pussy.

As pathetically easy as it was, you felt yourself getting close just from feeling his tongue press flat against your slit. You grip the sheets, “H-holy— Wait!” Your abdomen tightens and your thighs begin to shake even harder, “Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum Jongho!”

He huffs out a laugh against your pussy, and takes your clit into his mouth. Your hole is clenching desperately around nothing, and you swear you’re about to faint. His tongue swirls around the tip, and you’re done for.

“Cumming,” you hiss through your teeth, “Goddammit, I’m cumming!”

You cum harder than you ever have before right then, watching him suck you off. You scream his name along with a string of curses, seeing literal stars, and your eyes close on their own. Still not even down from your high, your chest heaving, you’re suddenly full again.

In the same piledriver position he’s so effortlessly keeping you trapped in, he’s forcing his cock back into your clenching hole. And he wastes no time at all fucking you deep.

You’re a whimpering mess, writhing under him as your hands outstretched to grope his chest and stomach.

“Fuck baby—“ he moans, pounding you senseless, “Pussy feels so fucking good.”

His noises were getting louder and more frequent, and it was like music to your ears. Each noise made your stomach twist and turn, and the world around you melted away as you begged for more.

“Keep going,” you gasp, “Don’t stop! You’re so deep… Fuck!”

You’re driving him crazy, and he’s gripping your thighs so hard that it’s sure to leave bruises.

And then you feel his strong hands flip you over. You let out a huff as your chest hit the mattress, stunned by the sudden change in position. He’s rubbing and squeezing your ass, admiring it.

“God you’re so sexy,” he spanks you, and you moan into the pillow as you grip the sheets. You can feel the tip of his cock poke your entrance again. You arch your back for him.

He shoves himself back into your soaking wet pussy, letting his pure primal need take over as he destroys you. One hand on your back, the other spreading your ass.

“Shit, I’m getting close—“ he nearly whines, throwing his head back as you start moving in time to match his thrusts.

Your body is numb and tingly, and your stomach filled with a deep pleasure that signaled you were about to cum too. Again.

Jongho is fucking you straight into the mattress, having no mercy on your pussy. He’s showcasing his strength, using you exactly the way he wants to. And it made you weak.

You couldn’t even speak, and then you were sucking him in with your orgasm. Your slutty cries were muffled by the pillow as your hole throbbed around his thick cock, feeling it wreck your entire being.

And then his thrusts lost their rhythm, “Ohh shit…” he chokes, “Just like that, baby, fuck. Cum on my cock!”

“C-cum inside me—“ you struggle through the overstimulation, “Ple-please… Please give me your cum.”

Your desperate voice echoes in the room, and he’s suddenly releasing deep inside of you with hard thrusts. His moans are guttural as he milks his cock with your pussy, ramming straight into your cervix each time.

He’s muttering your name, his voice is even breaking, “Shit! Ah— Fuck! Take my cum baby—“

His hot seed paints the inside of your walls, and all you can do is whimper into the pillow. You’re trembling and breathless, and he thrusts a few more tired, shallow times before slowly pulling out and gently lowering your ass back down.

You let out a deep breath as your body relaxes against the mattress, laid out and used before him. And you can feel his hands gently rubbing down your back. He’s still breathing hard, clearly trying to come down too.

“Jesus,” You sigh, feeling his cum start to drip out. He’s spreading your asscheeks and watching it ooze down to your clit. You’re still throbbing, but then you feel his warm mouth on your hole.

“Ah!” You gasp and your eyes roll back, having unexpected him to do something like that. He’s licking and sucking his own cum out of you, and from the sound of it— he’s enjoying every second. It’s so sensitive it almost hurts, but he’s gentle. Caressing your thighs to help soothe you.

“Relax baby…” he whispers, “Lemme clean up your mess.”

His tongue dips in and out of you, his soft lips kissing your clit on occasion. It feels so fucking good, you’re long gone.

When he’s done, he kisses your pussy a few more times, and gently helps you roll onto your back. You’re almost embarrassed to look him in the eye, but he catches you immediately in a passionate kiss.

You taste his cum and your pussy on his tongue, and you wrap your arms and legs around him tight. You kiss him with the rest of the energy you had left, whining and clinging to him as you savored the moment.

And then he breaks the kiss, his hand going to cup your cheek. Your faces are still inches apart, the eye contact almost freezing time. He looks beautiful. Exhausted, red faced, and glistening. So perfect.

Your hands are rested on his neck, thumb caressing his adams apple softly while your breaths mingled. The moment felt intimate, and even more so when he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“Do you regret it?” He asks, breathless with a hint of shyness in his voice.

You take advantage of the moment and flip your positions— pinning him down against the bed while you straddle his waist. There’s a smirk on your face as you lay your head down on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and relaxing on top of him.

“The only thing I regret is not asking you to fuck me sooner.”

Tag(s): @yourfatherlucifer

[salmonball]

— [♡] ; Wish You Were Sober

FWB! Gojo x Reader

You and Satoru weren't interested in relationships. After a change in your dynamic, you start to question that.

includes: afab!reader, drinking, smoking, swearing, sfw content, hurt/comfort

wc: 5.4k

(a/n: the guy I wrote this about is in rehab and wants to reconnect and all of it is bringing back memories. so cope with me <3)

Satoru was attractive, to say the least. He just couldn't help it and on top of the confidence dripping from him, he was a hot topic. He had lines of girls out the door begging for a chance with him. But that wasn't something he was interested in, as a noncommittal person. Something you both had in common.

Your friend group had decided at the end of last semester to share rent for an apartment. This included you, Suguru, Satoru, and Ieiri. It was a nice setup, and although the guys sometimes forgot to clean up after themselves, you all coincided well. Suguru was a nice makeshift therapist, and Ieiri would bond with you over sharing hair ties and disaster date stories.

You were closest with Satoru, though. You guys had spent the majority of your friendship having endless late-night conversations and teasing each other any time you could. When you all moved in, despite having his own room, he frequently came to hang out and sleep over. You never thought anything of it, finding his womanizer persona, frankly, irritating. And you loved how open and real your friendship was. No way you'd ever allow yourself to fall victim to him.

Until that night. You and Ieiri had decided to pregame too hard before the four of you went to a party, so by the time you arrived you were barely processing anything around you. Despite this, you had a solo cup in your hand as you danced in the middle of the sticky basement. You knew Ieiri was next to you chatting up some guy, Suguru had left to smoke upstairs, and Satoru... Where was he? Probably finding his conquest for the night.

To compensate for the noise complaints you guys had given him, he'd been going to the dorms of the girls he fucked instead of bringing them home. Which you were thankful for since your rooms were right next to each other, with Ieiri and Suguru's across. Sometimes you wondered if the girls were faking it to be that loud, but you really didn't wanna ask for details.

Cringing at the thought, you quickly down your cup and interrupt Ieiri's conversation to ask if she wanted another drink. She smiles at you, yelling a "yeah, thanks" before you start moving through the crowd to grab them from the frat bartender. As it comes into view, you notice Satoru leaning against the counter, talking animatedly with a girl. You know best not to get in between that, opting to casually talk with the bartender while he makes your jungle juice.

Despite trying to be subtle about your presence, Satoru notices you and sends a blinding smile your way. He quickly excuses himself from the girl to come your way, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You shake him off with a scrunched nose, not in the mood to feel his sweaty body against yours.

"Hey Y/N/N, you sure you should have that?" He asks, nodding to the cups being handed to you, his speech a bit slurred. "Don't want you to black out, now."

"I'm good, Toru. Go back to what you were doing," you say, flashing a smile at the bartender before moving to head back to Ieiri. You weren't sure you were convincing him or yourself.

"So mean," Satoru pouts at you jokingly. "But fine. I'll keep an eye on you, though."

You roll your eyes, attempting to flip him off. This gets some of your drink on you and you huff, stalking off.

Turns out, he was right to be worried. You're attempting to dance but your head keeps hurting, causing you to stumble into the people around you. Ieiri doesn't seem to notice, not that you'd want to bother her. It seems like her conversation with that guy was going well and you know she's been on a dry spell. You decide to get her attention briefly by gesturing over the guy's shoulder and she nods in acknowledgement.

You nod back, making your way outside to get some fresh air and possibly throw up. You clumsily manage to sit on the porch around some other drunkards, taking in the sight in front of you. The people who were leaving didn't seem in any better state than you and that makes you smile a bit. Someone next to you nudges you, offering their vape to you.

"Looks like you need it," the guy offering gives you a once over.

Wow, what a compliment. You begrudgingly grab it, taking a hit before handing it back. That's when you realize it was banana something something coffee cake extravaganza and the taste is so putrid you actually gag.

"Dude," you manage to cough out. "Get a new fucking flavor."

He laughs, patting your back comfortingly. "You're not the first person—"

"Y/N/N," you look up and see Satoru towering over you. He almost looks relieved to see you, you think. You can't tell anymore. "Hey, you okay? Do you need to go home?"

"I'm good," you say between pants. "I'm so chillin' right now."

"Yeah, I'm taking you home," Satoru looks over at the guy with you and nods at him. "I got her."

You don't process what he says back and it seems like he left. Minutes pass before Satoru walks you to an Uber. The ride home is mostly silent before you realize something and speak up.

"Wait, what happened to that girl you were talking to?"

"I'll live," he brushes you off nonchalantly. "Besides, I needed to take care of you."

"Thanks, dad," you roll your eyes, shoving him.

"There we go, looks like you're sobering up. Just rest for now, okay? We're almost home."

Once you arrive, he helps you to your bed and brings you makeup wipes, at your request. Then, he brings you a change of clothes from his closet. You liked somewhat planning your outfits for the week and he knew he didn't wanna mess that up for you. You both change in your respective rooms before he comes back with two waters and settles into your bed.

"Hey, who said you could be here?" You ask after you have gotten the bottle half empty. Despite this, you lay down to cuddle into him. He welcomes the intrusion, wrapping his arm around you and adjusting the blanket to cover you.

"Shut up, you like having me in your bed," he teases, looking down at your head on his chest.

"In your dreams," you deadpan, tilting your head up at him. "But thank you, uhm, for looking after me."

"Of course, princess."

"Don't call me that."

"Yes, ma'am," he mock salutes with his free hand and you laugh, rolling your eyes.

When you meet his gaze again, he's already staring at you in a way that makes you want to shrink into yourself. You break the contact for a moment before looking back at him, an unreadable look on his face.

"What?" You scoff.

His free hand is now moving to run through your hair, untangling it a bit. "You're really pretty," he hums as he starts playing with specific strands near your face and you're too scared to breathe. He thinks you're pretty right now? No makeup, face flushed from alcohol, your hair a mess from the humidity of the basement you guys just came out of, wearing his baggy clothes. The list goes on.

"Damn, the alc got to you too, huh?" You laugh again, albeit kind of nervously. Was he really drunk enough to use his flirting tactics on you?

"Yeah, but I've always thought you were pretty. Don't act like it's a new discovery," it's his turn to roll his eyes. "You know it, too."

"Okay, but not like this," you gesture down at yourself. "And definitely not from you."

"Let me prove I mean it," he murmurs and then came one of the biggest mistakes of your college career.

He kissed you. You kissed back.

When the realization came to you, you quickly pushed him back, mouth agape. "What. The. Fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What are you doing?!"

"I don't know!" He exclaims, brushing his fingers across his lips. "It just... happened. I don't know."

"Seriously, Toru. I literally just told you about how I felt like all my 'guy friends' secretly wanna fuck me and now you wanna prove me right?!" You fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm not—we can't. You're not gonna be one of them."

"Hey, wait. You can still talk about that shit with me, y'know?" He turns on his side to look at you, but you can't return the gesture. "We both have rosters, nothing has to change."

"What are you saying?"

"I wanted to kiss you. I know that. And I also know that I genuinely like spending time with you. Why not... have both?"

"You're fucked," you scoff.

"You don't have feelings for me, right?" He asks, and you shake your head at him. Of course not, you've never even seen him as an option. "And I don't have any for you. But I already fucked up. It's like... transactional. Cause I know I'm gonna wanna kiss you again, and we could do that. But still be the way we are."

"So you wanna be friends with benefits?"

"Do you like the idea?" It comes out cautiously.

You hesitate in coming up with an answer. "Can't we just pretend it didn't happen?"

✧˖*°࿐

So you guys tried. Again, you've never seen Satoru in that way before. But after that night, which both of you seemed to remember in the morning, things changed. You caught yourself staring at him more and when you guys hung out, there was nothing but tension. You tried to cuddle with him while you guys played Minecraft, but the proximity was too much and you ended up kissing again. And then some.

After you were both left naked and panting in his bed, he broke the silence. "So is that a yes?" He didn't have to say what he was referring to.

"Shut up."

And so it began. Your sleepovers became steamier and in the quiet moments, you would kiss through hushed laughter. Although you would rather drink 10 bottles of Pink Whitney than admit it, he was ranked number one on your roster. If he was actually participating, that is. You knew nothing would ever come out of this and that was the whole point of your situation. But between smoke breaks on the fire escape and him taking you to his hometown for break, you knew you were fucked.

It was actually in his hometown when you first felt it. Thanksgiving break, he'd informed you that his family was on a trip without him and asked you to come visit. Your family wasn't big on the holiday, so you did. He lived in the middle of nowhere so the trip was pretty long and boring, filled with plain fields.

That night, his friends were having a bonfire and he wanted to take you. He drove, so you knew he wouldn't be drinking. The music plays softly on the radio and you stare out the window. For some reason on the way over you couldn't help but feel nervous. You wanted his friends to like you, you wanted everyone you met to like you, but this felt different. It feels like—

"You're Satoru's girlfriend?" One of his friends had already come to greet you in the driveway, extending a hand. "I'm Nanami, by the way." Satoru quickly smacked it away, rolling his eyes.

"Ignore this idiot, Y/N/N," he comes to stand next to you, gesturing dramatically. You try not to concentrate on the fact that he didn't correct Nanami.

"Well, it'd be a shame if you are. You're too pretty for him," Nanami completely disregards him to focus on you.

You laugh at that, hiding your mouth behind a hand. It was refreshing to see the way Satoru interacted with his friends, you only ever saw how he and Suguru were. "Thank you, I wouldn't be caught dead next to him if I wasn't forced."

"Hey!" Satoru gawks at the two of you teaming up against him, crossing his arms childishly. "Fuck you both, then."

"Trust me, man. I don't want to," Nanami eyes him up and down in disgust.

The three (well, two) of you die of laughter while you walk over to the fire pit. You met everyone there, finding ones you could talk to easier than others. And of course, there were multiple comments on the status of your relationship, all of them along the lines of the first one. You found yourself easing into their dynamic and even making conversation unprompted by Satoru. You try not to get attached but you can't help but feel like you'd wanna come back.

The drinks arrived in the form of a man named Sukuna, who was quick to yell at everyone to "get off your asses and help me". It was kind of intimidating and you walked over to help along with several others. You decide to grab something simple (two bottles of Barcardi), worried about messing up your nails with the heavy boxes. Once the drinks were set on one of those outdoor folding tables, he turned to you directly.

"Thanks, beautiful. Who'd you come with?" He asked, opening a box to hand you a seltzer.

You take it gratefully, clinking cans with him. "I came with Satoru."

Sukuna scoffed, disgust flashing over his face. Compared to everyone else's reaction, his almost felt real. "Can't believe he actually brought a girl home. And she's way out of his league."

Laughing with a hint of unease, you nod. "I've been told."

"Hey, when he fucks it up you can cry on my shoulder," he offers, holding his can up at you.

You're not sure what to think of that so you just nod, thanking him for the drink before walking back to the pit. Looking around, you find there's nowhere left to sit. Satoru notices, giving you a look as he pats his lap. You try not to blush when you sit in his lap horizontally. How were you going to fight the dating allegations like this? You peek to see if anyone is looking, but everyone's in their own world.

The guys decided to start acting like guys and throw an excessive amount of wood into the fire, making it crackle and roar. The embers spit out at you way harsher, and you flinch away.

Satoru takes off his Carhartt jacket, putting it over you as his arms wrap around you. One around your shoulder and one on your thigh. Successfully comforted, you lay your head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you."

"Wouldn't want you to go up in flames," he smiles at you. Then he leans down so your conversation becomes more private. "Try not to talk to Sukuna too much, he's an asshole. He's only here because he invited himself."

"He seemed nice enough."

A scoff is heard above you as Satoru wraps his arms around you tighter. "Only cause you're a girl. Watch the way he talks to the rest of us."

You do from the corner of your eye, sipping your drink casually. You loved the familial energy of everyone at the bonfire so far, but you could tell Sukuna's presence had a negative effect on the people near him. They didn't lean in to talk to him, more like leaned away. You hear him obnoxiously ask, "so where the bitches at?" which makes a few of the guys around him visibly cringe as he barks out a laugh, punching one of them hard in the arm.

"Wow," you giggle.

"I know," Satoru rolls his eyes. "So besides him, what do you think of everyone else?"

"Everyone's so kind. It feels really homey, you know?" You gush. "But I really like um... Choso? And Nanami."

"Good choices," he hums. "Nanami is my best friend, besides Suguru."

"Hey, how come you didn't invite him and Ieiri?" Your gaze moves to the fire, which has calmed down a bit.

"I didn't think about it. Wanted it to be just us," he shrugged. "And I told you I'd take you stargazing for real, right? Out here there's not a lot of light pollution." He points up at the sky.

You follow his finger and gasp, pulling your head away from his shoulder. You'd been in the city or along the border of one your whole life. You've never seen this many stars before and you can't stop staring. The night sky wasn't just littered with stars, it was covered in them. How had you not looked up sooner? "Holy shit, it's beautiful."

"Yeah, really is," you hear Satoru murmur. You take a break from craning your neck to gaze at the stratosphere to instead look down at him and notice he's already looking at you. His expression is unreadable as usual, but you don't care because he's... beautiful. His eyes are reflecting yours, with speckles of stars in them and it's so much easier to see the dots because of how bright they are. His eyes look angelic, so calm and fond.

There, holding an unwavering gaze with Satoru under the stars, you knew you were fucked.

It could only go downhill from there.

✧˖*°࿐

A few days after you get back home, you're surprised when Satoru asks to visit you. "It's only fair," he claims over the phone.

You tell him that there's not much to do where you live, but he insists. During the day time he gets to meet some of your family, but you know they wouldn't let him stay over. At night, you show him your driving skills before he promptly switches seats with you, fearing for his life.

In the passenger seat, you give him instructions on how to get to your favorite parking lot. It looks over the water and at night, you can see the lights of the town across the way. He backs into the lot so you can open the trunk and sit.

"You know, compared to my sky yours isn't too bad," he says passively.

You stare up into the water and sigh. "Yeah, but I'm never gonna forget the stars in your butt fuck middle of nowhere town."

He shoves you and you smile. To distract yourself from your newfound view of him, you look around. In doing so, you start getting paranoid about the shadows surrounding you under the streetlights. He seems to notice and pulls you into his lap to face him.

"Scared? This is supposed to be your territory," he teases.

You push your hands against his chest, huffing. "The trees look like... people, like that one." You angle your body as much as you can to point to an area down the street.

He looks over and nods, smirking as he turns to you. "Yeah, it kinda looks like the lady from that horror movie we watched."

"Stop," you whine as he starts repeating one of her phrases. You curl impossibly closer to him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck in fear.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter as he rubs your back. "Hey, hey. I was joking, relax. She's not real and if she was, I got you."

You grumpily pull away to look at him, swatting at him. You're about to call him a slur of insults before your breath hitches. It was the same feeling you got at the bonfire and you can't help but savor it for a moment. The way he looks at you, or maybe looks in general makes your heart stutter.

You try to shake the feeling as you lean on him again, unable to hold eye contact anymore. You hate everything.

✧˖*°࿐

Once break was over and you were back in school, Satoru's list started back up again. Yours did, too. But no matter how much time you spend with however many other guys, nothing could recreate the spark you have with him. And to make everything worse, Satoru would shit on every guy you ever brought up. It's like he knew they couldn't compare.

Every weekend he wouldn't come home and you'd have to cry yourself to sleep, staying up to listen for a door click. It was pathetic. You felt pathetic. You knew the deal when you started this whole thing and it wasn't even your idea. In fact, this is something you never even wanted. So why were you the one catching feelings? It felt like a cruel and unusual punishment.

One of the times you actually heard the door click, you perked up in your bed. You sat up fully when you heard the knock on your door. You didn't even get to say anything before Satoru was stumbling in, clearly drunk.

"Toru? What's wrong?"

"It's so fucked, everything's so fucked," he mumbled, walking over to strip next to your closet, knowing you hated outside clothes on your bed. In his boxers, he climbed into bed with you, wrapping his arms around your torso.

"I thought you'd be gone tonight," you say, running a hand through his hair.

"I was supposed to be, but," he groans, huffing into your skin. "The girl told me she liked me and... I dunno. She knows the deal but she wants to go on a date."

Your heart pangs at that, glad the room was so dark he wouldn't be able to see how your face fell. You feel bad for her because you'd be in the same position if he continued to drive you crazy. Honestly, good on her for holding on for so long. And you feel bad for yourself because... well, it's horrible to hear about other girls from the guy you like. "So what'd you say?"

"I told her I dunno. Cause I don't. She's nice and all, but relationships scare me," he lifts his head to search around your drawers for a shot and takes it, sighing. "What'd—do I do?"

Biting a lip to try to hold back the tears forming in the corners of your eyes, you try to keep your voice steady as you speak. "Well, if you like her enough you should do it. I mean, you've spent enough time enjoying your youth. I'm not saying you should get married, but maybe it's time to settle down and stop fighting demons or whatever the fuck."

He snorts at that, shaking his head while you take the moment to subtly wipe your tears. "I dunno if I like her, dunno what that feels like."

"You've never had a crush before?"

"Of course I have, but 's different for every person I like. I dunno what it feels like for her."

You nod but realize he can't see you so you hum. "It's really up to you, maybe you could make a pros and cons list—" he interrupts you with another huff of laughter and you smack him lightly. "I'm serious if you're this confused. And then maybe the date could help you figure out if you like her or not. A date isn't a proposal, it's not even a relationship. The whole point is experimentation."

"Okay," he leans his head on you and you can feel how warm his face is. From the alcohol or the topic of conversation, you're not sure. "You're so smart Y/N/N, you know that? And pretty, and kind, and funny, and—"

"Are we talking about me or the girl?" You shut him up, frowning.

"Maybe that's what this is," he responds. "I like you 'nd not her. That's why I'm confused."

You freeze up, pausing your hand in his hair. You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding from the proximity and look down at him, the tears starting up again. "Y-You don't know what you're saying, Toru. You're drunk."

"Drunk words are sober words."

"You're such a fucking idiot," you scoff, wiping at your tears again. "Go to sleep, you can talk to me about her tomorrow. If you even remember."

"I try to commit everything we do to mem'ry so I can think about it when I miss you."

"Go to sleep," you state firmly. He can't play around with you right now, not like this. It hurts too much and the thoughts are swirling in your head. How dare he do this to you? And what happened to "no feelings"?

He seems to be ahead of you, saying nothing. You wait until his breathing evens out before you start crying freely, your tears rolling onto your pillow. Of all the people you could've fallen for, why him? What did you do to deserve this? In a negative connotation, of course. And what if he goes on that date and they get serious? You couldn't keep your situation with Satoru so you'd have to lose him. And even if your feelings aren't reciprocated (or so you thought), you'd rather be like this with him than not have him at all.

What are you saying? You don't even have him.

With that last heart-wrenching thought, you fall asleep. In the morning, Satoru retells you the story of him and the girl, seemingly forgetting everything past walking through your door. You give him the same advice and the idiot actually makes a pros and cons list on the whiteboard you guys have in the living room for study sessions. Ieiri walks in while he's writing it and raises an eyebrow.

"Is this not a red flag enough to not do it?"

"What? Is that a con to add?" Satoru turns his head to her. You make eye contact with her from the couch, both of you sharing an exasperated look.

"No, dumbass. The fact that you have to draw a Venn diagram to decide if you should go on a date probably means you shouldn't go on it," she crosses her arms.

"Bro, I don't know what I'm doing," Satoru sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead. "I wish she never confessed. I feel like I lead her on or something and I owe her the date."

"Everyone knows you don't do relationships. And if I were her, I'd rather you just turn me down than take me out for a pity dinner. And if I found out about this," she gestures to the board before grabbing a coat off the hangers by the door. "I'd ghost you."

Satoru looks between her and the board, his face falling. "You're right. She doesn't deserve that, especially if I don't like her like that."

"There you go," she coos at him like he's a child and he scowls back. "I'm out, have fun you two. But not too much fun." With that, she's out the door.

Ieiri and Suguru knew about your arrangement, of course. You lived together. But only Ieiri knew about your feelings towards Satoru and as your friend, she was rooting for you. You're glad it didn't show in the way she spoke to him and you're glad to talk to someone about it who knows him. Your other friends told you that you never should've gotten in the predicament in the first place and he was a piece of shit. But you couldn't help it. Sometimes things just happen and you can't just flip a switch to change your feelings. That didn't stop you from trying, but still.

"I'm exhausted and hungry," Satoru huffs as he plops down next to you.

"Aww, was that too much thinking for your small brain?" You mock him and he flicks your forehead. "I bought brownie mix I haven't gotten around to."

He perks up at that, heading to the kitchen to search through the pantry. You follow and open the cupboards for a bowl and a whisk. You wait for him to grab the box and the rest of the ingredients as you place your items on the counter. He lays them out for you and you add them to the bowl, humming a bit as you do.

He tells Alexa to play the song you were humming and you look at him indignantly. "If you wanted me to shut up, you could've just said so."

"I like your voice, pretty girl. I'm actually encouraging it," he grins at you.

"Whatever," you roll your eyes, adding another ingredient to the bowl.

Satoru comes behind you to circle your waist, resting his head on your shoulder with a mumbled apology for his teasing. There's not much for him to do as you're in charge of the bowl and he was very diligent in being your helper. You can't help but feel like the position is oddly domestic, getting lost in a daydream where you're married, baking together in a bigger kitchen. You didn't notice your hand had stopped on the whisk, so Satoru puts his over yours to guide it.

"What're you thinking about?"

He's right, what are you thinking about? What happened to the noncommittal oath you had at the beginning of the year? "Uh, nothing important."

"Everything about you is important to me. Tell me," he turns his head to kiss your neck, making you shiver.

"Don't say sappy shit like that, Toru," you scold him lightly when you come to your senses. "And really, it's nothing." He sucks on your skin in warning and you hiss. "Stop that, you could leave a mark."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're gonna scare away my potential suitors."

At that, he sucks down harder and your free hand goes to grab his hair. "Toru," you say lowly, but he doesn't stop, moving his hands to trap you against the counter. You finally pull him off of you and turn around between his arms, putting your hand on his chest. "What is up with you?"

There's a pregnant pause where you both just stare at each other, your gaze harsher than his.

"I get jealous when you talk about the guys on your roster," he admits quietly, not looking at you.

"I get jealous when you talk about the girls on your roster. Especially today's," you murmur back and his eyes snap to yours. "So what does that mean?"

"It means we're stupid," he smiles as he leans down to kiss you and you could cry from happiness. It felt real and full of emotion, like his lips were meant for yours. Everything you've held back was put into the kiss. He only pulls away so you can catch your breath. "I realized that when I imagine getting asked out by you, I don't need the list. It's all pros."

"I can not believe you're confessing to me like this," you scoff in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips. "You really are an idiot."

"Will you let this idiot take you out on a date?"

You hum, pretending to think as you press a finger to your bottom lip. "Well, you might not need a list but I definitely do."

His mouth falls open, clearly offended, before he smirks and slides the things on the counter to the side. He lifts you onto it in its place and you squeal at the change in position. He rests his hands on your hips as he drops his head to your ear. "Then let me convince you."

✧˖*°࿐

When Ieiri got home, she was not happy to find that you guys did, in fact, have too much fun ("on the counter?!"). Suguru gets home a bit after and you all sit in the living room to eat takeout together.

“So, this is an actual thing now?” Ieiri uses her chopsticks to point at the both of you.

“Yeah,” you try not to smile as Satoru leans in to briefly kiss your cheek.

“Fucking finally,” Suguru huffs from the recliner. “I tried to tell Sato that the way he talks about you is not normal.”

“You talk about me?” Your eyes flicker to Satoru’s and he seems shy all of a sudden, using his food as an excuse to avert your gaze. His hair falls over his face as he eats quietly.

“Wouldn't stop, actually. I told him he liked you and he just told me it wasn't like that but, guess who’s always right?” Suguru obnoxiously jabs a thumb at himself. “This guy.”

“Tell me about it,” Ieiri leans forward to giggle, covering her mouth as she swallows her food. “Y/N wouldn't shut up abo—”

“Okay! Can we all just eat in peace?” You interrupt, face flushing from your friends’ analysis of you and Satoru.

“Wait, wait. I wanna hear about this,” Satoru presses into you again, sending you a sly smile as he throws his arm over your shoulder.

It was gonna be a long night.

— [♡] ;

[corpsebasil]

smut with chad and ethan please!!

Listen I would never do that that’s absolutely disgusting for you to even ask—

“Matter of fact—” you slurred slightly, giggling as you approached your two roommates. “—where’s everybody from?”

“Nice to see you too.” Chad grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up against him. “What are you even dressed as?”

“I’m a…” your eyebrows furrowed as you thought. “I think I was supposed to be a devil. Tara bought the accessories.”

“This is literally just a dress.” Chad said, raising a brow as he looked down at you. “No horns in sight.”

“At least I’m not shirtless.” You scoffed, leaning further into him, and your eyes moved to Ethan. “Jesus. That looks worse than I remember it being.”

“Hey, excuse me?” Ethan asked, feigning hurt as he looked down at his costume. “This is designer.”

“Sure.” You giggled, subconsciously running your nails down Chad’s bare chest. His arm squeezed you a fraction tighter as Ethan watched the movement. “Hey, that girl’s cute.” You said, nodding towards a sorority sister dressed like Harry Potter. “You interested, E?”

“I mean…” he glanced over at the girl, then shrugged. “Not really.”

“You need to get laid.” You sighed, tipsy as hell, as you reached out to grab his hands. Chad still held onto you possessively as you pulled Ethan closer, practically against you and Chad. “Come on. You cant be a virgin forever.”

“Who said I was one?” Ethan protested, pretending to be offended, even as he neared. He looked over your head at Chad, an amused gleam in his eyes. You squeezed his hands, looping your fingers through his own as you smiled up at him.

“Dance with me!” You gasped, your head turning as one of your favorite songs came on, the music filling the already loud frat house. “Come on!”

You moved away from Chad and grabbed Ethan’s arm, tugging the helpless boy away from the wall and onto the floor. He was awkward about it, at first, but soon you had your arms around his neck and he was laughing, his hands brushing your waist with hesitant touches.

You had your eyes shut, so it took you a moment to sense the presence behind you. That was until strong hands grabbed your hips, grinding you against their front as you moved. Your head turned in surprise; Chad grinned a bit lazily as you swayed your hips against his, Ethan still pressed against your front. You were sandwiched between them and neither boy seemed to mind; you on the other hand were beginning to feel a bit too comfortable pressed between them.

When you looked at Ethan, your eyes heavy-lidded, his throat bobbed in a swallow. And when you reached out, nails scratching the sides of his neck lightly, his breath caught as he dipped his head down to meet yours and—

“Heyyyy.” A girl called out and you jolted, practically shoving Ethan away. Chad’s grip on your hips loosened a fraction, but he still didn’t let go. “I think your friends are leaving.” She said, a random ginger you’d never seen before in your life.

“‘Kay.” Chad replied, smiling tightly. He was clearly annoyed and you fought back a grin when he leaned down to whisper to you. “Wanna go back to the dorm, Roomie?”

You nodded, then made a sound of surprise when he moved forward and kissed you, mouth hard against your own. You stumbled back a fraction and Ethan caught you, his hands warm on your waist as Chad nipped at your bottom lip. Your heart raced in your chest as you kissed him back, sobering up faster than you thought you could.

“Guys—what the fuck.”

“God what do you want—oh hey Mindy.” Chad said casually, as if he wasn’t kissing his roommate while his best friend and other roommate held your waist. “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving. Now.” Mindy said, eyes sliding to yours. The judgement was radiating off her in waves. “Did you take meth or something? What kind of weird ass roommate shit is going on around here?”

“Who took meth?” Anika asked, running over to loop her arms around Mindy’s waist, her head propped on her shoulder. “Y/N did you do meth?”

“Can we please leave.” You asked, slightly mortified, as you pushed past the group towards the drinks table. You made a heavily spiked vodka red-bull to go before you left the party, moving to the sidewalk to walk next to Tara.

“Jesus, you good?” Tara laughed as you kicked you heels off and picked them up, opting to walk barefoot. You had tights on, thank god, but would still scrub the soles of your feet intensely when you got home. “Your lipsticks like…” she gestured around your mouth and you whipped out your phone, correcting the smear and groaning aloud.

“Mindy’s going to kill me.” You said, giving her a side glance before you took a sip of your drink. Then you squeaked as hands plucked the drink out of your own, an arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“I’ll protect you.” Chad told you, taking a sip as you walked. He flicked Tara on the arm as she looked between the two of you, raising a brow. “Nice costume. What are you, Jack Sparrow?”

“Nice lipstick.” She shot back, instantly, and your face turned pink.

“Thank you.” Chad deadpanned, never one to back down from a challenge, and you took your drink back from him. “Nice—”

“Are we getting food?” Ethan asked, oblivious as he jogged up to meet with the three of you. Tara gave him a weighted stare. “What?”

“I cant stand you three.” She sighed, rolling her eyes as Chad picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder as you yelled.

Then the three of you went back to your dorm and played monopoly because why would the three of you EVER do anything inappropriate even if you did because you’d NEVER