#i don't know how i never caught this before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderedrabbles · 2 days ago

Text

Yandere Seasons of the Year

Autumn is the nerdy girl in your book club. Pigtails, pleated skirts, too thick glasses. Whenever she's forced to speak up in class, she almost always stutters. Getting softer with each word until the teacher finally has mercy on her and let's her trail off. She has few friends, mostly other slightly dorky kids who band together because otherwise they'd all be stuck eating alone. You don't really notice her at first.

But then you read Jane Eyre and for once she isn't shy at all. She tells your whole book club all about the symbolism, the themes, how she doesn't fully consider it a gothic novel but that it definitely has gothic elements. Her cheeks are just a little flushed, her hands darting around when she talks. She's pretty, you realise slowly. When she isn't folded over herself or scurrying through the hall like she doesn't want to be caught.

Afterwards, you strike up a conversation with her. She's all shy again, not really meeting your eyes.

"My dad's got a whole collection of classics. Special edition prints, with these hand painted edges," you tell her. "Why don't you stop by and you can borrow some?"

She narrows her eyes at you like she thinks you're making fun of her. "Maybe. If I have time."

She doesn't drop by. When you see her in the halls after that, you always stop to greet her. But she looks so uncomfortable that you never get to have a conversation. Always running off with her head bent so far down that you wonder how she sees anything past the tips of her shoes.

After a few weeks of half finished sentences and always keeping her books clutched to her chest, you're about ready to give up. To take the hint that she doesn't want to be your friend.

But then... she starts seeking you out. Tentative at first. Waiting outside your class and only saying hello if you're alone. Changing her route so that it takes her past your locker. Sitting just a little closer to you at lunch, almost always two tables away so you're in her line of sight.

Maybe she realises you aren't setting up some elaborate prank by talking to her. Your hurried hellos become actual conversations. She starts walking you to class every morning. When you again invite her over to borrow some books, she actually shows up.

Standing on your doorstep with the trees flaring yellow and orange behind her, her hair pushed out of her face with a red Alice band.

"Hi."

You lead her up to your room and she perches on the edge of your bed like she's scared to touch it. Scared to be in your space.

You were in the middle of sorting through your makeup before she showed up and now you look over at her with a twinkle in your eye.

"Will you let me do your makeup? Please?"

Her eyes go all wide behind her glasses. "Uh I don't know...I don't really wear that stuff..."

You sit in front of her, your kit spread on your lap. "Come on! You'll look so good. You've got such a great bone structure, it's practically a crime to not try some bronzer."

"I guess..."

You carefully reach up and take off her glasses. She flinches. "Shh, relax. It doesn't hurt."

You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and tilt her chin up with your finger. When you smooth primer over her skin, she subconsciously tilts her face into your palm.

"That feels nice..."

Her eye makeup is the trickiest part. She flinches every time you bring the eyeliner even close to her. Eventually, you slip your free hand around the nape of her neck. She freezes just long enough for you to add some wings. Her ears turn a bright red and she ducks away from you, stuttering.

"Ah sorry. Were my hands too cold?"

"N-no. No, your hands are...perfect."

You end up so close to her face that when she finally opens her eyes after mascara and lashes, she gasps. You run your thumb across her cheekbone to clear away a little spilled eye shadow.

"All done."

Even after you step away, it's takes her a few seconds to move.

"Do you like it?"

"I look so different."

You stand behind her in front of the mirror and rest your chin on her shoulder. "That's the magic of makeup! It's a good different. And besides, we're matching."

"Oh." She touches her fingers to her lips and looks down at the lipstick smeared on her fingertips. "I didn't notice. I...I really like it."

You pull away and grin at her. "Aren't you glad you let me do it?"

"Yeah," she says, still staring at her fingers. "Really glad."

When your lipstick and then your lip balm go missing, you don't even notice. What was it the kids used to say back in elementary? That if your lips touch where someone else's did, it counts as a kiss?

Autumn walks home through the falling leaves and wonders if you realise you're her first kiss.

Winter is the student council president. Confident, clever, a guy everyone says is going to be a great leader someday.

Oh, but he's cold too. Doesn't have any real friends, only achievements. Everyone knows him. Everyone respects him. But being respected and being liked are not at all the same thing.

You wonder if he ever gets lonely. You walk past the student council office during lunch one day and see him at his computer, a half eaten apple forgotten at his elbow. You shouldn't feel sorry for him. He's on the fast track to an ivy league and a career in finance. In a few years, he's going to be richer than you could ever hope to be. He takes home every performance award in every subject.

You shouldn't feel sorry for him. But you do.

"Hey, you got a minute?" You lightly rap on the doorframe and he turns to face you, not at all ruffled by your sudden appearance.

"Sure. You're y/n, right? I think we had algebra together a few years ago."

"Yep. Before you started taking AP classes and leaving all us peasants in the dust."

You're not surprised he knows you, despite never being introduced or even having a conversation before.

You grin at him. "Is an apple really the only lunch you're having? You've got to keep your energy up if you want to protect your title as smartest guy in school."

He frowns at his apple. The parts he's bitten are already starting to brown.

"I'm not that hungry."

You lean in the door frame and cross your arms. "I'm supposed to let our student present starve? If I let that happen, who's going to be around to defend our debate title? Stand up to the tyranny of the chess club?"

He scoffs and uses the tip of his pen to nudge the apple into the waste paper basket.

"Come eat lunch with me. I've been wanting to join some clubs and you can tell me what looks best on a college application. You can call it community service if you want," you offer.

That gets you a slightly raised brow. The most expressive you've seen him yet.

"What are they even offering today? I don't really stop at the cafeteria."

"Oh, you're in luck," you say. "Mashed potatoes and gravy. And it's only slightly congealed this time."

"Yum." Still, he stands up to follow you. He's much taller than you realised, and when he picks up his backpack his muscles flex in a way that tells you he isn't afraid of hitting the gym. Again, unsurprising. Except for his lunch, he seems the type to have his life in perfect balance.

When you finally sit down in the cafeteria, it isn't long before the other kids notice him. You're scarcely two bites into your lunch when the student magazine editor starts asking him about the budget for next semester. When that's settled, the chess team are next in line to complain about the state of their boards and to ask pretty please for some new pieces. It's only when the bell rings that they finally leave him alone. His lunch sits untouched in front of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

He shrugs and shoots you a half smile. "Thanks anyway. This was...nice."

It's only when he's gone that you start to wonder if anyone else has ever seen him smile.

You start taking him lunch in the office a few days a week. Mostly sandwiches and chocolate milk. Not exactly the pinnacle of good eating, but anything is better than nothing, right?

You always end up on his desk, ankles crossed while he reclines in his computer chair, chin tilted up slightly to meet your eyes. It's casual, easy. He's funny, in a deadpan kind of way. You end up learning a ton about college admissions, about extra credit, about Ivy League rankings.

When applications open, he's the first person you go to when you need help. Eventually, he just sighs and plucks your half finished essay from your backpack.

"Just let me handle it, jeez."

"Really? Oh my god, thank you!" You stand on your toes and pull him into a hug. "You have no idea how stressed I've been."

He freezes. And then slowly wraps his arms around your waist.

" 'Course," he mutters into the crown of your head. "I'd be happy to."

The thing about Winter as a season is that it can be so insidiously misleading. You assume the greatest danger is the ice, the cold. You don't realise that most deaths are from broken gas lines, from excess alcohol, from persistent coughs. You prepare yourself for all the wrong dangers.

You assume that if Winter wants something, he'll pursue it outright. You don't notice that your college applications are only being sent to places he's applied to as well. You don't notice the way he sneaks your name into the records for the debate team, the chess club, volunteering hours - a blatant forgery just so you have a better chance of being accepted at the institutions where he wants you.

You don't notice the way he always comes up to you when other guys are talking to you, dragging you away with a tight smile and an excuse about scheduling issues or needing your help with the budget.

You don't notice him falling for you until it's far, far too late.

Spring is the ultra cool, earthy girl in your art class. Always sporting a full afro or long goddess braids. Effortlessly chic, with gold jewellery in her hair no matter how busy school seems to get.

She moves through everything at her own pace. Not part of a clique but never alone either.

You've always known each other a little. Had a few classes together over the years, shared lunch once or twice. But life is hectic and your paths don't always cross as much as you'd like. So when you end up in art class hoping for extra credits, you're more than a little glad to see her.

She's talented. Her portfolio has art schools all across the country drooling, practically on their knees to offer her a full ride.

It would be easy to get jealous, and you have no doubt that more than a few of your classmates are. But you? You're just glad to see talent being appreciated.

It's a beautiful spring day when she comes up behind you and offers to give you some private lessons. Your hands are covered in charcoal, there's streaks of black on your cheeks and despite your efforts, your canvas is an unartistic mess.

You smile at her like she's heaven sent.

"Would you really? I know art is subjective and all, but I'm afraid everyone thinks I'm objectively bad."

She tilts your head at your canvas, beads in her braids clinking.

"Not as bad you think. I can see what you're trying to do. You just don't have enough technique yet."

When you meet her after school, the classroom is gold and hazy with the late afternoon sun. She makes you sit at her easel and leans on the back of your chair.

"Draw some perspective lines for me."

You try to, but by the third line her hands are already coming up to guide yours.

"No. Always try and stick to your vanishing point. Like this."

Her voice is low in your ear and you can smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery that makes you want to bury your face in her hair.

"See?"

"Mm-hmm. Easier when it's so direct."

"Good."

She stays right by your chair for the rest of the lesson, occasionally leaning down to adjust your grip. When the day is done, your hair smells like her perfume and your fingers ache from work well done.

She doesn't seem like the type to have a boyfriend. Maybe you're being unfair, but you just can't see it. She's so nonchalant, so very much herself, that the antics of teenage boys seem so very beneath her. She must like someone though, because a few weeks after she starts tutoring you, you get a glimpse of her latest piece. A sketch of her leaning down to kiss someone, their face obscured by the fall of her hair.

If it were anyone else, you would tease them relentlessly about it. Who do you got a crush on so bad that you want to draw them?

Not her though. You respect her art too much to make light of it like that. And when her portfolio starts filling up with love poems, with tributes, with re-interpretations of Le Printemps and Le Sommeil... Well, you pretend not to notice.

It's only at the very end of the year that you start to really wonder who it's all about. When you finish your final piece - the best canvas to date, the one you and her poured hours of work into - she leans down and presses her lips against your signature. It leaves behind a lipstick print in a deep, gorgeous red. Somehow brings the whole piece together.

"I love it," you tell her, eyes on your art.

"So do I," she says, eyes on you.

Summer is the tanned, laughing jock who's always filling up the hall with his voice. Friendly, likeable. Just about everyone has a crush on him.

Not a bully, though he has the size and strength for it. Helpful, in his big, well meaning way.

His future is clear for everyone to see. Working in his dad's construction company until its time to take over, marrying a girl just as pretty and golden as him, becoming the kind of father that other kids look at and long for. It's a good life. It suits him. Days filled with sunshine and love and laughter. He deserves it.

So when he asks you to tutor him, you assume he doesn't want anything more than a better grade. Books and calculators spread out on the bleachers after practice, the smell of fresh cut grass in the air, summer sun warm and gold over the football field. If you were more his type, you'd call it romantic.

As it is, you just appreciate the good weather and the good company. When his teammates joke that he's tanking his grades on purpose just to spend time with you, you laugh and say you're sure he's got better things to do with his time that that.

It takes a few months, but his grades do improve. And when you go through the homework together, it's clear that he understands what he's doing.

"Well champ, seems my work here is done. You're ahead of the class, you understand the methods and your papers have all come back with Bs and above."

You shrug, smile at him. "You're free to go. Have your afternoons back."

"What?" He frowns at you, water bottle halfway to his mouth. "No. The year isn't over yet."

You laugh, a little flattered that he seems so upset to see you go. "I know. But you don't need me anymore. Just practice the problems I marked out for you and you'll be just fine."

For once, he seems at a loss for words. You stand, sling your backpack over your shoulder. It's just you and him left on the bleachers, the empty football field a behemoth between you and the school building.

When you're halfway across, he catches up with you. Grabs your backpack and stops you in your tracks.

"What about English? I really need some help with the novel. And my chemistry is a mess. Seriously, we can't stop now. You can't just...leave me like that."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he sounded almost panicked.

"I think Jackson from homeroom is your best bet with chemistry. Oh, and I'll send you my English notes. I did a whole section on themes and stuff."

He frowns again. "No. No. I don't want any of that. I want you."

The skin at the nape of your neck prickles, despite the late afternoon sun being full on your back. Was he always so much bigger than you? How didn't you notice it before?

"Hey, listen. I know you're worried. But we've put in tons of effort. You know your stuff. When exam season rolls around, you'll be just fine."

You try and walk away but he's still holding onto your bag.

"I can pay you."

"I don't want money," you say, irritated and offended both. "I never wanted to be paid for any of this. You're a great guy. I'm happy to help you out."

"Then stay."

Why is he being so persistent? His hold on your backpack tightens when you don't immediately answer.

"Please."

That decides you. How can you say no when a nice guy is practically begging? You're not a monster.

You sigh. "Fine. But only until after homecoming, 'kay?"

"Sure," he says. "I'll let you go when I'm done. Promise."

In the last light of a long summer day, you make the mistake of believing him.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #reader insert #x reader #yandere oc #Oc x reader #tw yandere #male reader #Fem yandere #yanblr

399 notes · View notes

ohimsummer · 2 days ago

Text

PUCKER UP! ft. NERDJO

— minors dni, nerdjo x meangirl! reader, college! au, pegging, ass-eating, this started getting sloppy nasty lmao reader is a freak fr, hints of stsg, pet names (pretty boy, princess), kind of proofread

wc 3k….😭

it's easy to get satoru to do anything for you.

he's caught off guard when he opens the door to his dorm and you’re shoving yet another homework assignment in his hands, backing him into the room. he's easily victim to honeyed words from your glossy lips, the flutter of your eyelashes. though, if that isn't enough, a firm palm to his already-hardening bulge is sure to get you whatever you want. the gesture is topped off with a promised reward of sucking him dry, however, you're both painfully aware that you would have done so anyway.

satoru settles beside you on his bed, where you lay browsing through social media. he works dutifully, though still listening and responding to the mindless school gossip that no one else would ever let him know about. you keep him well-informed.

twenty minutes have passed, and you spare the papers a glance. it astounds you that satoru is already halfway finished in less than thirty minutes with what would have taken you at least an hour. it's easy for him...maybe a little too easy. maybe a little unfair.

"you're working too fast.", you huff, wrinkling your nose.

satoru pauses, pen hovering over the paper. he looks between you and your homework. "... is that a problem...?"

you sit up on his bed, staring in disdain at the half-finished work in his lap. "if it was? you're not just rushing, are you?"

here he comes with the pouting. satoru is extremely confident in his work, and he knows you know he'd never let you get a bad grade. "don't critique me, i know what i'm doing–“

"bend over, i'm bored."

his jaw falls slack as you tug open the drawer next to his bed, and pull out the lengthy, baby-blue toy hidden away.

"you–, now–?", he sputters. "i'm in the middle of–"

"oh, shut it, shut it.", you wave off his complaints with a manicured hand. "can't you multitask?"

satoru opens his mouth to give a snarky reply, but his words fall short when you slip the tip of the dildo between your lips. he can feel your eyes on him, but his gaze won't leave the way the toy disappears into your mouth, and blood goes rushing to fill the half-erect hard-on he's been sporting since you got here.

you pull the dildo from your mouth with a 'pop!'. "so? be a good boy and bend over for me?"

it's kind of funny, how you don't even have to touch him or bat a lash or use that one flirty tone that makes his head spin, yet satoru still tugs his own shirt off and pants down. he faces away to lower his head and present his round ass to you. a finger traces over the hem of his boxers, embedded with two bold sets of initials on them: yours and an S.G. not satoru's own name, of course.

with a quick kiss to his thigh, you're pulling the white boxers down his legs and tossing them inside. satoru's asshole sits bare and on display for you, puckered and twitching as you admire him.

as if reading your thoughts, he mumbles, "don't stare so much..."

you break gaze with the hole inches from your face to raise a brow at your boyfriend. "shouldn't you be doing my homework?"

"uh–“, he scrambles to form a sentence."yeah, but–"

"pass me the lube and the harness, too."

satoru obeys your command, reaching into the still-open drawer to pull out a bottle of strawberry-flavoured lubricant and a light blue, leather harness. he reaches back a hand to give it to you, where you snatch both items from his grasp and satoru immediately hears the sound of the tube cap clicking open.

not wanting to be chastised again, satoru tries his hardest to steer his focus back to the papers beside him. the pencil trembles in his hand, but he manages to write all of three words before feeling your finger circling his hole.

he jolts, his face flushes at your mischievous giggle behind him, and satoru coerces his body to relaxation once more. it's a feat which is basically impossible when his mind is fixed on the way your finger traces the rim of his entrance, and the more subtle, wet sounds of you massaging lube into the dildo.

"i don't see you doing any work.", you scold him, and satoru yelps when you pluck a harsh finger against his hole. despite the surprise, his dick twitches at the mild discomfort.

pushing himself again to focus on the blurry words and math problems in front of him, satoru mashes the lead a little harder than he should into the paper, clenching the pencil tightly in his fist. he blocks out the movements and sounds going on behind him: the slick pumping of the dildo strapped to your waist, your other hand clutching and gripping either ass cheek in your palm, sinking nails into the skin for a quick lesson in pain before the pad of your thumb pokes and prods at his puckered hole again.

this lasts for what seems like an eternity before a new sensation sends a shiver up his spine, something that forces a gasp from his lips and raises the thin hairs on his neck. it's warm, wet, and familiar—the overwhelming feel of your tongue bullying its way into his insides.

"hey, hey, i–i won't be able to focus if you're doing that–!", satoru whines, but you pay him no mind. his fists wrench the fabric of the comforter as the slimy, pink muscle worms inside.

behind him, you moan at the flavor, slipping your tongue from his orifice to flatten it against his pale skin, running it from satoru's balls to the top of his ass crack. satoru flinches when you spit on his hole, and whines like a mutt in heat at the sloppy way you make out with his asshole. every kiss and bite to his cheeks has him tightening around your tongue, but you wriggle it with a driven intent to get him nice and loose for the absolute pounding you're about to bestow upon him. it's disgusting, and satoru fucking loves it.

he's so lost in you and your heavenly tongue that he almost doesn't register the warmth spreading in his lower body. it's at the last second that satoru lets out a strangled moan and his first orgasm comes washing over him. ropes of cum shoot out to coat his bare thighs and chiseled abdomen as satoru squirms from the sheer pleasure. he's so fidgety, he almost lets your assignment go slipping off the edge of the bed. it’s grabbed just in time, and he shoves it a little further away to avoid any more of the wet spots his drool has already stained into them.

you let him have his fun, come down from his little high, and then satoru feels your touch retreat from his sensitive behind. "did you still plan on getting that done today, or...?"

satoru shivers, and cranes his neck to give you a puppy-eyed gaze, tears having built up on his lash line. "...it's hard."

his poor, pathetic, puppy-dog tone and the deep pink tint across his cheeks and up to his ears yank at your heartstrings. it's times like this where you feel bad for being mean to him, even if it's all an act. satoru's just so fucking cute, he reminds you that can't keep up the cruel demeanor towards him forever.

"ohh.", you coo at your nerdy, loser boyfriend and peck short kisses onto his ass cheeks. "you want me to go slower, baby?"

"yes. yes, please.", he whines. "i can't focus to finish your work."

so adorable. truthfully you couldn't give less of a fuck about the papers anymore, but it's still a little endearing that even in such a position, satoru is still determined to get you the passing grade you don't deserve.

as promised, you take it down a notch, just to give him more control of his thoughts. and satoru figured taking things a step back would do wonders when you weren't absolutely ravishing his hole, but this...this may be significantly worse.

the once intense fervor of your movements has been replaced with a skillful precision. every stroke and flick of your tongue around his rim feels more pleasurable than the last, and satoru's cock jerks and aches at the slow, sensual sucks to his ass. you replace the dig of your nails with the occasional, unforgiving smack!, only to layer on top a coat of soothing kisses. the drawn-out movements make him even more conscious of every single thing you're doing.

but still, your plan was to grace him with some mercy, and satoru won't allow you to say he didn't at least try. so, with newfound strength, he squeezes the pen in his hand, and he gets to work.

his body remains painfully aware of the thrills and pleasure you shower him with, and satoru struggles to keep those feelings at bay from distracting his mind. it's a challenge, but satoru does likes a challenge, and he finds he's managed to complete the remaining bottom half of the current page. this is it. he's on the final paper, so close to the finish line, before he can stop having to worry about it. and then he feels your gentle tap on his thigh.

it takes him out of the space he's forced himself into. satoru turns until he just sees you in his peripherals. "huh? what's wrong?"

"nothing.", you reassure him. "do you want to pack that up before i start?"

'start?', he thinks, and then he feels the slap of the rubber dildo between his ass cheeks. "ah, um–“

his throat goes dry, and you gliding the heavy length back-and-forth along his asshole doesn't help in the slightest.

"just do your best, okay? i'm happy with a B."

satoru isn't happy with anything below an A-, but the complaint is stripped from his tongue as he feels the thick tip of your cock sinking into his hole. even with your slow movements, it knocks the wind from his lungs, and all he can let out is a choked moan. stuck gripping the streets, his cheek is smushed against the bed and his mouth agape, until satoru finally feels you flush against the back of his thighs.

there’s a beat, then your encouraging voice in his ear: “breath, satoru.”

a second later and you can see the tension leaving his larger, toned body. your hands make a delicate path up the curve of his back, massaging his sensitive nape which leaves him gasping, before one of them trails back up his spine. you apply pressure as you go, further pronouncing the arch in satoru’s pliant body, and the wandering hand ends at his hip.

slowly, you unsheathe the girthy, faux length from his ass, revealing more and more and more until only the tip remains. his hole tightens, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so jealous of both a man or a piece of fucking silicone in your entire life. you’d kill to have a real one right now, to feel satoru’s moist insides and the way he’d clench around you, sucking you in further and further until you were stuck balls deep in him. it’s fucking unfair.

“m–move, please.”, he begs in such a soft mewl. so needy, so impatient. so spoiled as you plunge your cock into him again.

a sharp gasp flees his lips, followed by satoru's strangled moan as you bury yourself to the hilt. there’s a prominent vein on the back of his hand from how tightly he grips the sheets, pillow, anything satoru can get his hands on.

though you move languidly, satoru quickly dissolves into an utter wreck. your hands hold tight onto his waist with initial intent to keep him steady, but his moans bring out a crazed animal in you. soon you're manhandling him back-and-forth to meet the ever-growing roughness of your thrusts. the sound of you pounding into him can't even be heard over the slutty noises tumbling out into the open air, hitting all four walls to fill the dorm room. it makes you ache, yearning for some relief other than the occasional friction of the harness against your clit.

"fuck, you're so hot.", you lean down and pant against his ear. satoru babbles something you can’t understand, and it makes you laugh. you can't help mock him a little.

"so loud, too.", comes the bratty taunt, and satoru whimpers out a barely coherent 'sorry'. god, he's so cute and pathetic. you feel like you're bullying him, corrupting your little nerd boyfriend, and it turns you on tenfold.

"aren't people living in the dorm next to you? they’re gonna be pissed.", you tease further, though never letting up on your thrusts and in fact picking up the pace. "these walls are pretty thin. suguru was here yesterday, did you get a noise complaint?"

"mhm."

that response catches you off guard—his audible confirmation along with a weak nod of the head.

"are you serious?" satoru nods again, and you let out an incredulous scoff. "damn, i was just kidding. i may have to go harder, then, i want them to know how well i treat you, too!"

it’s all gibberish in satoru's mind. with such scrambled thoughts, he can barely hold on to a thing you're saying, let alone worry about maintaining his now continuously waning status as a considerate neighbor.

"c'mere." your words sound muffled amongst the fog in his head. satoru strains his eyes and barely sees your blurry figure hovering over him. "pass me the pillow, babe."

he flails a feeble hand in the general direction of said object, finally landing on the soft cushion and using what—in his current state—feels like an absurd amount of strength in order to hand it back to you. a second later, he feels you tugging at his waist. “lift your hips up.” and, ever the helpful boyfriend, satoru uses every bit of remaining energy in his bones to raise his body.

"look at you, my good little loser." he feels you squeeze the pillow between him and the bed, and then goes limp again beneath you. his cock twitches at the soft pressure surrounding his length. it reminds him of a fleshlight, something you and suguru make sure he's extremely familiar with.

there's a 'smack!', and satoru whimpers at the sharp slap to one of his ass cheeks. you knead at the fat flesh in your hands, dulling the pain, and pull satoru’s ass apart to stare at the way his hole quivers and tightens around you.

"do you like being lazy?”, you tease. "letting me do most of the work?" he nods. "say it. tell me you’re my pretty little pillow princess.”

"i’m y–your pretty–, pretty pillow princess.", satoru moans with a cheek against the mattress, and lets out a feeble cry when you give his ass another loud smack.

"mmm, yeah." a sinister grin paints itself across your lips. your hands continue squeezing satoru’s sore ass in your palms, and your boyfriend groans in pleasure as you begin fucking into him again. "fuck, such a good toy for me."

you say something else, something he doesn’t hear, if not for satoru’s bedframe thudding against the wall, or the lewd slapping of skin on skin, then definitely because of his own moans echoing in his ears. there’s a short pause. satoru registers the dip of the mattress on each side of his head, and the blurry details of your manicure. the ticklish touch of your fingers brush against his forehead, moving locks of stark white hair to reveal more of his gorgeous face.

"my pretty boy.”

satoru whines at the praise before feeling the length of your cock rubbing against his prostate. it's calm at first, a frustratingly slow grind against his ass where he can feel the silicone balls of your strap up against his own. but soon you're picking up pace, slamming into him with each thrust, thrusts that send satoru flying forward every time you plunge deep into him again. every rock of your hips against his brushes satoru’s leaking cock harder and faster along the pillow under his body. it feels out of this world, and all too much to endure.

the heat and pleasure overrunning satoru has steadily evolved from a slow trickle, to growing waves, to a huge tsunami bearing down on him. his entire body is searing; he releases a particularly loud cry of your name as cum shoots straight into the fluff of the pillow, soaking deep inside the fabric as waves of pleasure flood over him. tears burn at his hazy, blue eyes, making it impossible to see clearly, but that doesn't matter when satoru's eyes are wrenched shut anyway as you slow to another grind against his ass, fucking him through his final orgasm.

satoru lies there, trembling and taking in heaving breathes of air. he lets out one last pathetic whimper when you pull out, leaving his hole tragically empty, but still accepts the press of a few soft kisses to his pink, tear-stained cheeks.

"satoru?", you whisper softly against his ear. “all good?” and you give him another kiss on the forehead when he gives a weak nod. "atta boy, you did so well. i'm going to get you a towel, 'kay?"

your boyfriend only makes a weak effort to grasp your hand, but you understand what he’s asking for, regardless. “fine, pretty boy. i’m right here, just relax and catch your breath for me.”

and, as usual, satoru follows your instructions without question. he is comforted by the gentle squeeze of your hand, the caress of your fingers through his hair, and the doting kisses you place on his shoulders, neck, and face. eventually, his brain is empty, drained. satoru begins dozing off to sleep in a far-away land—away from his room and away from homework, yet still surrounded by your soft, lingering presence.

🩵: @staryukis @lxnarphase @anthoosies @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @snowsilver2000 @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @starlightanyaaa @domainexpansionmypants @giasssslife @babytoshiii @kissesfrombelle @v0ctin @purplegemadventures @luvvforliaa @apatuaia @sataraxia @leilalilox @sugu-love @manyno @the-monster-under-the-bed @blindbabycadder @xinfvl @jianyuu4mii @sherb3t @sugoroo @hellokittyish @satorvs @notdwenby @mamshousehusband @rubiesoferebor @andyramblingstuff @gojosbabyma @ravenbc @superkoolartist @nillosgarden

#satoru x reader smut #nerdjo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut

740 notes · View notes

softidiotsposts · 2 days ago

Text

I Never Dreamt Before You

weird how strangers can pick up the broken pieces of a heart they don't really know

{Fair warning: heavy angst, explicit sexual content (18+), discussion of sensitive topics (suicide, toxic relationships, death), neighbors, some fluff and a somewhat happy end // word count: 8.5k}

A twenty-five Euro train ticket will take you comfortably from Madrid to Barcelona but it doesn't take away the boiling anxiety nor does it make the journey easier. In fact it's harder that way, knowing that Madrid is only twenty-five Euro away makes it so much more difficult not to turn back.

Knowing that only twenty-five Euro will bring back a world of warmth that you wish you could bottle up.

Leaving behind a life to start a new one is difficult, even in your mid twenties you feel yourself being caught in the spider web of emotional attachment of a city. You know the ins and outs of Madrid- know it like the back of your hand, born and raised in the capital. So to move away to the coast, seven hours away from comfort is not easy.

Barcelona, the idea of it, feels like an old wound that has turned into a foreign world. So different from the ease of Madrid, like a whole new world that you've yet to discover.

One that you're frankly not a hundred percent you want to know, the move isn't one that comes out of want but necessity. It's one to pursue greatness in the grueling career you had chosen but the choice had not come without great deliberation.

Barcelona is... different, in many ways. The Catalonian city had its own customs, its own culture, even its own language. It worried you, made you afraid as if you were a child again, as if you were scared of the dark. But this time you had no one to hold you, to comfort you and tell you it's all okay- You had yourself now and that's it.

The train jitters from time to time as it slides along the tracks at such a pace that the outside world seems but a blur. You watch it happen, look out the window as the world mixes into a swirl of colors, the greens of the trees and shrubbery mixes with the beautiful colors of the flowers that you cannot clearly make out. It creates a piece of art that moves, like a painting that adapts each second you look at it. You smile slightly, appreciating the way nature casually crafts perfect art before your eyes then turn your head to glance at the table in front of you.

Pages of sheet music are scattered on the table, different pieces blending into one another as they are placed in an unorganized fashion without much care.

A half-drunk cup of dirt black coffee is in the far corner. It was about four Euros when you bought it at the station in Madrid and you could taste it. A half burnt mix that made you grimace each time you drank it but the water, standing not far anyway from it that rippled ever so slightly, had helped wash the bitterness off on your tongue.

You place a hand on one of the pages, the soft manuscript ever so rough under your dry hands, and pick it up to bring it closer to your face.

The lines and notations blur slightly into a puddle of black ink so you squint and suddenly find clarity, the music flows off the page as you find that it so often does. It's Chopin that you're holding, a poor man with far too many emotions and music that you find to be as heavy as an anvil.

You read over the page from beginning to end, you imagine the way your fingers glide over the keys- pressing softly before launching into an attack of grief. It's not the same as if you were playing in reality, you cannot feel the weight of the keys beneath your fingers nor their polished finish but it satisfies you for the moment.

It was deep into November and for Alexia that meant that outdoor training was becoming regularly more and more cooler as the days went past. Today was one of those days, the wind nipped at any exposed skin and fingers froze outside the comforts of a coat pocket.

Thus Alexia was forced to don her snood and gloves to the training pitch as did many others, all dressed in the same black kit with various winter accessories adorning necks and hands.

Alexia smiled and softly greeted the social media personnel, "Bon dia."

The filming of training had become a regular occurrence over the coming years, ever since the club had launched themselves on to the European stage, their presence had grown.

It filled Alexia with a strange mixture of feelings- there was the obvious excitement but also a nagging feeling of pressure. Pressure to perform, pressure to outdo previous achievements. It brought back that awkward feeling, the one that made her shutdown ever so slightly.

She waited on the sidelines for the rest of the team to arrive, deep in thought, looking at her shoes when a hand touched her shoulder. The sudden weight had her flitch ever so slightly and she turns to see Irene, the older woman furrowing her brow in concern.

"Are you okay, Ale?"

The tone is evidently worrying and Alexia clenches her jaw- there was no need to worry about her. It's actually the opposite, it is her job to worry about her team.

"I'm fine," Alexia forces a smile and walks away as the coach calls them over.

In reality, Alexia is far removed from the idea of 'being fine' when she probably should be: her team is at the top of their Champions League group, their start in the league had been as strong as ever and both Spanish Cups looked to be in the near distance.

Yet nothing is fine, Olga had broken up with her over the month of October and she was hurting- they hadn't been living together but the presence of stray belongings that had been left behind over time was missed, greatly. She had also not told a single soul, the idea being to focus on football. On progress, on being great in a way to get over the grief of the relationship.

Training itself had gone alright, they were solid like they had always been- making intricate plays and passing sequences right in the goal or shooting from range, curving the ball right past the keeper and into the back of the net.

Cold training was followed by a session in the gym, one where the cool of November was traded for sweat and pumping blood. The small space of the Barcelona gym crowded with most of the squad, each taking turns at the stations set up and the yelling on the football pitch had been swapped for the electronic gym music and friendly chatter.

"Doing anything later, capi?"

It's Mapi asking as they both stretch out their hamstrings on the ground and Alexia considers her answer for a moment. In theory, she is not doing anything later- her plans are simple, go home and wallow in her emotions while watching whatever game is playing on TV.

"Sorry, María, I'm taking Nala to the vet."

Alexia cringes at herself the second it leaves her mouth- she had not meant to use Nala as an excuse but there was no other viable explanation that would not warrant additional questioning.

Instead of asking further, Mapi launches into a story about Bagheera's last vet appointment and Alexia is grateful that she's taking all the air time for once.

Alexia leaves promptly after the team is dismissed for the day, all given time in the afternoon for either additional training or other activities they may have. She doesn't stay to practice free kicks with the others like usual, feeling the weight of the seasonal transition on her chest.

Instead, she drives home to her condo. It's fairly nice, not overly modern and has an open concept that satisfies her needs. The neighbors are mostly full-time working people or the elderly, no children or college students that disturb the peace which Alexia appreciates greatly.

When she arrives and takes the elevator up to her floor, she is greeted by the sight of a young woman. Dressed in half-formal attire- tailored trousers with a slight check pattern that hang loosely on her hips, an untucked crumpled white shirt with a black overcoat that rests on her shoulders with dress shoes that look well worn.

Alexia pauses for a moment. The woman is beautiful, that kind of beauty that is timeless, without an expiration date, that can be taken through time period after time period and still fit into every single one.

The woman's hair is slicked back into a bun and her thin fingers rest on a case as she stands in front of a door that is few down from Alexia's own. She had never seen this woman and to her knowledge, the apartment she stands in front of has been empty for a while.

Alexia wants to call out but before she can open her mouth to speak, the woman disappears into the apartment, the door softly closing behind her. Then Alexia is left alone in the hallway, standing in front of her front door in a state of shell shock.

You make it off the train and manage to avoid buying a ticket back to Madrid. The feeling of stepping into a station other than your city's is strange and you decide to ignore the itching feeling of fear and uncertainty before it can get the best of you.

You pick up your leather case with all your sheet music and make your way through the train station and into the bustling streets of Barcelona. The wind nips at you and you can immediately feel the coastal air, you half appreciate the fresh feeling that the sea provides but also feel the nausea of homesickness bubbling up.

You walk to your apartment, seeing as it's not far from the station and all your other belongings had been sent to the flat previously.

You treat this as an opportunity to gaze at the brilliant architecture of the famous Catalonian city, some buildings look modern while others share the intricate stone work that can only be done by hand- making them infinitely more wonderful than the polished creations that sit beside them.

Eventually, after walking several blocks, you make it to your apartment building. It's one of the nicer looking ones on the street and you enjoy the stone work, the different creams mixing with the red of some of the bricks, before entering it.

The lobby itself is nicer than you'd expected. After an initial door, you are greeted with a darker one that has a lovely wooden finish- you fish out your keys, just two stray keys in different colors without any keyrings keeping them company, you turn the key and open the door.

You decide to take the stairs, just to enjoy the view out of the windows as you go up for the first and final time since the elevator is probably kinder on your knees. The view, as you'd imagine, is quite magical- the sun is slowly setting, the giant fireball disappearing into the horizon, in its wake leaving a wondrous sky that is full of pinks, oranges and reds. You pull out your phone and take a picture with a hopeful aspiration to start fresh and new.

Next, you find yourself standing in front of your door, clutching the case in your hands tightly. You contemplate turning back and getting on a train, re-calling all your things back to Madrid and never leaving. You don't, instead you turn the key and enter with a sense of acceptance.

You do not notice the footballer standing a few doors away and even if you had there would be no recognition in your eyes, your vision had been forever tunneled in the opposite direction and never wandered towards sports.

The apartment walls are bare. Plain white, freshly painted for a new tenant and you try not to shiver at the unwelcoming color, you would have to paint over it- maybe a green? or sea blue.

You turn to look around- it's an open concept as you'd seen online, the kitchen overlooks the combined living and dining room with a small hallway on the main wall. It branches off into the singular bedroom and bathroom.

You sigh and glance at the grand piano that takes up most of the space in the living room. It's black with a polished finish and you had spent so many times sitting for hours at a time that you had memorized each scratch and nick that had been etched into it.

You ignore the instrument even though it calls for you to sit down after the tiring journey and you instead focus on more pressing matters.

Checking your watch, you let out a sigh of relief when the hands show that it is not late evening just yet- you had just enough time to put together the stray pieces of furniture and organize the place to your liking without disturbing the neighbors anti-social hours.

You build your bedframe and unroll the mattress, put your sheets on then methodically put together the drawers so that you may store all your clothing. After the bedroom looks somewhat complete albeit plain but complete, you turn your attention to the living space.

It's large and so open that you feel a little naked standing in it- you decide to change that by taking the cloth off the leather chairs and moving them so they face the balcony, giving them a kind view of the city. A bookshelf is against the wall to the right of them, filled with various songbooks and stray novels that you never seem to finish.

There is no sofa since the piano takes up much of the available space, so the TV is left alone on the unit without anyone facing it. You don't find the problem, you never watch it anyway. The old beat up dining table from your old apartment sits near the kitchen, right in front of the doorway, with four chairs that were probably going to be used in rotation by only you.

After the bulk of the apartment is set up, you add the finishing touches. Photographs of people that you rarely speak to from high school but still cherish, art that you purchased on a whim and coats that you wore often hung on the pegs near the entrance.

It is finally after finishing absolutely everything that you sit at the piano, you run a finger on the closed keyboard and a thin layer of dust gathers. You hadn't played for two days and it had already gotten dusty.

Alexia hears the music over the sound of Alba's complaining, it's soft and sounds like utter grief.

A wave passes through her, tugging her heart strings along with it. She has never been a big fan of instrumentals, instead finding a larger appreciation for voice and lyric than strings.

"Alexia? Helloooo? Oh my God, are you even listening to me-" Alba's voice calls from the phone and Alexia snaps out of the brief trance.

"Err yeah, yeah... sorry, someone is playing the piano, I think."

She hears a gasp through the speaker and Alexia rolls her eyes at it.

"Is it loud? Maybe you should complain?" Alba suggests and Alexia doesn't even consider it- she doesn't care about the noise, only that the melody sounds dreadfully sad.

"No- It's fine, actually, I have to go... It's time for Nala's walk."

"Oh okay, then- By-"

Alexia presses on the red button to hang up the call before Alba can even reply and she feels immediately guilty- She had used Nala as another excuse, two in one day. Maybe she should draft excuses for the next day now? Just so Nala isn't used as a constant reason.

Now that Alba is no longer on the phone and the Atletico game is now muted, the music is much louder and clearer. Alexia cannot name what it is but even though there is an evident sadness in the notes, it's played to utter perfection. Each note masterfully curated to fit the next.

Alexia decides that whoever is playing is immensely talented.

It's about a week until Alexia sees the woman that lives on her floor again- It's a Wednesday morning and she has had a slow start to the day. Alexia had woken up ten minutes before her seven o'clock alarm rang, so she stayed in bed and allowed herself to snuggle Nala until the shrill signaled the need to get up. She had dressed herself in the training gear she wore most days, walked Nala, ate breakfast, checked her emails and watched the news until it was time to leave for training at nine.

She grabbed her packed bag, said goodbye to Nala with a kiss on the head and walked out and into the elevator. Alexia pressed the button for the ground floor and the one to close the doors when a hand shot out to stop them from closing.

It was the same woman. This time dressed in a skirt in complete black with polished loafers, shirt pressed but clearly in a hurry since you can tell the imperfections in the white cotton, same overcoat thrown on her shoulders.

"Pardon me," Her voice rang out to Alexia.

It's soft, like cotton in her ears and she melts slightly into it. Then chastises herself, it had only been a month since her break up and jumping into another relationship did not seem wise.

"Going down?" Alexia's voice trembles slightly and she does not know why.

"Yes."

It's curt and Alexia presses the button to close the door, it prompts the elevator to go down. She takes the opportunity to look at the woman again, out of the corner of her eye.

She's fairly tall, about Alexia's height and holds a deep brown leather bag that looks to be full with papers. Maybe she works in an office? Or maybe she's an accountant? She certainly looks the part.

The ding of the elevator breaks the moment and Alexia is forced to exit but not before she hears a smooth,

"Thank you."

That feels like honey and makes her warm and fuzzy inside.

It's again after a day's work that she runs into the woman again. She's running a little late because Aitana spilled coffee on her and she hopes Nala will forgive her that their afternoon walk will be delayed due to a shower.

The woman holds the elevator as she sees Alexia running for it, she offers a light smile that Alexia has yet to see and is now eternally grateful she has. It makes her forget about the large burning coffee stain on the front of her shirt for a moment until the woman offers her a tissue.

"Would you like one?"

It's a typically plastic packet of cotton tissues that organized people carry about and Alexia takes one with gratitude, thanking her twice over as she wipes some of the coffee with it.

"Are you a fan?”

Alexia stops wiping the coffee off her top and looks at the woman with furrowed brows then follows to where an elegant finger points at her chest. The Barcelona badge is untouched by the coffee, still in immaculate condition.

Alexia feels herself flush and does not know how to answer.

"Err yes, yes I am. Quite a big one."

The woman lets out a laugh as she stumbles over her words and it's music to Alexia's ears, almost as good as the performance that she got to hear a week ago.

"Are you? A fan."

The woman shakes her head, "No, actually... I don't watch football or sports but I appreciate the sentiment of them."

Alexia doesn't know what to say- she has plenty of friends outside of the football sphere she surrounds herself in but her mind is suddenly blank on questions to ask.

The elevator dings and informs them of the floor. The woman goes to leave and Alexia desperately doesn't want her too but has no idea as to why.

They had barely spoken, she had only seen her three times but Alexia felt as though someone who she had been waiting for her whole life had just walked into her life. A crazed feeling of comfort washed over her each time the woman spoke and Alexia leaned into every time.

To Alexia's joy, the woman turns back slightly and looks at Alexia.

"I'm Y/N."

She introduces herself as Alexia steps out the elevator to let it close and carry it's journey between the floors. She has never heard a name so beautiful sounding but doesn't speak on it further, in hopes of staying somewhat cool in the others eyes.

"I'm Ale, I live here."

Alexia points at the door with twenty nine on it as she introduces herself.

"Is that short for something?"

Alexia is stunned into a brief silence because it's so rare that someone asks since the many people she talks to already know the ins and outs of her life better than even she.

"Alexia."

The woman chuckles light and flashes a smile, "Well, Alexia, I live in thirty one."

She points down the hall at a door that's identical to Alexia's and Alexia acts as if she didn't know.

"I'll see you around, Alexia."

Y/N smiles kindly and Alexia feels her face heat up as she watches her walk to her apartment, the loafers she's wearing creating a satisfying click with each step.

The next time they meet is two weeks later when Alexia hosts their monthly team bonding movie night. Most of the team are present and bundled in small huddles on the large sofa or floor in front of it.

Aitana sits with Keira practically cuddling with each other as they pay rapt attention to the film playing on the TV. They seem to be the only two who have not seen the movie before tonight.

Mapi is sitting in between Ingrid's legs on the floor in front of the sofa as she pays attention to the film with occasional snarky comments about the characters that Ingrid hums along to.

Lucy and Ona sit in the very corner of the sofa under one of the many blankets, acting as though they aren't holding hands even though it's fairly obvious to the rest of them.

The rest of the group are evenly spread out on the sofa and floor, with Alexia sitting on a pillow watching the film with sleepy eyes. What awakens her is the music that can be heard over the television, she has not heard that playing for three weeks and had wondered the possibilities as to why.

Had they sold the piano? Or installed sound proofing in their apartment so the rest of the floor could not hear them? Alexia doubted it was that- the walls are paper thin and even the smallest of sounds can be heard.

It's different from the last piece she had the pleasure of listening to, much lighter yet still with a slight tinge of grief. It's also three times louder and she wonders why the person insists on playing between six and eight.

"Is someone playing music or what?"

It's Patri who pauses the film and complains, there is a moment of silence from everyone as the music seems to reach its peak and then they hear the slam of notes before a continuation in playing. Alexia flitches at the moment of anger, she had yet to hear such an emotion from the mystery pianist.

"It's lovely," Frido comments and Alexia is inclined to agree.

Lovely is one way to describe it. The other is masterful, an artist pouring their heart into an instrument that sings a thousand unspeakable words to the world around it.

The music lays heavy on the heart in the most wonderful way and Alexia has yearned for it to come back ever since she had heard it. It's a beauty that she has no experience in but one that she craves almost as much as the pitch.

"It's ruining film night."

Both Patri and Pina whine like children causing Alexia to laugh and shake her head. It's true, the sound of the piano runs over that of the TV and it would seem that Alexia has been granted the opportunity to meet the mystery pianist that has captured a part of her heart.

You had been practicing your Rachmaninoff when a knock sounded at your door, your fingers stilted over the keys, not daring to press another key. You lift yourself off the stool and walk over to the door, taking a few deep breaths before opening it to be met with Alexia's face.

Alexia who had been disrupting your perfectly thought out routine by her causally kind comments that had been running through your head even two weeks later.

You feel embarrassed now, opening the door to the person who had practically been dreaming about every single day wearing worn sweatpants and a henley shirt that had quite clearly shrunk in the wash a few times over.

"Alexia-" You manage to start before she interrupts you.

"You're the one playing piano?"

It's not an accusation but a question full of surprise that you can't help but feel shocked about. Of course, you knew that the piano could be heard- even neighbors had told you how much they appreciated the music in the evenings but you had assumed that Alexia knew.

"Yes, it's me- Listen, Alexia, I'm really sorry about playing so late. I'll stop for tonight."

You try to explain, hoping that Alexia isn't angry but when you glance at her face there is no anger visible. Instead she looks to be in... awe?

"No- I mean, yes that would be nice... but I don't mind."

You raise your brows in shock because you hadn't expected that reaction- sure many of the older folks living on your floor had liked the music but you'd assumed it was because they were older.

Yet Alexia seems to be proving you wrong.

"Okay then, Alexia?"

"Yeah?"

"Have a goodnight, okay?" You say with a light smile and can make out Alexia's nod before you close the door.

You press your forehead against the door when you think it's safe to do so and bring your knuckles to your mouth and then bite down lightly to prevent you from screaming.

It's surreal, the effect the older woman has on you even though the two of you have barely spoken, you've thought about touching her- running your hands up and down her sides and you've thought about her hands on you.

It's difficult to say what you want- friends would tell you to go for it but your mother would be deeply against seeing someone older. All you know is that you want Alexia and have absolutely no clue as to why.

The next time you see her, it's evening and you're in the elevator going home from the opera when she gets in. Alexia is wearing a beautiful dress that clings to her in all the correct places and you cannot stop your eyes from wandering across her figure when she's paying attention to her phone.

She makes you feel underdressed in your pencil skirt, loafers and crumpled blue striped shirt. Every time you gaze upon Alexia it's as if you are looking at one of the paintings that hangs on your wall- she's crafted by renaissance painters that you cannot pronounce the names of and you no else you've met in your life compares.

"Y/N?"

You flitch when a hand clamps down on your shoulder- it's Alexia and then you realize that the elevator has reached your floor but the ding and announcement had gone unnoticed by you.

"Sorry- long day."

Alexia smells faintly like alcohol, but not the cheap stuff you get in the convenience store, and flowery perfume that tickles at your nose blissfully. You wonder whether she was out with friends... or maybe had gone on a date?

"It's okay, everyone has days like that."

Even Alexia? She seemed so perfect- utterly beautiful and spoke with complete intellect every time the two of you interacted.

"Thank you," You mumble out as you leave the elevator but Alexia doesn't let your shoulder go.

Instead, you can feel her fingers dig into the fabric of your woolen overcoat. You don't know whether she's grounding herself or you but you feel yourself begin to calm down either way.

You don't know why you do the next thing you do. Maybe it's loneliness or pure carnal desire that drives you to kiss her in the hallway.

You press your lips against Alexia's soft ones and feel her jolt then gasp into the kiss- you have no clue why she's surprised by your actions and you're about to pull away and apologies but are interrupted by her kissing you passionately.

Alexia kisses as if she were dying, teeth biting down on your lips and tongue prodding inside your mouth. She traces the inside of your mouth as if it were the most important thing on earth and her hands disappear from your shoulders and now rest on your hips.

She tastes like sweet champagne and strawberries and you cannot get enough- never.

You desperately kiss her back, after all you had been dreaming day and night about this moment- you moment where the dam would break and you would finally kiss her. Your hands trail up her back, taking in each curve individually.

The two of you pull away gasping for breath and you want her back straight away- missing the pressure of her mouth on yours.

"I want you, Alexia."

You mutter between the two of you- it's quiet but enough for her to understand and when you raise your head to look Alexia in the eyes, you see that they are filled with want.

You and Alexia barely make it past the door of her apartment, you trip over each other's legs as you refuse to break apart for a moment. You don't pay much attention to the interior- all you know is that it's nice enough that you don't feel cold and unwelcome.

As you kick off your shoes, you notice the little dog that has come over and pet it to say hello. Then suddenly, Alexia pushes your coat off your shoulders and grabs your hand in a tight grip- tugging you to the bedroom.

From then on, it's animalistic. You practically rip off her dress and she unbuttons your shirt with shaky hands then tugs the skirt off your legs to reveal your lacy panties.

It leaves the both of you in your underwear, standing in Alexia's bedroom staring at each other. Your eyes trace from her strong thighs to her tight abs then to her breasts before finally settling on her face- she's wonderfully gorgeous and want pools in your stomach.

You want her more than you've ever wanted anything else, your blood pumps through your veins at a million miles an hour and you feel as though you're high.

She steps closer to you and a hand reaches out to run a finger up your side leaving goosebumps in its wake, you shiver but lean into the touch.

"You're beautiful, cariño."

You feel yourself flush at the compliment and practically feel yourself getting wetter but the second. You swallow deeply and reach out to place a hand on Alexia's stomach- you feel her gasp and flex under your touch.

You crave out her name on her skin and you see her smile slightly as she follows your finger.

"Are you drunk, Alexia?"

You look at Alexia through your lashes and you see her eyes smile for a moment, it's something you wish you could capture and watch forever.

"I'm not."

You run your tongue along your teeth and suck in a breath.

"Good, I don't want you to forget."

You let both of your hands rest on the elastic band of her underwear, snapping it against her stomach- making her flitch slightly. You smirk and then her hands rest on your forearms.

"You first," You say in a hushed tone and take her hands off your forearms.

You kneel in front of Alexia and look up at her, pure rabid desire coursing through your veins. You unclasp your bra with one hand, letting it fall on the floor and Alexia looks at you with her mouth slightly parted at the sight.

You lick your lips as you rest your hands on her muscular thighs then grab the band of her underwear with your teeth and Alexia groans lowly at the show. You give your best performance, pulling them down all the way to the floor before placing your hands on her ass. You give an experimental squeeze and smile when Alexia lets out an airy moan.

You start slowly, licking up the insides of her thighs and place a hand over pussy. You want this to last, you want to remember and you want Alexia to remember even more.

"Please- I...need it..."

You smirk at her impatience, trying your best to stick to your pace.

"Alexia, what is it that you want?"

You trace a finger down her abs to her pussy, purposefully avoiding dipping your finger inside her slit. You instead watch her face contort as she groans again.

"You- only you."

You accept the answer and lick a strip up her cunt- tasting her and it's like nectar on your tongue. You moan as you stuck on her clit and the effect is immediate- Alexia's rough hands go to rest on your head, guiding you as you lick and suck.

You feel the sway of her hips in time with each stroke of your tongue and you revel at it. You want her taste forever, you want to be in this moment forever. Alexia uses you to chase her own orgasm and you look up at her as she does so.

It's not long before she comes with a loud moan and fingers digging into your scalp, you moan with her and can't help yourself from running your hands down her ass again.

After the high is worn down slightly she puts a hand on your chin, making you look up. You feel her trace her thumb across your cheek as she smiles down at you- your heart flutters and core tightens at her expression.

"Get up."

You stand immediately and she pushes you on the bed then crawls to you like a predator to prey, straddling you on the bed and running her hands up and down your body. Occasionally squeezing your breasts making you arch off the bed slightly.

You feel so hot as if in an oven set to the highest temperature and Alexia's hands scald you- they leave behind pools of desperation that you so keenly want to get rid of.

Eventually, Alexia's hand finds its way into your underwear and you are reduced to a moaning mess. Arching off the bed and whining loudly as Alexia guides a finger inside of you while the palm of her hand is pressed into your clit.

It's euphoric, the pleasure runs through you each time Alexia thrusts her finger in and out of you- you claw at her back, desperately trying to hold onto anything. You leave behind red marks but Alexia doesn't seem to care, she lets you, even moans when you cement a hand into the meat of her shoulder.

"Fuck- Alexia, another, please... please!"

You beg even those she doesn't ask, you're too far gone. Alexia is grinding down on your crotch as she fingers and palms you, the idea of forming a thought is unavailable and all comprehension has left you.

Alexia humors you and easily slides another of her long fingers inside of you and you reward her with a long mewl that she smirks at. It's then that you realize that you won't last much longer- not with Alexia practically riding your lap whilst fingering you.

"Alexia- I'm gonna come, can I? Please?"

You don't know why you beg or ask for permission- you just do and Alexia smiles sweetly at you.

"Of course you can, cariño, you've been so good."

It pushes you over the edge and you let out a half yell as you come, shaking ever so slightly before going completely boneless in Alexia's sheets. You close your eyes as you breathe deeply- then feel Alexia slide off your lap and lay right beside you.

You feel her arm against yours and you turn to face her- your eyes meet her brown ones and you study them for a moment, committing them to memory. They remind you of freshly wet tree bark that smells like childhood in forests and you smile at the sentiment,

You raise a hand and trace the bridge of her nose then each cheek bone as if sculpting her face from scratch. You feel an ache in your heart as much as you do your legs... Alexia to you is a stranger. You know nothing of her and she knows nothing of you.

It's oddly comforting how there is no judgement, not when two strangers meet.

Alexia finds it hard to process the fact that you are in her bed. It's odd really, how peaceful it had been after the whole ordeal. You touched her face for a bit and she let you, leaning into it and then you had slipped under the covers and so had she.

You held her and she let you, leaning into the touch and in an ideal world she would wake up with you- cook breakfast for two and sit on the terrace with you as you laughed at her silly jokes.

Instead when Alexia wakes up the next morning, you are no longer holding her close and all your things are gone. A note in your place:

'Had to leave, Y/N'

Alexia sighs and picks herself up, walks Nala, cooks breakfast for one and eats alone at the kitchen counter.

She doesn't see you for a week and Alexia knows should have assumed that it was a one time thing but hope had been at the back of her mind; hope that you would knock on her door the next day with flowers or a card asking her on a date.

Instead, radio silence... well, almost radio silence.

She hears the piano for the first time that week on a Thursday evening. It's the same grief that is always sung from the instrument, just today it's louder. Louder than at the movie night and the slamming of keys creates an unnerving feeling inside of.

You play with anger, you're angry at yourself... angry at her- angry at grief. You slam the keys with no real talent, just pure rage. A knock brings you out of it for a moment but you don't care, you ignore whoever is at the door and keep playing until a series of loud knocks finally crack your shell.

You open the door and see Alexia, in a Barcelona sweatshirt and trousers. You feel a rush of guilt, you had ignored her- in good faith but still avoided her.

You hadn't meant to but still did so, bad habits returning like a disease.

"Alexia."

You greet her, it's short and it's so unlike the night you two of you shared last week. No passion, no want.

"Y/N? Can I come in?"

You sigh and survey the apartment, it's a mess- plates stacked up in the sink, stray cups far away from their home in the cupboard. Sheet music is everywhere, the floor, the table and kitchen tops but you sigh and open the door wider to let Alexia in.

She thanks you with a nod and does her own little sweep of the apartment- you think she's going to judge you or maybe give a snarky comment but instead she turns to you and you feel her hug.

It's soft, like your favorite bed sheets and you sigh into the hug- it's what you need. Alexia's strong arms around you, someone who doesn't know enough to judge, someone who just wants to be with you- in any way.

You pull away after a while, allowing Alexia to remove her shoes whilst you sit on the piano bench. It's weird, having another person in your new personal space but Alexia doesn't look out of place- she actually looks like the opposite.

You're lost in thought when you notice that she's stood right in front of you and you look up- Alexia doesn't look angry or disappointed, she looks concerned... an expression you know very well.

"You were gone for a week."

It's not a question and you don't treat it like one- You did disappear for a week.

"I was."

You slide to the right so Alexia can sit next to you on the piano bench, none of you say anything when she does so. You want to tell her everything but you've realized that you don't know Alexia- you don't know her favorite color, thing to eat, time of year... you don't even know what she does for work.

The two of you are strangers- neighbors that you know each other's bodies but not each other's hearts.

"I- can't... I can't tell you why, Alexia," You whisper, voice hoarse and dry.

You cannot tell her- it would break everything, break you and her- destroy the half built home you've made for yourself in Barcelona. You expect Alexia to demand an answer like most people would or maybe just walk out and never come back, instead you feel a hand wrap around your waist.

"I don't want to know, not unless you want to say."

“Just- don’t leave again?”

You face her and she's smiling- it's a little sad, that kind of smile you would see after a funeral service but you don't care and lean in any way. Kiss her slowly, like you never want it to end because you don't, you want her to stay in this moment forever.

Toeing the line between someone who knows too much and a stranger is right where you want her to stay.

"Stay?" You ask like a child does for a new toy and she grants you your wish.

The two of you walk to your bedroom and lay on top of the bedsheets facing each other as if you were twelve and gossiping about your classmates.

"Tell me about you," You ask her to fill the silence when you don't have the strength.

Alexia does so with comfort, "I'm a footballer-"

"So you aren't just a fan, liar!" You let out a laugh for the first time in a week and give her a little push.

"You never asked? I have a little dog, Nala... You've met her- and I'm here with you and I don't think I want to be anywhere else."

It's half sheepish and half confident, you can't help but smile at it.

"I don't want to be anywhere else either."

The next month is the best one so far since you've moved to Barcelona- you see Alexia practically every day, go out sightseeing (something you had yet to do), go to the grocery store together, sometimes sleep around each other's places and eat dinner together each evening. It's a routine you find yourself getting comfortable in, even catching yourself smiling more and more when you're with her.

One evening, when it's your turn to host dinner, you play the piano for her. You're used to an audience but when you're on stage everyone seems so small- inconsequential so that’s why, when you're sitting on the bench about to play with Alexia sitting in front of one of the mismatched chairs, you feel suddenly nervous.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

Immediately Alexia laughs and you frown.

"I won't, you know I wont."

You decide to ignore the nervousness stewing in your stomach and finally press the keys and play Franz Liszt, liebesträume. A piece you had ignored for so long because it hurt so much but Alexia is here with you now and she deserves to know what she means to you.

Your fingers glide across the keyboard and the emotion slips out unwillingly- the piece means so much to you, good memories, bad memories, arguments and makeups.

By the time you're finished and look up Alexia is crying- hot tears streaming down her face without control and you shoot up to wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," You don't know why you apologize but it seems fitting.

Between hiccups, Alexia says, "Don't- That... was beautiful."

After that you eat dinner with a small candle between you- smiling and chatting about absolutely everything and nothing at the same time.

This bubble the two of you built over the month grows by the day until it's burst one evening by reality.

It's just after Christmas and New Year when it happens- you finally get to see Alexia after she returns from visiting her family and the two of you fall back into that same routine.

Yet Tuesday is different, you sit at dinner in silence this time. Listening to Alexia talk about training and teammates with occasional hums that sounds like you don't really care.

You aren't paying attention, methodically taking bites of your food every so often when the clatter of a fork breaks you out of it. You look up to see Alexia staring at you with the same expression of worry.

You sigh and put down your own cutlery. This was a long time coming, you'd been walking a tightrope with Alexia- your hands out for support desperately trying to stay balanced and now your balance had been broken.

"Alexia."

It's an invitation to a conversation you would rather avoid altogether but it's been a long time coming... and Alexia has become more important to you than you'd intended. A crutch to your unstable life, some kind of stability.

"I'll tell you, if you'll listen," You offer in a meek voice, one that you don't normally find yourself speaking in around Alexia.

Alexia's eyebrows shoot up and you know that she knows what you're talking about- the reason for practically everything you do. Why you're in Barcelona, why you play, why you lean on Alexia- seek her out.

She nods and you sigh, preparing yourself to hold back scalding tears.

"My- my best friend... actually, my girlfriend or ex now... she was from Barcelona and-"

You pause as a lump forms in your throat, choking you and making unwanted tears form in your eyes. An anvil rests on your chest, thick and heavy grief passes over you in waves that you desperately try to hold back.

"She... died- and... and it was all my fault."

You're crying as you're saying it, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, ruining the makeup you had put so much effort in and making that heavy feeling looming over you into a storm.

Alexia jumps out of her seat and kneels next to yours, taking your hands in hers. They are warm and normally you'd find them comforting but here, now, they burn you with guilt. Guilt for finding her and moving on.

"No, that can't be true, cariño-"

"It is, Alexia! I... we fought a lot- over my career... and one day- she... she couldn't take it anymore- she.. she," You let out a choked sob that makes your throat ache.

You can't say it- you never have been able to. It's a pain that is so present yet never comfortable enough to process- it's the pain of losing a part of yourself as much as losing a friend.

You look down at Alexia and her facial expression is kind- something you don't expect, you'd actually expect the opposite; disgust, guilt on your behalf, maybe even hate. It makes you cry harder, knowing that she must be the only person that doesn't hate you for not stopping something so far out of your control.

She stands and you feel strong arms wrapped around you. They give you stability for a moment, awakening some kind of strength that you didn't know you possessed anymore.

"She- killed herself, three years ago yesterday and.. and I found her, Alexia."

Alexia's arms tighten around you ever so slightly and you feel her hand run up and down your back in an odd sort of comfort.

The two of you stay there for what feels like forever- an eternity that you wish were true. You want Alexia to stay forever, to forever hold you as you cry tears that have been marinating your years.

When she finally lets you go, she doesn't speak and you thank her silently, instead she wipes your tears with the back of her thumb- clears the table by herself and leads you to her bedroom.

You strip your clothes off quietly and so does Alexia until the two of you are in bed with your underwear on. This time, she holds you, arms wrapped around your middle in a way you didn't think you needed.

The silence is comfortable and you don't go to fill it as you normally would- there is nothing to say, nothing to explain because no questions are asked. Alexia asks nothing of you, no why, or how and it's refreshingly loving. She wants nothing but you, here with her and not reliving the past with her as a passenger.

The both of you stay like that for a while, laying together in the dark room, just holding each other as if you were the only people in the universe. You find yourself breathing without issue- the heavy weight of guilt slowly decreases.

You know it's never going to be gone and you don't want it to be, you want to remember her as best as you can but it feels so new to have so little guilt upon your weakened chest.

"Ale?" You check whether Alexia is asleep and a soft hum answers you, then a kiss on your shoulder solidifies her sleeplessness.

You sigh and wrap your arms around the ones on your waist, "I used to not be able to dream- never have I dreamt."

"Isn't that weird?"

Alexia answers softly, "Maybe... but maybe that's what makes you special."

You shake your head and crack the lightest of smiles.

"No, because I dream now, vividly- ever since I saw you in the elevator, I've been dreaming of what I'll be doing next... with you."

It turns out that twenty five Euros can buy you a ticket to Barcelona from Madrid but it can also guide you to a stranger that will eventually pick up the pieces to your broken puzzle with her own hands. Help you find your place as much as you help her.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #barca femeni

284 notes · View notes

urno1luv · 2 days ago

Note

all i can think about is ningning taking your virginity and making you her puppet, so i have to share it with u!!

like imagine being best friend with ningning and one day at sleepover she decides she wants to fuck you and she doesn’t know what to do so she randomly comes behind up and start massaging your boobs and you’re kind of confuse but it feels good and she’s like you like that? but you know you shouldn’t!! she’s your best friend after all, best friends don’t do that

then you confess to her you’re a virgin and she’s like i know babe but she still asks you if you can make her feel good so you try

then it leads to her fucking you with a strap!!

i hope you don't mind but i changed a little bit of the request bc i couldn’t write this, my brain was just not working👉👈kinda long

hot best friend ningning x oblivious reader

You'd had a hundred sleepovers with Ningning before — messy skincare routines, late-night snacks, and half-hearted movie marathons where you both ended up scrolling your phones instead. Tonight was supposed to be just like any other night.

Except... it wasn't.

Maybe it was how she'd been looking at you all evening — eyes lingering just a little too long, her playful teasing feeling heavier somehow. Or the way her fingers would brush your thigh under the blanket, pretending not to notice how your breath caught every time. You tried to tell yourself you were imagining it.

Ningning was your best friend. She'd always been touchy, always called you baby in that soft, sing-song voice. But when she suggested sharing the bed instead of setting up the couch like usual... something shifted. Now you're lying side by side in the dim light, both in oversized t-shirts and tiny shorts, bodies close under the blankets. Her perfume lingers between you — warm, sweet, dangerous.

"You tired?" she asks softly, her voice low, lazy. You shake your head, trying not to notice how her leg is pressed against yours. "No... not really."

There's a beat of silence.

You feel her shift, propping herself up on one elbow. When you glance at her, her eyes are already on you — darker than usual, half-lidded, like she's sizing you up.

"You always get so shy around me."

Your stomach flips. "I'm not—"

She cuts you off with a soft little laugh, fingers brushing over your bare thigh — just barely there, like she's testing how far she can push. "You are."

Her voice is quieter now, closer. "It's cute."

Your breath catches. You should pull away, crack a joke — anything to break whatever this is. But you don't.

You just lie there, heart pounding, heat pooling low in your stomach as her fingers trace slow circles against your skin. "You ever wonder what it would feel like?" she murmurs, leaning in so close her breath is warm against your lips. "What?"

Her eyes flick down to your mouth — then back up, lazy and deliberate.

"If I kissed you."

Your whole body goes still. You've never thought about Ningning like that... or maybe you have, but buried it so deep you forgot it was even there.

"I..."

She smiles — soft, teasing — like she knows exactly how flustered she's making you.

"You can tell me to stop." Her fingers slide higher, brushing just under the hem of your shorts. "But I don't think you want me to.

You don't. God, you don't.

"Ning..."

That's all you get out before her lips are on yours — slow, testing — like she's been holding back for way too long.

She tastes sweet, like the strawberry lip balm you borrowed earlier, her hand slipping under your shirt to rest against your waist. When she pulls back, her eyes flick between yours, waiting.

"You like when I'm soft with you, huh?" she whispers.

You nod, breathless.

Her lips brush your jaw, trailing lower — your neck, your collarbone — until you're tilting your head back without even thinking.

"But I could be so much meaner if you asked."

Her hand dips lower between your thighs, fingers brushing where you're already aching for her — barely there, just enough to make you gasp.

"You gonna let your best friend take care of you, baby?"

She's teasing, playing with you — but there's heat behind it, like she's been waiting for this moment longer than you'd ever realized.

You whimper — half nodding, half falling apart — and that's all the permission she needs.

Her fingers are still teasing between your thighs — featherlight touches that have your whole body trembling under the blanket. Ningning's smile is lazy, half-lidded, like she’s been waiting to get you like this for way too long.

"You always this quiet, baby?" she murmurs, lips brushing your jaw.

Your heart's pounding so hard you're sure she can feel it under her palm. You're dizzy — from the heat, from how close she is, from how good her hands feel without even really doing anything yet.

"I—" Your voice catches in your throat. You squeeze your legs together, trying to squirm away from her touch — but she just smiles, pressing her thigh between yours to keep you in place.

"You what?" she whispers, breath warm against your ear.

Your whole face burns. You've never felt like this before — not with anyone. Every brush of her fingers sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between your legs, but...

"I've never..."

You can't even finish the sentence.

Ningning freezes — just for a second — and then she laughs.

It's low, soft, teasing — like she just stumbled onto the best secret in the world.

"Oh my god..." she breathes, grinning down at you. "You're a virgin?"

You bite your lip, turning your face away — but she catches your chin between two fingers, making you look at her.

"Baby..." she coos, mock-sweet. "Were you just gonna let me ruin you without even telling me?"

You feel like you're going to die — but the worst part is how wet you are just from the sound of her voice.

"I didn't— I didn't think—"

"You didn't think I'd find out?" Her thumb brushes your bottom lip, smirking when you gasp. "Or you didn't think I'd like it?"

Your breath catches.

She likes it?

Her eyes flick down your body — to where you're squirming under her, thighs clenched tight around her leg — then back up to your face.

"Oh, baby..." she purrs. "You're so cute."

Her fingers slide higher, slipping under your shorts — still not touching where you want her, just teasing along the inside of your thigh.

"You want me to be gentle with you?"

You should nod. You should say yes. But the way she's looking at you — like she wants to devour you — makes your whole body ache.

You shake your head, breathless.

Ningning's smirk deepens.

"Didn't think so."

Her fingers brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp — hips bucking up into her hand without even meaning to. She watches every little twitch, every shaky breath, like she's studying you.

"You've been thinking about this, haven't you?" she murmurs. "Letting your best friend touch you like this... even if you didn't wanna admit it.

You whimper — and that's all the answer she needs.

"Don't worry, baby..." she coos, finally slipping her fingers beneath the fabric. "I'll be gentle..."

Her lips brush your ear — voice dropping lower —

"...at first."

You're gone. Completely. All those years of friendship, every line you thought you'd never cross — they're already ruined under her hands, and she's only just getting started.

Her hand drifts lower under the blanket, fingers brushing between your legs again — but this time, she doesn't tease. She cups you through your ruined panties, palm pressing down just enough to make your hips buck into her hand.

"You want me to stretch you out, baby?" she whispers against your lips. "Wanna feel what it's like to really get fucked?"

Your breath catches — and you don't even realize you're nodding until she's already smirking down at you like she owns you.

"Good girl."

You barely register her slipping out of bed — too dazed, too soaked between your thighs to do anything but watch as she opens her overnight bag and pulls out...

Oh.

You sit up on your elbows, eyes wide.

"Ning... you brought that to a sleepover?"

She flashes you a wicked little grin, the black strap-on hanging loose from her fingers.

"I was hoping you'd finally let me fuck you sooner or later."

Your whole body burns — but before you can even think of something smart to say, she's crawling back onto the bed, strapping the harness low on her hips like she's done it a million times before.

"You still want me to be gentle, baby?" she purrs, stroking the silicone along your thigh — not quite where you need it, just enough to make you squirm.

You bite your lip, eyes flicking between her face and the strap — heart pounding so hard you're sure she can hear it.

"...No."

Her smile curves slow and dangerous.

"That's what I thought."

She hooks her fingers under your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs in one slow motion —Ningning freezes — just for a second — and then she laughs.

You're already soaked again, slick dripping down your thighs — and Ningning sees it. Her tongue flicks over her bottom lip, eyes locked on your messy little cunt like she's ready to eat you alive.

"Fuck, baby... you're so wet for me."

You whimper — half embarrassed, half aching — but she just shushes you, leaning down to kiss your thigh.

"I'll make it feel good," she promises softly. "Gonna make you forget anyone else ever even touched you."

She lines the strap up between your legs, dragging the head through your slick folds — slow, teasing — just to watch you squirm.

"Look at you..." she murmurs, voice low and sweet. "All shy and innocent — and now you're about to let your best friend fuck you."

You gasp, clutching at the sheets as the tip nudges against your entrance — stretching you open inch by inch, so slow it hurts.

Ningning groans low under her breath, even though she can't feel it — like she's imagining how tight you are, how wet.

"You're so fucking tight, baby..." she breathes, hips rolling forward just a little deeper. "Relax... let me in."

You try — but she's so big, and it's so much — and she can feel you clenching around the strap, watching every little whimper that spills from your lips.

"You're taking me so well, baby..." she coos, kissing your cheek. "Such a good girl for me."

She doesn't stop until she's buried to the hilt — hips flush against yours, her breath hot against your neck.

You feel so full you're dizzy — stretched open and ruined on your best friend's cock, panting into her mouth as she starts to move.

Slow at first — gentle — just rocking her hips against yours while one hand slips between your thighs to rub soft little circles over your clit.

"That's it, baby... let me take care of you..."

You can't do anything but take it — legs wrapped around her waist, nails digging into her back as she fucks you into the mattress.

Every thrust makes you gasp — this slow, steady rhythm that has your body melting under her. "Does it feel good?" she whispers, biting at your jaw. "Is this what you've been waiting for?"

You nod, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes — so overwhelmed you can't even speak. Ningning loves it. "Poor baby..." she coos, pressing her thumb harder against your clit. "Gonna come for me again, huh? Gonna let your best friend fuck all those shy little noises out of you?"

You're already so close — hips grinding up into hers, breath catching with every slow, deep thrust. She leans in — lips brushing your ear —

"Come for me, baby... let me ruin you."

And you do — falling apart under her with a broken little cry, legs shaking around her waist as she fucks you through it. When it's over, she doesn't pull out right away — just holds you there, cock still buried deep, pressing soft kisses along your jaw.

"You did so good for me..." she murmurs, brushing sweaty hair out of your face.

"Such a pretty little slut."

You're still trembling when she finally pulls out — slick dripping down your thighs, body wrecked from the inside out.

But Ningning just smirks, pulling you close against her chest. "You want me to clean you up?" she whispers, trailing her fingers down your stomach.

"Or shall we find out how many times i can make you cum before the sun comes up?"

#urno1luv #aespa x reader #girl group x female reader #ningning x reader #ningning x fem reader #ning yizhou #girl group smut

186 notes · View notes

voitier · 21 hours ago

Text

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut!] teasing, making out, mentions of dry humping, fingering, reader's first time, softdom!gguk × inexperienced!reader, gentle sex, mentions of discomfort during penetration.

▸ 𝓔𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮

▸ 𝔀.𝓬: 2𝓴 +

There were certain things you absolutely loved about your boyfriend, like the way his eyes lit up in excitement when you cooked him his favourite meal, or the way his natural non-toxic masculine energy immediately put you at ease, making you slide into your soft feminine energy naturally. This was probably one of the first things you noticed even before you got together, slowly becoming aware of how well you fit into a balanced dynamic that you both felt comfortable in.

But, most of all, you loved the way he never pushed you to do things you weren't keen on doing, never made you feel like you had to something for him "because he said so", never forced anything. Always treated you so well, so gently, so lovingly. He held you at night tight enough like he was afraid you would slip from his arms, but also so delicately like he was scared he could break you if he made a tiny mistake, the same way glass shatters to the ground if you're not careful enough.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when you told him you weren't ready to have sex just yet, tears striking down your face in fear he would leave you right then and there, and he didn't even appear to be annoyed by that. If anything, he ran you a warm bubble bath, hugging you from behind while cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings to reassure you that no, he wouldn't leave you for that and yes, he would wait as long as you needed.

"Thank you," you had whispered, sniffling softly as the sobs finally subdued. Jungkook gathered the bubbles in the palm of his hand, blowing them in your face. His expression visibly relaxed as you giggled, wiping the scented bubbles that landed on the tip of your nose.

"Princess, I don't want you to feel pressured about doing anything with me, got that? I could never leave you, I love you too much. Also, your cute little face got me wrapped around your pinky."

A few months had passed from that moment, and he had kept his promise. This doesn’t mean that you never shared moments of intimacy, but rather that you both opted for things that you liked and were comfortable in, like grinding while making out, or giving and receiving oral. And you always felt so at ease, so sure that he would never take advantage of you in any way or form.

But as time went on, you felt your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground: it all started with following him on set, watching mesmerized as he posed for the camera. He was magnificent in his expressions, in his demeanor, in the way he rocked the outfits given by the CK company. He was confident, alluring, his muscles moving in a way that made you feel tingly all over. His eyes caught yours, crouched on the chair behind the camera, trying to be invisible to the eyes of all the professionals that hurriedly walked around you. You watched as a weird glint sparkled in his eyes, his lips curling in a knowing smirk briefly before he snapped back into character, leaving you a flustered, breathless mess. You weren’t entirely sure, but after that it looked like he posed even sexier for the camera, manipulating his body so that it could allure you in the same way a siren’s song allures pirates before devouring them. and god, did it work…

You shifted around uncomfortably, fiddling with your phone, looking around at anything to tear your eyes from your boyfriend, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. and Jungkook took notice of every effort you made to hide your need, quite amused by it all. Soon after, the director called for the end of the day, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear “good job, guys, see you tomorrow!”, clapping his hands and stopping by the photographer to discuss something about the lightning of some photos.

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, stretching his body to relax his tensed limbs before making his way to you, chuckling darkly when he noticed you acting like you weren’t paying any attention to him. he leaned over you, trapping you between his arms as his lips hovered your ear. “What's wrong, princess?” he purred, nibbling softly your earlobe. Your breath struck in your throat at his sultry tone, and you prayed he couldn’t hear your heart thrumming in your chest, or your hands shaking by your side. You felt like you were floating in a bubble where nothing mattered aside from his presence, and his musky cologne that clouded your senses and made your head dizzy. You closed your eyes breathing it in, parting your lips slightly to let out a soft breath.

Jungkook hummed pleased at your responsiveness, cupping your jaw with his warm hand. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, staring at it almost as if hypnotised by his own action, pulling it down softly before murmuring “let’s go home, princess”, a tinge of urgency lacing his words.

The drive home was probably the quickest you’ve ever been in, with Jungkook’s foot slamming the pedal to the ground, one hand grabbing possessively your thigh and fingers touching where you most need him with featherlight pressure. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway Jungkook was quick to pick you up and bring you inside, pushing your back against the door as soon as it closed behind you.

His lips immediately found yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss. He gently pulled your hair at the back of your neck, angling your face better in order to deepen the kiss. You moaned, the sound swallowed by your boyfriend’s lips, hands tugging at his shirt to take it off. Jungkook pulled back slightly, groaning at the sight of your swollen red lips and hooded eyes. “Bedroom?” he asked, throwing his shirt on the ground.

“Yes, please” you whispered, following him around the house as more kissing and more stripping occurred, ending up in the bedroom already half naked and even more worked up than before. You wiggled out of the shirt that covered your chest and your panties-clad bottom, straddling your boyfriend’s lap as he sat against the headboard.

“C’mon, princess, you know what to do” he said, hands holding your thighs firmly while you rocked back and forth, whimpering as his still clothed boner provided the perfect friction against your aching clit. “Want… more,” you cried out, hips rutting desperately. Jungkook’s lips latched on your skin, sucking deep purple spots all over your neck and collarbones. “Yeah?” he asked against your flesh, “what is it that you want, princess?”

Your cheeks burned at the embarrassment, yet it didn’t stop you from whimpering “want you inside me”. You felt your boyfriend’s body tense beneath you, his kissing stopping on the spot. His hand cupped your jaw, keeping you in place as his eyes locked with yours. “What did you say, princess?”

If possible, you felt your whole body catch on fire just from his tone alone, trying to divert your gaze as you repeated shyly “want… want you inside me. Please”. You swore you felt his cock throbbing at your words, his pupils completely blown out in lust. The fingers that held your jaw twitched briefly before he asked “you’re sure, princess?”, struggling to hide the restraint in his voice. You nodded, rocking your hips tentatively to spur him on.

He bit his lip, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to break over his face. He failed at that, though, and a happy giggle escaped his lips as he switched your position, letting you fall on the soft pillows, your back landing on the mattress. He showered your face in excited kisses before he finally calmed down, a serious expression on his face. “Promise you’ll tell me if I'm hurting you or if you want to stop”. You smiled, nodding your head. “Pinky promise”. And just like that he was on you again, reaching a hand behind your back to flick your bra off your chest, sighing in pleasure once he cupped your breast in his hand, gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Always looking so pretty,” he purred, reaching a hand down to unzip his pants, trying to take some pressure off his painfully hard member. He groaned, muttering a small “fuck,” before lowering his head on your torso, kissing his way down all the way to your panties. He pressed a hand on your thigh, keeping you spread over in front of his eyes. He smirked pleased at the wet patch on the baby blue fabric of your thong, rubbing his thumb up and down your clothed slit, then pressing his finger on your clit. “Oh fuck- please, Kook,” you moaned, bucking your hips up to gain some more friction.

“Patience, princess,” he whispered, blowing softly on your clothed sex. You gasped at the feeling, trying to press your thighs back together, but you were stopped by Jungkook’s firm grasp that pinned you to the bed. “How sensitive,” he chuckled, teasingly licking a stripe up the drenched fabric. You whimpered, a string of pleas falling repeatedly from your plush lips as you grew progressively more desperate for more.

“Oh I know, I know, princess,” he cooed, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Gonna make you feel so nice,” he continued, stopping to admire your glistening folds, all wet and leaking just for him. He ran his pointer finger between your folds, gathering your moisture before slowly slipping the finger in.

“Oh-” you gasped, closing your eyes as Jungkook’s finger stroked your walls, curling it just right. “Gonna put another one in,” he murmured, slipping another finger in. A loud moan escaped your lips, spurring your boyfriend to move in quicker and deeper movements, his fingers hitting repeatedly your g-spot almost as if in a quest to let you release as many sounds as possible. Slick sounds and ragged breaths filled the room, your mind clouding into a hazy state. The bands in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment now, your walls fluttering around Jungkook’s fingers.

Said man, of course, wanted to toy with you a little longer before giving you the relief you needed, and that’s why he immediately pulled his fingers out, chucking darkly at your disappointed whines. He slipped the same two fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as your juices dripped on his tongue. “Always taste so good,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Think you’re ready for me, princess?”

You nodded eagerly, though you couldn’t hide the nervousness pricking at the back of your neck. “Can you just… be gentle? Like, a lot? Pretty please”.

“Of course, princess, you don’t even have to ask. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, yeah?” of course there was no doubt that Jungkook already planned on taking it easy with you, nevertheless the confirmation was much needed for you, helping your nerves ease even a tiny bit.

The man sat back on his knees, taking off his pants and briefs in one go. Even though it wasn’t the first time you had seen him completely naked, you couldn’t help but stare at him mesmerised. He was just that good looking, his body built the same way the greeks carved their most beloved statues. Your mouth ran dry at the sight, and your hands itched to explore every inch of flesh.

Jungkook leaned back down, caging your head between his arms. He stroked your cheek lovingly, kissing you softly before asking “Do you want me to put a condom on?”

You shook your head, whispering “I’m still on the pill, it’s fine. Wanna feel you raw”. Your boyfriend closed his eyes at the confession, your desire of feeling him bare both arousing and touching. “Okay,” his hand reached between your bodies, holding his member in a firm grasp as he ran his almost purplish tip over your folds, gathering your wetness.

“Oh god,” you choked out, your walls clenching around nothing. Finally, Jungkook aligned his cock with your entrance, looking at your face one last time before slowly pushing it in, holding you closer to his chest as you gasped in discomfort. “Kook…ngh, wait…”

“I got you, princess,” he cooed, stopping his motion immediately. He stroked your hair, and he didn’t even wince when you bit his bicep to ignore the discomfort between your hips. “‘s alright, love. I promise it’s gonna feel nice really soon, hold tight for me”.

You nodded, taking a shaky breath in before your boyfriend pushed a couple more inches or so inside you, settling deep before he stilled his movements, waiting for you to give him permission to do anything. Despite the uncomfortable sensation, you couldn’t ignore how full you felt and how good it felt to have him nestled inside your walls completely bare, allowing you to feel even the littlest throb. Meanwhile, your angel of a boyfriend did everything in his hold to distract you, from kissing your lips to nibbling your earlobe, wanting you to feel good yet feeling guilty because he couldn’t do anything to let the pain subside faster.

“Mmh- Kook… I think you can move now,” you croaked out, catching Jungkook’s attention. The man whispered a soft “okay,” then locked your lips in a slow and passionate kiss as he began moving, pulling out almost entirely before pushing back in, over and over again. Soon, you whimpers of discomfort turned into moans of pleasure, and Jungkook followed you by example. Noises of skin slapping skin echoed in the bedroom, almost harmonising with your moans and grunts.

“Princess… can I- fuck, can I go faster?” you nodded again, throwing your head against the pillows as Jungkook’s hips picked up their pace, almost snapping against your body. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw hanging low while your boyfriend got drunk on the sight, hissing as he felt himself approaching his orgasm at light’s speed. His hand reached down, toying with your clit to bring you closer to your finish line. However, he almost lost it all when you let out a loud, almost pornographic, moan, your walls sucking him in greedily.

His brows furrowed in concentration, determined to make you cum before he did. “C’mon, princess, give it to me,” he grunted, applying the right pressure to your clit to make you completely unravel under him, whimpering and shaking as your walls fluttered around his dick. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, pulling out just in time to spill his warm milky white cum on your tummy, decorating your skin in ropes of white.

He laid beside you with a huff, scanning your body with his eyes to check that everything was alright. He took a strand of hair falling onto your eyes and lovingly pushed it behind your ear, smiling at you softly as you opened your eyes back. “Doing alright, love?”

You hummed, feeling too weak to mutter out anything. Your body still shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you felt your sensitive sex still pulsing uncomfortably, but overall you felt great, and your mind wasn’t running miles per hour for once.

Jungkook pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. “C’mon, I’ll run us a bath. You’ve been so good, I love you so much, princess.”

⭒ a.n: first fic on here! let me know what you guys think, I'm so excited!

#© voitier #bts jungkook #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #jung kook #bts smau #bts jk #bts x reader #bts army

161 notes · View notes

elliewrites77 · 3 days ago

Text

Pride and Anger

this is probably the only angst i've written to be posted, like ever. and it came to because I was thinking about Ace and Luffy, and how sad (and unnecessary, ill die on this hill) his death was. so, like most sane people, i will continue to pretend Portgas D. Ace is alive and well, and my poor Luffy did not have to go through something so traumatic by himself. I hope it doesn't come off as too angsty or all angst. that's a fun word lol

He was alive. Portgas D. Ace was alive.

Critically injured and on the brink of death, sure. But alive.

He was really alive and in front of you.

And you were furious.

You were furious with him, with the marines, with Garp, with Roger, with everyone. And that was exactly why the members of the Heart Pirates stayed as far away from you as they could get. The only person you had spoken to with even a little bit or kindness had been Law, and that's just because he saved their lives. Both boys had been on their last breath when Law saved you all in Marineford, and you were grateful to him, truly, but you were far too enraged to worry about your manners with his crew. You snapped at anyone that suggested you leave them to rest, and when Luffy finally woke up, you snapped at them when they said you should go up with him, to the island of warrior women. You refused to leave Ace's side.

You felt bad, sure. You wanted to be with Luffy, to comfort him as much as you could. But every time you tried to move, your body froze. It was keeping you there, with Ace. You knew Luffy would understand, and at least he wasn't alone. You were thankful for Jimbei too.

You keep replaying the events over and over in your head. Especially the part where Ace almost turned back. He almost turned around to fight, to die for some words. Pride, that's what almost took your closest friend. Pride over a pirate who had already given his life for Ace. Pride that almost make him break his promise to you. His promise to come back.

You don't know what stopped him, really. Maybe it was Luffy, or maybe his brain caught up with his ego. Maybe it was so he didn't disappoint Whitebeard or his crew. Maybe it was you. You didn't know, and you might not ever know. Because he was alive, yes, but it wasn't impossible for that to change, according to Law. And the fact that you still have hope but know that it could be in vain, that also made you furious.

So you stayed. You sat there, staring at his form, the wraps covering his body making him look like a mummy. You stayed, listening to his faint and abnormal breathing. You stayed, praying to whatever higher being their was that he woke up. That he survived. Because you'll be damned before if you didn't get a chance to tell him how angry you were with him. He has almost left you, just like that. Sailing away is one thing, dying is another. He wasn't allowed to die. He had promised that he wouldn't.

You were angry that he had spent his whole life thinking he wasn't loved or able to be, when you had spent your whole life loving him. More than a friend, more than a partner in crime, more than two kids who had a lot in common (including shit dad's). You were angry with yourself for never telling him, too.

You finally moved when Law came into the room, telling you that you really needed to speak to Luffy, now. Something about his look told you he was right, and your body actually let you move.

Hugging the boy you considered family was a relief, and you were close to crying into his bandaged shoulder as he hugged back. You didn't want to let go, didn't know if you could hold it together if you did. But after a few minutes, you heard him utter words that reignited your rage.

You saw the fear an most of the Heart crew when you pulled away, fire in your eyes. You saw how each one of them stepped back as if you were a bomb ready to blow. You didn't care, simply looking from Rayleigh to Luffy and back. Luffy knew the look in your eyes, and returned it with a serious one. That alone is what made you pause.

"Why?" You whispered.

"Ace almost died, he still might. I...I couldn't protect him..couldn't protect you. I have to get stronger, for you, for Ace, for the crew. If I'm ever gonna survive the New World, I have to be...better."

You wanted to argue, wanted to make him stay. 2 years? You didn't want that. But you knew Luffy, knew his determination was strong, and his desire to protect his loved ones was even stronger. So you just hugged him again.

"I swear, Luffy, you better be safe. I don't know what that weirdo is gonna have you do, but please just, try not to get hurt." You said in his ear, feeling him nod as a response. You understood, really, but that wouldn't stop you from worrying.

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

It had been a few weeks since you said goodbye to Luffy. You were staying with Law, not having anywhere to go for 2 years, and since Ace still needed to be cared for, it only made sense. But everyday he didn't wake up, your hope waned. Law noticed this, offering to teach you more medical stuff or training you to fight better just to give you something to do. Both things helped, for a few hours. But at the end of the day, you returned to that cold room, and returned to watching his motionless body, the only thing telling you he was alive being the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Your anger was still there, yes, but it has lessened over time. At this point, you only held onto it because it made the hurt of everything that happened a little more bearable. It helped to talk to him, even if he couldn't hear. You confessed your anger, your worry, your pain, and your love. Getting it out, even if you were practically talking to yourself, helped you cope.

Which was good, considering he didn't wake up for an entire year.

He was in a coma for a year. His outside wounds, the small ones, healed. But there was still a large scar on his chest that would always twin with Luffy's. But he was slowly, slowly getting better, according to Law. And that gave you more hope, despite how long you waited.

And as you prepared yourself for another year of no change, you were surprised when Bepo enthusiastically approached you as you were returning to the polar tang, after spending the day on an island to gather supplies. It took a moment for your brain to process the animals words, but as soon as they did, you dropped everything.

"He woke up!"

You rushed onboard the submarine, pushing past everyone to get to that familiar room. But you froze inside the doorway. All you could see was Law, standing over Ace and talking lightly. You could barely hear his voice as he replied. It was cracked, and slow, clear that he was gathering himself after not speaking or being awake for so long.

You remained frozen until Law, who somehow knew you were there, slowly moves out of the way, revealing Ace to you once more. You had gotten so used to his 'sleeping' state, that it shocked you even more when you met his eyes.

They were dazed and tired, which was perfectly understandable. But they lit up at the sight of you, something you immediately noticed. It made you tear up as you forced your body to move closer. Law silently left the room.

Neither you nor Ace broke the silence, or eye contact. It felt like a dream, to be staring into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, once again. A dream you had for a year straight. At that thought, you did break from his gaze, your eyes running down the rest of his body in assessment, as if he grew new wounds just from waking up.

"You gonna keep checking..me out..?" He spoke gruffly, a small smirk on his face. The tears fell from your eyes instantly, and you dropped to your knees beside his bed.

"You stupid, dumb, beautiful idiot. You left me sitting here alone, for an entire year. A year of not knowing if you'd ever wake up. And the first thing you say to me is that?" you spoke through sobs, a laugh making its way through as well. You laid your head on his arm, feeling him slowly lift his other one to pat your head as you cried onto him.

"m'sorry angel...I..don't remember everything yet but...ink-dude told me a bit.." he spoke slowly. you could tell the words were hard for his throat to let out.

"Law. He's that captain of this ship." You informed through another teary laugh, lifting your head from his arm and instead grabbing his hand in yours. "don't push yourself right now. It's honestly probably best if you..don't remember everything for a little. You still need rest."

He used his free hand to rub your cheek, wiping away some of the tears still slowly rolling down your face.

"too..pretty to..cry" you heard him mumble. His eyes looked sad. You could guess why.

"You're too pretty to die. Remember that next time." you joked slightly, smiling at him. You were happy, so so happy, that he was actually awake now. Right now, that outweighed everything else.

He chuckled, coughing right after. You gave him a glass of water, holding his head to help him drink. When he was done, he laid it back down and closed his eyes for a moment. You stroked his hair, admiring him. Sure, he had his eyes closed for a year, but this was different.

His eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a smile.

"I heard ya...you know.."

Your brows furrowed. You thought he couldn't hear.

"You heard me every time?"

"I don't...think so...all I remember is...you talking about stopping for...medical gloves...and saying you love me."

Your eyes widen, and you freeze once again. That had been that very morning, before you left to get supplies. You did tell him you love him every day though, feeling like you'd regret it if you didn't. But you were okay with doing that when you thought he couldn't hear. Now that he had, you were nervous.

"I uh..I didn't...um.." You stuttered. He chuckled lightly, gripping your hand again.

"It's okay, angel...I..I'm sorry, about..this..about everything...but I need...need you to know that...I love you too." He confessed, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. Tears came to your eyes again, along with a smile, and you closed your eyes resting your forehead against his.

For the first time in over a year, you weren't angry or scared. You were at peace.

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

masterlist

144 notes · View notes

kingkat12 · 21 hours ago

Text

forever (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of blood, ANGST (SORRY IN ADVANCE)

summary: nothing will ever be the same again after you've find out what Roman truly is-- you can be sure of that now.

word count: 5,093

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13

a/n: GOSH I'M BACK! 13 is the lucky number (not). this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but it's more than enough for this scene... I can't breathe omg. thank you to everyone that has helped me with brainstorming and clearing my mind about this scene, specifically @mentallyscreamingsincebirth who read about 7 different drafts (poor soul), and I'M SO SORRY. SO SO SORRY Y'ALL. ENJOY... tbh that's not the right word, so, good luck!!!

Loving Roman had consequences right from the start.

However, I never imagined it would lead to this.

My hands trembled as I clutched the knife, though I couldn't tell if it was from fear or the sheer weight of the situation. Roman hadn't moved an inch since I'd pointed it at him, but the way he loomed in front of me made every second stretch unbearably long. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge-- my breath caught in my throat as he tilted his head, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable, something quiet.

Then, without warning, a slow exhale left his lips as though he was indifferent-- Roman's shoulders slackened, the tension bleeding from his frame as if this entire moment had bored him. And then, just like that, he put his tux jacket on the kitchen island before he turned away.

I flinched at the movement, but all Roman did was step toward the fridge, peeling it open with a lazy sort of ease. He bent down, rummaging through the shelves, shifting the milk aside like I wasn't still standing there, terrified.

I turned with him, still pointing the blade in his direction as my pulse threatened to rupture my ears-- this was the biggest mind-fuck of the century. This night was. My brows drew together as I dared to speak, confusion drowning my anxious words; "What are you doing?"

Roman shrugged. "I have a feeling this is gonna take a while, and I'm really fucking hungry. Do you know how many calories you burn from beating up assholes?" Another sigh followed-- he continued to speak into the fridge as he shuffled through the vegetables; "You're not wearing your dress."

It sounded like a casual remark, yet I knew it was loaded with the intent of getting me to explain myself. The longer I stayed quiet, the more I could hear my heart pound. "I changed,"

"Where?"

"... Here?"

Roman shook his head, remnants of a knowing smirk painting his lips-- it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't think we should be starting this conversation off with more lies,"

His words were chilling. I struggled to find mine. I cleared my throat over and over as my hands got clammy around the knife I had yet to lower; "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Come on," Roman huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened up, reaching for the handle of the fridge. When he turned his head to meet my gaze, I felt my breathing knot itself in my chest-- I hated this feeling. I hated being scared of my boyfriend. I hated that I couldn't bring myself to put away the kitchen knife I was still pointing at him. Roman continued; "I've been waiting for you for about... what, fifteen minutes? You didn't change here, and those clothes aren't yours."

Fighting the urge to stay tongue-tied, I snapped; "And you shouldn't have broken into my house in the first place! That's crossing all fucking boundaries!--"

BOOM.

The fridge door slammed shut with a force that rattled the shelves.

I jolted. A sharp, pathetic squeak clawed up my throat before I could stop it. My pulse jumped, breath hitching-- fuck.

Roman had never looked more intimidating; "I see we're past talking about boundaries!" he hissed, glancing down at the knife in my trembling hands. His attempts at containing his anger were cracking.

"Fine," I bit back. "Let's talk about the important piece of information you so conveniently failed to tell me, then!"

Roman blinked. I knew him too well; I could see his mind racing behind those big, beautiful eyes. I shouldn't be looking into them. "The car crash?" he asked, attempting to soften his voice. Something told me he got hopeful that he had hit bingo about the subject, and that he could somehow salvage this; "I'll tell you everything you want, baby. No problem, okay? Where do you want me to start?--"

"Don't fuck with me, Roman!" One of my hands left the knife as my tremble subsided, and I steadied my stance. "Enough!"

Roman's fists clenched, and his gaze pierced mine with rays of ice. It took him some time to let it sink in-- we were about to have this conversation, whether he wanted to or not. We were going to talk about what he was. Despite the horror of the situation, my body filled with a satisfaction unlike anything I had ever felt before; I had pieced it together. I had cornered him. I had caught the liar, and I had done it all by myself.

However, the liar in question didn't want to relent so easily; "This is about Daniel, isn't it? The little shit who confessed he'd get off to snapping your neck in half?"

"It's... What?" My frustration possessed me as I gestured with the knife, exasperated. "No, Roman! It's not that, and you know it!"

Roman let out a quick, icy breath as his fists clenched and unclenched-- deny, deny, deny. "He had it coming," he breathed. "I don't get why you're holding a knife at me for giving that guy what he deserved!"

"That's not why I'm!--"

"You think I went too far?" Roman scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Deny, deny, deny. "You think I should've let him walk away after hurting you, is that it?"

This was beyond frustrating now. It was infuriating, actually. Roman's dismissal of the real topic of concern drove me into a state I hadn't been in before; it almost made my vision go red. Then, it took me a second to realize my vision was blurring because of more causes than one-- with tears pooling in my eyes, I watched as Roman continued his angry rant;

"I don't get you! Why the fuck are you pulling a knife on your boyfriend for protecting you?! I was the one who saved you, I was the one who made sure you got the revenge you deserved, and what do I get in return? That terrified look on your fucking face?!"

Roman was yelling now.

Yelling.

I kept telling myself he didn't mean it, that he was simply anxious to face the truth that I knew his biggest secret, but... now that I knew what he was, it only made me grip the knife harder. What if he suddenly pounced at me? What if he got so overcome by anger that he lunged my way out of pure instinct?

I flinched when Roman raised his hands, yet I let out a shaky breath of relief when they went to his hair, ripping at the tips of his brown locks in frustration; "I have done everything to protect you! I-- I messed him up, okay, but!--"

Enough. "Protect me?! You think this is protection?!"

The panic Roman had painted across his face for sympathy got wiped away the second I raised my voice too. His act wasn't working. His distractions weren't working. Nothing was. "It is," he hissed.

"No!" The tears that had welled in my eyes threatened to spill. "You should've left me alone the second you started feeling anything for me! That would've been protection, that would've mercy!"

Roman closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp line of air-- "Don't say that," he breathed. "You're crossing the line."

"Crossing... the line?!"

"You are," he continued, blindly gesturing at the knife. "Point your knives, call me whatever, say all the shit you want, but not that. What we have is damn near holy to me, so keep that out of your mouth."

I had half the mind to throw the knife at him. Enough was enough, I couldn't stand it anymore; "You're insane!" I yelled. "You're batshit crazy, and you're out of your fucking mind if you think that you were protecting me all this time! You've only put me in danger!"

Roman's eyes widened with offence. "I have not!--"

"You urged me to slice my hand in front of you, and you sucked my fucking blood that time you decided you wanted to blood-bind us or whatever the fuck those vials were for! How dare you put me in that situation when you know what you are?!"

Silence.

In the void of sound we had created, I could hear a light tapping against the windows-- it was raining. Outside, the grass was given the opportunity to grow. At this very moment, flowers all around were watered with new energy for life; yet here I was, being drained of all of mine.

Roman's face twitched with multiple emotions, unable to decide which one to settle for as he lowered his gaze. Had he ever prepared for this moment? I wondered if he had. I wondered whether he had ever laid in bed at night, riddled with guilt and the weight of the world, and whether he had ever thought about coming clean. Had he thought he could get away with it, that I would never find out?

Finally, Roman opened his mouth; "I..."

It didn't take long before it shut again.

A shaky breath escaped me when I realized my knuckles were going white around the knife. I was about to say something, maybe even dig deep into my soul to search for words of comfort; yet when Roman's eyes fully focused on mine again, I felt my whole world freeze over.

Roman's pupils widened, fixating on me as though I was prey, a big deer in the wilderness. He knew the act was up, that the game was over, and instead of facing it, he fixated on the one thing he felt he could still control. His words came out with a low growl; "You have something of mine,"

... What?

He took a threatening step forward.

My breath hitched; I readied my brain for possible combat.

"The vial," Roman hissed. "Where is it?"

Another step.

"It's mine. If this is how you want to do this, I want it back,"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Back-- Back off!--"

With Roman's next step, my body tensed up with the realization that he was speeding up--

It was now or never.

With a shriek, I tossed the knife in his direction out of pure fear, and ran out of the kitchen as my screams emptied my lungs. The pounding of my heart filled my ears as I heard the clashing of pots and pans, possibly the sound of Roman jumping over the kitchen island to get to me, and it only made me panic more.

He called out my name, a yell of rage, as I made it past the living room and into the hallway.

I was running for my life.

A ragged scream tore from my throat as I snatched the nearest object, a flimsy umbrella, and flung it behind me without looking. It didn't matter. He'd dodge it. He'd always dodge it.

Tears burned down my face, blurring the steps ahead as I bolted up the stairs. My chest heaved, my legs burned, but I pushed-- pushed like my life depended on it, because it did.

I was going to die, wasn't I?

This was it.

But for a second, a stupid, desperate second, my brain tricked me; maybe I could make it? Maybe I could outrun him? Maybe, maybe I could get out of this alive?

I chanced a glance over my shoulder--

Roman wasn't there.

My heart stopped. Relief slammed into me so hard that my knees nearly buckled.

Too soon.

I saw it too late-- the flicker of movement at the edge of my vision.

Roman's hand, appearing at the top of the banister.

He hadn't run up the stairs. He'd jumped. From the first floor to the second in a single, monstrous leap.

A scream ripped from my throat as he vaulted over the railing, his body a blur, his weight crashing into me before I could even think to run.

My back hit the ground hard, but before I could even feel the pain, something else registered.

His hand. Between my head and the floor, cushioning the blow.

My breath stuttered, my body locked in pure terror as I fought, thrashed, pounded my fists against his chest-- but it was useless. He didn't budge.

My heartbeat was a deafening drumbeat of panic; I wasn't getting away. I wasn't getting away.

I wasn't getting away.

Then, Roman grabbed my hands and slammed them to the floor, pinning me down with a groan. His voice was sharp, teetering on the edge of control; "Stop it!" he yelled. "Stop fighting! I'm not going to hurt you!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears still coming. I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he continued. "Since when do you throw knives at me?!"

I kept trying to kick him off. It didn't work. Nothing did.

Roman's chest heaved above mine, his grip tightening before he seemed to catch himself-- his fingers loosened just slightly. His voice dropped, a thread of disbelief woven through the frustration. "You're really afraid of me, aren't you?"

I let out a quiet sob, unable to speak.

Roman's breath shook, his head tilting as if seeing me for the first time. He exhaled through his nose, but his next words wavered; "After all this time... you really think I could hurt you?"

Something in his voice made me pause. He wasn't just angry anymore, he was... wounded.

"After everything?" he breathed. His fingers curled around my wrists, but this time, they trembled.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

That silence, that awful, confirming silence, broke him. Roman's expression crumpled as he clutched my wrists like a lifeline, his breath uneven. The anger drained from him in an instant, replaced by something desperate, raw, broken.

"You're breaking my heart," he breathed.

The words shattered between us.

I stilled, my own heartbeat stammering.

In the muted space of my lack of words, Roman let out a quiet, shuddering laugh, his green eyes glossing over. "Letha told you, didn't she?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper; "You're wearing her clothes, and you kinda smell like her expensive incense for crazy people. Don't tell me she performed some ritual on you?"

I swallowed hard. Telling him the truth felt dangerous; I needed to protect my last ally, didn't I? "No," I whispered. "No rituals. There was no Letha. I figured it out by myself... I-- I read a book." At least there was some truth to what I was saying.

Roman uttered something between a scoff and a choked breath, shaking his head. His lips curled, but there was no humor in it. "All by yourself?" he muttered. "That's my girl."

Acid filled my next words, overcome by emotion; "You left me no choice,"

"I didn't?"

"You didn't,"

"That's nonsense," Roman mumbled. "We could've avoided all of this. We could've had a few good years with you in the dark."

His face was too hard to read. His expressive eyes were so cold and hard with his conviction-- he really believed that, didn't he? "Years?" I whispered. "With me... in the dark?"

"Yeah," Breathless. He was breathless. "A decade, maybe."

It didn't take me long to piece it together. It would take a decade until he looked considerably younger than me. Would he have let me in on his secret then?

"That wouldn't have been enough," I said, choking back my tears. "I wanted a whole life with you, Roman."

His next inhale was shaky, yet quick-- finally, he could be sure that he had lost. "So you... you really know, now?"

I knew.

And I could barely speak it; "That you're a upir? Yeah,"

Roman had yet to let me go. "Fuck..." he breathed, nodding to himself. "There goes that."

There it goes.

All the stolen glances, all the kisses, all the joy, all the love.

It was draining the life out of the both of us. "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me," Roman tried. "But can I at least... please have the vial?" His voice broke at the end of his sentence, and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

My words came out with a tremble; "I-- I threw it away. It was affecting you horribly, and I don't want that for you... I don't want you to be in pain, Roman, despite everything you are,"

He sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body locking up as if my words had just stabbed into him. "I'll have nothing of you, then?" His voice was barely there, so fragile it made my chest ache. "When you leave me, I'll... I'll have nothing?"

I blinked. When I leave?

Was he... planning to let me go?

"You're breaking my heart," Roman echoed, his shoulders trembling as he let go of my wrists to cradle my face in his hands.

The touch nearly made me flinch. Had I not been so intent on my survival, I would've pushed him away with a shudder. I didn't want him touching me, not now that I knew who and what he was, yet I endured it for the sake of my life.

Roman's grip faltered as he watched me fail to hide my fear, and his fingers trailed to my cheeks as he took in the look on my face.

"I can never trust you again," I whispered. "Never hold you, never kiss you... Not now that I know what you are."

Roman's fingers slowly brushed over my cheek, shaking. "But... it was supposed to be you and me," he breathed. "Forever."

Forever.

The word sent a sharp ache through my ribs.

Roman's eyes shut, his face twisting with something too deep to name. "I know I should've stayed away..." A shuddering inhale. "I should've just kept on being miserable."

I choked down a sob; "Rome," I whispered. What else was there to say?

The nickname hit him like a bullet. Roman's voice was rough when he dared to speak; "I wasn't supposed to feel like this for anyone... That was my one rule," He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw was tight like he was forcing the words out. "I don't know when it happened, and I don't know how it happened, but I woke up one day and realized that I-- fuck!"

Overcome by his emotions, Roman let out a sharp, bitter laugh; "I didn't want this, okay? I didn't-- God, I didn't fucking want to feel anything for you at all! I didn't want us to ever happen in the first place!"

The words should've hurt. They were meant to hurt, why else would Roman say them? But the way he said them, so wrecked, so lost, made my heart ache instead.

Roman exhaled hard, tilting his head back like he was trying to keep it together. "You have no idea how much I fought feeling anything for you... You have no idea how many times I told myself that it was nothing, that it would go away, and that you were just!--" He stopped, his breath hitching. "That you were just some meaningless girl, something temporary, a distraction at most, and not!--"

He didn't say it.

He couldn't.

Not yet.

"And I--" Roman stopped, like the next part physically hurt to say. "I should've told you about this, I should've told you who I am. You deserved that much, and I tried, I swear! I-- I wanted to. But every time I got close, every time I thought, this is it, tell the fucking girl, be a man, I'd look at you and-- and I got scared."

Finally, I could be sure the world was going under. The notorious Roman Godfrey was scared, and even worse, admitting to it.

"Because if I told you, you'd leave!" he said, voice raw with pain. "And I couldn't-- I can't!--" He was shattering right before my eyes, shattering into a million pieces. "Fuck, you have to understand! I didn't keep it from you to hurt you, I kept it from you because I'd lose everything!"

Roman swallowed hard, and in the smallest, quietest voice, he whispered; "I never, ever wanted to lose you. Nothing else matters like this, I-- I love you too much to function,"

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

Roman Godfrey... loved me?

He loved me.

Roman loved me.

And here he was, looking down at me with those big, pleading, green eyes like it would fix everything. Like it would fix the fact that he could kill me within a second. Like it would fix his blood-thirst.

"Please," he breathed, heartbroken with my lack of response. "You're not saying anything. Please say something."

All the times I had sensed something was wrong and convinced myself I was crazy rushed through my mind, clouding my shock at Roman's confession. It was torturous how he had let me remain in the dark for so long. Was that love, or was that selfishness?

I knew the answer.

"That's not love, Roman," I whispered. "That's fear."

His face fell. "No," he tried. "Don't-- Don't say that, it's not--"

"You say you didn't tell me because you didn't want to lose me, but what do you think this is? What do you think is happening right now?" My voice wavered, heat rushing to my face. "You talk about love like it's this big, tragic thing you had no control over, but you chose to lie to me above all else! You chose to put me in danger every time you were ever near me!"

I pushed against his chest, my body trembling with the force of my anger; Roman could've easily stayed put, could've easily kept me pinned to the ground, yet he relented, his eyes wide with hurt as he allowed me to push him away and sit up.

"You let me walk around and doubt myself for months, Roman! You let me drive myself crazy, trying to understand what the hell was wrong with me and why I was even doubting you, when this whole time-- this whole time, you were lying to my face!"

Roman ran a hand through his hair, looking wrecked. "What did you want me to do?!--"

"Anything but this, you fucking asshole!" I shoved myself off the floor, feeling my heart pound. "And you don't get to look at me like that, like I've wrecked your life! You don't get to act like this is just something sad that happened to us when this could've been prevented all along if you'd just stayed the fuck away!"

"That's not fair!" Roman yelled through the tears welling in his eyes. "You were basically throwing yourself at me!--"

"And you shouldn't have let me!"

"Come on!" Desperate, Roman reached for me, but I jerked away so fast that I nearly tripped.

"Don't!" My voice cracked, but it didn't matter. "Don't you fucking touch me, how dare you!" Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to tell him that I loved him too, that we could find a way to make it work, that I would always love him no matter what... but Letha's warnings ran through my head.

She had told me he was dangerous. She told me about his urges, how he would forever be hungry for blood, and that I risked my life every minute I was near him. Letha explained how Roman could hear the heartbeats of everyone within a certain radius, and that every thump reminded him of how hungry he was.

But now, as I looked into his hurt eyes, I could only see...

Pain.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't hurt him any longer, as Letha said I needed to do-- I had to move. Roman's voice was a faint echo as I started taking shaky steps toward my bedroom; there was no chance I'd outrun him if he wanted to chase me again, so I walked. It didn't take long before I heard him scrambling up from the floor as well, following me into my room.

I could feel him behind me when I stepped inside.

The door clicked shut.

My heart pounded, and I knew he could hear it. I knew.

"Baby--"

"Don’t," I breathed, stopping in the middle of the room before I turned around to face him. Even at this moment, he was beautiful. He was breathtaking in his shirt, even though his previously neat hairstyle had fallen apart with all the running and struggling. How was this fair?

I heard the shift in Roman's breathing, and how he tried to swallow the desperation in his throat. "You’re scared of me,”

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Yes,”

"You don’t have to be," he whispered. "I would never--"

"I do,"

A sharp, broken exhale. He took a step closer, daring to get in my personal space, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Roman froze.

Silence. Again.

And then--

He dropped to his knees.

I gasped. His hands clutched the fabric of my shirt, Letha's shirt, his forehead pressing against my stomach like he was praying to me. His breath was shaky, his fingers curling and uncurling as if he didn’t know whether to hold me or let me go.

"Please," His voice was wrecked, hoarse with unshed tears. "Please don’t do this."

I stood frozen, my hands shaking at my sides. I wanted to cradle him, wanted to sink down to the floor and hold him, but I couldn't move.

Roman pressed a kiss to my stomach, then another. Then my ribs. Then my hip. A desperate, reverent kind of touch. Not to seduce, not to possess-- but to beg.

"I love you," His voice cracked, his lips ghosting over the fabric of my shirt. "I love you so much, I can’t-- fuck, I can’t lose you!--"

"Roman--"

His body shuddered against mine, his fingers twitching where they clung to me, like if he just held on tightly enough, none of this would be real. "I can control it," he pleaded. "I swear, I swear, baby, please!--"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I wanted to believe him so bad, wanted to relent, yet Letha's voice echoed in my head; "He will hurt you,"

"I won’t hurt you," he choked out, contradicting my every thought. "I’d rather die."

My breath hitched as my hands trembled, longing to reach for him. I pressed my lips together, trying to force down the sob rising in my throat; "If you don't want to hurt me, you-- you have to leave. You have to let me go,"

Roman's fingers clutched the fabric of my shirt as he shook his head, a frantic, shattered movement. No, no, no. "I don’t want to," His voice was raw. "Don’t make me. Please don't-- please don't make me."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. "Roman..."

He knew he had lost. It was over. There was nothing more to say. Slowly, painfully, he pulled back, looking up at me with wide, devastated eyes, silent tears streaking his face. He pressed one last, trembling kiss to my hip.

And then--

Roman let go.

He pushed himself up onto unsteady legs. Stumbled back, one step, two.

Heavy.

Everything was, until I felt the relief of his eyes leaving mine. It felt like the weight of his attention lifted a ton from my shoulders. But the momentary solace quickly left me when I watched Roman's gaze shift--

He stilled.

The change was instant. His entire body locked up so tight it was like something inside him had snapped. His breath came shallow, his shoulders rising and falling in sharp, stuttered movements. His fingers flexed and curled like they didn’t know what to do.

I followed his line of sight with my breath catching in my chest, and my stomach dropped when I saw what he was looking at.

The book.

That fucking book.

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir.

It lay there on my nightstand, its pages still open, marked by the frantic creases my fingers had pressed into them over and over again. There was no hiding it now.

With a sharp turn, I glanced back at Roman with huge eyes, wondering whether anger would take over his body and trigger him to chew me to death. But alas-- nothing.

Roman didn’t move.

He just stared. His lips parted slightly, his lashes fluttering as he blinked through the tears in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. I could see it, the way the pieces started clicking into place in his mind, how the dots connected in a way that destroyed him.

Finally, we both knew it was over.

Then--

Defeated, Roman turned away.

It was sudden, almost violent, the way he ripped himself away. He staggered toward my window, one hand swiping at his face as he smeared his tears into his skin, his breath a sharp, hollow sound. His entire body shook like he was barely keeping himself together, like the second he stepped outside, he would completely break apart.

Roman reached for the window.

Shoved it open.

But just for a second, he hesitated.

For a second.

For me.

He waited.

He was begging me to say something, to stop him, to tell him he didn’t have to go.

But I didn’t. I couldn't.

So, Roman climbed through the window I had snuck him in through countless times. We had shared countless kisses there; kisses of passion, kisses of joy, kisses goodbye, kisses hello. But now, there would be no more.

With one final look back, his green eyes seared into mine with a look I would never forget.

And then--

Roman Godfrey was gone.

I stood there for longer than I'd ever admit to anyone, staring at the empty space he'd left behind, waiting for him to come back. I could still smell him-- the deep cologne and the faint, metallic tinge of blood clinging to my shirt where he'd been pressed against me just minutes ago. It was Daniel's blood, a trace of what had happened earlier tonight. I couldn't believe I had been happy just a few hours ago. A few hours was all it took to unravel everything.

It was like he had left a ghost of himself behind--- something half-alive, something that would never quite let go of me.

Nothing but the sound of my own breathing filled up the room. It sounded too loud, too shaky. My fingers drifted into my pocket without thinking, curling around the cold glass buried there.

The vials clinked together as I rolled them between my fingers-- his blood, my blood, trapped inside two fragile little prisons, always touching but never quite meeting.

I brought them to my lips, squeezing my eyes shut— I could never get rid of them. Never.

If I crushed them right now, if I just closed my fist and shattered them into a thousand tiny shards, maybe this whole nightmare would shatter with them? Maybe I would wake up and he would still be here, begging me not to send him away? Maybe I could've made a different choice? Maybe he would wrap his arms around me again and swear that he would never hurt me, and maybe this time I would believe him?

But I didn't crush them-- I couldn't.

Instead, I pressed the glass harder against my lips until I tasted the salt of my tears on the rim.

At least in this form, we could be together.

Forever.

(a/n: ... sorry not sorry. this was heartbreaking to write, believe me. but this isn't the last chapter, that will be the next, and y'all are in for a RIDE!! thank you so so much for reading this, aaaand just quick psa, I will not be compensating anyone for their possible need for an ambulance or any funeral services cause I'm obv evil:))) JK MWAH🥹🌸 THANK YOUUU<333)

here are all the chapters!<3: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13

loveliest taglist of all time:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@lilithskywalker @likecherriesinthespring @sadheartjellyfish @vadersangel

@shehangsbrightly @burningmiraclekingdom @dollforaswan @austinswhitewolf

@nico-velvet @shiiiii-okayyyy @theantagonistalwaysdies @blackbluerose666

@obexes @rosecoloureddudez @amoure020 @itsaeasykill

@succubustacy @carmillavalentine @scarledy @chaneloberlin62727

@belovedmoony @lokitargaryen @vienneviennaxx @ellie1725

@taintandviolent @sweatyconnoisseurstrawberry @amidthechaos

159 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 3 days ago

Note

Imagine someone finding a super old summoning book that contains the rituals for some low level demons you even find one for a demon called sand-tea? (Even funnier if set during King!Santi)

[Can you imagine he recently ascended to the throne of Lust under Adrul's orders and he hasn't even had time to properly change sigilry. Everything's a mess and he's so tired.]

Santi is in the middle of preparing for a meeting with Prince Adrul when it happens.

His eyes widen and he scrabbles to take hold of the former King's large vanity, before a rift all but sucks him into interaction with an unforseen client...

Now that he's an Icon, the amount of space he gets to pass through and reach a summoned location is almost alien, causing Santi to nearly stumble when it closes behind him.

Everything is amiss.

He finds himself in a circle that no longer holds the power it should over him, the offering for this request is definitely not even close to that of an Icon's demand. It would certainly require more people, not just one scantily clad human, holding a dusty grimoire.

It only takes an awkward second for him to put it together, and he sighs.

Umbothered by your face of complete and utter confusion -Some blend of terror and helpless arousal- or the circle, for that matter, Santi reaches over to snag the book from your hands, combing eyes over the page.

" Hmmn... "

Just what the demon thought. This was written shortly after he ascended to high-rank. He supposes not enough time has passed for his nature to truly reflect his status. It's only a matter of time before these instructions no longer suffice to reach him. Let's not take any chances though.

The newly-crowned King casts a vaguely patronizing, affectionate glance down at you. So silly, so unlucky, got a bit more than what you bargained for, didn't you?

" Oh love, I so regret to inform you, but this little book of yours is quite outdated. "

He watches you blink, having no time to speak before Santi grips the page, swiftly tearing it off, forcing the candle flames to burst alive so that he can burn the information to a crisp.

When the fire falls back, you have taken several shaky steps away. The lack of recognition in your eyes betrays you still don't know what you're facing. Poor thing.

" Well come now, I'm not mad at you. " He smiles invitingly, sitting lazily so that his size no longer keeps you glued to the wall, like a trapped mouse. " How could I be? Cute summoners always get the best of me. " Lie.

You make the mistake of looking into his dark-lashed eyes for just a second too long, a shiver of intense delight lifting the hairs on your skin.

" ... Hello? " A little surge of bravery makes you walk forward.

Santi thinks it might just be that you don't want to appear weak in front of him, or that you haven't yet realized he's inside the circle to make you feel safer more than anything.

" Hello. " He parrots. " My love, you've gotten yourself an audience with the new King of Lust. "

He heard the way your spit caught in your throat.

You believe him, Santi can see it in your eyes.

" I- But I- I didn't mean- I'm so sorry- "

Your flustered babbling has the great demon tilting a heavy horned head, savoring the way you fumble and fight to form thoughts at the mere sight of him. Partially his fault, Santi hasn't had the time to properly learn to contain his newfound pheromone intensity.

" I know, I know. You've never summoned anything quite like me before. It's a lot. " The Icon's tone is soothing and merciful, arms parting as if to embrace you when he curls a finger. " Come closer. "

The silk in his voice, somewhere between pleading and forceful, leaves you no room to deny the monster.

Self-preservation makes your bare feet halt at the edge of the insignificant salt circle. Santi's lips curl downward for a blink.

" Closer still, my sweet summoner. You would deny me the simplest pleasure of holding you? "

As soon as one tentative toe slips in, Santi's gums show in a blatant display of satisfied victory. He finds it's much too easy to have anyone dance to his whims now, a thrilling sensation.

Dark hands pull you closer playfully. Santi combs through locks of your hair, keeping you locked in a passionate gaze for a lethally entrancing amount of time. You stare at each other like perfect lovers, time stops for you, the entire world nothing but a darkened magenta mist surrounding Santi. He grins subtly, relishing the complete control he has over you.

You really have no idea what you got yourself into. And he's not charitable enough to let go of a pretty thing like you. Not when he could keep you.

Yes... As the new Icon, he should begin forming his own harem soon. You could be the first to join such a prestigious rank, spoiled and branded with his mark. He wonders what it looks like now... Will it hug your entire figure the way Vesper's mark possessively encompassed the whole body of his concubines?

" So tell me, why was I brought here tonight? "

His question was practically whispered onto your lips, though ever mercifully, he leans back to let you focus the slightest amount. Just enough to answer him. It takes a while of refreshing your synapses for Santi to get a response.

" I wanted... My friend is throwing a party, like a girl's night, y'know...? "

Oh, he does know. Those are fun.

" She asked me to... Summon an incubus, for us. "

Which you did, because you're a good friend, and you want to keep your friends happy, pleasured. What a sweet one, Santi muses. In spite of his toughts, the monster's beautifully sculpted face morphs into sadness, the same look a mother would give their child when preparing to tell them they can't have a cookie.

" I see... But I fear that won't be possible, love. You can't attend this party. "

He watches a spike of muffled panic try to overcome the desire written all over your face. It fails, you're more concerned with the full lips pouting in front of you.

" W- Why? "

He chuckles, continuing to pet your hair while ever so slightly tilting you down further, and further. You're all but lying into his grasp, relaxed and unwilling to care.

" My sweetest little thing, your offering is hardly enough to motivate someone of my status. I'm afraid I must leave with compensation. "

Claws flirt with the bare surface of your thighs, a playful stroke up and down, palping the fragile softness of your form. You're overheated, for a human that is, his nostrils flare at the growing wetness that lies barely concealed.

Santi can tell the gears are trying to turn in your head, enjoying the way your face simply gets darker, squirming in place yet never attempting to leave his arms.

He's patient enough to let you come up with something, even if your fate's already been decided.

" Uhm... I can still try to invite more friends? If- " You finally have the self-awareness to look away, making the demonlord smirk. " If you want me to do anything right now, I guess we can... "

He can't help it.

Santi bursts out laughing.

You're so out of your depth here, it's ridiculous. The contrast between the sterile, needlessly embellished bureaucracies of Hell's royalty and your simple "hums" and "haa"s of inadequate suggestions bring a tear to his eye.

You've reminded Santi that he truly needs a break, lest he end up like some of the bland demons orbiting the upper ranks of the Rings.

" Oh we're doing lots of things. " He jests, placing a simple kiss on your burning forehead. " Just not here. You're coming with me. "

" What?! " The way your eyes bulge has him worried they might just pop out that skull.

Santi leans down, unbothered, the beginning of a return rift sparking to life behind his great form.

" You heard me. I promise it'll be a better time than whatever party you've been to. "

His grip on you becomes more secure.

" You might not even want to come back. "

#Santi oc #idonthaveafuckingclue

83 notes · View notes

fizzyapplecandy · 3 days ago

Text

The one with the vampire royals and their doll - Part 5

Previous parts can be found here

Ateez Seonghwa X Hongjoong X Reader

Genres and warnings: vampire Matz x human reader, strangers to lovers, poly relationship, fluff, angst, mild smut, mature language, talking about blood

Word count: 2.5k

You share a special moment with Seonghwa, and he barely holds back his hunger

"So, where are you taking me?"

It was still surreal that you were sitting in a ten thousand dollar car with an ethereal man who not only gifted you jewelry, but he was taking you on a mysterious outing. Seonghwa's lips pulled back in a smirk and he glanced at you.

"To my favourite place in this town." he says.

You frown. "Okay, again, that doesn't tell me much."

He chuckles. "You're just impatient. I don't want to spoil it."

You let a comfortable silence envelope you after that. You didn't want to pry because he obviously wanted to do something nice for you. It was almost dark outside, and the stars were starting to appear in the sky. It's difficult to see them clearly this time of year because it was slowly starting to get cloudy. You didn't like fall and winter because you were always cold, and there is never anything fun to do.

The car stopped and Seonghwa lightly grazed your arm to get your attention.

"We're here. We just have to take a short walk through the trees."

Looking out the window you noticed you were in a wooded area on the upper part of the town. It wasn't really a place you ever went to, and you were kind of nervous. As if he could sense your jitters, he put a finger under your chin and turned your head towards him.

"Hey now doll, we don't have to go if you don't want to. It would be a shame though, but I respect your wishes."

You sighed. "It's not that I don't want to. It's just..."

He nodded for you to go on.

"I don't know you that well, and were about to walk into the woods."

Seonghwa chuckled, caressing your cheek.

"Oh doll... You're a smart one, I give you that. You can text your little friend if you want, send him your location."

You lightly leaned into his touch, and he seemed pleased with your actions, even if you were unaware of them.

"I'll... I'll do that. Thank you. It's nothing personal really, just a precaution if you will."

Shooting a quick text to Yeosang, you told him you were done and the both of you got out of the car. It was pretty chilly now, and you didn't take your jacket with you this morning. Seonghwa caught the sound of your teeth clattering, and he felt sad for a second. If you were the same as him, you would never feel cold, hungry, tired... The worst part of it was that he couldn't warm you with his body, seeing as his skin remained ice cold for hundreds of years now.

He could, however, offer you his blazer.

You felt something drop around your shoulders and looked at Seognhwa, now only clad in a dress shirt.

"Seonghwa! You'll freeze in that! Here, take this back."

His hands stopped yours from pulling the garment off, and he arranged it to cover you again. He couldn't keep his hands off you tonight, because his fingers were caressing your cheek again.

"Don't worry about me. Please, I insist." Without waiting for your reply, he took you by the hand and started walking down a pebbled path.

"This way, my dear. It's just a short walk."

You were surprised how well he navigated through the rough terrain, managing to stay as graceful as a swan, while you stumbled on your feet quite a few times.

"When I feel overwhelmed with the world, I usually come here to feel some peace. Nobody besides Hongjoong knows about this spot." He glanced at you before continuing.

"I hope you can use it when some days get tough. I also hope you think of me."

Your cheeks warmed, and you smiled at him. Before you could say anything, Seonghwa moved a tree branch and your breath got caught in your throat.

You were up on a cliff, the town you live in lighting up in the distance. When you looked up, the stars could be seen as clear as day. The sky was truly beautiful at night, and you missed being able to count the shining diamonds up there.

"Do you like it?"

Seonghwa now stood by your side, hand still holding onto yours, and he gazed down on you with a twinkle in his eyes.

You swallowed, breaking out of your daze.

"It's... It's beautiful, Seonghwa. I can see why you like it."

The wind picked up a bit, and seeing how you were up on a cliff, you felt shivers going down your spine. Seonghwa stepped behind you, letting go of your hand in favour of wrapping both arms around your shoulders. You were now pressed against him, but you had to admit it didn't help in bringing you warmth. You didn't want to say anything because you knew he'd move away.

You almost forgot about an important thing - he was married.

"Seonghwa... Are you sure this is okay?" You were too afraid to look up at him, so you just continue staring ahead at the bright lights shining from your town.

"Why wouldn't it be? We're just sharing some... Body heat." It felt almost unnatural for Seonghwa to say something like that, but he couldn't stop himself from wrapping you in his embrace. He could be selfish for a moment, you'd warm up in the car.

"Yeah, but... I mean..." You pointedly stared at the precious ring you gave up not so long ago, and he caught up quickly.

"Oh! You're worried about Hongjoong?" He chuckled.

His head was now perched on your shoulder, his arms tightening around you. He slowly came closer to your ear, and the shivers you felt weren't from the cold now.

"To be honest doll... He'd probably be jealous of me right now."

"Jealous?!" You almost shouted.

"That's right." He said.

He was still too close, but you mustered the courage to turn your head and look at him. His eyes were half closed, and his gaze made you feel shy all of the sudden.

"Why would he... I mean... He's your..."

You stumbled with your words, feeling him squeeze you even closer.

Seonghwa leaned his forehead against yours, and you stopped breathing for a second.

"My husband, yes. But you... You're our doll now. At least, we hope you want to be. However, I think he needs to be present for that conversation. For now... Just enjoy the moment. Don't worry your pretty head about it."

You managed to nod, not understanding a word he meant, but you were too frozen to react. He was close, too close. His eyes darted over your face, stopping when he reached your lips. You unconsciously licked your lips, and you swear his mouth twitched. He took a deep breath, and you didn't expect his next move at all.

Seonghwa pushed you away, a bit harshly, and turned around. You could see his whole body shaking, but you had no clue what to do.

"Seonghwa? Are you okay? Did I do something?"

He rolled his shoulders before slowly turning towards you again. His expression was now blank, but he still reached for your hand. It seemed to calm him a bit, and he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, doll. Maybe the cold got to me suddenly. Should we go back now? You must be tired."

His tone seemed almost emotionless now, but you couldn't figure out what happened in the last few minutes to change the atmosphere so much.

"Oh... You're right. Here, take your blazer back, I'll manage until we get to the car."

He shook his head, his tense expression lightening slightly.

"No, doll. Keep it around you, you need it more. Come now, let's head to the car."

Without another word, he slowly guided you down the path to his car. There was definitely something up with him, but you didn't want to agitate him with your questions. Maybe you said something wrong? Maybe he realised it wouldn't be okay to stay this close to you because of Hongjoong?

"Now where did you wander off?"

His voice brought you out of your head and into the present again. You stumbled a bit on your words.

"I-I... Well... I-Is.."

His hands grabbed yours and he crouched to be at eye level.

"Breathe. I told you, everything is fine. Now, get inside before you turn into a popsicle." He chuckled.

"Although, I wouldn't mind a sweet treat."

You probably looked like a fool trying to decipher his words because he burst into laughter.

"Oh doll... You sweet, sweet thing."

He opened the door for you and guided you inside, buckling your seatbelt again. You were too out of it to register him until he started the car.

You fidgeted with your fingers until his palm covered your shaking hands.

"I want you to know that I had a wonderful time. I am delighted you loved the spot, and you can use it whenever you feel overwhelmed, or you just want to run away from the world. I'd be happy to join you anytime, Hongjoong as well."

Your head turned to glance at him, and he had a far more relaxed expression on his face now. It seemed like the tension melted, and you were glad it didn't last long.

"Thank you, Seonghwa. I would love to go there again sometime."

The ride turned peaceful afterwards, and you felt at ease with his big hand wrapped around both of yours. You kept it light with the small talk, enjoying getting to know him a bit more. He sometimes talked as if he came out of a regal era, but it suited him. Hongjoong was definitely the more relaxed out of the two, and you could see how they complimented each other with their behaviours.

Your building came into view after some time, but it felt too soon for you. Seonghwa seemed to be on the same page.

"Here we are doll. I must say, I miss you already."

"I haven't even left the car yet." You said, followed by a chuckle.

"Doesn't matter. I know you're about to leave, and that's unfortunate. Say doll..."

"Yes?"

"Can we arrange a date with you soon? My husband and I are getting a bit impatient." He smiled after asking you.

You frowned a bit. "You both keep calling it a date, but okay."

Seonghwa lightly squeezed your hands as if to say 'It is', but you didn't want to divulge in that topic.

"I already told him I have some plans this Saturday-"

"-Then we can do it on Sunday."

You went silent for a moment before bursting into genuine laughter. It was like you were a teenager all over again.

"Eager, are we?" The laughter died down as his face came close to yours again.

His nose almost touched yours before we shrugged.

"What can I say, you mesmerize us that much."

The blush on your cheeks was instantaneous, and Seonghwa lightly brushed over one with his fingers.

"What a beauty..." He almost sighed out of pleasure.

If he hadn't moved first, you'd probably still be in that position, too shy to do anything.

"Now, off you go. You need to warm up and get some sleep. Hongjoong will be here in the morning to take you to work, I'll pick you up after."

You opened your mouth to protest, but closed it after he held a finger in the air.

"No, no. I don't want to hear a word. Let us do this, we want it."

Your mouth closed, and honestly you were past the point of arguing about it anymore. Accepting their offer was the easiest way to go.

"Okay, If that's what you want. Tell Hongjoong I said hi, and I'll see you both tomorrow."

Seonghwa reached over to unclasp your seatbelt, and he took the chance to caress your cheek again. He couldn't stop touching you, and you weren't complaining, so he took it as a good sign.

"See you tomorrow, doll. We hope you give us an answer for Sunday."

"Y-Yeah. Bye, Seonghwa." Before you could say something embarrassing, you practically jumped out of the car and speed walked towards your building.

Turning around, you found him watching you, making sure you got to the door before he waved and drove off.

Only when you entered your apartment did you realise his blazer was still wrapped around your shoulders.

Hongjoong was on the edge of his seat. Seonghwa was supposed to be home over an hour ago, but there was no sign of him. Maybe something happened when he went to get you? Or did you change your mind about them and turn him away? Seonghwa had... Unhealthy coping mechanisms, and he got into a frenzy anytime something didn't go as he planned.

The sigh of relief he let out as he heard his husband's Porsche pulling up the driveway made his anxiety disappear.

Hongjoong got up from the couch and went to the entrance of their mansion. The man of the hour came in, a dazed expression on his face.

"Hello, my star. I was worried about you for a second." He wanted to joke some more, but Seonghwa's expression turned serious.

"I almost lost it today Joong. I almost..."

"Oh..." Hongjoong realised what he was talking about.

Seonghwa, despite being hundreds of years old, still struggled with his hunger sometimes. It wasn't even about hunger, it was about the thrill fresh, human blood gave him. He's gotten better at managing it, surely, but you were an unexpected trigger for both of them. Hongjoong was just better at dealing with it.

"Yeah, oh. Her neck was... It was so close. Her scent... I had to detangle myself from her delicate body so quickly it made her confused."

What? Hongjoong frowned a bit.

"You... What did the two of you do?"

Seognhwa realised how that might have sounded, so he explained it to his husband better.

Hongjoong was a jealous person by nature, but he looked so pleased with what Hwa was telling him. You were slowly getting used to their affection, and the only twinge of jealousy he felt was because he wasn't the one close to you today.

"So, you managed to control yourself? That's a huge improvement love. You did amazing, and you made our doll happy today."

He embraced his husband, stroking the back of his neck like he always did.

"Thank you, my love. You should have seen her, she was so close... Her lips were this close to mine." Seonghwa leaned in to show Hongjoong, and their eyes met. There will always be a flame burning between them, and the heat of the moment, fueled by Seonghwa's story about their doll, only enhances their feelings.

"This close, yeah? Say, my star... How would you have kissed her?"

Seognhwa pushed Hongjoong against the wall by the entrance, caging him in with his arms.

"Oh, love... I'm about to show you just how I would have handled our precious doll, and much more."

The relationship between the boys and our reader is getting closer! Stay tuned for future updates, because she still has to meet Wooyoung, and our favourite married couple is taking her on a date.

Lots of love, and happy reading X

#ateez #ateez imagines #imagine #fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez vampire #vampire imagine #poly ateez x reader #poly relationship #strangers to lovers #mature language #mild smut

57 notes · View notes