#he loves black cats in particular
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the-whispers-of-death · 9 months ago
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A New Friend
Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something!
Stone sighed as he walked out of the hospital building on base, several trash bags in his hands. He was so tired and he had at least five, heavy trash bags combined in his hands, full of trash.
It was the end of the day, so he had just been taking out the trash for the day. It was the last thing he had to do in the hospital building before he could get back to his barracks and rest, internally scolding himself for getting up at four in the morning even though he had been getting up at that time for years now.
He threw the heavy trash bags into the nearby dumpster, grunting softly at how heavy the bags were. Those were the last of the trash bags, which he was thankful about. He turned to head back inside the hospital building, only to hear rustling from the woods that bordered the base.
"Hello?" Stone asked, his voice cold as usual. His large, gloved hand reached for his sidearm, his brown eyes scanning the area for threats. "Come on out."
He was expecting an enemy soldier who had made it past the base's security measures or a recruit or two who were playing around in the woods, but instead he heard a meow. His cold brown eyes went to the sound just as a black, skinny cat jumped out from where it was hiding in a bush, its coat dirty with sand and leaves.
The cat meowed again and Stone's hand on his side arm fell. He turned towards the cat, eyeing it warily. "Ah, so you must be the stray cat that's been roaming around base," he said, his cold voice soft.
He had heard whispers of a cat that was roaming around the base, but it wasn't really a friendly cat, according to the stories. And there was evidence to back the stories up as several soldiers had come into the hospital building to get treated because they had been scratched at and bit by said cat whenever the soldiers made the mistake to get close.
The cat didn't seem hostile with Stone though, in fact it went right up to Stone's larger form and rubbed its head against his legs. He was surprised to hear the cat purring, and so loudly at that.
After a few seconds of hesitation, he took off his gloves and stashed them in his pockets, crouching down slowly to be eye-level with the cat. His movements were slow, not wanting to spook the smaller animal. As soon as he was low enough for the cat to reach his hands, the cat sniffed at his scarred hands and bumped its head into them, wanting pets.
"Hm, you don't seem like the hostile cat I heard about," Stone murmured, petting the cat. He let the cat guide his hand where it wanted to be petted, his touch gentle for the first time in weeks. "You seem... misunderstood."
He moved from a crouching position to a sitting one, which the cat really liked. He grunted softly as he felt the cat's small paws trample onto his lap, the purring getting even louder somehow. "You remind me of myself in that regard," he continued, uncaring that he was talking to a cat. "People tend to think I'm hostile too, though they're not entirely wrong. It takes some adjustment period to get used to me and I can be hostile if needed."
"I suppose you and I both, we've been hurt before, huh?" Stone kept petting the cat, the cat's front paws on his broad chest. He was so large at 6'6" that the cat looked like a kitten compared to him, though the cat was probably at least an adult by cat standards. "Can't trust just anyone, perhaps that why you're letting me pet you. We're kindred spirits, the two of us."
He spent close to an hour petting the cat and he promised to come back the next day, this time with some food. When Stone came back out after getting all of his stuff from the hospital building, he saw the cat still near the building. He gave the cat a little wave with his fingers when the cat meowed, feeling how his lips pulled into a small smile beneath his muzzle-like mask—something he hadn't known he could do.
He had never smiled before now, didn't know his muscles still worked like that.
"Until next time, cat," Stone said softly, turning towards where the barracks were. He walked away from the hospital building, feeling lighter than he had in months.
Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!
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stellaluna33 · 5 months ago
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Happy Father's Day to my husband, who is not only a wonderfully loving father in general, but is also the type of guy who said he didn't want cats, but now just might be our kitties' favorite person and has interactions like the following:
Me: (snickering) "Is Romeo hiding his face in your armpit again?"
Husband: *speaking in a baby voice to the black cat snuggled in his arms* "Don't listen to her, Romeo. Mommy doesn't understand!"
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pierswife · 1 year ago
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I meant to go to sleep an hour and a half ago, but I started down the researching tropical cyclones, tropical depressions, tropicals storms, hurricanes, and extratropical cyclones rabbit hole again oops--
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the-californicationist · 9 months ago
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They Help You Practice
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Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!
TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list
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You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 
“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”
You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 
Price continued,
“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”
“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 
“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”
A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,
“What kind of bait, sir?”
“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”
“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.
The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 
“Good. Let's brief the team.”
Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 
“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”
You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 
The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.
“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”
Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 
“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”
“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 
Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,
“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”
“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”
“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 
“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 
Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,
“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”
“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 
“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”
Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 
You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.
But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 
Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,
“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”
Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.
You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 
You smiled,
“Well, do I look the part?”
Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,
“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”
“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”
Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,
“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”
“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”
“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”
“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”
“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.
Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,
“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”
“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”
Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,
“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”
The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 
Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,
“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”
The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 
“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 
The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,
“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”
You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 
Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,
“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 
Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 
“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”
“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  
He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 
Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 
Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,
“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”
You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,
“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”
You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 
“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”
You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,
“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”
You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 
He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 
“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 
The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 
“You alright, babes?” He laughed.
You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 
Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 
“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.
He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 
You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 
Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 
You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 
Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 
Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,
“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”
He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 
“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”
You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 
“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”
Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.
Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 
Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 
“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 
You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 
He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 
“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”
You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 
“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”
He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 
“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.
Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 
Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 
Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,
“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”
Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 
“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”
Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,
“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”
He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 
It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 
Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.
You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 
He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,
“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”
“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.
Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,
“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”
He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 
As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.
“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”
“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 
Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 
Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,
“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”
He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 
“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”
Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 
“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”
“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 
Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 
They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,
“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”
“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.
“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”
“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”
“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 
He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 
You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,
“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”
Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 
“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”
“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”
“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 
Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 
Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.
“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 
“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”
The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 
Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,
“Missing your masked man already?”
You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,
“He’s a little…preoccupied.”
Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 
Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 
“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”
He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 
When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 
“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”
You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 
Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 
“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.
“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 
“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 
“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”
Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,
“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”
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moonlightcycle571 · 16 days ago
Text
Lantern Corps and a 10 year old Child
In a last post, I said the Lantern Corps would love Captain Marvel because he’s omni-lingual (and there’s so many different species so it makes sense that they would feel comfertable around a guy who can speak their mother tongue, no matter how obscure it is).
And then it came to me in a glorious vision, the Cores would LOVE or absolute HATE Billy Batson, be it as a kid it as Captain Marvel.
First on the Love Captain spectrum:
Red Lantern: that’s the corps that’s the most insistent. Man’s fights littéral Wrath and demons alike on a weekly basis. Man’s go to weekly poker night with Satan and other Wardens of Hell. Why? Because he has his own prison dimension in th Rock of Eternity, who also holds the strongest demons.
Yellow Lanterns: as champion of magic, he holds a lot of weight. Especially for magic users. One flick of a wrist and boom, your magic is gone. The whole concept of ‘The Champion’ is enough for most to fear him. That and one does not play poker with The Devil from The Bible and other figures from various religions, and just have a normal presence. He’s terrifying when he wants to be. In his Cap form, he needs to actively tamp down to appear more family friendly, and not the eldricht horror he knows he could easily look like.
Green Lanterns: Homeless Child Superhero dealing with horrors must adults can’t handle. That takes willpower. Even before Captain, I’m pretty sure off willpower alone he could qualify. But what’s the real ringer is his imagination. The Rock of Eternity has access to magical dimensions that no amount of crack could dream up. Man’s had to learn how to use Looney Toones Logic irl and it works. Man’s got a while Disney Dimension with Ballerina Hippos with their Croc partners. Mans has debates about files with littéral walking talking dinosaurs. Billy is hella creative, and who knows what would be made with a ring.
Blue Lanterns: do I … do I need to explain? There are the lantern corps of Hope, I think the rest is pretty self explanatory. I will say though, he was close to accepting when he found out they got a Corgi. Even closer when Dex Starr, the red lanterns cat got a
Orange Lantern: bro fights the physical manifestations of the Seven Deadly Sins , including Greed on a regular basis. By right of conquest, he really should be wearing the ring rn. They be trying to put a ring on it for ages.
Black Lanterns: he once revived Freddy and or Mary by reconnecting them to the rock, and since then is considered a ‘nécromancer’. Also (similar to the Avatar State) he has memories of past champions, including death, so one can argue he’s in a life and death loop.
White lanterns: same reasons as the Black Lanterns. They’ve been trying to get Billy to also out-do said Black Lanterns (who in turn try to recruit him some more). It’s just one vicious snowball effect now.
Now for the Hate Captain spectrum:
Star Sapphire Corps: The thing about Billy is that he’s AroAce. Very Aro and Very Ace. So those who draw power from love and try to flirt are met with the disgusted face of someone who’s famously nice. It was a devastating blow to the whole corps. At some point Hal decided to hide behind Cap to escape another Star Sapphire who fell inlove with him, and they just, lost their power. No longer had the ability to fly and everything. He’s Ace-ness is crippling. And it did bring memes. The Ace community was winning.
Indigo Tribe: he’s too autistic for them. And while being the warden of multiple dangerous beings fits their MO and all, they ain’t touching the bullshit magical logic with a ten foot pole. That, and the first time a ring was sent to him to recruit him to keep the evil ones in line, he roasted their whole system, their ugly ass uniforms (that particular shade of indigo clashed with his Hero Outfit way to much) and ended with a comparison to them with a guy called ‘King Kid’ and the fucking ‘Easter Bunny King’ that somehow did a much better job at Machiavellic while also being uhly. They never sent a second one. The red lanterns sent more.
Ultraviolet lanterns: again, man’s fights the Seven Sins on the regular, is their warden along with other sick evils, lies to the Justice League on the regular and plays poker with Demons (and wins) despite being one of the most honest people there is. That and he’s so dad shaped, it counters their power of daddy issues.
Bonuse:
It’s not uncommon for various JL members to receive lantern rings. They just don’t want to. So the standard procedure is to find your local lantern, and give them rings. At some point all the Corps made a lantern offers chart (and maybe the JL got a bit competitive).
Problem, that screen was using old alien tech that didn’t have colour. So they knew Cap had the most lantern offers, but they didn’t know which colours. Until it got fixed.
J’le looking at the rainbow that’s Captain Marvels Ring List: …
Batman: Captain, why is there so many red ones?
Billy, sweating: …
Hal, not comfy with the amount of yellow: I… I need to make a few phone calls.
John, the one who’s been receiving all of his rings: Uh, don’t remind me. I’ve been getting cramps with the amount of times I had to input the different colours.
Dinah: I don’t think even I’m qualified for the amount of therapy everyone is going to need.
WonderWoman: How to you have Negative Pink Rings??? You can’t get a negative number in a list
Billy, inputing the Zeta Tube: haha, it’s so weird
John: … do I need to add AroAce as a weakness for the Sapphires???
Bonus points if the results are open to the galactic public, and just wonder who tf are and ‘Billy Batson’ and Captain Marvel and why they are dominating the top ranks. What is in the Terra city Fawcette.
Extra Bonus Point if the JL go: Who tf is Billy Batson, and why is he ranked above Captain Marvel.
I’ve been waiting to do this one for a while. But never got the motivation. Let me know if I missed any, and feel free to write fanfic (please tag me if you do, I wanna reeeeead).
Final note, I want to give a certain someone a comment of appreciation.
@wonderjanga you are my favourite person on this app. You are the reason I decided to get out of my procrastination slump. Thank you for you content, it’s always so creative and I deeply enjoy it.
For those who don’t know them, I recommend checking out their content. It’s genuinely inspiration for me to start writing again. I don’t think I’ll be writing on ao3 soon, but maybe one day.
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satorusugurugurl · 6 months ago
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Here's some funny ideas I've got while at work today; a leisure streamer gojo who'd just simply streamed himself playing games naked except for his sunglasses and briefs. Rumors had it that each time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to see him ~fully naked~.
The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie!
Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor will you get to see the goods or was it just a rumor. Time will tell.
Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x FAB!Reader
Warnings: language, nudity, masturbation, mutual-masturbation, skype sex??
A/N: I fell in love with this request! ugjskdkekd I love them so much! Thank you bonnie for such a great idea!! 💚💚💚
Part Two Part Three Part Four
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On Friday nights, you always ran home from your last college class, avoiding people on bikes and walking by. You often got dirty looks thrown at you or the occasional ‘watch where you're going.’ But nothing would stop your stride. Friday nights were some of your favorite nights of the week. All because the-strongest-streamer live streamed on Fridays.
And the man, god fuck, he was the hottest!
Gojo Satoru, aka the-strongest-streamer, was a leisure streamer. He played games like Animal Crossing, Dream Daddy, and fluffy feel-good games in only his boxers and sunglasses. He was among the most popular streamers, not only for his looks but also for his happy-go-lucky attitude. But because of a particular rumor that started going around.
It was said in the forms online, in his comments, and even on Twitter that every time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to join a private stream with him and see him fully naked. That was just a rumor. He had denied the allegations and made it clear that the private stream was to have a meet and greet with his top donor.
The meet and greet was why you’ve been saving money for six months. You wanted to meet the man who had brought you so much joy in the last year. You stumbled across his profile when looking through videos online. You were looking for a cute cat compilation to ease the ache in your heart after your boyfriend dumped you. Instead, you found this goofball that had you smiling like an idiot on your phone.
You had been in a dark time when you first found his videos. You wanted to express your gratitude to him. Seeing him naked was not your goal in any way, shape, or form.
The second you got home, you slid over to your laptop and pulled up Gojo’s stream. He was sprawled out in his black and blue gaming chair; blue LED lights illuminated the room. Black sunglasses reflected his computer screen as he adjusted his headset.
“Tom Nook is a scammer.” He announced as hundreds of comments flooded in. “The little shit asks me to do all this for him! After all, I have to spend my hard-earned bells on upgrading the pavers. Kiss my nicely toned ass, you bastard.” You smiled, giggling as you dreamily watched him. “Ya’ know what? Next week, we'll play Sims or something; I’d rather build a house than have Tom Nook steal all my money.”
He adjusted his sunglasses as he slipped on some frappe, the logo conveniently covered so no one knew where he was. Several comments flooded in asking what he was drinking, and most people sent in small donations. All of these were things Satoru tried to answer and thank. He may miss a couple here and there, but he tried hard to get to everyone. God, he was so down to earth.
It was all of those reasons that had you clicking the donate button, sending a total of eight hundred dollars to him. Your cute little icon of a mochi popped up on his screens, flashing while music blared. The whole scene reflected off his dark sunglasses.
“Eh?!” The white tufts of his hair flowed as he moved in, focus glued to the screen. “Whoa! Whoa! Mochi-gurl-89, thank you so much for that donation!” With a chipper chime, you took the spot as his top donor. “And it looks like you're my new top donor! Just before the stream ended! I'll have one of my admins contact you so we can do our private stream. And with this, I adore you all, until next time this is the-strongest-streamer signing off!”
The second he ended his stream, your inbox chimed with a new message. As Satoru said, it was a message from one of his admins. The message was clear; you got a thirty-minute stream, maybe more if Satoru agreed. There could be no recording of your conversation or photos, which was perfectly fine. All you wanted to do was talk. After agreeing to all those terms and signing a nondisclosure form, you were sent a link to your private stream.
You had your camera off, your cute chibi mochi avatar taking up your screen as Satoru’s room was fully displayed. With a deep breath, you shook your hands, trying to ease your nerves as a door opened on Satoru’s screen. A second later, he plopped down in his gaming chair. God, he was so handsome. Fluffy white hair and chiseled abs like he was carved from marble; he was just your type.
“Hello?” he asked, “you there, mochi-gurl-89?”
“O-Oh! Uhm, yes, hi!” He stared at the screen, frowning just a bit as he saw your avatar instead of your face.
“Here, I thought I’d be talking to a fan. Instead, it's a cute mochi ball.”
You nervously giggle before clicking a few times and turning your camera on. You felt so plain compared to him. He was incredibly sexy, and you were just an average college girl. In your opinion, there wasn’t much to see.
“Oh.” Satoru breathed out, drawing your attention back to the screen. You swear to God, you choked on your breath. Because he had taken his sunglasses off, revealing cerulean eyes behind white lashes. “Wow, you're fuckin’ hot.”
“Oh! Uhm—”
“Fuck! Sorry, did I say that out loud?” he sulked back in his chair. “I'm so sorry. I'm not one of those creeps who stalk their followers. I, I was expecting—”
“A giant ball of mochi?” The sweetness of your voice seems to have him relaxing as he realizes you didn't mind his compliment.
“Exactly.”
You cup some of your hair behind your ear, biting your lip. “Sorry to disappoint, but thank you for the compliment.”
“And thank you for the generous donation! That means a lot to me.”
“Thank you for being such a beacon of light in my life.” Did popular streamers think comments like that were cringe? “I hope that doesn’t come off creepy or weird.”
“I've had fans send me their underwear. Being a beacon of light to you is the least weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
You can't help the wide, warm smile that spreads across your face. “You have no clue how happy that makes me. I went through a nasty break and the night that it happened. I found one of your—” his fingers played with the hem of his boxers. “Your stream—and you—” fingers gently lift the hem, and you focus on his face. “Uhm Gojo?” The man on your screen hums.
“Yes, mochi-gurl?”
“I—I heard about you getting naked for the private streams.” Using your hands, you shield your vision. “B-But you don't have to do that! I just wanted to talk.”
“Eh?!” peeking through your fingers, you watch the white-haired man turn red. “Naked! No! No shit fuck, I'm sorry! I'm not a perv, I swear to god.” He shields his face in his hands, grumbling some incoherent words that you can't make out.
Gojo didn't seem like the type to be a pervert, and from his reaction, it wasn't like you’d caught him fully undressing in front of you. If anything, he seemed more embarrassed than you. After gathering your thoughts, you leaned a bit closer to your screen.
“Gojo?”
His white hair flies as his head jerks up. “I-I know about the rumors! How I get nude for my private streams for my top donors, but that is nothing more than a rumor, I swear!” Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you, into your soul. “I promise you I wasn't about to do anything remotely weird.” His face is almost entirely red, and his bottom lip is between his teeth as he scans your features.
“Okay,” you tentatively begin, “then what were you doing?”
“That's the thing; it's going to sound ten times worse when I tell you what I was doing.” you motion with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, just promise you won't put me on blast or try to cancel me?” When you nod, the leisure streamer grumbles before tilting his head back. “I-I’m sorry, but you're really hot. Like super mega hot.” Thank god your room is so dark, or he could see how flushed you were. “So hot, my stupid dick decided to spot a hard-on.” He rolls his chair back just an inch, revealing the extremely hard bulge in his boxers. “I was trying to discreetly lift the waistband so you wouldn't see how hard I was.”
A string of ‘I’m sorry’ echoes on the other end of the screen. Gojo’s blue eyes focused on you, waiting to see how you reacted to the news. His shy demeanor and the bulge in his boxers have you shifting in your seat. Heat pools between your thighs. God, were you getting wet? Rubbing your thighs together, you confirmed that you were as you felt your arousal. You bite down on your inner cheek to prevent a moan from sounding.
“Hey, mochi-gurl? You're too quiet, and you look super pissed. I'm sorry.” Gojo’s voice seems to enhance your growing arousal. He sits back, cocking a brow as you peer at him with dark needy eyes through your lashes. “H-Hey you go-goo—oh fuck.” He watches as you stick your hand between your legs.
“You think I’m hot?” Your voice is so smooth, with desire.
“Y-Yeah, super hot.” Gojo follows suit, his hand reaching back down, fingertips slipping under the band of his boxers. “The hottest fuckin’ girl I've ever seen.”
Pressing your fingers against your shorts, you rub your clit in slow circles. “Gojo, you’re girlfriend won't find us doing this?” The man on the screen before you scoff, his hand sliding fully into his boxers.
“Girlfr-ahh—” his hand moved up and down, “fuuuck—what girlfriend? I-I go to the gym, hang out with my friends, and live stream.” Watching him stroke himself has you feeling feral. “Plus streaming half naked, well, let's just say girls don't like that.”
You rubbed your clit faster, “As a girl, I like it.” White brows knitted on your screen. “I like it a lot; it's so hot.” Gojo watched, head resting back against his chair as you slid your hand up your shirt, cupping your breasts, massaging yourself.
“Y-Yeah? Does your boyfriend like it?”
“I don't have one~”
Gojo growled, biting down on his lip. “Really?” He leaned back, spreading his legs apart. “Lucky me.” Pursing your lips together, you tilted your head back. “Fuck, you're so fucking hot, sweetheart.” something overcame you. A boldness you hadn’t experienced before. Taking the bottom of your T-shirt, you put it between your teeth and lifted it, revealing your bare chest to your favorite streamer. “Oooh fuck, you have the prettiest tits.” Gojo watched as your fingers moved elegantly over your skin, kneading your breast until your nipples were hard. “How rude of me, you’re showing me yours might as well show you mine.”
A choke sounds in your throat as you nearly release your T-shirt from between your teeth. Gojo had pulled his boxers down just enough to hook them underneath his balls, freeing his gorgeous cock. His cock throbbed and twitched underneath his hand as he gently began stroking it up and down. Watching him stroking himself, twisting his wrist, squeezing it just around the tip, causing his head to tilt back, and seeing that made you do something you had never done.
Gojo could hear you shuffling in the background before your screen suddenly turned, and he faced a couch. You plopped down, your shorts discarded. With his jaw dropped open, Gojo watched as you spread your legs as wide as you could in front of the camera and rubbed your fingers over your wet pussy. You had never done something like this before. Sexting, yes, but full-on masturbating in front of a stranger, this was something you never thought you would do.
“Holy, you're so wet.” his hand sped up around his cock. “God, look at you. You’re so fucking pretty.” his thumb brushed over the slit rubbing pre-cum over the tip. “God, I wanna taste you. I bet you smell fucking delicious.”
“I want to suck you off, fuck, Gojo~ fuuuck.” coding your fingers in your slick, you rub quick, fast circles around your clit, causing your legs to tremble. “Gojo~ Gojo~”
“N-No, call me Satoru, please.”
“Satoru~”
Goj—Satoru tilts his head forward, his burning gaze on you, watching you slide a finger inside your tight heat. You don't think you've ever been so aroused. Having a stranger watching you finger yourself as he jerks off had your walls clenching around your fingers. Satoru must have thought the same thing because his tip dribbles more pre-cum, his cock throbbing hard as he matches his pace with yours.
“Oh god, I'm so wet.” Slick coats your fingers as you rub your clit with your thumb. “I can't remember the last time I was this wet.”
“I can tell, god, you're soaked.” Glancing at the screen, you can see Satoru gritting his teeth. “Oh fuck, I-I’m so hard it hurts, I-I’ve never done this before. God feels so good; all my brain is thinking is, ‘dick hard, feel good.’”
The conversation dies down, replaced with whines, moans, and grunts of pleasure. Your eyes never miss each other. You both constantly look each other over, whispering each other’s names like prayers. You try to imagine how his thick, long fingers would feel inside of you instead of your own. You know that he could reach the sweet spots inside you that you loved. At the same time, Satoru imagines replacing his hand with your own while his fingers take the place of yours.
Both of you are so worked up that you find yourself dangling over the edge of an orgasm before you know it. Your legs are trembling, toes curling, while Satoru’s hand moves faster his other hand, reaching down, cupping his balls, massaging them. Both of you are lost in each other’s pleasure without even touching the other. There’s chemistry between you. Both you and Satoru can feel it through the screen.
“Oh fuck, of fuck, fuuuuck fuck!” Satoru leans closer to his screen to watch you. “Oh god, I can feel it coming; it’s gonna be a big one. Baby~ fuuuck, please tell me you’re close.”
“S-So close.” a sharp inhale of breath sounds, “Oooh fuckin’ shit, Satoru, I’m gonna cum~.”
“Oi.” your eye hazily find him, “look at me when you cum.”
That, god, that was the hottest thing anyone has ever told you. “Cummin! Oh fuck, Satoru~! Satorruu!” the screen that leaves your body almost doesn’t sound human as you squirt all over your couch. Even though your orgasm is the hardest one you’ve ever experienced, not once do your eyes leave his.
“Good girl~ good fuckin girl.” his praises leave your cunt twitching. “Oh fuck, gonna fill you up all the way. Tell me you want it. Please.”
“Yes~ Satoru, inside~ inside~!”
The veins and his neck protrude as he slams his free fist against his desk, causing his setup to shake. Ropes and ropes of white cum spurt out of his cock. The sticky substance coats his abdomen, on the top of his thighs and hand.
“Fuck~ fuck~fuuuck!” His hand continues, moving up and down his shaft, milking his cock for all that it’s worth. “Fuuuck!” he hisses out through clenched teeth.
Several seconds pass, both of you breathing heavily, recovering from your orgasms. Swallowing hard at your dry throat, you slowly pull your fingers out of you with a wince. Satoru was the next move, grabbing some tissues off his desk and cleaning himself up. You can’t help but laugh softly in the silence of cleaning yourselves.
Hearing the angelic sound leaving your mouth, Satoru focuses his blue eyes on you. “What’s got you giggly over there?” much to his disappointment, you slide your shorts back on before sitting back on the couch.
“That was one hell of a meet and greet.”
Satoru’s lets out a rough laugh.”Yeah, it sure as hell was. I think I owe you a proper meet and greet.” The streamer let out a content sigh. “Are you free tomorrow night? I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have.” he leans back, fixing his boxers.
“Think you can keep your boner down long enough for that?”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I can’t make any promises that it’ll behave.”
“Huh, what if I don’t want it to behave?”
Flushed cheeks darken in color as Satoru’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Goddamn, you're so hot. Who knew some chick with a mochi avatar was going to have me stroking my cock tonight.” God, he was so cute, both physically and in personality. “Which is super cute, by the way. Did you do it yourself, or did you have an artist commission it? Because I am in dire need of some new avatar artwork for my videos.”
“I drew it myself. I’m a freelance graphic design artist.”
“You takin’ commissions right now, Miss oh-so-hot-and-talented?”
“If I get this job I want tomorrow, I might have to take a brief break. But I would make an exception for you.”
Satoru opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a knock on the door behind him. “Shit, sorry, I gotta go; I promised my roommate I would help him hook up a computer upstairs.” With one final glance in your direction, Satoru, for once, was elated over a rumor that had spread about him over the Internet. “Tomorrow same time, mochi-gurl?”
“Sounds great, Satoru.”
After bidding farewell to the exceptionally hot man, you pass out on the couch. From the excitement of getting to meet your favorite streamer to the intensity of your orgasm. The combination of those contributing factors knocked you on your ass. While your neck was stiff, falling asleep like that on the couch allowed you to get some of the best sleep in months.
You woke up refreshed and ready for your interview that morning. Satoru had put a peep in your step as you walked into the coffee shop you had an interview with. The owner wanted to develop a new logo design for the shop. One that was both warm, welcoming, and had an adorable mascot.
“Wow,” The man across from you flips through your portfolio, “you're talented. You’re just a freelance artist?”
“Mhmm, I don’t like big corporations. I would rather help out small businesses and help support our local community.”
The man interviewing you brushes dark bangs out of his face, his tongue running over his lip piercing. “We love supporters of small businesses. People like you that keep our place going.” He brushes long, dark strands of hair before his dark eyes leave the page before him, meeting your nervous gaze. “Which is why I think you would be a great fit. Your art is exactly what I’m looking for when I think of our logo.”
“Really? That’s so good to hear. I promise you I won’t disappoint you. I’ll be sure to make your dreams come true.”
Your interviewer shuts your portfolio, handing it back to you. He held out his hand, his nails painted black, and his rings on almost every finger. When you first walked into this cute café, you were intimidated by the stranger. He was covered in tattoos and piercings, and his gauges were huge, but he couldn't have been any nicer. So, without hesitation, you stood up, shaking his hand.
“I'm looking forward to doing business with you, Geto.”
“Same goes for me; I’ll give you a tour and introduce you to everyone.”
Rainbow Dragon Cafe recently went viral for its excellent coffee, pastries, and aesthetic. Not only was it a café, but it was also a gaming café. There is a bar where people can enjoy their coffee and booths where they can sit down and work on projects if needed. On one wall, there’s a large flat-screen TV playing compilations of different streamers talking to the camera as they play games. A large sectional couch was set up in front of it so people could sit down and watch if they wanted to.
The other wall was set up so that people could take photos with the company's logo behind them. That was if they had a logo, which is where you came in. For the next few months, your job was to help the owner, Geto Suguru, design and revamp his menu and website. Once you succeed in your mission, a cute neon sign with the logo will be placed on the wall, covered in fake vines and flowers. It is the perfect spot to take photos and hashtag the cafe in their posts.
“This is Shoko; she manages the front and helps run orders to tables.” A woman with dark brown hair waved at you casually as she passed a cigarette in her mouth and headed for the front.
“Taking a smoke break, I’ll be right back.”
Geto led you into the back, where an espresso machine hissed. “Back here is Ryomen Sukuna; he is my best barista.” The muscular, pink-haired man in front of you, covered in tattoos, slammed a rag down on the counter.
“I'm not some fucking barista; I’m the king of coffee.”
“Right, king of coffee, sorry.” Geto introduced you to several other workers. Most of them were just high schoolers working there as a part-time. Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki waved at you before returning to doing their inventory. “And you’ll meet my girls eventually. They said something about getting more couches or pillows for the front. They’re the head of our social media team.”
You lean over the counter with Geto, overlooking the shop that you were hired to help. “I love the setup you guys have. It’s got my creative juices flowing.” Glancing at the TV, you watch a compilation of different streamers reacting to jump scares. “But I’m curious. Why make it a gaming cafe?” Geto follows your gaze, humming at your question.
“That’s all because of my best friend. I didn’t want just to run a cafe and bookstore; I wanted to do something different. He pitched the idea. A place for people to sip coffee, read a book, or play video games.”
“Sounds like he’s a good friend.”
“He is.” Geto jerks his thumb in the direction of a door. “He rents out the basement while I live in the loft upstairs. He's an investor; you might get to meet him if he ever drags his stupid ass out of the basement.”
“Oh, that wou—”
Before you finish your sentence, the door Geto is still pointing at is slammed open. “Suguru! Hey, do you think I could borrow that blue shirt of y-you—” God, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter, you might’ve passed out? Blue eyes that had been locked and focused on the night before met your gaze. You almost didn’t recognize him because he was wearing clothes. “H-Holy shit, mochi-gurl?!”
Your favorite leisure streamer, the man you had masturbated with the night before, was standing right in front of you—more like towering over at a total of six three feet. Words seem to evade you as you stutter. “G-Gojo?” Why was the room spinning all of a sudden?
“Hey, I thought we went over this last night. You can call me Satoru!” his smile fades as soon as it appears on his face. “Sweetheart? Oh shi—” He’s rushing forward just as your world fades to black due to shock.
This was a dream right, it had to be a dream!
Forever Tag List:
@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe
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rationaliity · 6 months ago
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cat parents | dr. ratio & aventurine
!! polyamory !!
caritas, poker, and snuggle.
anyone could tell who named what cat, and which cat cake was who's favorite.
.
caritas was veritas' favorite, the name being an old language word meaning ' love ' although he wouldn't really admit to it. he'd told you that the cat's original name - or rather, it's classification, was lambda's friend, with blue skin and black and white filling. but the cat cake had a little gold flower on the side of it's head, too, which reminded him of himself.
caritas loves to chat with the other cat cakes. its the kind of cat that makes friends with other really quickly, so it's always chatting with poker and snuggle about something throughout the day. their conversations can range from anything about how warm the bed is to the best spot in the living room to see the three of their owners dancing together in the kitchen with music while you were trying to make dinner.
ratio absolutely loved to note down their conversations whenever present. it surprised him that such a creature was so articulate, even able to properly express its desires. he'd concluded that the cat cakes had the intelligence of a young toddler with a rudimentary but understandable grasp on language. you and aventurine liked to tease him sometimes for treating the cat cakes as children sometimes, trying to teach them as a parent would, although this was something that ratio would deny wholeheartedly.
" they are an interesting new species. they are ruan mei's creations, and yet she doesn't seem to understand their full potential. i believe it's imperative that we study them and possibly teach them things they otherwise wouldn't know without our interventions, " ratio reasoned, while he was holding the little cat cake, cradling it like it was something precious to him.
.
poker was aventurine's, the name coming from one of his favorite card games to play, even though he rationalized it by saying that the cat was particularly swatty and liked to cause trouble by batting at things off of the edge of tables. " it likes to poke things until it drops off of the table, so the name poker makes sense, doesn't it ? " yeah, okay aventurine, whatever you say.
poker loved to meow in the dead of night and startle everyone out of sleep in the most inopportune times. ratio has a lecture early in the morning for the intelligentsia guild ? poker is making it's boredom everyone's problem. aventurine has a meeting with the other stonehearts ? oh boy, poker is right there sitting on his face meowing incessantly. if you've got something important to do, well, sorry to say you won't be getting very much sleep that night no matter how early you go to bed. it was bratty, sure, but it was ultimately just an average grey cat cake with nothing special about it, and seemed to have an overwhelming fear of being left alone.
no matter how annoying the cat cake was being that particular night, there was only one way to stop it from meowing. of course, ratio tried to reprimand it and teach it other ways to relieve its boredom at night, but nothing proved effective. you would just try to get it to calm down by playing with it for a little while, but that really only worked until you left it alone, and then it went right back to meowing. aventurine, however, had the magic touch. he would grab the cat cake and bring it into bed, and he would just.. talk to it. in a quiet voice, just chatting about whatever popped up into his head. he'd talk for an hour or more. sometimes it was about sigonia, sometimes it was about his job as a stoneheart. sometimes it was just different gambles and how he ended up winning them.
" so, of course, i had to prove that i was much more than he gave me credit for, " aventurine had been yapping for about an hour now, when he looked down at the cat cake in his arms and realized that it was sound asleep, purring against his chest. " ah, looks like i've done it again. you're welcome, you two. "
" thank you, 'churine, " you mumbled, half asleep as you leaned over to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, your head falling back down to rest on his shoulder, already falling back asleep. ratio didn't say anything, and when aventurine looked over at him, he couldn't help but smile. he'd put ratio asleep while just chatting, too.
.
snuggle was your trash cake cat, and there was really no deeper meaning behind the name. it was a snuggly cat, and loved attention. loved anyone and everyone who was willing to give it attention. sometimes you would wake up with it resting on your chest, sometimes you would see ratio lazily carrying snuggle around, and other times aventurine was playing with it making it chase a feather around. snuggle was the attention whore of the trio.
snuggle loved to follow you wherever you walked, especially to the bathroom. whether you were getting ready for the day or just trying to spend a few minutes doing human business, you had a pair of eyes watching over your ever move, making sure that you were never far from its sight, almost like it was protective over you. you couldn't help but compare it to your two partners, lord knows how often they were checking up on you in their own ways. ratio wasn't afraid of shooting you a text whenever he had a free moment while you were away to make sure you were okay, and aventurine was constantly on the phone with you through his headpiece.
" snuggle, i'm just going to the bathroom ! it's okay, really- " you gently protested, earning a small mew from the cat cake as it followed behind you into the bathroom, sitting patiently at the doorway, waiting for you to get finished with your business.
" hey, darling, i'm home from work ~ guess who i dragged back home with me after his lecture. " aventurine called out for you almost immediately, followed by the quieter voice of ratio announcing his presence as well.
you rolled your eyes at your partners immediately calling for you, your heart swelling with love for them, washing your hands as you walked out of the bathroom, snuggle hot on your tracks. " welcome back, guys. all of the cat cakes have been taken care of, and i started dinner. "
" thank you, i'm sure dinner will be pleasant as always, " veritas hummed, his briefcase still in his hand as he leaned down to kiss you on your lips.
" what would we do without you ? " aventurine weaseled his way in between you two, mostly because he also wanted to get his after work love from you.
.
a chatty cat cake with more intelligence that it originally seemed, a cat cake that needed to be calmed down when everyone left it alone with its thoughts, and a protective cat cake that enjoyed attention and making sure that those around it was okay.
maybe these were the perfect cat cakes for you three.
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cheriecelestial · 3 months ago
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Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1
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disclaimer *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ crack.swearing.not proofread
synopsis *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.
a/n *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡
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Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated. 
Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.
It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.
And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.
“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature. 
In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.
_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.  
_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard. 
Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.
He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?
Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off. 
edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author 
And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black. 
He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.
[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]
[System activated] 
[Pairing command successful]
“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise. 
[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]
Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.
[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]
Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.
[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]
“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.
The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ? 
[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]
The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying. 
“Son ? Can you hear me ?” 
“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?
His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.
“Where am I ?” 
“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.
Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.
The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.
“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"
Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.
 [System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]
[System : Booting Up]
Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”
[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]
Jason—Jacob��felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.
[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]
He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.
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“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.
“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.
[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]
Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.
“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.
[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]
“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.
[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]
Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.
“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”
[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]
“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.
He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.
As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.
“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.
“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.
“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.
Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.
Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.
Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.
After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.
“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.
“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.
“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.
“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.
[Mild OOC warning]
“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.
Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.
Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.
“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y��know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.
Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.
“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.
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The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.
And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.
At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.
Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.
Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.
The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.
[Edward Cullen]
Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.
Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.
[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]
[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]
“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.
Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.
Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.
[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]
[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]
I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?
Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.
“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.
“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.
Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”
As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.
[Why did you do that ?]
“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.
[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]
“Oh come on !”
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“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.
“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.
“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.
“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.
Who was that man ?
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A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.
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suugarbabe · 11 days ago
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omg ok ok ok, I love your Sirius, so, I'm wondering if you could write a sirius x fem!reader who is maybe the grumpy to his sunshine? he's the one who is always super flirty and outgoing and the life of the party, and she would sort of rather die but begrudgingly puts up with it for him? OH but maybe one day she has a bad day and he gets to see a softer side of her 🥹 IDK idk I'm too excited to request this is so bad sorry my love xoxoxoxo kisses for youuuu
I am *living* for this okay. l i v i n g. because Sirius is my sunshine to my grumpy. I am the grumpy reader. okay let’s do this baby. kiss kiss kiss yoooou <3
Opposites attract right? At least that’s what others seemed to deem as the explanation for your relationship. Sirius was in a category all his own as far as you were concerned, but that category was nearly the opposite of where people would place you. Sirius was a people person, it came so easily to him it was like he never even had to try. It annoyed you to no fucking end when you first met him.
Being a descendent of the most noble and ancient House of Black had its advantages. Like incredibly sharp cheekbones, beautiful alabaster skin that contrasted perfectly with onyx locks and eyes so deep and blue you could drown in them. Sirius exuded this energy that seemed to pull people towards him; like he had his own force field. He could walk into a room and everything shifted, like he breathed extra life into the area and everyone was desperate to live.
Most people when asked about you would say you were…short-tempered. Your housemates tended to steer clear of your presence. Which was fine with you because you were easily annoyed by most of them. Ravenclaws were known for being know-it-alls and truthfully you found it rather repugnant. Thankfully you had Pandora as company. Usually her overly sweet demeanor would drive you insane, but you knew more than the rest. Being a Rosier sorted into Ravenclaw essentially meant she was the black sheep of her family. But that seemed to be your soft spot.
Pandora would tease that this was why you started falling for Sirius. Despite your more grumpy demeanor, you were never quite as grumpy when it came to Sirius. Hearing the ins and outs of what was going on over breaks from Pan made you want to take care of him.
The first time Sirius brought you around the rest of the marauders it was not without sideways glances. “Er, Pads, you seemed to have picked up a shadow,” James nodded towards your frame just behind Sirius. “Sod off, Potter,” you’d grumbled, Sirius’s palm big and flat against your back moving in slow circles. “S’alright love, he’s just teasing. Be nice, Prongs or she’ll hex you into next week and I won’t be able to stop her.”
“Not that you’d try to stop her, would ya mate. I’m Remus, but all these miserable gits call me Moony,” Remus gave a small fingered wave as he plopped onto the couch ceremoniously. He would eventually turn into the one that’d help you gang up on Sirius, if ever needed.
On this particular night, though, you were feeling just…down. It wasn’t often you felt like this, despite outward appearances. However when this feeling did hit you, there was only one person that could fully get you out of it. You knew that the Gryffindors were having their annual Halloween party. Which meant if you wanted to find Sirius that’s where he’d be.
You had of course agreed to come to the party ages ago; much to do with Sirius begging and pouting his pretty pink lips and sucking you in with his pretty blue eyes. Sirius had insisted that costumes were required, “Even for an angel like yourself” which earned him a particularly large eye roll. Thus, you threw on some fishnet tights and a black minidress with your signature black boots. Atop your head a small pair of black cat ears, thanks to Pandoras charm work.
She was dressed as an actual angel, charmed halo floating above her nearly white blonde locks. Any muggle would think they were truly hallucinating if they would have seen her. You greeted the fat lady with the password, “Hiddlypunks,” and she swung open. Within the first few steps one would be none the wiser. But two steps into the commonroom and the barrier was broken, music and singing and murmuring filling the room.
“Drinks yes? Please yes,” you nodded at Pandora who found her way to to the drink table to create what you were hoping were very strong concoctions. You didn’t need to look around in order to find him. That magnetic pull leading you closer and closer until you heard the boisterous laugh of Sirius Black. You were quiet in your approach, not drawing any attention to yourself on purpose. Even though you yearned for his touch you knew how much he enjoyed entertaining and didn’t want to interrupt.
Remus spots you of course, the observant bastard. He throws a playful wink in your direction; you responding with a middle finger and a forced smile. Sirius is in the middle of recalling “a truly amazing play, great play” from the last quidditch match, but Remus’s low chuckle from your display of affection towards him causes your boyfriend to turn around in search of who could have possibly pulled attention away from him.
His furrowed brows disperse as you catch his sights and smile lights his face, “Well, hello there, Kitten.” You give a weak smile in response, “Hi Siri.” His brows are furrowed once more. The others try to greet you but immediately you’re swept away to a farther corner of the room. Sirius swirls his wand around you both, muttering a quick muffliato, coating you both in silence. “Okay, out with it what’s wrong?” Sirius’s hands were laid gently on your waist, head dipped down to force your avoidant eyes to keep contact with his. “Come now, pet. You know I can’t do anything without knowing what’s wrong,” he urged, giving your waist a small squeeze.
You met his eyes and yours immediately began to brim with tears. In an instant Sirius has engulfed you, one hand grasping your head and holding you close to his chest while the other wraps around your back, squeezing you as close to him as possible and hoping the pressure of his pull is soothing. His heart breaks ever so slightly at the muffled sobs against him. Your emotions seem to be everywhere but embarrassment is toping the list as you begin to pull away, aggressively wiping your face with the heel of your palms, hoping no one but Sirius is noticing you in this state.
"I-I'm sorry Siri, 've just..." you trailed off, choked breaths causing your intake of air to stutter. Sirius's touch has yet to cease, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other finds solace in the dip of your waist, "Rough day, love?" You nod once, looking to the ceiling and willing any tears to fall back into your head instead of trailing down your face. "Alright, let's go," his head tilts towards the spiral staircase that would lead to his dorm.
You sniffle quickly, shaking your head, "N-no, I'll be okay. I'm not going to take you away from the party, Siri. Not gonna steal you from your friends like that." Sirius can't help but scoff, "Fuck my friends." You laugh a little at his brashness and the sound makes Sirius grin again, "There you are, love." He takes a quick peek over his shoulder, "Now. Let's just go tell the others we're going up, Remus will make sure we're left alone for a good few hours then, hmm?"
You nod, agreeing, knowing that there's no use in arguing with Sirius when he's made up his mind. His fingers laced with yours and the cool feeling of his rings are such a contrast the the heat in your body that it's calming. He gives your hand an extra squeeze as you approach the group. You decide to try and stay hidden behind Sirius, almost burying your face against his shoulder blade, barely peeking one eye out to see the others.
Sirius explains that he's feeling tired and wants to go back to the room with you. James does not look convinced in the slightest. He looks even more confused by your seemingly shy and reserved demeanor. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so...vulnerable. Remus is the only person you make eye contact with and he gives you a simple wink and a nod. The reassurance from the smallest action making you sigh in relief.
It's almost like Sirius can feel you relax slightly, turning to you and asking if you're ready to go. You give a feeble nod and a shy wave to the others, most of which look a little skeptical but say no protests in return.
When you make it to his dorm Sirius immediately goes to his trunk, pulling out his favorite concert tee and handing it to you. You take off your outfit slowly, pulling his shirt over your head and letting it consume you, the additional scent of Sirius now enveloping your body and adding to your relief. Sirius changes himself and then pulls back the duvet, "In you go, pet."
You oblige, going and getting comfortable on your back. Sirius climbs in after you, crawling over your form and placing two soft kisses on either apple of your cheek before giving you the most gentle yet firm kiss. He rests his head against yours, asking you almost in a whisper, "D'you wanna talk about it?"
"No," your response so soft it would've been missed had it not been only you two in the room, "Will you just...lay on me?" Sirius kissed you softly once more, scooching down just enough to lay his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around your, relaxing himself and allowing his full weight to now lay on top of you. The weight of your boyfriend was the grounding you needed, your breathing now finally able to even out.
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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 6 months ago
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"dressing up" - hotch x fem!reader
you and aaron get ready for a party at rossi's
cw: mentions of food and alcohol! preestablished relationship! besides that... none? enjoyy
1620 words
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Another soirée at Rossi’s - red wine flowing liberally from vintage bottles, unless, of course, he’s serving acqua puzza. There will be talk of work, as always, but it will shift once Penelope smacks both palms on the table and demands a change of subject. You’re betting she'll make it thirty minutes, especially after last time, when Spencer rattled on about the particular species of earthworm he saw in a corpse. 
Rossi always demands that everyone dress nicely, too - it’s a dinner party, after all, he often says with that leisurely shrug of his shoulders. That’s why you haul ass after work to your favorite upscale boutique. You need a new dress - you wore your red one to the last two Rossi parties, and though they were roughly a month apart, you still feel guilty of being an outfit repeater. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with buying a new dress, especially if it gives you that New Outfit Self-Confidence. 
Unfortunately, though, your shopping trip after work, plus the crowd on the Metro, means that you’re running dangerously behind by the time you reach home. 
You flurry in like a tornado, kicking off your sensible work flats and haphazardly tossing everything in your hands, with the exception of your shopping bag, onto the couch on your way to the bedroom. You hear your stainless steel water bottle fall off the couch and onto the hardwood with an obnoxious clunk, and grimace as you fly into the bedroom. 
Your boyfriend sits on the cedar hope chest at the end of the bed. He’s bent at the waist, tying his shoes. “I was just about to call you,” he says by way of greeting, looking up and sideways at you as he hunches over to loop the black laces of his loafers. “You’re running a little late, honey.” 
“Thanks, Aaron, that’s super helpful,” you spew sarcastically, setting the boutique bag on the bed. Unceremoniously, you tug your dress pants down over your tummy and your hips, then step out of them, kicking them to the side. Aaron’s on them in an instant, like a cat with one of those laser pointers, scooping them up off the floor and tossing them into the laundry hamper in the corner. 
“We have to be there at seven-thirty,” Aaron reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest. For most people, that’s a sign of displeasure. This is just Aaron’s default stance, though, and you can tell he isn’t annoyed. He’s just anxious about being tardy. 
“Baby, I know,” you snap. You love that he’s always punctual - five minutes early is already ten minutes late, he always says. Generally, you can abide by that rule. The cards are just not in your favor today. 
Aaron’s palms are held up as a white flag. “Sorry,” he says, then looks around the room dumbly. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 
You’re sliding the new dress on - luckily, you already had your shapewear on for your work clothes, so changing is no big deal. The dress is a lovely forest green, with golden flowers, embroidered as if they’re growing up from the bottom hem of the skirt. You smooth your hands over the bodice, and finally meet Aaron’s eyes. 
The sunset is leaking in through the blinds, catching his profile and gilding his irises. You could swim in those deep pools for hours, searching for treasure. Your annoyance has dissipated completely after one look at him. “Can you cut the tags off?” you ask him, your voice a low whisper. 
Aaron’s gliding into the en suite, to your vanity, in an instant, a testament to how whipped you have him. He’s searching for your manicure scissors, and his back is turned to you. His suit is black, different from the gray one he wore to work today. This one is just slightly more fitted, and your eyes travel shamelessly over his rear, admiring, with a dropped jaw, just how sculpted it really is, a testament to how whipped he has you. 
You lift your arm when he returns, watching his eyes as he delicately snips the tags off the armpit part of your dress. He’s so careful, like he’s performing brain surgery, and you want to tease him for it. But there’s no time.
When Aaron’s moving back to the en suite to throw the tags away and put your scissors back in their place, you have to force your feet to shuffle over to the closet. You select a semi-comfortable pair of black heels. They don’t perfectly match your dress, but you typically end up taking your shoes off after dinner, anyway. 
Aaron’s watching from the bathroom doorway as you snap on your heels. His ever-observant eyes follow you as you step past him into the bathroom. You run the comb through your hair, and touch up your makeup quickly, carefully applying a winged eyeliner and lipgloss to elevate your look efficiently. Aaron’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, and you look back at him over your shoulder, scrunching your nose playfully.
When you’re done in the bathroom, you float over to your dresser to select a pair of earrings from the jewelry box Aaron got you for your birthday. Gold hoops soon adorn your ears, and you pull a golden chain necklace from the jewelry box, complete with a charm in the middle that looks like a knot. 
You take the necklace over to Aaron, and without saying anything, you stand before him, back turned. He gathers your hair in one hand and sweeps it aside. “Hold this for me,” he murmurs concentratedly, and you reach your hand up to hold your hair out of the way for him. 
The need to rush out the door has suddenly vanished into thin air. 
Aaron’s breath is warm on the back of your neck. You feel goosebumps appear up and down your arms as he brings the necklace around. His fingers are ginormous, so you hear him fumble a little with the tiny clasp, but he finally snaps it in place. His thumb and forefinger trail along the chain to bring the knot charm to the front, so it rests in the center of your collarbone. 
You release your hair, and as it falls, ticklish against the back of your neck, Aaron steps around in front of you. A small smile twitches from his lips and you feel your knees wobble a little beneath you. Why does he have to look at you like that? You’re supposed to be in a hurry. “You look like Christmas,” Aaron says quietly, like maybe he didn’t mean to voice the thought, like maybe it just slipped out. 
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You laugh breathily, feeling your cheeks go pink. 
“It’s a very good thing,” Aaron assures you. His fingers close around your wrist, and he’s tugging you in for a hug. You wind your arms around his neck just as his find your waist. He’s crushing you to him, constricting you in the best way possible. 
“I thought we were in a hurry?” You ask, pressing your glossy lips against the column of his throat a couple of times. Your kisses are viscous because of the lipgloss, and you know you’ll have to wipe it off his neck, but for now, you don’t really care. This is the first moment you’ve had with Aaron since waking up next to him this morning.
You inhale, your nose nudging against his neck. He smells like an idyllic autumn lake - pine, rainfall, leaves. 
Aaron’s grip around you tightens a little more, and you feel his nose nuzzling into your hair. “We can be a couple minutes late.” 
He’s not wearing a tie, you realize, as you pull away from the embrace. Your palms lay flat on his chest, straightening the collar of his white dress shirt beneath the black jacket. The top two buttons are undone, revealing the smallest bit of chest hair. You quirk your brow up when you meet his eye. “No tie?” 
Aaron shakes his head. “No tie,” he confirms. “Going for laid-back, super casual.” 
“That lines up with your personality,” you snicker, licking your thumb and using it to wipe the lipgloss off his neck. 
“Do I look like Magnum, P.I?” He asks as you step back. He straightens his jacket. 
You burst out laughing. “Absolutely not,” you giggle, and Aaron rolls his eyes. “You’re not wearing a Hawaiian shirt, nor do you have a mustache,” you remind him, taking his hand. His fingers trail along your palm before twining with yours. 
“I could grow a mustache,” he proffers, his lips a straight line, the closest thing he does to pouting. 
You lead Aaron out into the living room, shaking your head and laughing. “No, baby, you look like James Bond,” you tell him, letting go of his hand and reaching over the back of the couch to grab your purse. You sling it over your shoulder. 
You catch Aaron looking at himself in the ornamental mirror on the wall and smirk. “I think I like that better than Magnum, P.I,” he muses. 
“It is better than Magnum, P.I,” you shrug, heading for the door. You feel Aaron’s hands on your hips from behind just as you reach for the doorknob. He squeezes your hips and kisses the back of your neck. “Aaron,” you whine a little, just as Aaron guides you to the side for the sole purpose of being able to open the door for you. 
“Come on, honey,” he teases, facing you in the open doorway and tugging your hand. “Rossi’ll be mad if he has to wait on us to serve appetizers.”
Edit: read "dressing down" here
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daistea · 6 months ago
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"𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜" - 𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
“Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”
 You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult. 
 (Learning a new language is always hard at first)
  gn reader, implied to be a short lived race
  5,000+ words :o 
  tw: minor description of violence and blood
  Post-canon Mithrun, could be considered spoilers
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An ink black eye flickered up and landed on your face. You knew it was there. You always knew when it was there. The light shiver that ran down your back was like a cold finger languidly tracing every bump of your spine. 
 You didn’t know whether you liked it or not. 
 But you accepted it, for the most part. 
 Mithrun’s gaze was devoid of light as you met it. It was only natural for his prosthetic eye to be glassy and lacking in life. Yet, his remaining eye was like that as well. Fleki liked to joke that the captain had ‘dead fish eyes’ and you could see what she meant sometimes. Most of the time, though, you considered his gaze to be more like an endless pit. An endless pit that you were always on the verge of falling into.
 But you managed to keep your balance— for the most part. 
 It didn’t help that Mithrun stared. He stared, and stared, and stared. If you were in an especially combative mood, you’d meet his gaze and stare back. His good eye would start to flicker a little, like when a cat slowly shuts its eyes. You once heard that cats slow blink to signify that they love you. But Mithrun wasn’t a cat. He was an elf. An elf who had a habit of trying to consume you with his gaze alone. 
 It was one of the days when you couldn’t help but return his look. You glanced up from your plate of food, fork in your left hand and your other hand fiddling with a napkin. Ever since the dungeon, Mithrun had become more physically expressive. He had his elbow on the table and his cheek resting in his palm. As his sleeve fell down his forearm ever so slightly, you could see a hint of a pale scar. 
 “Don’t you ever get tired?” You couldn’t help but ask. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop to think about the consequences or implications. 
 Mithrun only blinked. A slow blink. 
 “No,” he answered simply. His voice wasn’t what one would call particularly deep or rumbling, but it was scratchy. When you heard him speak for the first time, you wondered if he had ever drank a glass of water in his life. 
 And the lack of inflection in his tone was something you eventually got used to. With a sharp ear, you could pick up the lilts at the end of his sentences when he asked a question. You recognized when he was annoyed, when the growl in his throat got more pronounced. You knew when he was sad, when emotion thickened every word. It was all subtle, learned. And you were good at learning. 
 For the most part. 
 “I don’t mean physically,” you replied, returning your attention to the food on your plate. 
 “Then?”
 “I mean—” What did you mean? You weren’t quite sure. You were sure of the fact that you didn’t want this particular vegetable as part of your lunch. So you lifted your plate and absently scraped it off onto Mithrun’s. He didn’t react. 
 He did, though, slightly raise his brow. He shifted to sit up a little, moving his palm to his chin instead, eyes still lingering on you like petrichor after a rain shower. The slight tilt of his head told you that he was expecting an answer. 
 You forced the words to the tip of your tongue. It was rare for you to keep your thoughts to yourself, especially around Mithrun. As unreadable as he could be, the assurance that it was difficult to genuinely offend him was comforting. Except, this instance was different. If you openly acknowledged his habit of staring, that was too close for comfort to a much bigger acknowledgement. Mithrun’s heart, and yours, were closely guarded, surrounded by layers of walls. He’d knocked down a few of yours. You’ve knocked down several of his. But going any further was risky, at least in your opinion. The walls were bigger and more well guarded and seizing them might not produce anything good, anything worthwhile. 
 But his head was tilted and he was watching you. You felt as if you were on a stage with a spotlight shining down on you. 
 Might as well get it over with. 
 “Staring,” you said, “don’t you ever get tired of staring?”
 His good eye blinked. You’ve seen Mithrun surprised or shocked before, and you knew he wasn’t. Then, that meant he was expecting that question. He was aware of his staring and was doing it on purpose. 
 “No, I don’t get tired of it,” Mithrun said as he sat up straight, elbow slipping off the table. He grabbed his fork and began poking at the food you had scraped off onto his plate. Peeking just barely through his hair were the chewed, jagged tips of his ears. They flickered. Elves really couldn’t hide their emotions well, their ears tended to give them away. 
 The fact that he was feeling anything made your heart flutter. If only you knew what it was. It couldn’t be embarrassment or shame, those didn’t exist within Mithrun. Then what? What else could someone be feeling when called out for their habit of excessive staring? 
 “I mean, I’d just like to know why,” you said without thinking, again. It was rare for either of you to feel as if you needed to fill the comfortable silence you often shared, but at that moment in particular your heart was clenching and something unpleasant passed through your abdomen. The question had crawled up your throat and slipped out of  your mouth. 
 “Why I stare at you?” He asked. You were seventy five percent sure it was a question. But sometimes, Mithrun would simply state something, not asking at all, just echoing. You could usually tell the difference in the lift of his voice. Subtle, but there. 
 “Yeah,” you met his gaze. Ink black. You started to teeter on the edge of the dark pit again. “Do you stare at everybody like that?”
 “Do you ever see me staring at other people like this?”
 No. And Mithrun knew that you didn’t. The question was hypothetical, designed to draw the answer out of you. 
 You felt your jaw tighten as you stared down at your food. You’d missed something, a little morsel of a vegetable you didn’t like. You promptly scraped it off onto Mithrun’s plate before answering him. “I guess I don’t.”
 “And?”
 Fire flickered to life inside your chest. “And what?” You snapped your gaze back to his, “What do you want?”
 His brow raised, “You’re the one who wanted something.”
 “I want to know why you’re always staring!”
 “Why do you think?”
 You couldn’t help but groan, burying your face in your hand, “Mithrun, please just give me a straight answer. I can’t handle this right now.”
 “Why not?”
 Glancing up, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. His ears flickered again. Was he enjoying this? As much as he could enjoy something, at least, which was more than before the dungeon. 
 That fire within you only grew taller and hotter and more destructive. The flames warmed your heart but also threatened to burn through your bones and muscles and ligaments and consume your body entirely. You didn’t know whether you wanted to smack Mithrun over the head, or grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close for a kiss. 
 Or both? Both were good. 
 You managed to resist the urge growing beneath your skin and instead shot him a weak glare, “Because— Because you’re not eating and it’s weird for me to be the only one eating right now, especially with you staring at me, watching me chew.”
 Half true. 
 Mithrun’s nose wrinkled a little in thought. Slowly, he grabbed his fork and speared one of the unwanted vegetables you’d given him, finally eating. Relief flooded your body, until his gaze flickered back up to your face once more. 
 “Happy?” He asked before swallowing. 
 “Never,” you snarked back, “you’re still staring. Why?”
 Did you want to know? 
 Another wall was crumbling and you were doing all you could to keep it from crushing you beneath bricks and emotions and emotional bricks. It was a mistake to ask that question, to even bring this subject up. You couldn’t go that far. You shouldn’t knock down those walls. You wouldn’t acknowledge the terrifying, unknown thing that had been growing between you and Mithrun ever since he’d decided to live. 
 You remembered that day. Celebrations surrounded you. Mithrun’s hand clenched the grass beneath him, the only betrayal of his feelings at the time. His knuckles turned white, but he finally let go as the realization, the emptiness, settled in; acceptance of the fact that he had nothing to live for anymore. 
 You remembered the relief when it all changed, when the listlessness disappeared. You remembered Senshi’s words. You remembered the sting of hot tears in the corners of your eyes as Mithrun smiled for the first time in forever. 
 It was a secret tucked inside your chest, kept close, chained up. But at night, when you stared at the ceiling with bright eyes and racing thoughts, you let the secret out just a little bit. You loved the captain like a desert dweller loved an oasis. You loved the captain like flowers loved rain. You loved the captain like—
 “I can’t not stare at you,” Mithrun’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You crashed back down to Melini, to the restaurant and to him, shattering on the floor and making a complete mess. 
 “What?” Your voice was just as scratchy as his now. You grabbed your sweating glass of water and gulped it down. 
 Mithrun waited for you to finish before he continued, “I can’t not stare at you. It’s simply what I do. What I want.”
 And he wanted so little. 
 The wall crumbled, and you internally cursed yourself before returning Mithrun’s gaze. “You don’t want that.”
 “I want that.”
 Was this really happening? Years of longing, of denial, of fear, all built up into one moment. And the moment was taking place in a dingy restaurant where you and Mithrun were surrounded by chattering people and the scrape of utensils on plates. Nearby, someone laughed. But it was as if cotton had been stuffed into your ears, your focus entirely on the elf sitting across from you— and his dead fish stare.
 You began to consider your possibilities:
 Option 1: Kiss him. 
 Option 2: Fake a heart attack to get out of this.
 Option 3: Explain your fears about starting an official relationship with him. 
 Option two looked best. 
 You put a hand to your chest and coughed a little, “I-I think I’m—”
 Mithrun rolled his good eye and stood up. The legs of his chair scraped across the ground as he loomed over the table, looking down at you. “Let’s go already, we have work to do.”
 You scoffed, “I’m kind of busy having a heart attack here.”
 “The heart attack excuse didn’t work when you wanted to get out of that dinner with the Canaries, and it won’t work now.”
 He was right. He was always right. You hated that. 
 You stood up as well. Mithrun went to the front of the restaurant to pay. People used to cast him curious glances as he passed by, but very few did that anymore. The locals of Melini knew who Mithrun was and were generally used to his presence. Plus, the kingdom had become a melting pot of different races and cultures as of late. Seeing an elf wasn’t too surprising these days. 
 You watched the back of his head. He had a curl there. He’d always had that curl. Something in the back of your mind desperately urged you to wrap it around your finger. 
 Mithrun cast you a flat glance as he made for the front door. “Are you going to just stand there? Or are you coming?”
 Your frown covered up the flutter of your heart. You followed, silent, grumpy, your right hand itching to take his left. 
 And as you followed him into the street, you noticed, just for half a second, that his fingers flexed, then curled into a fist before releasing.
 This was bad. How could the people of Melini happily go about their lives as your world started to shift? How was the sun still shining? Why didn’t time stop for you as the growing thing between you and Mithrun got too large to ignore?
 (Perhaps you were being too dramatic.)
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
 The captain did not only stare. He touched. 
 It was weird, really, because he didn’t enjoy being touched. Mithrun would prefer to keep his personal space, you knew. The Canaries often invaded it and he said nothing to stop them, but you saw the twitch of his ear, the slight narrowing of his good eye. Lately, since he’d been learning how to be more expressive, he would sigh. It was that kind of sigh that told the listener precisely what he wanted, the kind of sigh that spoke a thousand words his lips refused to say. Those thousands of words usually consisted of ‘get away from me’ or ‘stop touching me.’ 
 He never sighed with you. 
 But perhaps that was because you knew better than to invade his personal space. He had no qualms invading yours. He touched you. Often. At first, you noticed it too much. The feeling of Mithrun’s hand on the small of your back made your mind race with questions. Eventually, you got used to it and hardly noticed it anymore. 
 But that hyper awareness had returned since the staring conversation. 
 And also since the staring conversation, he touched you more than ever before. 
 Mithrun’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were always cold, for some reason. He held up your wrist between your bodies, but he wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on something rustling through the forest. His other hand leaned against the rough bark of a tree. There was absolutely no reason for Mithrun to be holding your wrist right now, but you had a feeling he didn’t even notice what he was doing. 
 “Quiet,” he said in a low tone, casting you a glance, “there’s someone up ahead.”
 “Someone?” You asked, “Not something?”
 “Yes. Someone.”
 Melini had many types of people. Most of them were good, interested in the future of the nation. Yet the existence of an entirely new country caught the attention of other types of people. The laws weren’t yet established, Laois didn’t really care about imposing taxes, and homes were still being built. While it had settled down as of late, criminals still flocked to the area. 
 Mithrun cast you another glance. His good eye, black, flickered up and down your body. The look only lasted for half a second, but it still made heat flare up in your abdomen. 
 “Stay here,” he commanded. 
 The heat disappeared as you sent him an incredulous stare, “Excuse me?”
 “Stay here,” he echoed.
 “No,” the argument escaped your lips quickly and harshly, “I’m going with you. There could be any number of people out here and I won’t let you face them alone.”
 His eye narrowed slightly as he turned to fully face you, “There’s a chance I won’t even be fighting. They could simply be hikers.”
 “Don’t lie to me, I know when you’re on edge.”
 Another narrowed eye, another flicker of his ears. The chewed tips slowly lowered, pressing back against his head, barely visible through wavy locks of silver. You’ve always thought that when elves did that, they looked quite aerodynamic. 
 “Fine,” his voice was flatter than usual, “but stay close to me. I won’t allow you to be hurt.”
 Mithrun released your wrist, but his fingers deftly slid down your skin, across your palm. A shiver ran through you as he tangled your fingers together. They were puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, created specifically to hold each other. 
 And Mithrun didn’t seem the slightest bit affected by the fact that he was now holding your hand. He simply turned and began trudging through the foliage of the forest, gently pulling you behind him. Did he have any idea what he’d done? Did his sharpened elf hearing notice the pumping of your heart? Would he even acknowledge it? 
 He held your hand tight, as if afraid you would slip away. 
 “They know we see them,” Mithrun murmured. Tension filled the air and threatened to suffocate you. It was the feeling of danger, and a tingling through your limbs that made your hairs stand to attention. 
 He pushed aside a thorn bush, not caring when the sharp tips pricked his skin or when they clung to his clothes like childish hands trying to desperately keep him from leaving. He slowed down a little so you could navigate the bushes more carefully. His fingers slipped away from yours, but he kept your hand, holding it up like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage. 
 The moment you escaped the bush, he interlocked your fingers once more. 
 Your mind raced as you followed him. Why was Mithrun holding your hand? What did it mean? Was he trying to acknowledge your relationship? Impossible. That was impossible. Mithrun surely didn’t want a relationship with you. There was something between you two, obviously, but it wasn’t anything either of you were ever going to do anything about. At least you thought as much. His desires weren’t just going to randomly appear again. And surely you weren’t special enough to cultivate anything new within him. No, Mithrun was just being—
 The taut pull of a bow string filled the air. It happened too quickly. The whish of an arrow cutting through the atmosphere— it sliced the tension in half so smoothly, like butter. You only caught a glimpse of it as it came straight for your chest. 
 But it never hit you. You’d closed your eyes without realizing, but when you recognized an utter lack of pain, your eyes shot open to inspect the situation. 
 Mithrun still held your hand. Tight. A little too tight. You could see his jawline clenched, his ears pushed back. In front of you, only inches away from your chest, was the arrow. He’d caught it mid air. His hand was wrapped around the shaft and his knuckles were white as he gripped it. 
 Your heart didn’t just skip. It flipped, did an entire gymnastics routine, then promptly flopped onto the floor and passed out. 
 There were wasps in your stomach. Not butterflies. Wasps. 
 And Mithrun was angry. His chest rose and fell before he slipped his hand away from yours. You only caught a glimpse of his face as he turned away, but you could see the flicker of silver consuming the black; the crackle of a flame, the flip of a switch, a lightning strike in the distance. 
 He reared his arm back and promptly launched the arrow at something between the trees. A guttural noise erupted. It was thick with something, pain or blood or shock or fear. A tall-man stumbled out of hiding with the arrow lodged in the front of his neck, then he collapsed face down in the grass. 
 Silence. 
 Mithrun lowered his arm and stood up straight, staring at the body. 
 Your throat was strangled, but you managed to push the question out nonetheless. “Did you just… throw a goddamn arrow so hard that it went through a man’s neck?”
 “Hm?” Mithrun sent you a glance, his eye widening just the slightest bit. But it returned to the black pit that you were seconds away from falling into. “Oh, yeah, I did.”
 “Just now,” you pointed at the literal corpse laying in front of you, “you killed him.”
 His brows furrowed, “Obviously.”
 “Why?”
 “He was going to kill you,” Mithrun looked at you as if the answer was clear and he was genuinely confused at your bewilderment. He lifted his hand, the left one, and held it out for you expectantly. 
 While your mind raced with questions and horror and a bit of admiration, you placed your hand in his. The air smelled like blood, metallic. Mithrun told you that he wouldn’t allow you to get hurt. He meant it. It felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of your lungs. 
 Maintaining eye contact, he leaned forward, pressing his dry lips to your knuckles. The forest, the chirping of birds, even the warmth of the sun overhead, faded into the background. All you knew at that moment were his cold fingers holding yours, the feeling of his lips on your skin, the lingering look he was giving you. 
 Damn.
 His expression wasn’t blank this time. His good eye wasn’t lifeless. He looked at you through his lashes, his gaze glued to your face. Or perhaps not glued, but rather welded. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blush. But the intent was clear. His lips gently brushed across your knuckles for precisely four seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Your heart started to do its gymnastics routine again. 
 You could’ve lived beneath the spotlight of his gaze forever. 
 Yet soon enough, he dropped your hand and turned away. The tension dissipated like mist as he began walking, casually stepping over the corpse. “Let’s go. There’s been reports of a cockatrice nearby.”
 Right. Monsters. Work. 
 You looked at the corpse and the blood soaking into the soft earth, drying to a darker color on the leaves and grass. You should’ve been horrified, but…
 The fact that Mithrun was willing to kill for you only made you burn. Your knees were weak.
 This was a desperate situation. This was a confusing situation. This was the kind of situation that required an expert. 
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
 “Are you stupid?” Cithis asked. 
 Perhaps. You weren’t quite sure anymore. 
 You held a coffee mug tightly, wrapping both hands around it as you sent Cithis a pleading look. She returned your expression with something like boredom and disinterest. White braided hair fell over her bare shoulder. She sat across from you with one knee over the other and her hands politely clasped in her lap. While this elf woman was the picture of elegance, you knew what she really was. You knew how she could be. 
  Which was precisely why you’d come to her. 
 “I don’t understand,” you began explaining, feeling a ramble coming on, “he stares at me. He holds my hand. He gets furious if someone tries to hurt me. He looks at me sometimes with this face that almost makes me think he wants me. He—”
 “I think you’re stupid,” Cithis interrupted casually, “Or in denial. You know precisely how the captain feels. Admit it already and stop wasting everybody’s time.”
 You couldn’t help but scowl, “I don’t want to admit it.”
 “Why not?”
 “Because—” the words got caught in your throat and you had to forcefully shove them up and outwards, “Because it freaks me out. I don’t want to ruin the comfort between us. I don’t want Mithrun to one day get tired of me. I don’t want to… to die and leave him behind. He deserves better than that.”
 Cithis only tilted her head, “Don’t you think he deserves to get what he wants? How often does the captain want something?”
 Rarely. And you held the firm belief that when Mithrun wanted something, the world should bend its knee to meet that desire. Yet, this was different. Did he want you? Why? How? How can you be sure? Cithis seemed sure. How? Why?
 Her stare was unamused. She looked at you as if you were a dead fly that landed in her food. 
 “I guess I just don’t want to assume,” you finally said with a heavy exhale.
 “There’s no assumptions to be made here. He wants you. Everybody knows it.”
 Your head shot up, “What?” 
 “Everybody knows it,” her eyes narrowed.
 Nonsense. That couldn’t be true. You scoffed, “No.”
 “No?”
 “No.”
 “Listen,” Cithis leaned forward in her chair, pinning you in place with topaz yellow eyes— or piss yellow, how you described her eyes usually changed depending on your mood. “Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”
 You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult. 
 You shot Cithis a dark look. Her lips twitched into a smile that held not even a hint of humor. 
 “I’m aware,” you said, “however, that doesn’t mean I understand. Does he even know how to flirt? Does he know how a relationship would work with him in this state? Do I know how a relationship would work between us? Does he have any desire to be, you know, intimate? Does he—”
 Cithis interrupted, “Honestly, I believe the captain would burn down the world just to keep you warm. But that’s just my observation.”
 What?
 “What?”
 “Idiot,” she huffed, “he touches you every chance he gets as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t have his hands on you in some way. He stares at you like you’re a damn masterpiece—”
 “He stares at me rather blankly, actually.”
 “But he’s still staring.”
 “Maybe I’ve always got food in my teeth or something on my face.”
 “You know I don’t really enjoy doing this.” Cithis leaned back in her chair and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Her piss yellow eyes narrowed, “It’s much more interesting to watch you and the captain silently orbit each other than it is to so dramatically reveal his feelings. Yet, I think it’s time you stop being foolish and give him what he wants. He’s developed this odd love language for you and I think you should start learning it.”
 She was right. You hated it when Cithis was right. 
 But that was why you’d consulted her in the first place, because you knew she’d be right. Still, how annoying. 
 “Okay,” you threw your hands up, “What do I do? What’s the next step?”
 She smiled softly, but her furrowed brows and pitying eyes made it clear that she was condescending you. You were a child trying to ask her why the sky was blue. 
 “Kiss him, obviously.”
 Kiss him. Just kiss him. How simple. How elementary. The idea of kissing him definitely didn’t fill you with stinging wasps or anything. 
 All you could do was close your eyes to block out the sight of Cithis’s condescension. “Yeah. Kiss him. That’s– Yeah.”
 “Now go,” she waved a dismissive, elegant hand, “off with you.”
 Whatever. You shot her a glare before setting the warm coffee mug on the table in front of her. You’d been gripping it like a lifeline, and you hoped it left a ring on her nice table. Her lips parted in silent offense at the tiny act of revenge. 
 You left Cithis’s home. Were you assured? Yes. Were you going to kiss Mithrun? Probably not. 
 There was still so much to sort through, still so many concerns. Mithrun wanted you and, apparently, everybody knew it. He hadn’t even been trying to hide his feelings all this time. You accepted his staring and his touching and his willingness to do anything you asked as simple friendship. 
 Maybe you should kiss him. 
 Maybe you should—
 “What’re you doing?”
 A shout ripped from your throat. You couldn’t control yourself, you stumbled backward, putting up your hands as your heart jumped and your stomach churned. You knew who it was that had snuck up on you. He did this all the time. 
 “Mithrun,” you hissed, “stop teleporting to me, you know it drives me up a wall!”
 Mithrun’s nose twitched ever so slightly. He was considering your words, just a little. Then he shook his head, “No. I don’t think I’ll stop.”
 Right. Okay. So, he wasn’t willing to do anything you asked of him. Again, you could only wonder if he enjoyed this. Did Mithrun like getting on your nerves? 
 You two were standing outside of Cithis’s little house. She should’ve been in jail, really, but she and the other Canaries had been pardoned, sort of. It was really more like a house arrest. You knew that Cithis didn’t care enough to watch you and Mithrun out her window, but it was still unnerving to be so near her, knowing what she knew. 
 Now, you were the one grabbing him. You took his wrist, gently pulling him down the road. “Come on, we need to talk,” you said. 
 Mithrun’s good eye widened just a little as you led him through the streets of Melini. It was more crowded than usual. Merchants called out to passersby and people laughed and talked and lived their own little lives. And this was your life, now, pulling the man you adored through a crowd in a desperate attempt to find a quiet, private spot. 
 You still hadn’t decided whether or not to kiss him. 
 There was an alley nearby. It seemed relatively clean. You and Mithrun entered the alley and walked around the corner of a stone building before you released his wrist. Yet, immediately, he took your hand, unwilling to allow even a second of no contact between your bodies. 
 The words came flowing out of your mouth as if a dam had broken within you. “Your love language, I’m learning it.”
 He only blinked, “What?”
 “Physical touch,” you raised your other hand, wrapping it around his, “quality time,” you met his eye and considered the possibility of drifting in black ink forever, “acts of service.”
 He blinked once more. “Oh. I see.”
 Your brows furrowed, “Why were you near Cithis’s house anyway?”
 “I was simply passing by when I saw you.”
 “And your first response was to teleport to my side?”
 His head tilted slightly, “Yes. It was.”
 “Why?”
 Now it was his turn to furrow his brows, “Why not? It’s what I wanted to do, so I did it.”
 “And the staring,” you murmured, breathless, “the hand holding, the lingering touches… That’s what you want as well?”
 You didn’t expect Mithrun to react strongly to this conversation, and his reaction fulfilled your expectations. He remained calm, but his gaze lingered strongly on yours. His other hand slowly raised and he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles onto your skin. You couldn’t help but lean into the touch. 
 “Yes,” he answered, voice as scratchy and tired and level as ever, “that’s what I want.”
 “Why?”
 His composure broke just slightly. His eye narrowed and his lips quirked into a little frown. “Why wouldn’t I want to touch and stare at my partner?”
 …What?
 “Excuse me?” Your tone was thick with disbelief as your heart began to do flips. “Your partner?”
  “Yes?” His brows furrowed and he blinked a few times as if confused, “My partner.”
 “...Me?”
 “Yeah.”
 “But—” it was as if someone had punched you in the lungs, “Me?”
 “Yeah?”
 “I’m your partner?”
 A sigh as he closed his eyes. “Yes. You’re my partner. You have been for the last year.”
 “...Huh?”
 His eyes opened to pin you in place, “Were you not aware that we’ve been dating for this long?”
 “No!” You couldn’t help yell, “I wasn’t aware! I thought we were just good friends!”
 Mithrun said your name, tilting his head with a hint of a smile on his lips. He was amused. How rare. You only wish it wasn’t at your expense. “I wouldn’t do these things with just a good friend.”
 Alright. Cithis was right in calling you an idiot. 
 You felt like you were about to explode. You weren’t sure if that explosion would be from anger, embarrassment, or adoration. All three? You were going to self combust, then your flesh would fly everywhere and get on the walls and cause this huge, bloody mess. All that would be left of you were chunks. But if that happened, Mithrun wouldn’t be able to hold your hand anymore. He wouldn’t be able to stare. You weren’t about to take that away from him. The world needed to kneel and deliver him whatever he desired on a silver platter and you were not about to stop that from happening just because you exploded. 
 “I am in love with you,” you said matter-of-factly. It was pure word vomit. 
 “Yeah,” he remained calm, “I know.”
 He knew. Of course he knew. You wanted so badly to smack him over the head. 
 “If you knew…” your voice was strangled as you resisted every urge to scream, “then why haven’t you ever kissed me?”
 Mithrun shrugged. He shrugged. 
 “Do you want me to?”
 “Yes!” You snapped. 
 “Alright.” He released your hand, then grabbed your face and gently pulled you closer. His lips met yours. You wanted to melt. You were basically a popsicle on a hot summer day, then. And you had no clue what to do with your hands. 
 The kiss was… chaste. And soft. You weren’t quite sure what you expected. Certainly not passion, not from Mithrun. But chaste? That wasn’t right either. It was kind of… laid back, as if he’d kissed you a million times before and this was just another to add to the pile. 
 That wouldn’t do. 
 You figured out what to do with your hands. One gripped the front of his shirt, balling your fingers up in the fabric. The other stretched around his neck and tangled into his hair. He made a small noise of surprise. Satisfaction flickered through your chest. Gently, but firmly, you pulled him closer to you. Your back hit the stone wall. Your chests brushed against each other. His left hand dropped from your cheek and found your waist as he dug his fingers in and suddenly yanked your body against his. 
 There. That was better. 
 Slowly, Mithrun deepened the kiss, tilting his head. His hand slid away from your cheek and found a resting place on the back of your neck. You were both breathing through your noses as you kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed. 
 Heat began to build up in your abdomen. Your entire body tingled. He pushed you further against the wall and let out a soft exhale before introducing a soft bite on your lower lip. Another flash of heat wracked you, leaving you breathless. 
 Finally, the need for oxygen dominated and Mithrun pulled back, but only a few inches. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, letting out an exhale. 
 “I think… I like that,” he murmured, “We should do more of it.”
 All you could do was nod weakly. 
 “Right. More,” you leaned in, pressing your lips against his, and it started all over again. 
 One might call it a new beginning. In reality, it was a continuation of what always was. You set aside your endless questions and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him some more. 
 You’d officially fallen off the edge. No more teetering, no more balance. You were gone, and you’d never hit the ground. 
565 notes · View notes
itsvelyria · 10 months ago
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"where they would like to kiss you"
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Charles Leclerc
he was taken by the nape of your neck the first time you had swept your hair up into a bun. the expanse of skin was dotted with moles that felt like a black holes drawing him in. that was your first date. and he was man enough to admit he was completely besotted with it, fingertips dusting across the span of skin whenever he was near you. he recalls the one time you said that his touch sent shivers down your spine. so he had taken the bold leap of dropping a kiss there next, sending you reeling in surprise. he had made it his personal mission to ingrain that action in your mind after, and the look you send him afterwards was just an added bonus.
Carlos Sainz
it was the classic kiss, the one that transcended time and age - a peck on the cheek. it was the place he could kiss you on at any time, any location and it didn't help that such a simple gesture would send your cheeks flushing, shy at the display of affection from him. it cemented as his favourite spot before a particular race that he couldn't even remember, where he had casually strolled towards you, tugging the balaclava down over his lips and stealing a easy kiss from you. the blood had rushed to your face before you pushed him away and turned away from the camera in embarrassment. you never stood by the barriers again.
Danny Ricciardo
it wouldn't even be a spot he liked to kiss, it was more accurate to describe it as the place he liked to tease you. danny loved pulling the skin of your earlobes between his teeth, lightly tugging at it. and you were equally freaky, laughing whenever he did it. you had grown used to him playing at your ears now that you had grown especially sensitive to it, your grip on his bicep or shoulder tightening whenever you felt his breath dust across the thin layer of skin there.
George Russell
he was a tall man and there was always a height difference between him and his partners. you, however, were particularly short. he often joked about how his back would start aching from bending down to hear you speak before he even reached the age of 30. you would playfully smack his stomach and his mischievious nature would kid that that was the highest part of him you could reach - it was an ongoing joke. but one thing he loved about your height was that his lips was at the perfect height to land a peck on your forehead, and so he found every opportunity to do so. he loved how he could wrap his arms around your shoulder, tugging you that much closer to him.
Lando Norris
he did it as a joke once, landing a kiss on your fingertips in the middle of an argument getting out of hand. your finger was pointing to something he couldn't remember and he had snatched your arm. you were stunned for a second, till he did it again and you had promptly dissolved into laughter at the silliness of your boyfriend. since then, he had used it for all sorts of things, all ending in your strong emotions dissipating and your now-calm form melting in his arms.
Lewis Hamilton
your relationship was far from a fairytale, the media and public eye causing endless problems for you both. but despite this, lewis has always thought of you as someone to adore and respect, which is why his preferred way to show affection was through a kiss on your hand. when your hand was tangled in his, walking down the streets of somewhere, was when he was reminded of how lucky he was to have your path in life intertwine with his, that he could hold you with him wherever he went. the man would then lift your joined hands to his mouth where he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, whispering that he loved you so so much.
Max Verstappen
you often teased him for nuzzling your neck one too many times, likening him to a cat, to which he would chuckle and pull you close to do the very action you were using as material. what you didn't realise, was that he actually loved your jaw. it was midway between your lips and neck, making it an intimate location but at the same time, it was the most subtle conveying of your connection. it didn't seem to earn groans from the people around and after all, who else other than two people, head over heels for each other, would place a kiss on the jaw?
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call-me-little-sunshine84 · 2 months ago
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Last Call
Patrick "Paddy" Feld (Speak No Evil) x female reader
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MDNI - 18+
pairing - Paddy x female reader
summary - working at a small pub, you meet a sexy mystery man. He's just another customer - until he's not
w/c - 1400+
t/w - unprotected sex, Paddy is a tiny bit rough (he's a trigger warning by himself), mirror play?
a/n - not sure what it says about me that this morally bankrupt character is the one who broke me out of my year+ long writer's block, but here we are. For the purposes of this, reader has no idea what Paddy gets up to in his spare time
Starting over was such a pain in the ass. You never pictured that you would be here, 30 and divorced. It had come as such a surprise that your head was still reeling. Deciding on a clean break, you had packed up your belongings, taking little more than the essentials and your beloved cat, and set off, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.
Settling in a little village in the West Country, you found yourself adjusting to your new life a lot easier than you expected. The pace was so much slower there compared to the city, and you quickly found a job bartending in a small pub. You loved working nights, listening to the stories exchanged by the locals. You mainly dealt with the same group of regulars, and their welcoming attitude was helping you to come out of your shell.
You had first noticed him come in late one Saturday night. He was the kind of man who commanded everyone’s attention. He was loud and outspoken, his voice and laughter carrying throughout the room. You overheard some of the other customers call him Paddy.
You were immediately attracted to him, his demeanor so different from your ex that it was intoxicating. He always flirted with you, but you never took it to mean anything since he was that way with everyone. The more you were around him though, the more he began to consume your thoughts. Picturing the way those muscular arms would feel wrapped around you, how his stubble would feel against your thighs when he was between your legs…
There was just one problem - he was married. His wife was always with him. She actually seemed really nice, which only served to make you feel more guilty about the amount of time you spent fantasizing about her husband. That’s all it ever could be though - you might be a lot of things, but you weren’t a homewrecker. You and your vibrator had become best friends. You could at least have him in your head, right?
Maybe that was why you were so flustered when you realized that this particular night he came in alone. “Hey Paddy, what can I get you?” you asked, trying to keep your expression neutral. It was becoming harder and harder to be around him, and you didn’t know what to do about it. “Surprise me,” he replied, watching you as you poured him a drink and slid it over.
“Where’s Ciara?” you asked. An expression you couldn’t quite judge crossed his face before he replied. “She’s not feeling well and decided to stay home.” Your heart sped up at the thought that you could spend time with him alone. And you did - when you weren’t busy with someone else, Paddy kept you entertained with endless stories and conversation. The other patrons began paying their tabs and heading for the exit. Realizing that just you and he were left in the building, you checked your watch. You couldn’t believe the time.
“Last call. Can I get you anything else?” you asked as you dried the glass in your hand. The old jukebox in the corner was belting out Black Velvet. It was a little too perfect. He looked at you, his expression suddenly serious. “I do want something else, but it’s a little off-menu. “What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, having no idea where this was going.
“Darlin’, what I want is you .” Your stomach felt like it dropped out of your body. Is this really happening?? “B-b-but what about Ciara?” you stammered, barely able to string a sentence together. “It’s fine, occasionally we dine out. Helps keep it fresh. She doesn’t care,” he replied, standing and walking his way behind the bar toward you.
You couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the deafening sound of your heartbeat pounding. He stood in front of you, and your brain froze. All you could think was that he smelled so damn good, so manly, and it made your mouth water.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as much as I do,” he said. The look on his face was half smile, half cocky smirk, and it made you want to rip his clothes off. Instead, you just nodded, throwing the towel you were holding to the side. Quickly making sure the door was locked and flipping over the closed sign, you returned to him.
He leaned in, tracing his fingertips down your jawline, kissing you slowly at first. You could taste the alcohol on his breath. Backing you up against the bar top, you could see the lust in his eyes. He looked almost hungry.
The heat inside you was already building as his tongue licked a line down your collarbone. Throwing your tank top off to the side, he traced the lace edge of your bra and groaned. “Mmmm, so beautiful darlin’,” he said, unhooking it and throwing it behind you to land on a bottle of whiskey. The chill in the air immediately hardened your nipples, which he took turns taking inside his warm mouth. Your brain felt like cotton candy, all coherent thoughts leaving you as he expertly sucked and bit at you.
Removing the last of your clothes, you stood bare before him. “This seems a little one sided, Paddy,” you teased as you stripped him of everything he had on. Once he was also naked and you really looked at him, you sucked in a breath. He was even more gorgeous than you thought possible.
He wasted little time with foreplay, turning you around and bending you over a nearby stool. He teased your entrance, but you didn’t think anything could prepare you for his size. He took his time, letting you adjust to the sweet stretch of him filling you up.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips. You nodded, and then all bets were off. He slammed into you, fully enveloping himself in your warmth. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he grunted as he worked your body over. “S-s-s-sorry, it’s been a while,” you managed to choke out between thrusts. “Feels so fucking perfect,” he replied, his hands roaming all over you. You could already feel that familiar pressure building in your abdomen, impending bliss already blooming inside you.
One hand gripped your breast and the other reached up and wrapped around your throat. Applying slight pressure, he pulled your upper body taut. There was a giant mirror behind the bar. “I want you to look up. Watch yourself while I fuck you,” he whispered in your ear. Fingertips dug into your throat just a little tighter, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain, and you did just that.
You didn’t recognize the version of yourself you saw in the mirror’s reflection. Disheveled hair, sweat beginning to drip down your face, you looked happy for the first time in a long time.
“Paddy,” you moaned, bucking your hips back into him even harder. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you’re going to watch me make you cum,” he growled.
You had never felt more exposed, or more aroused. Your ex would never have dared to talk to you this way during sex. Paddy was unlocking some primal side to you, and you were loving every minute. His hand moved away from your throat, allowing you to breathe fully again. He started rubbing slow circles on your clit. Contrasting with the fast pace at which he was still thrusting into you, it felt like all your nerve endings were on fire. You felt yourself about to tip over the edge. Still watching your reflection in the mirror, your orgasm washed over you in a wave. “That’s my girl. You look so beautiful when you’re coming undone,” Paddy said, fucking you through your high. While you were still clenching around him, he also came, filling you full.
Almost collapsing against the bar top, your body felt like jelly. He slowly pulled himself out of you. He threw his pants back on and retrieved your scattered clothes, handing them to you. “I’ll never be able to look at this place the same way again,” you said, cheeks burning as you glanced at the mirror behind him.
“So, same time next week?” he asked with a wink. That familiar heat started to build just thinking of the possibilities. You watched him walk toward the door, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. “I’ll be here.”
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karajaynetoday · 9 months ago
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and i'd give up forever to touch you, cause i know that you'd feel me somehow | jack hughes
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Thank you for all the love on hey now, you're an all-star - i am honestly blown away by those notes!! here is a part two. let me know what you think, and what your predictions or desires are for a potential part three! xo
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings:  nothing major. uni stress again, jack being a bit of a dick. angst. all of the angst.
(This is a fem reader insert) read part one here read the part three here
More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here
Waking up was always slightly disorienting for you, and the next morning was no different.
Your dreams could be quite vivid, or you couldn’t remember them at all once you awoke; but the first thing you could sense on this particular morning was the strong scent of coffee wafting through the room. As your eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming in the windows, you became suddenly and painfully aware that you were alone on the couch. A blanket had been draped over you at some stage of your slumber, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.
You sat up slowly, rubbing your face, trying to ignore the anxiety that was building in your chest. You could hear a shower running, somewhere in the hotel suite, and hastily threw the blanket off your body as you scanned the room for your belongings.
Shoes. Where were your shoes? And phone? Keys? Did you bring a bag with you? What time was it? What time did your class start? Would you be able to get an Uber to Campus in time? Wait, was your class online or on campus this morning?
Your brain was churning out a thousand thoughts a minute, and your heart rate was starting to match it. You felt like a deer in headlights. Or a cat under a rocking chair. Or… just… lost. You were so lost.
Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jolted, whipping around to face Quinn, who was decked out in a brown leather jacket and grey pants, holding two steaming coffee mugs in his hands.
You must have looked distressed, because Quinn offered you a gentle smile and one of the mugs which you cautiously accepted.
“Thanks, Q. I really should get going soon, though. Get out of your hair before the big draft day circus arrives.” Your voice was still slightly groggy with sleep.
“Take as long as you need, sugarplum. Our call time isn’t for another two hours. Jack’s in the shower, and he’d hate it if you left without saying goodbye.” Quinn raised his eyebrows at you as you both took a sip of coffee.
“Watching Jack try and untangle himself from you on the couch did provide me with my morning entertainment though. Surprised he didn’t end up with another injury given how clumsy he usually is.” You felt your cheeks get warm at Quinn’s comment and the smirk on his face.
“He could’ve just woken me up…” You offered weakly, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.
“No offence, but that was a risk that neither of us are willing to take. Not after last summer.” Quinn bit back a laugh as you narrowed your eyes at him.
Last summer at the lake house, you’d stayed up all night trying to finish the latest novel in your favourite fiction series. Jack had come into your room to wake you for the boat day you’d discussed the day before, but instead of a gentle approach to waking you up, he’d literally jumped onto your bed. Which caused you to sit bolt upright and “accidentally” punch him in the face. At least he thought the black eye made him look tough for a couple of weeks.
“Nice jacket, by the way.” You tried to change the subject.
Quinn stood up straight and puffed out his chest.
“You think so? Jack and I got to go down to Hermés and pick out our outfits yesterday. I felt suuuuper out of my league to be honest.”
Your eyes widened at the brand name Quinn just dropped, slightly choking on your coffee.
“Hermés? That’s proper designer, Q. Like, tens of thousands of dollars of jacket, right?”
Quinn didn’t answer you, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face told you that the jacket he was wearing was worth more than six months of your rent. Maybe more.
“Well, we have to do this red carpet thing, and I figured we should probably try a bit harder than team merch.” Quinn reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your hoodie.
Well, Jack’s hoodie. That you happened to be wearing. Which was previously super comfortable, but now felt like your skin was on fire underneath it.
“What time is it, anyway?” There you go again, changing the subject.
“Like, 9.15?” Quinn offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing you the time on his home screen.
9.15? Why was that important to you? What was at 9.15?
The test. In your economics class. Worth a decent chunk of your grade. It was at 9.30am. But was it online or on campus?
You downed the rest of your coffee in one gulp, ignoring how it burned your throat, and thrust your mug back at Quinn before tugging the hoodie over your head and throwing it on the floor. You turned around, searching wildly for your phone and spotting it on the couch where you’d been sleeping, not that long ago. You lunged for it, frantically unlocked and trying to find your university schedule in the calendar app.
“Oh thank god. It’s online. Holy fuck.” You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down.
“Sugar? You okay?” Jack’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your phone to see him standing in the doorway to his room.
Clad in black jeans, with a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the shower. Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless. You squeezed your eyes shut out of instinct, and also to stop yourself from blatantly checking him out. When you opened them, Jack was striding towards you, his face etched in concern.
“What do you need?” Jack spoke quietly, but firmly, reaching out to rub your arms reassuringly. His touch sent a zap of electricity through you, which seemed to kick your brain back into gear.
“I need… Do you have a laptop I can borrow? I have an online test in 15 minutes that I forgot about, for a subject I’m almost failing, and if I miss the test then I don’t know that I’ll be able to recover my grade.” You half-whispered, almost wishing that Jack and Quinn couldn’t hear your confession out loud.
You were supposed to be the smart one. That’s what everyone said, when you were growing up. You were the brains, Jack was the beauty. You were the bookish one, he was the brutally athletic one. Talking about failing university out loud was suddenly terrifying, even though you’d known it was a possibility for a few weeks or more.
“Hey… hey.” Jack squeezed your arms, trying to centre you, and dropped his head down to your eye level. “It’s okay. I’ve got a laptop you can use, and you can stay here for as long as you need.”
All you could muster was a nod in response, and Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead before disappearing back into his room, presumably to find his laptop. You sat back down on the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.
Quinn had briefly left to place your coffee mug in the kitchenette, but he was back and leaned over the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.
“You’ll smash it, kiddo. Make sure you ask Jack what his laptop password is though, I’d hate for you to get locked out during your test.” Quinn said quietly, before his phone rang and he stepped into his room to answer it.
“Here you go, sunshine. Fully charged, but the charger is in my room if you need it.” Jack was back in the living room, handing his laptop to you, already logged in and a web browser open for you.
You stood up from the couch and moved towards the dining table, setting the laptop down and pulling out a chair. It only took a minute to log into your university portal and navigate to the subject page you needed for the online test. You were about to click the start button, when Quinn’s comment flashed in your mind.
“Jack?” You squeaked, turning to face the couch where Jack had flopped down moments before. Still clad in black jeans, still fucking shirtless, absolutely ignorant of the effect he was having on your ability to breathe calming, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.
“What’s up?”
“What’s… what’s your password? In case I get locked out and you’re not here? Could you write it down for me please?”    You reached for the hotel notepad and complimentary pen that was on the table you were sitting at, waving them in Jack’s direction.
Jack rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he stood up and took the notepad from you and began scribbling on it.
“I have to go downstairs and meet Bratter for some team social media stuff, but I’ll see you later, okay? Text me when you finish your test.” You’d never seen Jack move so quickly as he handed the notepad back to you, retrieved a shirt and jacket from his bedroom and disappeared out the hotel room door, all within a minute or two. 
You were confused, to say the least. You glanced down at the notepad Jack had thrust into your hands, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw what he scrawled on it.
Password - SugarpluM2001Jh!
Quinn had headed out not long after Jack did, leaving you to complete your test in silence. Despite the disorienting start to your morning, and all of your revision notes being on your desk at home, you managed to scrape through with a 75% result which would supplement your final grade significantly. 
The waves of relief washed over you, as you clicked out of web page you were on. You reached for your phone and typed a quick message to Jack as promised, and you were confused when the laptop chimed with a notification noise. 
Oh. Oh. Jack’s laptop was linked to his phone, and his messages were suddenly popping up on the laptop screen in front of you. 
You shouldn’t pry. You knew that. Your logical brain was telling you to close the laptop screen and get going. But your anxiety brain was telling you that you should take a peek. Just a little one. 
Before your logical brain and anxiety brain could battle it out properly, the laptop notification chimed again, and a girl’s name that was not your own flashed up on the screen. 
What happened last night? I thought you were coming to my room after your dinner?? Xx
You felt your jaw drop, as you started to realise what was happening in this conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to. You froze, as the little bubble popped up in the chat, showing you that Jack was typing a reply.
Sorry babe i got caught up with some boring family bullshit, you know how it is. Would’ve rather have been with you obvs but i just couldn’t get away. Then today is crazy with media stuff anyway. I’ll see u at the drew house event tonight though? Go back to yours after that? Xo
Sounds great. I’ll be wearing this for you, J. *image attached*
You slammed the laptop shut when the image loaded, showing someone wearing a red and black lingerie set. 
You felt bad for snooping, but you felt worse knowing that Jack considered last night as “boring family bullshit”. Is that all it was? Were you stupid for thinking it was more? That it could ever be more between the two of you?
Or was that all you could ever hope to be? Like family. Forever intertwined, always floating in each other’s orbit, but never more than friends. Platonic soulmates at best, childhood acquaintances at worst. 
You were spiralling, yet again, and your phone buzzing with a notification provided a brief reprieve. Until you saw that it was a text from Jack.
Well done on your test, champ!! Knew u could do it. See you at the draft tonight? There’s two passes in your email for you and your dad to come visit. Might even get to meet bublé, if that’s your vibe lmao
Suddenly, there was a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was he pretending like he wanted to spend time with you? When surely all he actually wanted to do was sneak off with the girl he was texting just moments ago?
You swiped into check your email app, and there were the passes as promised. You quickly scanned the email to see if they were assigned to any particular name, and all you could see was “guest of Jack Hughes” rather than you or your dad specifically. You quickly hit the “forward” button, and sent them on to your dad and your cousin Tom, who had met Jack and Quinn a handful of times over the years, and was a massive hockey fan like your dad. You knew Tom would love to go, and your dad would be happy enough to have Tom join him.
You sent through a quick message to Tom saying you weren’t feeling well and that he’d be doing you a favour by taking your pass, to which he immediately replied with lots of exclamation points and thanks. 
Next, you typed a message back to Jack.
Thanks again for the laptop and for the passes. Something’s come up so i can’t come but dad will be there with tom, hope that is ok? Didn’t want the passes to go to waste. Good luck for the draft, don’t let quinn bully you too much lol
You were hoping that Jack wouldn’t question you, or pick up on the shift in tone. Well, maybe you wanted him to sense the tone a little bit. Jack’s typing bubble popped up in the text conversation, then disappeared, then popped up again, then suddenly your phone was vibrating with a call and Jack’s name was flashing across the top of your screen. Your fingers hovered over the answer/decline buttons, before you abandoned both and dropped your phone back onto the table, letting the call go to voicemail. 
You stood up from the table and began to gather your belongings. The bitter taste was still in your mouth, but otherwise you felt nothing. Just numb. You barely realised what you were doing when your body moved towards the hotel suite door, into the elevator, through the lobby and out onto the street. You waited a few minutes for your Uber, before slipping away through the streets of downtown, and as far away from Jack as you felt you needed to be. 
By the time you got home, Jack had called you twice, and sent you about ten text messages of various question marks and confusion, and a fair amount of concern. You plugged your phone into the charger on your bedside table before heading into your bathroom for a much-needed shower.
Your shower felt like it took about 3 hours, when in reality it was probably more like 20 minutes at most. You washed your hair, and spent some time sitting down on the shower floor staring into space, pondering the events of the last 24 hours. When you finally emerged, putting on your favourite sweatpants and an old Canucks hoodie you found on your bedroom floor, you realise your phone was flashing with more notifications.
You settled down in bed before picking up your phone and scrolling through the home screen. Jack had resorted to sending you photos of sad baby pandas to elicit a response, your dad had texted you to say thank you for the passes and to feel better soon, but it was a message from Quinn that caught your eye. 
Q: What did he do? He’s freaking out. Are you okay? I can beat him up if you want me to. Or give him a hug. Just let me know which is more appropriate based on whatever the fuck he did 
You hesitated, contemplating whether to tell Quinn the truth or not. But then you remembered that Quinn had literally known you since you were four. He could tell if you were lying in a heartbeat, even over text message. 
You: Maybe just remind Jack that his text messages pop up on his laptop. See if that helps him to figure it out lmao sorry to miss tonight quinny, hope you draft all the canucks you want xo
Q: He now looks like he’s going to throw up?? Still unsure if hugging or punching is required tbh
New message - Jack Hughes -
You sighed and rolled your eyes, before clicking on Jack’s message notification. 
I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, sugar. I swear i am.
Sorry for categorising me as “boring family bullshit” or sorry that you got caught trying to get your dick wet? Or sorry for pretending to be my friend when you apparently just tolerate me to be polite?
We have press for two more hours then i can call you. You’re my best friend, sugar. I love you.
You felt tears start to prick in your eyes as you read Jack’s message. Sure, he loved you. But not in the same way that you loved him. And right now, you felt like that would never change. 
You clicked out of your message thread with Jack without replying, and opened up your conversation with Quinn instead. 
I’ll come to the all-star game on saturday, but nothing else, if that’s okay with you? I just need some space for a bit, sorry x 
Whatever you need, kiddo. I’ll give the game passes to your dad tonight. I still don’t know what jack did, but i think not seeing you will be punishment enough for whatever it was??
You didn’t reply to Quinn’s message. You didn’t reply to any more calls or messages for the next day or so, switching between trying to catch up on study and catching up on some Netflix episodes. You were typing notes on your laptop on Saturday morning, when a New Jersey Devils Twitter alert popped up on the screen and caught your attention.
#NEWS: Jack went home to Jersey last night after participating in Thursday’s draft and Friday’s media hits. He was extremely honoured to be a part of All-Star Weekend, especially sharing it with his brother. He’s really close to returning and wanted to get back so he could continue to focus on the rest of the Devils season. 
The bitter taste you thought you’d gotten rid of suddenly returned with a vengeance. 
Jack went home to Jersey last night. You had no idea when you’d see him again. And to be completely honest, you weren’t even sure that you wanted to. Your laptop dinged again, this time with an email notification. You were confused to say the least when the new email appeared to be from an airline, with a voucher attached.
Your phone buzzed with a new text message.
I couldn’t stand being there knowing you’re mad at me, but i also don’t want to force you to talk to me when you’re not ready to talk yet either. Use the voucher to come to jersey whenever you want. I’m sorry. 
You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, torn between accepting Jack’s offer and wanting to be stubborn and not let go of being mad at him just yet. You hated what Jack had done, but you also hated yourself for cutting short your time with him that was already in short supply as it was.
I’ll let you know. Might be a flight to Jersey, might be a flight to Michigan. We’ll see. Good luck getting back out there!
You knew the Michigan comment was a cheap shot, but Jack had hurt you, so you wanted to be childish and hurt him back. The idea of not seeing him for almost four months until the summer break, where you’d all gather at the Hughes lake house as you did every year, made you feel slightly ill. 
Whatever you want, sugar. Mac n cheese in michigan on me. Love you. 
The mac and cheese comment made you smile, and the love you comment made you want to cry. 
Love you too, J. Maybe too much. I don’t know. I need time. x
710 notes · View notes
kitten4sannie · 9 months ago
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ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ
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ᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ/ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ ➠ ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ/ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ
pairing: cat hybrid! wooyoung x bunny hybrid! reader (fem) x bear hybrid! jongho
genre: abo, hybrid au, smut
summary: your loyal boyfriends are there to help when your first heat comes around.
w.c: 2.7k
warnings: cute little established poly relationship, dom! woojong, bunny in heat! reader, voyuerism/exhibitionism, subspace, edging, dirty talk, lots of praise, one instance of degradation, pet names, oral (receiving/giving), one singular pussy slap, cockwarming, kissing, cum swapping, nasty car sex, sloppy seconds aka a nice cock swap, squirting, knotting, creampies, slipped a little breeding in there for one sec
a/n: abo and hybrid aus make me clinically insane….. something happened to me during the writing process of this you guys like i might need an exorcism ???? yeahh idkw to say except enjoy this horny mess ^^ <3
Now Playing:
24/7 ʙʏ ᴇxᴏ
0:01 ❍─────── 4:28
Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%
ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ
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Sitting in the middle seat of your boyfriends’ pick up truck was always fun. You could cuddle and kiss the both of them all you wanted, change the radio to whatever station you wanted, and best of all, you had the best view of the beautiful countryside right in front of you. Usually you were bouncing in your seat a bit, your bunny tail twitching from the excitement of sharing your simple, though joyous day with the loves of your life, but this time around, you were sitting with your arms wrapped around your waist, your bunny ears hanging at the sides of your head, and biting on your bottom lip, while something that only could be described as a searing hot coil continuously wrapped around your core, causing you to let out a series of disconcerted squeaks. 
“Hey, what’s wrong, lovebun?” Wooyoung asked concernedly, his black, fluffy ears perking up at the sound of your squeaks, looking at you through his peripheral, still trying to keep his eyes on the road ahead. 
“Are you feeling okay?” Jongho spoke up from the other side, placing a hand securely on your thigh, only causing you to make even more small noises, the searing heat inside your body growing stronger by the second. 
“I feel weird, like I’m gonna melt,” you whined out to the both of them, sliding a bit further down in your seat, causing your skirt to hike up further and further, the overwhelming sweet, flowery scent of your arousal encompassing your boyfriends’ noses, causing Wooyoung to jerk the car to the left a bit, and Jongho’s hand to involuntarily squeeze around your soft thigh. “What’s wrong with me?” 
Wooyoung and Jongho shared a look in the rearview mirror, neither of them having to say anything to know just exactly what was going on with their dear bunny girlfriend. It was bunny breeding season, and this particular cat and bear hybrid were more than willing to take part in it. 
“You’re in heat, sweetheart,” Jongho replied softly, pressing his lips onto one of your bunny ears, giving it a few gentle kisses, his hand moving further up your thigh. “You’ll be okay. We just have to take care of you. Do you want that?” 
“Yes, please, baby bear. I’ll do whatever I need to…to make this stop…” You unconsciously spread your thighs open, watching with hazy eyes as Jongho lifted up your skirt to expose your bare, glistening cunt underneath, the scent of your arousal triggering the both of your boyfriends to begin drooling like a couple of mindless predators about to swallow up their prey. 
Without much control over his actions, Jongho pulled his seat belt off to fit himself in the vast, empty space below your seat so that he was right in between your thighs, pressing his nose against your cunt, rubbing it against your clit, enveloping himself in the sweet scent of your heat. “Mm, my baby bun smells so sweet…Can I have a taste?” 
“Please, Jjongie.” You nodded eagerly, letting your legs hang over his shoulders, your hands sifting through his soft brown hair, playing with his cute little bear ears for your own comfort.
Just as Jongho buried his face in your pussy, Wooyoung reached his free hand down to rub two fingers against your clit, occasionally looking away from the road to see just how wet you were getting for them, watching Jongho eagerly lap up your slick like he was a bear with an unlimited supply of honey, none of you caring if a nearby driver happened to see what you were up to. 
“Feels so good, I’m really gonna melt,” you cried out, your thighs starting to squeeze around Jongho’s head, causing him to hold securely onto them, keeping his big brown eyes focused on yours as he dragged his agile tongue from your hole up to your clit, Wooyoung’s fingers keeping you spread open for easier access. 
“Are you going to cum all over baby bear’s tongue, lovebun?” Wooyoung asked near one of your bunny ears, playfully nipping at it with his kitty fangs, squeezing your clit in between two fingers when Jongho slipped his tongue fully inside your pulsing hole. 
“Yes, yes, yes…!” you gasped, beginning to forcefully drive your cunt into Jongho’s face, accidentally bumping into his nose, making him wince. 
“Hey, good bunnies aren’t greedy, are they?” Wooyoung kept his fingers squeezed around your clit, giving Jongho a look that made him stop in his tracks, simply breathing in the warm scent of your arousal, watching your cunt clench around nothing. “Good bunnies are grateful for what they get, right?” 
“Yes, I’m sorry, Youngie,” you whimpered, tears forming inside your eyes, just on the cusp of orgasm, but not able to get there with the way your boyfriends kept you in limbo for their shared pleasure. “I’ll be good.” You reached down to gently rub Jongho’s nose, pouting at him. “I’m sorry, Jjongie…” 
“It’s okay, baby,” Jongho reassured, pressing a few kisses and licks to your inner thigh, before going back to lap at your cunt, his hot tongue practically melting against your wet folds. “I forgive you…” 
You looked at Wooyoung who grabbed your chin as soon as he stopped at a red light and pressed a deep, though quick kiss to your lips, making sure to nip at your bottom lip before he pulled away. “Be good and cum, pretty girl,” he sighed, giving your cunt a sudden harsh smack just as Jongho plugged you back up with his tongue. 
All of a sudden, a couple hybrids in a car nearby began to wolf whistle, honk their car horn, and drool over the sight of you getting filled up by your boyfriend’s tongue, while your other boyfriend stroked one of your soft bunny ears. 
“They’re watching meee, oh my god,” you cried out, barely able to look at the drooling alphas for a few seconds before shame and arousal overtook your body, Jongho’s tongue rubbing profusely against your tight inner walls, Wooyoung’s fingers still playing with your throbbing clit.
“It’s not everyday you see a pretty little bunny in heat getting devoured by her baby bear boyfriend, you know?” Wooyoung chuckled softly, nipping at your ear, making direct eye contact with the alphas to establish dominance. “Cum, baby bun…Show them who you belong to…” 
A sensitive little bunny like yourself could simply not take this much pleasure at once without squirting all over yourself, especially while being spectated by a few naughty alphas nearby, so that’s exactly what you did, crying out and grabbing desperately onto the truck’s seats all the while, tears escaping your eyes. 
“What a good bunny,” Wooyoung praised you, nodding his head in approval, hitting his foot on the gas as soon as the light turned green, his stiff cock pressing painfully up into his pants, trying as hard as he could to keep his eyes on the road instead of your pretty, shuddering body. 
“The best bunny,” Jongho agreed, slurping as much squirt into his mouth as he could, before sitting further up onto his knees, reaching up to bring your flushed face towards his, pressing his glistening lips against yours, sharing his spit and your arousal with you. 
Once Jongho pulled away, he smiled sweetly at you, watching you blink hazily at him and your other alpha boyfriend, idly licking your slick from his lips. “How are you feeling now, baby?” 
“Need cock,” you requested simply, the burning desire you felt from within somehow even stronger than before, a wildfire blazing away from within your core. 
Jongho looked to Wooyoung, who looked back to him, the both of them knowing what needed to be done in order to satiate their needy bunny girlfriend. 
“Why don’t you keep your mouth busy for now, bun? Hm? Does a mouthful of Youngie’s cock sound good for now?” Wooyoung suggested sweetly, unzipping his pants with one hand, freeing his pulsing length and allowing it to smack up into his lower abdomen. 
You began drooling as if on command, your pupils growing larger at the sight of Wooyoung’s pretty pink cock just waiting for you to slobber all over it. 
Jongho chuckled to himself, reaching up behind your head and gently guiding your head down onto Wooyoung’s cock, watching it slowly disappear inside your mouth and throat. 
Your ears perked up at the pleased moans your kitty boyfriend let out, wanting to giggle from the feeling of his fluffy tail wrapping around your nearest arm, feeling his heavy cock settle comfortably inside your throat. You just let it sit there, the occasional pulses of Wooyoung’s length causing a new wave of slick to drip out of your needy hole, which Jongho had no problem plugging up with two thick fingers, making you let out a few muffled moans, sending delightful vibrations down to the base of Wooyoung’s cock. 
Wooyoung turned down onto a dirt road that was surrounded by tall oak trees, humming to himself, running his fingers through your soft hair, giving Jongho a smile inside the rearview mirror, who moved your ears out of the way to get a better view of you warming Wooyoung’s cock with your willing mouth. “You’re being such a good girl for us, baby. I think you deserve to be fucked dumb by the both of us, don’t you think?” 
“Mm-hmmm,” you agreed with your mouth full, unable to keep yourself from rigorously bobbing your head up and down, feeling Wooyoung’s cock slide in and out of your tight throat, his sudden whimpers filling you up with pride. 
“Oh, you naughty girl, you’re gonna make me cum before I get to stuff you full, f-uuck,” Wooyoung exhaled, his thighs tightening up, his fingers clenching up around the steering wheel, swerving onto the side of the road just in time for his knot to form, locking you in place on his cock. “Gonna take this knot, yeah?” 
“She’s a good bunny, of course she’s going to take it…” Licking his lips, Jongho held your bunny ears back with one hand, giving both him and Wooyoung a good view of your spit-stained face just as his knot broke, hot cum pouring into your mouth and down your throat. 
You slowly pulled off of him, breathing hard, a bit of his cum dripping down your chin, your face flushed beyond measure. “Yummy…” you whispered, just as Wooyoung grabbed your chin, his kitty claws pressing into your cheeks, his tongue slipping into your mouth. 
Just as Wooyoung got a taste of his bitter cum, Jongho pulled him away from you and got a taste of it for himself, allowing you to watch your alpha boyfriends groan and growl into each other’s open mouths. You could only watch them swap spit and cum for so long, before you became ravenous once again, unbuckling Jongho’s pants and climbing onto his lap, your cunt fully swallowing up his cock just in time for you to begin rigorously bouncing on it. 
Jongho began to moan profusely into Wooyoung’s mouth, opening his teary eyes to watch your kitty boyfriend still sucking on his tongue, able to whine, “Feels so good, bunny, keep going,” once the other alpha let him go, but only once he playfully nipped at his bottom lip. 
Dizzy with arousal, Wooyoung reached around you to grab at your hips, forcefully driving you down onto Jongho’s thick, curved cock, letting out a growl of pleasure from watching your face contort with overwhelming pleasure. “That’s it, baby, that’s fucking it.” 
“So good, it’s so good…!” You wrapped your arms securely around Jongho’s neck, feeling his arms close securely around your waist, his hips pistoning rapidly into your clenching cunt, the heaviness inside your core dropping suddenly, your arousal squirting all over your bear boyfriend and the seat below.   
“Such a slutty bunny, cumming so quick from getting stuffed with alpha cock,” Wooyoung groaned to himself, using his abundant pre-cum to slick up his stiff length, dragging his hand along it just enough to satiate the deep ache inside him, your sweet, sticky pheromones driving him insane. 
“Are you our slutty bunny, baby?” Jongho asked you in between pants, giving you a gummy smile when all you could do was whimper and nod. A few beads of sweat dripped past his temples, leaning his head back against the steamy window of the truck, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other on your lower abdomen just as his knot began to swell up inside you, feeling the outline of his thick cock as he prepared to unload inside you. “Gonna take alpha’s knot inside your bunny cunt?” 
“Y-esssss,” you cried out, tears rolling down your hot cheeks, your fingers squeezing into Jongho’s strong shoulders, your thighs trembling profusely once the thick stream of your alpha’s knot poured into your pulsing cunt. “Oh my god, it’s so good, so hot…” 
Before you could even begin to recover, Jongho sent Wooyoung a satisfied, toothy grin, passing you over to him with ease, so that he could immediately plug you back up with his cock this time around, fucking the other alpha’s hot cum back into your used bunny cunt.
“Is it still good, lovebun? Huh? Gonna take my knot too?” Wooyoung asked you in between huffs, grabbing two handfuls of your ass on each side, taking the time to smack his hands roughly against them before grabbing them again, drilling his cock so deep into you, he was practically slamming into your cervix. 
All you could do was let out whiny moans and garbled nonsensical sentences, your tongue eventually just lolling out of your panting mouth, holding onto Wooyoung with one hand, your other one being held tight by Jongho’s clasped hands, the only thing keeping you grounded in that moment was the way he gently rubbed your knuckles. 
The truck shook vigorously, the windows inside grew more and more foggy, and the air became harder and harder to breathe in, the longer Wooyoung unapologetically rearranged your guts, not stopping for a second, not even when you came all over him, only when he started to feel a familiar heaviness seep into his core, causing him to slow down, rolling his hips up into you, deliberately pulling you down onto his cock, feeling his knot swell up little by little. 
“Want…Youngie’s…knot…” you whimpered softly, gazing at Wooyoung with teary eyes, your bunny ears flopping at the sides of your head, encouraging him and Jongho to begin stroking them along with your hair. 
“That’s a good bunny, such a good girl for me and Jjongie, huh? You want to be filled up nice and deep, don’t you? Want to get full for us soon? Yeah? That sounds good, doesn’t it? You’ll be our pretty bunny wife, all nice and round with our pretty bunny kids, won’t you?” Wooyoung whispered gently into your ear, easing you up and down his slick cock, chuckling softly at your small whines and whimpers, only ceasing his movement when his knot fully formed inside you, stretching your used cunt wide open. 
“I want it all, Youngie, Jjongie, I want it so bad…” You looked to your boyfriends with love in your eyes, tears still rolling down your cheeks, some of them getting wiped up by Jongho’s thumb, a few more getting swiped away by Wooyoung’s sleeve. 
“You’ll have it, baby bun,” Jongho promised softly, pressing a kiss onto the side of your head, rubbing your back in gentle circles, as you slowly took Wooyoung’s load inside your womb. 
“You’ll have whatever you wish, lovebun,” Wooyoung added, kissing your forehead, stroking one of your ears in a loving manner, reaching over to stroke Jongho’s hair, the both of them sharing an equally loving gaze. 
Filled to the brim with cum and pleasure, the strong effects of your heat finally subsided, encouraging you to collapse back into the middle seat between your tired boyfriends. 
All three of you sat there, holding each other’s hands, quietly breathing in one another’s air, looking up past the still slightly foggy windshield to watch as the sun set inside the pretty cotton candy sky, whispering odes of love to each other until your eyes grew heavy. 
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perseephoneee · 12 days ago
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kinktober 6 (klaus mikaelson x f!reader)
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↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ kinktober masterlist
content warnings: blood sharing, you taste your own blood, slight cock warming
a/n: part two of kinktober halloween! i'm a practicing witch so i got wayyy too into the details.
all of these are inspired by this post by @moremaybank
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Being a witch in New Orleans meant two things. One, you were guaranteed a run-in with the Mikaelson Family. Two, Klaus Mikaelson would either want to kill you or use you.
To your fate, he found you mildly amusing and infinitely useful. You had a particular percolation towards divination and had luck advising people in the past on what paths to avoid. In exchange for not killing your friends, Klaus has requested your services. Lucky you.
Tonight, you were not with Klaus. You were in your home, lighting candles for Samhain. You were wearing a black dress and witches hat in case trick-or-treaters came by. You had already set up your altar with photos of your ancestors. You were in the process of setting aside some of your dinner as an offering. You were supposed to be left alone. You were never that lucky.
You hear knocking on the door and open it to see Klaus smiling like a cat.
"Trick or treat," he said mockingly. You considered the merits of slamming the door in his face.
"This is my night off."
"This is a friendly call," Klaus said, peering into your home. "Care to invite me in?"
"Friendly entails that we're friends."
"We are friends, love. I even brought you a gift," Klaus said, pulling a box out of his pocket, ribbon wrapped around it. You narrowed your eyes, taking the gift hesitantly and opening it to see a ring. It was a Claddagh ring, except instead of being all silver, the heart was made out of black tourmaline for protection.
"What's the catch?" you asked.
"No catch. I saw it and thought of you," Klaus sighed. "It really is cold out here, and I would be appreciative if you invited me in."
Realizing you weren't going to get the original off your doorstep in any timely manner, you sighed and invited him in. He smiled, immediately inspecting your home as he entered. You went back to your alter, arranging everything as you gathered other supplies.
"In the middle of something?"
"Yes, tonight is actually an important night for my people," you mumbled, filling your arms with candles.
"Ah, Samhain, when all the people I've killed decide to haunt me."
"Do they really?" you turned to look at him, hiding amusement.
"Yes, it's rather annoying," Klaus took the candles out of your arms as you struggled to hold everything. You mumbled a thanks, heading to your living room with him falling behind you. "What spell are you casting this evening?"
"I'm giving thanks to my ancestors and asking for safe passage into the new year," you responded, putting all your materials on the ground. You also liked to give thanks to Hecate, but you didn't think he'd care much about that. Surprisingly, Klaus was silent and even helped you set up your circle. You shuffled your tarot cards, laying seven out before you as you got comfortable on the ground.
"Am I allowed to be here?" Klaus asked. You paused.
"Actually, it's sometimes helpful to have another person as a consort," you answered honestly. You thought he might bite your head off for calling him a witch's consort, but he just nodded and sat next to you as well. You snapped your fingers, lighting all the candles as you took several deep breaths. "I give thanks this Samhain and request safe passage into the new year. I light these candles for my ancestors, Hecate, and Mother Earth, who I will see in spring. Use me as your guide and as your soldier."
The flames burned brighter, a slight wind picking up in the room. Klaus looked around curiously as you flipped over your cards to see the message given to you. The spirits materialized slightly in the room, and you felt their energy trying to pull from yours, desperate for a life of their own. You weren't expecting the force and recoiled slightly as you continued chanting thanks and deciphering the cards. The flames grew hotter, and you struggled to hold your own against so many ghosts. Without warning, you felt Klaus put a hand on your shoulder. You didn't ask before latching on to his energy, pulling from it as an extra force to push back the spirits from the veil. When you closed the circle and finished your spell, the candles burned down to small flames again, leaving you in the quiet of your home. You felt yourself start to fall, Klaus catching you and holding you up as you regained your footing in the living world.
"Is that what usually occurs?" he asked.
"Sometimes, it was just stronger this time around," you coughed, trying to sit up. Klaus helped you, but he didn't remove his hands from you. "Having you around was what helped me push them back."
"Well, we do make a good team," Klaus smiled. You were quiet as you searched his eyes.
"Klaus, why did you come here tonight?"
He paused. "Would it be wrong to say because I missed you?"
You shook your head no, and he visibly relaxed.
"Y/N," Klaus said. "I'm going to kiss you."
You nodded, and he leaned in, kissing you reverently. The big bad of New Orleans was gentler than you imagined, his hands soft against your face as he pulled you closer to him. You sighed into the kiss, letting him deepen it as he laid you carefully on the ground. You pulled him on top of you, fingers scratching his scalp as one of his hands pushed up your dress. He pulled your legs around him, allowing you to feel him against your core.
The kiss grew in intensity, Klaus nipping your lip and coaxing a moan.
"Klaus," you breathed. "I want you, please."
Klaus chuckled at your begging, sitting up to remove his shirt. You removed the rest of your clothes, heat spreading through your body as Klaus admired your form. He sat back against your couch, pulling you into his lap and kissing you again. You let yourself sink down on him, moaning and burying your face in his neck. His hands grabbed your ass, helping you move as you worked up a rhythm. You felt so full with him in you, and the growls you were coaxing from him were enough to bring you to the edge. Klaus brought his hand between you, rubbing over your bud and helping you come with a cry. He held you up as he chased his own release, and when he came, he sank his teeth into your neck.
You had never had a vampire drink from you before, but you expected it to hurt. Klaus drinking from you, though, felt intimate. Like you were now a part of him, he could never shed. Even after he slowed your movements, it took him a second to detach from your neck. His lips were coated red as he rested his head back. Curiosity got the better of you, and you wiped his mouth with your thumb and licked it clean. The taste of your own blood wasn't as appetizing as it was to vampires, but you saw the way Klaus zeroed in on your lips, and it made it worth it. He bit the inside of his wrist, holding it up to you to drink from. You accepted, not breaking eye contact as you felt your skin stitch itself back together.
You both sat in silence.
"You know a Claddagh ring is typically reserved for lovers?" you asked.
"I'm well aware, love."
"Why do I feel this was your plan all along, to seduce me?" you traced his chest, narrowing your eyes at him. He just smirked.
"I've wanted you since I saw you; I just finally saw an opening."
You kissed him again, feeling him everywhere inside of you, as you spent the rest of the evening together as one.
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