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isawritesshit · 2 days ago

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The Color Blue - Chapter 3

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest; borders created by @anitalenia

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, slightly ooc! (?) gojo, mostly fluff with a smidge of tension, cat :), small signs of past mental and physical abuse, violence, death, guns, knives, bit of blood, explosion cause by gojo’s technique, mentions of bruising and choking, brief threats, bits of trauma after an attack, healing myself a little after season 2, sharing a bed, gojo teasing, brief argument, reader says something about her not caring if she dies but doesn’t mean it, cursing, gojo has scars, cuddles and secret kisses :)

Author's Note: Hello everyone. This chapter has been a long time coming, and I apologize that I fell off the face of the earth. More of that will be explained later. However, I want to thank those that did message me and have been enjoying this story so far, but we know how life can get. I had a great time writing this during what little time I had, and it's also a little longer than my usual chapters. So, without further ado, here's chapter 3 !! Remember to catch up on The Color Blue if you haven't done so before reading !! For those of you who I may have forgotten to add in the taglist or would like to be added, comment below!

Word Count: ~8.8k

Apparently, even The Strongest got the jitters. Satoru didn't think it was possible, yet here he was, his leg bouncing as he sat in the back seat of the car as it pulled up to the long, winding driveway.

He would admit to himself that he was counting down the days, and then even the hours, until he got to see you again. It felt ridiculous at this point, the quickening heartbeat knowing you were getting closer by the second, the smile he tried to hide whenever you crossed his mind.

And the... other thoughts he had of you over his trip as well. He had those a little more than he was willing to admit in your absence.

The driver pulled up to the front entrance and Satoru retrieved his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He went up the steps, opened the door...

He frowned when you weren't on the other side. He thought that maybe you would greet him in the foyer. Oh well, just meant he would have to go looking for you. Satoru started with your shared kitchen, then the living room... maybe inside your bedroom?

He opened your door, calling your name. Immediately, as if startled, you jumped up from your bed, hands behind your back, the book in your lap clattering to the floor. Satoru's eyebrows raised at your sudden movement.

"W-welcome home, Satoru! How was your flight back?" you exclaimed. Something must be-

"Mmrreow..."

A cat's soft purr sounded in the air.

"Whatcha got there?"

"A book...?"

Satoru chuckled and smirked, his arms now resting at his sides. "I don't think that was a book..."

Your face scrunched up as your arms moved from behind your back. "Please don't be upset..."

You revealed a small ragdoll cat, probably only a few months old, it's singular eye scanning before it landed on Satoru. Satoru gasped and, like a child being presented with a new toy, threw his duffel bag aside and took the cat into his arms.

You've never heard a grown man squeal. That being said, your worried face softened into a grin.

"When did you get this little cutie?" Satoru laughed, turning the cat over in one arm to pet her little stomach.

"W-well... you told me before you left that... your money is my money, and I've always wanted a cat. I made sure I did my research, though! I bought her from a shelter, and made sure to get her the required vaccinations-"

"Does she have a name?" he exclaimed, handing the cat to you.

"I named her Sugar... if you don't like it, we can-"

"Sugar! Awww, that's the perfect name!!" he cooed, petting Sugar under her chin, her right and only eye squinting as she purred. "She already likes me too..."

Sugar moved out of his arms to lay on your bed as you strode to reach for a book on your dresser. A book for taking care of kittens, he realized. "You don't have to worry about taking care of her. I have her food ready for the next few months, the best kind I could find for her breed and age, and I already have her litter set up in the laundry room. I'm keeping her toys in my room as well," you explained, already paging through the book to support your points.

Satoru looked at you from where he started to kneel at the foot of your bed, getting up close and personal with the new feline friend. He admired your sudden commitment, but... "You don't want my help?" Satoru questioned, cocking his head.

"Well, I figured since I'm the one who bought her, I should take care of her. I don't want to inconvenience you," you answered, clasping your hands with the book in front of you.

"It's not really that much of an inconvenience. The only reason I never got one before was because I felt bad that I was almost never home. But now that you're here, it makes it a lot easier. It's not like you got a dog," he reasoned, now standing to full height while petting across the fur of Sugar's back. "If you really want to take full responsibility, that's fine, but I don't mind helping. I just can't promise I can or will want to change the litter."

You let out a small laugh. "I'm okay with that then..."

After a few moments of silence, you picked up your gaze from the floor, a soft smile on your face and a question on your tongue, only to see Satoru looking at you already.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had such sweet eyes, like blue cotton candy, and the way he looked at you with them was even sweeter. A small blush warmed your cheeks as you averted your eyes. What were you going to say again?

"Something wrong, pretty girl?"

"W-what? Oh, no, I was just... going to ask how your trip was?"

Satoru shrugged. "Meh, nothing out of the usual. Just a few grade ones here and there, but finding a special grade was a little interesting. I took care of that one too. Oh, and there was this one store-"

Satoru ended up ranting about all of the new stores and restaurants he tried out for an hour, even if you did remember some of these places briefly from your short, daily phone calls. He even paused to retrieve something from his bag at one point: a delicate antique comb with pearls in the handle. A gift, as well as something that reminded him of you.

You took it from him to arrange in your jewelry box. You found it quite absurd that Satoru was telling you more about his leisure time that he spent in Kyoto rather than the curses he fought. You couldn't tell if he was just trying to spare you the gruesome details, or he if really didn't feel like it was that important to talk about. Perhaps to him, these curses were like stones on his path to be kicked or flies he shooed away from his face, barely worth mentioning. At least, that's what it seemed like to you.

It scared you a bit.

"(Y/N)?" Your thoughts broke as he said your name, one of his hands resting on Sugar as he sat by her and the other resting on his knee while he looked at you. "You good?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine..."

"Really? You don't seem like it..." Satoru expressed, now rising from your bed to walk over to you. Since he had left, you had forgotten how much taller he was than you. "Is everything okay? I never got to ask how you were here without me..."

Your face shifted as he said that. "May I confess something?"

His eyebrows raised. "Yes, go ahead."

You held the book in your hands close to your chest. "When... when I first started to live here, I found your presence... unwanted and... a bit frightening. I got more accustomed to it and... as we became friends it had become normal. But when you left for this mission, I didn't realize how used to it I had gotten. So much so that... sometimes, when I found myself eating or going about the house or cleaning our living spaces, I would suddenly feel... I felt-"

"Is this your way of saying you missed me?" Satoru interrupted, a smug grin reaching the handsome planes of his face.

Your face flushed. "W-well, yes! But, what I was trying to get to is that-"

"I can't believe it. (Y/N) actually likes me! Maybe she won't move across the world from me after all, haha!!" Satoru gasped sarcastically before pumping his fist in triumph, to which you huffed. Satoru snickered, ruffling your hair. "Heeey, it's okay. You can admit that you missed your darling, awesome husband."

"Not just my husband. My friend," you returned, a grateful smile gracing your features. He mirrored that same smile, his hands on his hips. After a beat too long, you sauntered past him back to Sugar, who was now curled on your bed. "That being said, I think we should celebrate your return."

"Celebrate?" Satoru's eyes followed you as you walked, subtly taking the shape of your waist as you moved and shoving the ensuing thoughts deep down.

"Yes, as both a welcoming party for Sugar and for your return home," you replied, taking the slumbering kitten in your arms. "Also, mostly because I haven't had anyone to cook for this past week."

Satoru picked up his duffel bag and followed you out the door towards the stairs. "Surely that isn't the only reason you missed me?" he laughed.

"Well, nothing else is coming to mind," you joked right back, turning to him. Satoru looked back at you wide-eyed, an opened mouth grin forming on his face. Did you just... go along with one of his sarcastic gags? Telling by the little hidden smile you were giving him, you were.

This was new.

Satoru just huffed and shrugged, taking a step past you to open his bedroom door. "I think I'm rubbing off on you, pretty girl. Maybe I should've stayed away longer..."

You tried to hide your flush by avoiding eye contact, the sudden drop in octave in his voice causing you to go warm. He saw it anyway. Almost expected it at this point, given how predictable your reactions were. He stepped through his bedroom doorway, duffel bag on his shoulder once more, the epitome of smug satisfactory on his face.

Until you gripped his hand, looking up at him with eyes that could bring him to his knees. "I'm glad your home, Satoru."

It was the first time that you had ever initiated such contact. You knew it of course, and so did he. He clung to that unspoken fact, that knowing bit of trust and maybe something a bit more, as he engulfed your hand in his, giving it a small, warm squeeze.

"Me too..."

The two of you decided on a savory curry recipe for dinner. Nothing too fancy, but still delicious. Satoru chose to use the time as a way to try and test out that new found humor of yours, smiling to himself when he would get you to laugh or reply back with something witty. He'd been waiting to see this kind of side of you for a while, one that you had originally kept reserved, or maybe didn't even know that you had at all.

While eating, Satoru asked what you had been up to when he was away. "I was keeping up with my usual tasks. Nothing too special..." you said, looking down at your plate as you spooned some of the curry.

Satoru stared at you as you did, a small frown on his face. "So you didn't get out at all or do anything?" He also wanted to question why you couldn't seem to look at him right now, but he pushed the thought aside.

You shook your head, taking a bite. "Other than running errands or picking out Sugar, no."

"Well, maybe we should-"

Satoru paused.

You looked up at his sudden silence. "Satoru?"

He shushed you immediately, causing you to bite your tongue. He stared ahead, as if peering right through the wall ahead of him. He was peering right through the wall, using his Six Eyes. You could tell by the feint bits of cursed energy seeping into the room.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru peeled himself from his seat, his expression suddenly hard. The staff had gone home for the day already, Sugar was sleeping under your feet... What could he possibly be going to check?

"Stay here," he murmured, his voice low. His tone sent a shiver of fear down your spine, not just because of its command, but for whatever the reason could be to change his demeanor so suddenly.

"Satoru, what is it-" you began, your voice hushed and brow furrowed. "Stay here," he growled, his head snapping in your direction as you barely rose from your seat. You complied, inching back down. "I'll be right back."

And with that, he moved, keeping a brisk pace as he opened the door that led to the rest of the estate, and shut it behind him. Worry began to coil in your gut, the thought of what could be so wrong that Satoru would have to just get up and leave. A few seconds passed, then a minute, more minutes...

You couldn't take it. You had to know something. Even if Satoru instructed you to stay put... as long as you didn't leave your shared part of the house, it would be okay, right? You rose from your chair slowly, the wood scraping against the floor as you padded over to the door at a snail's pace, an anticipatory feeling curling in your gut. Fear, something you knew almost all too well. It didn't help that your inner thoughts at the moment were your father's voice, laying out possible consequences and outcomes-

And yet, you grabbed the handle and swung the wide oak door open. Nothing but the dark hall and the stairwell beyond it greeted you.

"Satoru?" You thought that maybe he was playing a thoughtless prank, trying to scare you all for nothing. You almost expected him to pop out from behind you for a moment. No response.

You sighed, turning to shut the door, just before Sugar slipped past you, running. Of course, after her nap her boundless energy would push her towards the one place you didn't want her to be. You lunged forward to grab her, but the kitten only ran further away, as if daring you to catch her in some sort of game. If Satoru saw her, he would know that you must have opened the door at some point!

"Sugar!" you called, running down the hall after her.

"Who wants to tell me how you found my home? First to speak up dies last."

None of the thirty armed men standing in the garden said anything, sticking to aiming their useless guns. Satoru stood before them, arms crossed, the only thing between them and the house. And you.

"Okay, how about an easier question. Who hired you and how did you get past the wards?"

Wards had been placed all around the estate centuries ago when it was first built. No one had ever gotten past them. Until now.

It was almost embarrassing, too. None of these fuckers had any cursed energy, yet he had sensed them creeping through the treeline during dinner. He would've paid it no mind, since the barrier created by the wards should have stopped them. But they had walked right on through, and the barrier probably tickled them with a shock at best. He'd have to check their integrity later. But for now...

"Do I have to treat you like my students and pick on one of you?" Satoru snickered, a hand on his hip. This was a waste of time. The sooner he could get past the easy part, the sooner he could continue dinner with you and figure out who had sent these idiots so he could pay them a surprise visit. He didn't appreciate unexpected guests, especially while in the company of his wife.

Satoru sighed. "Okay then, you." Satoru pointed to one of the men on his left, and the man's arm twisted and exploded in blood and bone, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream. The men replied with open fire, to which Satoru easily blocked with his infinity.

Some of them refrained for a moment, realizing that this was no ordinary target, and that he was no ordinary man. The men stopped firing altogether, bewildered, and watched as the bullets clattered to the soft grass in front of him as he dropped his infinity.

"Should I ask one more time?" Satoru seethed lowly, stalking towards the group. A few of the sensible ones backed away a few steps. One man began to shake.

Satoru turned his head in that man's direction, watching him. The man cried out, and fired off his automatic rifle in a fit of terror, the bullets catching some of his team. The others began to fire with reckless abandon.

Satoru began to take care of them quickly, trying not to waste too much energy as he moved between each target. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Each bit of blood he poured only hit the infinity barrier he kept up and blew off like rain on a windshield. But he needed to keep one alive-

There. One was running back through the trees; a coward then, someone likely to confess. He made quick work of the rest, before running after the escaping man not too far into the surrounding forest.

Satoru caught him by his shoulder, ripped his gun away, and flung him to the ground, putting his shoe to the man's chest. "Talk."

"I-I don't know-"

"Then know. Or you'll end up just like the rest."

"But I can't. I won't. He won't let me remember-"

Satoru's head inclined. "Who?"

The man beneath him let out a shaky breath, pointing back towards the house. Satoru's eyes widened, looking back and-

Someone was dragging you through the back garden doors. They had cursed energy.

Satoru teleported back in a heartbeat, right behind the person, bared hands going to wrap around their neck-

But they reacted too quickly. The person, a woman, whirled you in front of herself, holding you up by your neck as a shield. Your choking made Satoru see red.

"Not so fast, Limitless," she purred. "Step back, or I snap her neck."

It would be so easy to snap hers instead, but he didn't know her technique. He didn't know what she could do to you. He complied reluctantly, and the woman set you down and let you breathe before gently resting a jagged dagger against your throat.

The woman was clearly a cursed user of some kind. Tall, form fitting, her muscular body contrasting the elegance of her red kimono and feminine face. She flashed him a saccharine smile. Whoever she was, Satoru didn't recognize her.

"So nice to finally meet you," the woman careened. "Your wife and I have already gotten acquainted." She pressed the knife closer towards the soft expanse of your neck, the sharp edge tickling your skin. You winced.

"Satoru-"

"It's okay, (Y/N)," he breathed out. But it wasn't okay. He had been a damn fool, telling you stay in the house, unprotected. No, he was a fool for following that last attacker into the forest. He was only there to draw him out, so this woman could slip in undetected. "Why didn't you stay in put-"

"That was my doing, actually," the woman smiled, raising her other hand from your nape. Satoru tensed, but instead Sugar appeared from beside her. The woman moved her hand in a circular motion, and Sugar mimicked it, spinning at the same speed of her hand before walking off. "A little party trick. Mrs. Gojo seems rather fond of the animal, so I figured she would rush to protect it when it "decided" to run off." And lured you to the garden just so she could pluck you out.

So, mind control. That was her technique. Satoru huffed. "I will admit, I haven't seen that one before. But what do you want?"

The woman shrugged. "Why don't you guess?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, trying not to let his slight panic get to him as he saw tears begin to slip down your face. She would pay for that. "Well, lots of people have their reasons. There's always a price for my head, so it could be that, but you seem pretty smart. You know you can't kill me," the woman grinned, "so you went for her. And now I have to... give you something, I presume?"

"Perhaps." The woman began thrumming her fingers on your collarbone. "It is something that you have. Try thinking a little harder."

Satoru crossed his arms, making a show of trying to come up with an answer. "Well, I do have a lot of money, but with your talents you don't seem to need to get it from me. I have valuable information on a vast variety of top secret jujustu subject matters, but really, you don't have to go through me to get those, and, even if you did, I really don't remember anything important, I mean, c'mon look at me. Sooo... other than that I would assume you're trying tooooo get my attention? In which case then, oh, I'm flattered and you seem like a nice gal, but I'm a married man so... what do you want?"

"I want her, dumbass," the woman growled, clearly upset by Satoru's rambling. She pressed the knife point underneath your chin, your chest heaving as you groaned. "Do you know what people would do for Death Immunity? What anyone would-"

"Oh, well, you could've just said so," Satoru grumbled. "Anyway, she-"

A thousand blades lunged at light speed from the trees, all aimed for him, which he deflected without a thought. He turned his head to look at them once they had clattered against the concrete, the knives identical to the one the woman was holding against you. "Geez, did you do that? Where were you keeping all those?" He put a hand to his head, trying to peer into the direction they came from.

The woman's demeanor went from peeved to panic when her surprised attack failed, clutching you tighter in her grasp, her grip beginning to bruise along your collarbone.

"Well, as I was saying," Satoru continued, turning back to the assailant. His eyes briefly took in the woman's nails digging into your skin, his voice rumbling a shade darker. "She's already mine, so I'm afraid you've come here for no fucking reason, other than to get killed. So, without further ado-"

Satoru raised his arm with killer quickness, a blue flash from his hand near blinding you as he aimed and released it into the woman's face. Before the blast could fully take, he pulled you to his chest, turning and shielding you both with his infinity as the woman's head was detonated so fast that her vocal cords were incinerated before she could scream.

You let out a painful sob as he pulled you to his chest firmly, hunching over you with an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. Only when he felt the implosion recede and heard the woman's body thump to the ground did he stand fully and let you turn around. "Are you hurt-"

Your first reaction was to look behind him to where the woman's corpse was still smoking, or what was left of it. "No, no, don't look," he murmured, forcing your head back into his chest. You were a mess, breath heaving, sobs racking your throat, eyes puffy and still crying fat tears.

" 'M sorry! 'M so sorry-" you choked.

"Don't apologize, you're okay now. I've got you. You're safe," Satoru whispered, trying to ground you, rocking you side to side as he cupped your face firmly, bringing his forehead to yours. His hands were warm, so unlike that woman's. Thumbs wiping your tears, he stroked your cheek as if it was the only thing able to pull you back to reality. "You're safe. I've got you."

The investigation at the Gojo estate started within an hour of the attack and was still ongoing the next morning. Members of Jujustu High's Tokyo staff came to help with investigation and cleanup. After they debriefed you, Satoru asked Suguru if the two of you could crash at his apartment for a while, just until he was sure that the location of this estate and the others under the Gojo name were secure. Suguru agreed, leaving with you in tow so you could get some rest and to make sure you were well protected.

Now, those involved in the investigation met in the estate dining room. The chandelier light played off the ancient mahogany walls, overshadowed by the streams of golden sunlight bleeding through the skinny, arching windows and glinting against the many colored alcohol bottles sitting on the flight of shelves against the opposite wall.

Nobody reached for a glass though.

The first one to speak was Ijichi, having entered the room minutes after everyone else. "We have identified the female curse user," he said, passing off a matching folder to each person sitting at the table. "Her name was Kawate Kiko, a curse user who has been hired by many crime organizations and other private buyers for her skills, both in hunting humans and curses."

"And her cursed technique was mind control?" Yaga began.

"No."

All the heads turned to Satoru, sitting cross legged, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. He had switched out his t-shirt and sweats from earlier to his official uniform. "It wasn't mind control. She was able to manipulate knives telepathically at rapid speeds, at numbers probably close to 100."

Shoko set down the file. "Do we have any clue who may have hired her and these men? Or what their motive may have been? Perhaps she hired them to help her."

Yaga grumbled. "Well, if someone didn't blow her face off-"

"Sorry that I didn't give a fuck. Not when she was holding a knife to my wife's throat," Satoru said lowly and firmly. The room went quiet before he sighed and spoke again. "Things don't add up. The men, we know, were all ex-convicts and low lives of local Tokyo crime rigs, with little to no connection to one another or any part of the jujustu world. They would have had no reason to suddenly band together for a hunt like this, especially with someone of Kawate's caliber. Secondly, the man that I hunted down in the forest said he didn't know why he was there and that someone, a he, was preventing him from remembering. Not she. And with 30 non-curse users getting through the estate ward barrier with guns and armor they had no money to possess... there had to have been someone else here tonight with those assets and that technique. Someone with enough caliber to hire someone like Kawate to play along with them. Someone behind the scenes of everything."

"But I thought they were after (Y/N). Why the hell would the other guy not show himself after Kawate was killed?" Kusakabe grumbled.

"Cowardice? Maybe realizing that the entire operation was an impossible job and decided to flee?" Shoko proposed.

Yaga leaned back in his chair. "What doesn't make sense is that someone must have had access to these wards or known how to manipulate them. No one else has access, right?"

Satoru shook his head. "I'm the only person alive that should know how to work mine, but that doesn't mean someone somehow could have been taking the time to study them and learned to break them. But that would also require an insane amount of energy, not to mention the knowledge behind such ancient artifacts."

"But who would try that when they know you could detect them from miles away?" Kusakabe countered.

"I wasn't home this past week, and (Y/N) can't detect them," Satoru pointed. "They must have done it then."

"Do you know who was here, then?" Yaga questioned.

"(Y/N) never mentioned visitors. I could always ask her to see," Satoru replied. "Anyways, tell my students they have the next week off. Little impromptu study week. I'm going to find the clowns that started this," Satoru groaned, stretching as he pushed back his chair. "You guys can handle the rest here, yeah? I'm pooped."

"But this is your house-" Yaga protested, but didn't continue as Satoru meandered out the door.

Suguru let him in to his complex at 9:26am, riding up the elevator and walking down the hall to his place. Satoru always envied Suguru whenever he walked into this apartment, that he had a place to be truly his. Well, as much as Mimiko and Nanako, his adoptive daughters, would let him, with their free range on the decorating. Suguru had saved the two of them with Satoru's help from a village that meant to imprison and abuse them. Shortly after, Suguru had bought this place with what money he had amassed over the years, a home for him and the girls, one where they could heal and form a sense of new identity, Suguru included. And for him, that meant taking the two seven year olds under his wing.

Suguru said something about how had he had been going over the reports that Ijichi had dropped off before he arrived, and while Satoru was happy to catch him up, he just wanted to talk to you, see how you were holding up.

"I think she's still sleeping," Suguru informed, probably sensing his unease. "She didn't end up going to bed until early this morning. She wanted to go take a walk, but I convinced her tea would be better. That was at 4am, and I haven't heard her since."

Satoru thanked Suguru, and walked down the narrow hallway to the guest bedroom, one that he had grown accustomed to staying in when the estate felt too big and he felt too lonely. He pried open the door softly, peering through the crack to see your form under the blankets, and stepped inside. He made quiet work of changing out of his uniform, picking out a pair of pajama pants you had folded and neatly packed into his duffel bag before you left, and sat on the edge of the bed opposite of you, the bed creaking under his weight.

He observed how you were curled into a fetal position, your arms wrapped around a pillow (that he instantly grew envious of), and while the sight would have made him smile, he could see the other things too. Your hair looked unkempt and limp, you were still wearing the same clothes, and he couldn't smell your usual vanilla and lavender bath oil, meaning you probably didn't shower. Besides the wanting to take a walk, Suguru never mentioned you wanting to cook or read or maybe even clean, activities that Satoru had known you to do when restless or stressed. You probably only passed out from pure exhaustion.

He hated he couldn't have been here sooner. Hated that he told you to stay inside. Hated he didn't just deal with the problem as soon as possible before they could draw you out like that. Hated that he had just come home and now you both have these other problems to deal with.

He was going to have ask you more questions when you got up too, but for now... he needed sleep. Badly. Didn't even care how much he needed a shower right now or that he was about to sleep next to you in the same bed for the first time.

Satoru got under the blanket, the bed just big enough for there to be about a foot of room between the two of you. He turned on his side and stared at your back, wanting to close that distance so desperately, to pull you right into his chest, into his arms, and to feel your warmth and your breathing against him to remind him that he was next to you, and that you were safe. To feel your hair against his face and neck, your skin underneath his fingertips.

Instead he just stared. And then slept.

When Satoru awoke again, the sun was already setting. As soon as he arose to look for you, Suguru's girls were already dragging him down towards the living room floor to stick butterfly clips and extensions into his hair. It wasn't until he was able to turn in the direction of the kitchen that he saw you stirring something over the stove as Suguru stood next to you, a drink in his hand as he spoke softly. To his surprise, you replied to each thing he said with equal calmness.

Shortly after the two of you had married, Satoru did want to introduce Suguru to you, but after seeing how you reacted to being around just him, he didn't want to put you into a situation you might be uncomfortable with. However, it seems now that maybe Satoru didn't have to worry. You two appeared to have similar personalities anyway. He's surprised he didn't think of that to begin with.

Even as the girls stepped around him from where he sat, Satoru could barely make out the bruises from where Kawate had gripped you whenever you turned to face Suguru, who seemed to have gotten you onto the topic of whatever dinner you were making. Good. Getting your mind off the past 24 hours will help you to better process everything later, when Satoru would inevitably have to ask more questions.

It was odd. Normally, you would let him know you were having visitors coming over the second you knew. Unless since he was gone you decided to not tell him, or maybe they came over unexpectedly? Whoever they were, they would only be able to study the wards from the inside, so anyone who would have visited the estate is a potential suspect. His staff had all been questioned that morning and ruled out as well, so it had to have been anyone you had contact with from outside the estate wards.

And what was Death Immunity-

Satoru's thoughts were interrupted by the girls shoving a handheld mirror in his face for him to look at his new hairdo, the white tuffs of his hair being littered with colorful bits like confetti frosting. "Wow, you two, I'm gorgeous! What's next? My nails? My face?" Satoru exclaimed, touching up his hair and making faces that made the girls squeal in fits of giggles.

"How about dinner?" Suguru chimed in, arms crossed as he stood before the three of them with a smile. In the background, you were busy pouring whatever was in the pot into bowls for the five of you, adding ice cubes into the girls' portions.

Satoru stood, letting Nanako and Mimiko drag him into a chair between the two of theirs as you and Suguru sat across from them. Suguru helped you carry the bowls filled with a veggie and beef stew to the table with glasses of water to drink. The spirited conversation of the children kept the table from going completely silent, which Satoru was thankful for, but he kept his eyes on you throughout most of the meal, watching as you smiled sometimes and nodded but never really gave much input into anything. He knew you were still trying to work through everything that happened. In fact, given your reaction, maybe last night was the closest you've ever actually been to death. The jujustu community had become so desensitized to it that even he forgot to check in on how the view of a smoking corpse or the feeling of a blade to your skin may have affected you.

Soon enough the two of you were beginning to hand wash the dishes, Satoru giving Suguru a thankful nod as he guided Mimiko and Nanako to their rooms when they tried to pull Satoru back to their makeshift salon. You and him fell quickly into a rhythm, with you washing something before handing him it to dry, the light over the dining table behind both of you providing enough visibility.

"Geto is a nice man. Those girls seem to appreciate him as well," you murmured, taking Satoru a little by surprise. He didn't expect you to speak up.

"Yeah, he's a good guy," Satoru replied. "A great sorcerer too as much as he is a dad. I'm lucky he's my best friend."

You hummed and smiled to yourself. "That's good."

After a moment, Satoru snickered, "So, you think he's attractive?"

You furrowed your brow, holding the newly washed dish away from him as you turned your face in his direction. "Satoru, that's not funny."

"You're not denying iiiitt~" he sang, smiling wider and pointing at you with the towel.

"No, I don't think that. Why would you say that?" you muttered sharply, handing him the bowl you had in hand before reaching for the soap to scrub the pot. "Well, you two seemed to be chatting it up over here while you were making dinner," he teased, laughing to himself. He didn't even know why he was asking these things. He knew teasing you was normal, but why about this? Why now? Of course he wanted to take your mind off of things but-

"He was talking to me about you, Satoru," you replied, a slightly hardened look on your face. "I don't want you to think that-"

"Think what? That you might have feelings for someone? Shh, it's okay, I won't tell," he whispered with a laugh. You were talking about him? "Really, (Y/N), your secret-"

"Satoru, why are you asking me this?" you interrupted, handing him the last pot. "Why are you..." You shook your head before continuing, opting to walk to the bedroom you two were sharing. "Wait, (Y/N)-" Satoru set the pot into the sink with the towel, his large steps quickly catching up with you as the two of you stepped through the doorway. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." "I know," you murmured, gently sitting on the bed. "I know you're just... trying to take my mind off of things, which I appreciate. But-"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have done it like that, I know. That was a kinda dick way to do it," Satoru said, scratching that back of his head. You grit your teeth, folding your hands in your lap. "It's okay... I understand." After a pause you added. "I've been worried for Sugar this whole time." "She's okay. We just want to be sure she's safe before we can have custody of her again. And don't worry, Shoko has cats of her own. She knows how to treat them good." Satoru made sure it was Shoko that got to examine Sugar and not someone that would cut her open and dissect her like some common animal. You nodded along to his words, staring at the wall ahead.

"I... the other sorcerers at Jujustu Tech. They wanted me to ask some things... if that's okay. If not we can wait till later-" he began. Maybe be shouldn't bring this up now. "Didn't they already ask me questions?" you muttered. "Yes, but..." Satoru kneeled in front of you were you sat, taking your hands in his. You almost had to stop yourself from letting out a laugh at the butterfly clips still in his hair. "(Y/N), it's imperative that you answer me honestly when I ask this."

Your eyes met his, your eyes narrowing in confusion. "Ask what? What more is there to ask?"

"Was there anyone that visited you during the time I was gone? Anyone that normally would not be at the house?"

Your mouth opened to speak, the answer clearly on the tip of your tongue. "W... why? Do you think they did this? How? Was it not somehow that woman that you-" "I don't know, (Y/N), but what I do know is that if there was anyone you would have known about being on our property that is otherwise not welcome, they may have had a hand in destabilizing our wards, and I want us to be safe so we can return." Satoru squeezed your hands once more. "Was there anyone?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. Once. Twice. You sighed. "My brother, Keisuke."

Your brother? "Why did he come?"

You shook your head. "No, Satoru, he would never do anything like this-"

"(Y/N), I'm not saying he did but I need to start somewhere so that I can ensure that you and our home is safe. You understand, right?" Why were you so defensive suddenly? What did your brother do there?

"It wasn't his fault. There was no way he would have had any involvement! He wouldn't want to-"

Satoru stood. "You were almost kidnapped! You could have died-"

"And so what if I did!"

A beat.

"What."

Your hands clasped over your mouth. You looked like you were about to apologize. Satoru stood. "(Y/N)." Your fists clenched. You were probably holding back tears. "(Y/N). Don't you ever, ever, say something like that about yourself." "I'm sorry-" "Don't apologize," he hushed, now moving to sit beside you, an arm around your shoulders. "Just... you don't have to." The two of you paused for minutes, not saying a word. He suddenly began to feel guilty, both for his teasing and for pressing you for details when the attack barely happened 24 hours ago. Hell, you could have died not too long ago, and now he was treating you like this. "We can talk about this later," Satoru murmured. "It was wrong of me to bring it up." "No... it's alright," you whispered, hands coming to fold in your lap. "I'm sorry for arguing with you and... for my outburst." "Don't sweat it." "Is this what's its like to have an argument? And to then forgive immediately after?" "Yeeeep." He added a little pop at the end. "It feels wrong. But civil. But... wrong." "Well, that's because most arguments just feel wrong. I like to think of them as passionate conversations, albeit sometimes with more hurtful comments or name calling." Satoru stood and started walking to the bathroom. "But we didn't call each other names..." you murmured. "We can right now if you want stinkybutt," he replied, turning to lean against the doorway while crossing his arms. He nodded in your direction. "Okay then... uhm... asswipe." "Woah, bringing out the big guns I see." Satoru placed a hand to his chest as if hurt, a playful grin on his face. "I didn't even know you knew how to curse, old lady!" You dropped your mouth in a playful shock. "Well, I'm just imitating the best potty mouth I know, pompous bitch!" He snickered before firing back. "You little asshole!" "Bastard!" "Fucker!" "Dick!" "Motherfucker!" "Dick for brains!" "Pretty girl..." Your next insult halted in your throat, his little purr of those two words forcing a red shade to your cheeks. Before you could react, he spun into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it with a click. "H-hey, that wasn't fair!" you protested, getting up from where you sat on the bed. "What?! Can't talk right now I'm taking a shit!" he yelled back, the shower turning on immediately afterward. You just shook your head, smiling as you sighed. You changed into your nightgown, figuring you might as well lay down and wait until he was done so you could brush your teeth. Was it really only a few minutes ago that the two of us were fighting? The conversation shifted so quickly. Did he do that on purpose? While almost any argument you had ever had ended quickly, it was almost never forgotten nor forgiven. Its reminders sometimes stayed on your body for days at a time. Either way, you were grateful. He was so good at distracting you from things, even things like near death experiences. Distractions. Was this what this was? You still went to bed feeling lonely each night, but the next day he made you forget that you ever did. Maybe that was all you needed, all that anyone ever needed. To go to bed lonely, wake up, interact, forget, and then remember. You spent so much of your days alone before all of this. Does this mean you've become something normal? Perhaps. But was it still normal to feel incomplete?

You were so busy contemplating and staring at the wall that you didn't notice Satoru beginning to sit on the other side of the bed beside you, hair free of butterfly clips. Your thoughts broke when you heard the bed creak, making you turn over to face him.

His shirtless body was backlit from the brightness of his phone screen as he sat on the edge of the mattress. As he scrolled, you quickly noticed the faint scars that were littered across the impressive expanse of his back. Were they from trainings, or from actual battles? Either way, you were surprised that he had any at all because of his technique. You assumed this whole time that his skin would be completely unblemished from any kind of visible injury. Not that you're thinking much about his skin...

Your thoughts were broken again when he plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand and turned it off. Despite your panic, you didn't move from how you were laying.

Satoru didn't seem to mind. He stretched his arms above his head, shoulders and biceps flexing, as he turned and got underneath the covers. He snickered when he found you already looking at him. "See something you like?" Satoru muttered deeply, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows for effect.

He didn't need a light to be on to be able to see the color on your cheeks, but he chuckled as you tried to turn away all flustered. "Hey now, I'm just joking. I'm sorry." Satoru placed a hand to your shoulder, motioning for you to face him again. The skin of your shoulder was surprisingly cold, but that didn't take away from its silken feel. You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek as you murmured an apology.

You'd never shared a bed with anyone in your life. It was odd, but with Satoru, you didn't feel too uncomfortable luckily. You've heard horror stories about other women sharing beds with their husbands. The snoring, the problems with space, being too hot or too cold, too many blankets and pillows or too little, the types of mattresses they preferred, etc. While you did share a bed with him last night, there was no telling if he had any of those issues since you were already asleep when he came to bed.

However, you did remember how he looked when he was still asleep after you woke up. It was... too peaceful of a look for a man that had just killed for you less than 24 hours before.

He had killed for you. And now you were sharing a bed with him.

Killed. Well, you knew way before marrying him that he had done such before. Why does this suddenly change your perception of him?

Yet despite that, you assumed he was a sound sleeper, which you could be thankful for even though you probably will not have to share a bed with him much in the future. It's quite interesting that an attack is what led to you both doing so for the first time. You'd like to wonder what would have had to happen for you to see him asleep like that without the current contexts.

What a weird thing to think about.

"Goodnight (Y/N), sweet dreams." "Goodnight Satoru."

Before long, you were realizing it was going to be very hard for you to fall asleep. You tried counting your breaths to focus on doing so, something that would usually have you out in no time.

You counted up to 256 before deciding to give up.

Your head turned to where Satoru was laying with his back to you, his breaths steady. Once again, your eyes caught the scars of his back that barely peaked over what the blanket covered.

You let out a heavy breath.

"Satoru." "Mmmm?" He's awake. "How did you get the scars on your back?" "Oh y'know," a yawn, "mostly sparring and whatnot. Maybe a curse here or there." "Oh." "Oh?"

You paused a little. "I thought... your technique prevented others from being able to touch you. I thought that..." "That I was indestructible?" He chuckled, his voice low. You shifted a little. "I'm sorry, I-" "No, it's fine. You don't have to apologize for asking." After a moment, Satoru added, "As you probably... have noticed, it's important for me to be able to defend myself without my technique to aid me, to prepare for any worse case scenario. Lot of these are curtesy of Suguru being too rough on me, heh. But... I was never always a full expert when it came to my technique, contrary to what most people believe. I had to become an expert. These just show part of the path to doing it."

You hummed in response.

"But don't worry, they don't call me The Strongest for nothing. I'm fully capable of protecting-" Satoru paused when he felt your fingers brush his shoulder.

Just before he could register it, you quickly moved them away, withdrawing your hand beneath the covers. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No," he murmured, shifting himself to face you now, his head propped up by a hand as he reached to grab your hand and place it right over his heart. You stared at where his palm held your fingers against the expanse of his chest, his skin warm and dare you say inviting.

"(Y/N)," he whispered, your open gaze locking onto his sincere one, "just because my technique prevents others from touching me doesn't mean I don't like to be touched."

Your mouth slightly agape, you took in the planes of his handsome face against the rays of a streetlight coming in from the window, hitting the blinds and creating stripes against his face in the dark. One of those stripes hit his eyes, which you took in first, and made your way down, observing the clean slope of his nose, his shaped lips, down the curve of his neck to your hand and back up.

The way Satoru looked at you then, he knew. He knew that you needed him, but not in some passionate or carnal way, but in a way that someone wants cream and sugar in their coffee, or a candle in their book nook on a rainy day. Something familiar, yet more. And even if he had just killed someone yesterday for you, to protect you, he was still the person that you found comfort in each day. That made you feel somewhat worth something more than a last name a potential asset.

"You look cold." The timbre of his voice could have probably warmed you from the inside out, but only for a moment.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then c'mere pretty girl."

Did Satoru expect last night to go the way it did? Definitely not. But when he felt you take the little extra initiative to barely touch his back, he knew he had to make it go that way.

He didn't anticipate or really want anything more than just the cuddling. It didn't take long for you to warm up and fall asleep, listening to the sound of his heart. He was surprised that you didn't ask why it was beating so fast, let alone fall asleep as swiftly as you did while having to hear it.

But he was right, your body did fit perfectly against his. Your head had rested against him sweetly, cushioned by that spot between his chest and shoulder. His arms had wrapped around you, his hands finding purchase on your back and waist. The position of his chin on your head gave him perfect access to kiss your forehead if he wanted to, but he didn't want to push the boundaries too far.

Okay, maybe he ended up giving you two anyway. He tried to hold out and lasted probably about 30 minutes. He just couldn't help it! Not to mention, you smelled so good-

He was half tempted to give you another one right now as you two lay here the next morning, with you still blissfully unconscious. On the nightstand behind you two, your phone began to buzz with a call. Whoever was trying to get you awake right now could go to hell. He didn't want this moment to end.

However, even after the person had called you another time, and then proceeded to leave four more texts, Satoru figured he would see what the fuss was about.

He strained to reach behind him, careful not to disturb your slumber, as he grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Turning it on, he smiled at the already established lock screen of Sugar before noticing the messages.

Keisuke Kamo

Hey, glad to hear you're alright. Just heard about the attack last night.

Keisuke Kamo

I know I had just visited recently, but we need to talk. In person, preferably.

Keisuke Kamo

Just call me back when you can so we can set something up. Please bring Gojo Satoru with you too.

Keisuke Kamo

Please (Y/N). This is serious...

Turns out Satoru wouldn't be able to enjoy your brief solace for much longer.

Tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby--vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox @tqd4455 @stxrrielle @rebirth-of-destruction @yoichiislovie @thesoftugly @gojonegs

thanks for being patient <3

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charmed-asylum · 15 hours ago

Text

The award for god damn my mouth drop like a cartoon cat goes to SY but u know . I know he doesn’t beat around the bush. However, was I thinking he be like this . And shit I can say from experience and studies that a lot he doing goes right with it. I mean sad thing and it’s really not just one person to pin point who could of fix this besides Thor town folks and trailer trash mom ( now idk where she grew up but hey it’s not me but cliches) that could of help. It’s sad because for her case she probably isn’t a slut while Sy is crazy he just type that knows it but tries to be all wooo man I mean I’m not crazy I’m caring but if u ever mess with me then haha u be getting a dead cat in your mail box or a stalker for life but wooooooo I’m just caring and being a human . Shit pat on the back and you good is looking out a simple box of stuff is looking out non stop poof Sy there is not helping out it’s stalking but bc this town is so small folks won’t see it. Oh he lucky that town size of a city block.

“On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body” honey this statement so spot on huh one a check back in the day like your time period AU money u get paid can last a month or last time now it’s like a blink poof gone and your body lord I’m only in my 20s and the issues I’m having at my age blown minds.

Sy just always there and idk why but it’s big ( lord I’m drooling and have not finish this thought) well as a whole get always with the sneak attack shit I’m barley 5 foot and I still have issues . Bc I’m too short they turn around and still don’t see me I gotta jump be like Boo. Anyway still damn “. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. “ also going back to my girl you got yourself a lifetime 20/20 level stalker. Hahaha way you keep doing Thor I can’t “ It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. “ I wonder still wonder because he hasn’t been front with her which I feel it coming feel it coming . ( still gonna be shock) but on the why he gave her a reason which I’m gonna point out in a second but can “ I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." be one I mean it be least crazy one . And if not does he pray on pregnant women because of well a lot tumblr taught me a lot about kinks but because how easy the target she or how her emotions not there or pregnancy brain. “ You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you” also that he was so close to Thor which questioned his character like so he mad bc what Thor did or he use Thor for some reason. Because in small time I can’t see some friends falling out so easy bc hello who else u got .

This again makes me feel bad for her because while Sy seems nice and it your name was the fluff you don’t ask for I be all aww so cute and romantic but no nothing ever good and sweet it’s an huh my leg said in a sponge bob character voice. Like never so simple and sweet but damn how bad I felt reading this “ You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt.. Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment” and fact he open ( after 1st day seeing her) mention he read books about pregnancy. It makes her wall slowly start to crack. “ He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.”

HAAH I’m sure many mention this but lord can you imagine “ He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. “ But no the way that he watches her even down to her fingers. Or what way her EYES 👀 may go. He’s watching her as if I only watching tho his pray but as if he I don’t know still in war zone, looking through his sniper or goggles, watching his enemy. But still huh I hate it the perfect crazy stalker but idk even talking to her not at her or down to her .

AND HE SO HONESTLY BLUNT like okay he playing a game of 1s and 00s and we doing tic tac toe. Still like , “ "Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me….. His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." that to me feels ( because not 1st time) he thinking on how to say it like before with the honest but down play it. In away which is why I feel there more.

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last.

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself?

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you.

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?"

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage.

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--"

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder.

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water.

"No, you don't--"

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one."

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal."

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway."

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say.

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you."

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter.

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest."

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left.

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window.

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment.

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene.

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look.

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says.

"And tea?" You add.

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you."

"Yeah, I... I know."

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.

"Thank you," you smile as best you can.

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter.

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down.

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses.

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit.

"You-" he begins.

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time.

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation.

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?"

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help."

"Okay, but why?"

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to."

"You want to?"

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me."

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other."

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?"

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend."

"Was," he interjects.

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes."

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says.

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much."

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders.

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you?

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.”

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer.

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.”

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.”

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venomous-ragno · 2 days ago

Note

A soulmate AU fic with Ghost/Soap/GN!Reader where their first word is tattooed on you. Also "What kinda name is Ghost and Soap? Sounds like a Men's 11 in 1 body wash together" or something along the lines (Don't feel pressured to write this! If you don't like the premise you can just ignore this ❤❤❤)

Hello dear! I now how old this request is, and I'm sure you've either forgotten about it or given up on it.

I'm sorry it took me so long, but I had a day ofd today and checked up on this blog; your soulmate request simply sparked smth and I had to write it. Soulmate au's are one of my favourites!

Tbf, I haven't written in a long while, so I'm a bit insecure about this one despite spending all day on it. Hope y'all like this one still :)

It was ridiculous. It was surreal. It was a body wash advertisement, come to life. And somehow, despite everything, it felt perfectly, undeniably right.

Back then it had sounded like a magic trick, something that belonged in a fairy tale. You'd spent hours trying to figure out who Ghost was. Maybe that one weird kid from school? Or a character in a book you hadn’t gotten to yet? You had no idea.

There had been a point in time where you would've killed to know this "Ghost". A character made up of theories, hopes and your boundless imagination - all of it so alien you lay awake at night, caught between fiction and reality. Warmth spread from that name. Oh, how it'd keep your mind running as your fingers brushed over those letters. Careful, like a porcelain vase, too precious to even touch.

It'd have you giggle and sigh at the type of person behind these rough, uneven edges. How long would it take for them to show themself to you? Perhaps you were naive to believe it'd be soon.

The years passed, and the mystery of Ghost remained.

The second word, "Soap," arrived when you had already given up on ever finding this Ghost, nestled just above your ankle. This time, you were about to board a flight to Mexico, announcements blasting left and right, people hurrying all over the place. You noticed it almost immediately. It was a different font and unlike the first name, rather cartoonish. You stared at it, a weird mix of excitement and utter bafflement swirling in your gut. The flight attendant called out your flight number, but your thoughts drowned it out; Ghost and Soap? You thought, what kinda names are those? Sounds like a Men’s 11 in 1 body wash together!

Your friends had found it hilarious, of course. They’d joked about meeting Mr. Ghastly-Clean and Mr. Sudsy-Lad, and promised to buy you a "Ghost and Soap" bath bomb for your birthday. You’d laughed along, but a strange feeling had started to settle in you, a yearning that you couldn't quite explain. That book you'd brought along to your eleven hour long flight lay long forgotten at the bottom of your carry-on.

You were no mere teen anymore. Now you were a journalist and war photographer, intent on finding your oen truth. The chaotic energy of a battlefield somehow soothed the constant itch of the two names etched on your skin. You'd met lots of people, exchanged thousands of words, but none had felt like they belonged with Ghost and Soap. For all your eloquence, nothing could put those feelings into words. Again those voices of loved ones telling you to let go, to search harder, to do this and that. What did they knew though? What did they expect to happen, miracles?

One particularly hectic night, you were in need of one such miracle. Your ever so feverent pursuit of the truth brought quite a bit of danger along; nothing you couldn't handle, picked up a few tricks on your travels here and there. Yet this... Was much too big for any of this. There was no article to be written and no photo to be taken when sirens wailed like banshees and grey smoke drove tears into your eyes.

The city was a symphony once. A vibrant, chaotic melody of honking cars, chattering crowds, and the rhythmic clang of street vendors. Now, it was a dissonant cacophony of explosions, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the terrified cries of the few souls still daring to breathe. You? You found yourself swallowed whole by this chaos, a lone note desperately trying to find its escape in the maelstrom.

A child cried, another salve of shots silenced the sound.

Silence was eerie. Silence was deadly.

Mouth dry and nose covered, you fought against the fear that tried to take over; the adrenaline, the stomping beats of your own heart. Too heavy and too sudden was the attack. The soldier that was assigned as your bodyguard just yesterday... You'd swallowed hard when he made you promise to save yourself.

Every little sound had you stop and check corners. A wheezing breeze? Scratching along cement? Some stray cats meow nearly caused you a heart attack.

Just gotta keep moving forward, you reminded yourself, just gotta-

Breathless coughs, two. Some low murmurs. Swearing if you'd heard right. One of the guerilla fighters?

As if moving in slow motion you peaked aroung the corner. Eyes checking every centimeter of a half lit allyway-

Your eyes met his.

Heaven and hell would laugh at you for dying like this. Covered in dirt and blood, lost in a war zone of your own fault. If only you'd listened to your mother telling you to stop being so goddamn curious.

He flinched slightly, then coughed, his voice raspy but with a hint of a playful lilt. “Well, hello there.”

That doesn't sound like someone trying to kill you.

"I see you. Why don't ye come out? Am wounded anyway, won't be able to kill ye even if I wanted to."

Your brain protested. This could be a tactic. Lure you out of hiding and into the light, makes it easier to kill you.

But you moved still.

"Come on closer, will ye?"

Eyes stayed fixated on yours like a trance.

His jaw tightened when you finally knelt beside him. Only now did you notice the blood seeping through his black shirt, streaming down a toned biceps like small rivers.

"You don't look like a guerilla fighter."

He chuckled. "Ye don't look like one to me either. Can't hurt be careful though." The blade in his hand reflected the moonlight.

You froze, your eyes snapping to his. His lips quirked into a small smile, but it faded slightly as he noticed your expression.

"Everything okay?" He asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Soap. You're Soap. The Soap."

Soap's eyes widened... As if he recognised you.

The cold metal pressed to the back of your skull, a chilling whisper against the warmth of your skin. The soldier’s breath, ragged and harsh, fanned the hairs at your nape. You could feel the tremor in his hand, the desperate tension that vibrated through him, yet beneath it all, a resolve as solid as the steel he wielded.

"Step away from my partner."

The words, simple enough, landed with the force of a physical blow. They weren't a plea, or a desperate yell. They were a command, delivered with an authority that sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard this voice before, but instantly, it felt so right. Like the missing piece you hadn't even known you were searching for.

The chaos of the savaged city faded into the background. All that existed was the look in their eyes, the names on your skin, and that strange, overwhelming feeling of finally coming home. Even if your soulmates smelled of sweat and gunpowder rather than roses and honey.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanons #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty x reader #gender neutral reader #cod ghost #cod soap #cod mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #call of duty soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soulmate au #request

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nomi-c · 1 day ago

Text

Pottery ventures

Professions (1/8) {San}

{San x Reader}

Wordcount: 7K

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Pet names (sweetheart), cursing (fuck), Dominant San , Oral Female receiving, Protected intercourse, Fingering

A/n: as always with my ff's, this ff isn't meant to represent the artist in any way or form!

-Minors don't read-

With a last glance on your Phone, you cursed your best friend for cancelling on your monthly planned meet up in the very last second.

Are you sure you can't make it? You texted her, even though you already knew the answer. She spontaneously needs to stay longer at work because of some emergency at the ER.

If you would have known sooner you would've called the workshop owner and cancelled the appointment, but you were already in front of the little studio and the appointment would start in around 10 minutes.

The day was really calm and no one expected a emergency this size.... I'm sure you'll have fun at the workshop, we can still book another appointment at that shop for maybe next week?

You sighed and watched your breath form into tiny clouds as you took a sip of your coffee and pulled the scarf tighter around your neck and partly covered your nose and mouth from the biting snowy wind that caused you to shiver heavily.

I will ask him for another appointment after today, no worries. Stay strong! Love you xxx

Without waiting for another reply since you knew she was busy treating emergency patients, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and gripped the door handle.

Staying a second longer outside wasn't ideal, seeing as in this part of the town not many people stayed outside after it got dark. It didn't matter that it was only 7pm on a Thursday, once it was dark people stayed at home. It wasn't like the area was criminally populated, it was more that the way the block was built gave off strange vibes and an eerie feeling once the sun set. Maybe it also had to do with the past of this exact block that gave you shivers whenever you thought about the mall tragedy years back.

They were in the middle of renovating the block and erasing the ugly past with new parks and buildings and incredible cafés but nonetheless people didn't forget things that easily and you were sure it would take a long while till people would be walking here carefree again.

The little Pottery studio you would visit today however had a owner who only moved here 6 months ago and probably didn’t know the history of this area before he opened the newly build studio here. When you and your best friend searched for a cool new hobby, you found his website and his rating was 5 stars through the bench.

You decided to give him a shot since the comments were good and some of the pieces you saw on his website were drop dead gorgeous. It wasnt the first workshop you both visited, seeing as you made it your adventure to try new workshops and courses every few meet ups. From photography to drawing, and from parkour lasertag. Every thing so far was awesome and a few things got stuck with you. Two of those things being Taekwondo and Art.

You smiled at the many memories that rotated in your inner eye. With a last look around you, you cautiously pushed the door open and a little bell above you ringed quietly. You instantly reveled in the warmth of the studio as you stepped in fully, you never were the biggest fan of winter and today was a particularly cold day.

Your eyes roamed over the beautifully black and white designed lobby with incredibly expensive looking modern art pieces and others that seemed like landscapes and some others like momentous of people you didn't recognize.

Walking a bit closer to it, you noted that every Individual piece was lit on by a over head lamp that gave each one its own stage and moment to shine and next to each painting you saw a little silver plate that described the painting and mentioned it's artist.

All of them were drawn by the same person, Park Seonghwa. The name didn't sound familiar to you, but whoever he is, he is a incredible painter.

You moved a bit more into the lobby and your gaze fell behind the counter, where you spotted a big lit up showcase with some of the crafted pieces you saw on the website, and with it you again saw little metal signs with the names of the people who crafted them.

You had to give it to the owner, he had a love for crediting every person he had pieces of and everyone who created art in his studio. You decided then and there that you already liked the guy.

To your left, you saw a small sitting corner which consisted of two white couches on opposite sites of one another, a black fluffy carpet and a rectangular glass table with art and crafting magazines stacked on one side of it.

On the wall next to the sitting area, you saw a makeshift bistro station with a fancy looking Barista coffee machine.

Without doubt the owner didn't only have taste in aesthetic but also in what he consumes, and what he offers his guests you thought to yourself as you saw the variety of pastries next to the coffee machine.

With a last longing look towards the sweet and probably incredibly delicious pastries, you turn back towards the front of the store.

Your eyes travel back towards the counter ahead of you, it is all black and neatly organised from what you could see behind the counter, once you reached the front of it.

Your eyes focused on the jumping screensaver on the computer on the right, that was partly turned into your direction.

You started hearing louder growing steps and focused your attention on the stack of business cards that laid out next to the blooming Poinsettia.

Only when he made his stance behind the counter, you looked up from the business card and your eyes locked with his.

Your breath however got lost along the way, he was around one head taller than you, had dark brown almost black hair, deep brown eyes and a set of adorable dimples that demanded your full attention right instantly.

He seemed to work out a lot, seeing as his frame was huge compared to you, and by huge you were talking about the fact that you could disappear behind his back fully. Looking a bit further down, the black tight shirt he wore revealed to you that his waist seemed pretty petit for his body.

You caught yourself staring at the man before you, so you quickly cleared your throat. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and you averted your eyes on your gloved hands.

You set the cup of coffee on the counter quickly and started removing your scarf and glove, feeling unbearably warm all of a sudden. "Hello, I am the 7pm appointment. My best friend couldn't make it due to a emergency at work, so it will be just me today. I hope that's still okay with you?" You asked with a slightly shaky voice.

The guy who until now watched you with a slight smile on his lips, leaned down to his computer and typed something on his keyboard. His eyes roamed over the screen and a few seconds later he gave you a quick glance. "It's alright, I hope the emergency isn't too bad. Do you want to schedule a new appointment on top? I won't charge it extra, seeing as you still came here today instead of cancelling last minute."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "I would love that, that is really kind of you Mr. Choi. Would next week at the same time work for you?" You asked with a smile on your lips as you removed your beanie and put it into your bag with the scarf and gloves.

He clicked on his computer a few times, his eyes glued to the screen. "It works perfectly for me, I'll set the appointment. And please call me San, we seem to be around the same age."

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Thank you, San. I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you." You said as your cautiously extended your hand towards him with a unsure smile on your lips.

Handshakes were mostly out of fashion, especially in winter and even more after the pandemic but you would feel rude to not greet another person that way. Especially someone as kind as him.

San eyed your hand for a second before his dimples reappeared and he laid his hand on yours for a firm handshake. You couldn't help but notice the two rings that adorned his fingers, one golden on his index finger, and a silver infinity looped ring on his middle finger. Odd combination you thought to yourself but didn't dare ask about it.

With anyone else you would say it's a fashion crime to mix gold and silver, but you felt like they had a special meaning and in all honesty you thought that little inconsistency fit with him.

If San noticed he didn't mention it, when he waved his hand towards the pasties to your left. "Can I offer you anything before we get started? A New coffee or maybe some Pastries?" He asked you with a kind smile and warm gaze.

You quickly shook your head. "No, thank you. I still have my coffee. But Thank you very much for the offer."

He nodded and gestured to the right where a big set of double milk glass doors was located. "Shall we?" He asked you with a smirk.

You once again felt your cheeks heat up, something about him made you jumpy but not in the creeped out way. No, he made you jumpy in a manner of your crush replied to your Text message where you ask him to date you kind of way.

You tried to calm your racing heart with a deep breath and focused on the flowers in the corner next to the double door, right beside these broad shoulders attractive shoulders of-

No. Don't go there- you curse yourself out as you follow San through the Glass doors avoiding his body with your hungry eyes as if your life depends on it.

You practically drool over your teacher for your pottery workshop right now, but could anyone actually blame you? San's proportions and looks should've been captured on old paintings cause he had the perfect proportions in any kind of way and form. You were sure artists would fight over him to be their muse, look wise as much as body wise.

You could blame your reaction on the fact that you didn't have a boyfriend or a date in years and your... well, last time feeling like this over a guy was even longer ago.

Feeling San's eyes on you, you slowly lifted your gaze from his shoulders to his eyes and felt exposed by the raw intensity of his stare.

With a smirk on his lips, he shook his head and turned left towards a little table that had a clay sack on top. He grabbed two blocks and placed them one after another on two of the workstations. "You can pick any seat you want."

You woke up from your trance and unholy thoughts about broad backs and muscular arms and set your bag next to the door on the black armchair before you picked the right seat and sat down eying the clay block with interest.

San grabbed two bowls from the side of the sink on the wall to your right and filled them both with water, before he set them next to your clay blocks on the work stations next to the rotation disk.

"Do you have knowledge in pottery?" He asked with his back on you, as he went towards his desk where a bunch of pottery goods sat which he carefully grabbed to place them in yet another showcase to fully dry unharmed.

You shook your head, even though you knew he couldn't see it right now. "I don't know anything about it, me and my best friend wanted to try it and make cute mugs for our reading weekends together."

He nodded, processing your words for a second or two before he turned to his left where a couple of aprons hung on the wall next to the burning oven.

You followed his movements as he picked 2 aprons one smaller and one bigger black one which you assumed was his personal one.

When he turned back around to make his way back to you he had a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Pottery isn't as difficult as most think it is, you might take a few tries but you'll get the hang of it quickly."

Once he was seated next to you, he handed you the smaller apron slowly. "Did you already think about what you want to create today?" He asked you with a curious expression on his features. His prominent cheekbones slightly rosy from the warmth of the studio.

You quickly searched your mind for possible things you could create and that were easy enough for a absolute beginner as you laid on your apron, but you only came up with a total basic idea. "How about a vase?" You asked as you remembered the beautiful vase you knocked off the dinner table the other day. It was the only vase you had since the many years you lived all alone.

San tilted his head to the side, his indexfinger with the golden ring tapping on his lip absentmindedly. "It's a good choice, easy but with a good purpose."

You nodded in agreement. San's eyes focused on the clay block in front of him before he shot you a quick glance. "I'm sure you already noticed the clay block in front of you, so what we want to do with it to begin, is to loosen it up. We archive that by kneading the clay like a you would with a fresh dough."

He took the clay in his hands and started kneading it and made sure you copy his moves before he spoke again. "We knead or wedge the clay to remove any possible bubbles inside, to make sure our work will be stable and won't break as easily after or during it's getting burned."

You nodded and quickly made a messy bun, already annoyed by the hairs that kept on blocking your view as you kept on kneading the small clay bock thoroughly.

Minutes ticked by with neither of you saying anything, the only sounds in the atelier were your breathings and the faint melody that flowed out of the ceiling speakers quietly.

Your arms were already getting sore and you felt a small droplet of sweat making it's way down your forehead. "How long are we supposed to knead it exactly?" You asked a little out of breath.

San's quiet laugh made you stop your work and look at him instead. He was still kneading the clay, your eyes focused on the strong muscles on his arms and how they moved under every movement he made.

He formed a small clump with it and set it on the middle of the rotating disk. "The longer, the better. It's tiring at the beginning but try to see it as a workout instead with a nice new pottery good as reward." He told you with a smile on his lips.

You shook out your arms, trying to ease some of the burning tension in your muscles and shaped your clay block almost the same. "Can I ask you something?" You asked San as your eyes darted through the artillier and you saw more framed photographies and art pieces on the walls, you even spotted a fallen angel stone figure in the far corner by the window which you didn't notice while entering the space earlier.

San turned in his twisting chair towards you and leaned his elbow on the workstation as he eyed you curiously. "Sure, ask all you want."

You turned towards him as well, glad to rest your arms a bit more as well as stilling your curiosity at the same time. You gestured towards the walls and the stone figure. "Are you interested in photography and art and stone sculpturing? I couldn't help but notice them right away." You said as you once again eyed everything in the room with adoration.

Seeing as you love art yourself you couldn't help yourself but standing up and inspecting it closer. It was like a invisible line pulled you towards the art he displayed and created. The color combinations and techniques the artist used drew you in, and the different vibes and auras each painting gave off seemed to tell a story you yet had to discover fully.

San who slowly walked up behind you, looked at the painting as well. You didn't see his face but could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke again.

"The paintings and sculptures and even the pictures are all from my best friends."

Your eyes went wide as you turned around and looked up at San's face with a dropped jaw. "These belong in big galleries and museums. They are masterpieces."

You saw a dimple form on his left cheek as he paced the room. You followed him, checking the art pieces with him with full attention. "Seonghwa is an artist, he draws everything that captures his interest, from people to objects, to abstract art. He wants to open a gallery in the future, but until then he asked if he could spotlight some paintings here. I loved the idea, it gives the studio flair and showcases his work at the same time."

When you guys reached another photography of what seemed to be a woman's back hugged by shadows and a industrial styled window front with San Francisco in the back, he stopped again as you took in the big framed photograph. "Wooyooung is a photographer, he always had a incredible eye for aesthetic and when he grabs his camera, you can be sure to see a masterpiece as result. He actually has his own gallery, but he gifted me some pieces as welcome present to my first own studio. He helped me a lot building this place."

Your eyes went even bigger as you continued listening to every word San said. He gestured to the angel stature and his smile got soft. "Yeosang is a Stone sculpturor, but if you ask me he should sculpture himself as well cause with his looks he doesn't stand the figures he creates behind in anything at all. I'm sure Michael Angelo would have taken him as student and muse if he would be alive still. His skills are impeccable, even if what he creates sometimes tends to be melancholic." He said as he grazed his hand softly over the broken wings of the crying angel.

You didn't take your eyes away from the stature, too much in awe about its raw beauty to look back at San. "Everything here is incredibly beautiful and has so much meaning behind it, this is breathtaking." You almost whispered as your finger softly touched the forever rolling tear of the angel.

You walked a bit further and carefully grazed your hand over one perfectly tailored mug, it resembled london as you quickly realized with the big ben in the background and a person that seemed to wait for something.

"What's your favorite style?" You asked him as you wondered if he drew the places on pottery that he visited or knew.

A soft smile appeared on your lips at a old memory of your trip there years back for your year abroad.

San sighed as he eyed the mug you softly cradled in your hand. "I don't think I have found my personal style yet, I'm relatively new with painting detailed pieces. I used to just glaze the pieces over in white. It's timeless and classic."

You nodded in agreement. "Does this one has a story? Looking at your work I would say you're a really talented painter as wellby the way."

San leaned against his desk in thought, thinking your words over in his mind as he looked around the office. "Isn't that what art of any kind is about? A purpose or a story that needs or should to be told? Like for example you chose a vase, is there a story behind it? Cause I could think there is one." He asked as he turned his attention on you with a raised brow and a twitch of his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, in my defense I really need a vase. Mine broke months back and since then I haven't been able to buy flowers anymore." You quickly blurted out.

San laughed quietly and opened his mouth to say something but you were faster. "Anyways, you don't need to talk about it when it's too personal. What I was trying to say was that your art is incredible. I'm glad I chose your studio to learn pottery." You followed up saying, trying to erase your embarrassment.

San's cheeks got a slight bit colored and you saw a hint of a dimple as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Thank you, shall we continue?"

You nodded and strolled back towards your work station, happy that he didn’t further commented on your choice of work for today.

Once you were seated again, he wet his hands and got the round plate of the workstation spinning. You watched him closely and imitated his movements, your eyes glued to his strong hands as he softly worked on the clay and managed to get the clay to part to a hole on the middle.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to do the same on the first try. A happy laugh bubbled up inside you, as you eyed his next movements like a hawke.

"For the next step, you have press from both the inside and the outside against the clay to thin it out while you also pull it slightly upwards to shape it to your liking." He explained as he wet his hands in the bowl a bit more and slowly did what he explained.

He made sure to place his hands and arms in a way that you would be able to see it perfectly from your seat.

When he was done with that part, he turned off the workstation and turned towards you.

You could easily make out the bigger body and slimmer neck of the vase, when the spinning lessened you had to say it already looked damn near perfect.

Your eyes connected with his for a second, and you saw nothing but kindness and patience in his eyes as he waited for you to start.

With a deep breath, you turned on the workstation with the button on the side, and wet your hands in the bowl with warm water.

You felt San move a bit closer, but paid no attention to him as you set your hands both on the inside and outside of the cool clay.

You recalled his instructions from ealier and started carefully molding the clay. At first it was a bit difficult because even after all the kneading, the clay felt a bit dense.

But easily enough you saw it get thinner and wobblier. It started to seem to spin out of control, and San quickly rolled his chair behind you.

His hands smoothed over yours as he pushed away your foot from the pedal to take control over the spinning speed of the table.

His warm hands engulfed yours easily, as he lessened the pressure you put on the vase. You watched it regain its composure almost immediately.

You felt his warm breath tickle the side of your neck as he leaned his head forward, at your back you softly felt his chest against you.

Your heart started racing as you watched him guide your hands over the body of the vase in an attempt to save it and to even out the thickness of it, seeing as it was pretty uneven. "The first attempts are always a bit out of control, that's totally fine and normal. When you feel it getting out of hand, you have to lessen the speed of the rotation disk. Otherwise you risk the clay to smack into your face."

He explained as you felt his thigh muscles contort and bump against your leg when he showed you how the speed would affect the rotation disk.

You felt your cheeks grow hot and you got unbearably warm. Your mind only seemed to care about his close proximity and his incredibly good smelling perfume. Of how his hands felt around yours and the breath of him that tickled your neck with each breath he took.

You watched as the clay induced liquid rushed over and between your hands as he started forming the neckline of the vase together with you. You caught yourself slightly glancing over towards his face that almost rested on your shoulder and noticed a few lose strands hanging close to his eyes, it was a effort to not automatically reach out and swipe them away.

You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts, and averted your eyes back towards your forming Vase. He adjusted your fingers on the vase slightly and applied a bit of pressure to your grip before he spoke next. "When you use just about the right amount of pressure, it will turn out just how you want it. This is about the thickness it needs to ensure it's stable and won't break while burning." His voice was raspy and close to your which didn't help your current situation at all. You took a small breath as your legs pressed together Involuntarily.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to not betray you more than your body already did. He angled his arms a bit more to be able to guide you better and in the process his back was now flushed against your back and his arms were pressed against yours further which caused tiny goosebumps and a shiver through out your arms and the back of your neck.

You could swear you heard his breath hitch for a second but you wouldn't allow to let your mind travel to the possibility that he was reacting to you the same way as you reacted to him.

You watched as he guided your hands further up the neck to work on the top rim of the vase. He let go of your hands and dipped them into the bowl quickly and set his hands back on yours.

His head turned towards you slightly. "Do you like it like this? Or should we try out another Design?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as he accidentally grazed your ear while speaking, your back pressed against his chest slightly in response.

You quickly opened your eyes in mortification and quickly shot up from your seat, hitting yourself on the workstation hard enough to probably leave a bruise behind as you fumbled your way out from being wedged between San and the workstation.

You dipped your hands in the now tainted water and wiped your hands on the apron, before you removed your the cardigan and walked the few steps towards your bag to place it on top carefully.

You felt San's presence somewhere behind you vividly, which only worsened the throbbing inside of you. "I gotta use the restroom real quick." You all but blurted out as you quickly exited the room.

You had no clue where said toilet was but you needed distance before you would jump him.

"Second door on the right!" He called after you from where he stood as you barged through the door and almost ran into the restroom.

Once the door was locked, you rested your back against the cool wood and slid down to a crouch.

Deep breaths. In and out. Calm down. You can do this.

After collecting your thoughts for a second, you went up to the sink and splashed your face with ice cold water to get a grip.

Your hands gripped the edge of the marble sink tightly as you eyed yourself in the mirror. "Calm down and focus!" You told yourself with strict face before you patted your face dry and unlocked the door.

The temperature in the lobby felt significantly colder which you gladly welcomed as you walked up to the little table in the sitting area and poured yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

You took a deep gulp to get rid of your dry mouth as you peaked inside the studio again. You didn’t see him immediately, but you spotted his work station empty.

You stepped inside quietly, scanning the room quickly and spotted leaning against his desk in thoughts.

He wasn't turned towards you, instead he seemed to watch the vase, his vase, do it's thing in the fire oven.

You creeped a bit closer towards him, gripping your water in a death grip as your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. Once you caught up to him and only a few steps separated you, you cleared your throat to announce your presence without startling him.

His head snapped in your direction and he straightened, before you saw him made a step towards you. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded sincere, but his eyes seemed to hold that same barely contained restraining that you were sure would be mirrored on your own eyes as well. "I'm sorry if I acted unprofessionally towards you, I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned away from you and your had to strain your ears to hear his next words. "That's what I should say, right? Even if I don't mean it." He raked his hands through his hair frustratedly.

Your stomach tightened as you registered his words and saw his exquisite back muscles flex with his movement.

You made a step towards him, as you felt your need coursing through your body violently. That much for calming down.

You set the glass of water down on his desk, as he turned back towards you quickly. His gaze was wild and pure of need as he fixated your full lips and then your eyes. "You know what? I'm actually not sorry. Since you walked in, I can't think fucking straight. I should be professional, I know that, but all I can think about since you stepped into my studio are all the different ways I could fuck you senseless inside of this god damn place. I just want to-"

You didn't let him finish as you closed the distance between you in light speed and crashed your lips against his.

He caught you around your waist reflexively as he tensed up for a second, but then his restrain snapped as grabbed you by your neck and janked you flush against his chest.

A small moan left your lips when your hips connected with his and you felt him hard against your stomach.

You felt his tongue graze over your teeth, asking you for entrance and without thinking twice you let him in. Your tongues started a instant battle for dominance, as you moved your hands through his silken hair and tugged slightly.

You could feel him smirk against your lips as he pushed you back until your ass connected with the desk.

His hands wandered down your sides, setting every inch of clothed skin on fire until he reached your thighs, he gave you a little nudge and you jumped enough to up wrap your legs around his waist thightly.

His hips pushed you onto the table hard and another moan left you at the sensation. His mouth started traveling from your lips onto your neck where his tongue drew lazy circles over your sensitive spot. You felt the fabric of his shirt wrinkle under your tightly fisted hands on his chest as you moaned his name.

One of his hands rested flatly on the desk while his other sneaked over your shoulder in a feather light touch and pulled your straps down, fully in contrast to his wicked tongue. "Please." You bagged as you tugging on his shirt.

He sucked sharply on your neck in response, as your head fell back from the sensation. "Please, what sweetheart? Use your words."

Your back arched as he kissed his way further down your neck. He softly pushed down your tanktop until it pooled at your hips as he clasped open your Bra with his other hand. Out of the corner from your eye you saw your Bra flying to a random corner. "P-please touch me." You begged again as your hand went back to his hair and fisted it?

His indexfinger travelled from your bare right shoulder down onto your hard nipple, where he gave you a slight pinch. "That's what I'm doing right now, no?"

Before you could respond his mouth cupped your other boob and his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

You pulled on his shirt frantically, desperate to feel his skin under your finger tips. As a whine left your lips, the feeling already overwhelming but at the same time not enough. He released your boob with a pop. "So responsive." He smirked and pulled the shirt over his head to give you a perfect view of his incredible physic.

You let your hand wander over his soft and muscular skin. A growl left his lips as he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him, his lips crashing on yours in a devouring kiss again.

He unbuttoned your jeans in a swift move and linked his thumbs in the fabric of your jeans as he janked town both your pants and underwear down in one move.

His indexfinger with the golden ring travelled up your bare tigh before it disappeared between your legs where he raked a finger through your soaking folds. Your head fell back in bliss. "Gods"

San eyed your expressions like a hawk, as he cupped you and dipped a two fingers inside of you. Your walls tightened against him as he started pumping inside of you. Your hand gripped his biceps forcefully as your hips rocked against his fingers, taking everything you would get.

Endless moans echoed through the studio as he crashed his lips back on yours. He slightly bit your bottom lip as he curled his fingers inside of you which made you scream out his name.

You could feel your release rapidly build inside of you. "Please.... I'm..." You managed to say, but it was all to overwhelming.

San shook his head with a smirk as he removed his fingers from inside of you. "You're finished when I let you. And I'm dying for a taste." He all but purred before he settled between your legs and looked up at you directly.

It took all your left restrained to not come at that sight directly, and he seemed to notice it, because he grabbed your knees and spread you apart further before he placed your legs on his shoulders.

His smile was deadly as he eyed your bareness before him and dived in light speed.

His tongue laid flat against you as he swiped up your center, your head rolled back as a loud moan left your lips.

San's hands flexed around your thighs as he pulled you closer to wards him. He backed up enough to look back at you. "I want you to look at me, sweetheart."

Your eyes found him reflexively as he dived back in and dipped his tongue inside of you. A rumbling moan left his lips as he started devouring you like a starved man.

While your hips ground against his face shamelessly and greedily. You felt your climax build up in light speed as your legs started trembling. He sucked in your bundle of nerves once twice and your hands gripped his fair painfully. "Come." He ordered and thats all it took as you screamed his name and started seeing stars.

Your release washed over you in intense waves as he picked up every drop of you greedily. You were still shaking uncontrollably as he got up and pulled you flush against his bare chest. His lips found yours and you could taste yourself on him as he spinned you around and bend you down on the desk.

You heard him shuffle and open a condom behind you as your head laid on the side, eying the crying angel stature.

His hand trailed up your spine sensually as he wedged his bare leg between yours and spread your legs apart. You felt his chest against your back, and your ass instinctively pushed back against him.

You felt him twitch against your entrance, as his mouth nipped on your ear before he gave you another soft kiss on your neck.

Without another warning he gripped your hair in his hand and janked your head back as he slammed into you fully. A scream left your lips at the feel of him inside you.

San's voice sounded taut as he pounded into you with enough force to make the whole table move. "Fuck, you're tight."

You slammed your ass back against his hips in desperation as he pulled out of you almost fully and slammed back into you. "You're perfect." He groud out betwen his teeth before his lips found your shouder where he gave you a small kiss.

The glass you set on the table ealier, spilled more and more water on the table but you couldn't give less of a fuck as it just like you for the second time in a row edged closer to destruction.

His lips slammed back on yours as he picked up speed, a trail of moans left both your lips as he pounded in you mercilessly. The scandalous sound of smaking skin, moaning and harsh breathing almost overshadowed the scraping of the table as it moved further and further towards the wall opposite of you.

His movements grew slowly erratic, indicating you that he too was close. As his other hand wandered between your legs where his index finger drew lazy circles around your bud.

You screamed his name as you started shaking and saw blinding white light and stars. His other hand drew soothing circles against your back, much in contrast to his harsh thrusts that had his balls slamming against you with force repeatedly and said. "Let go."

Your back arched and your ass slammed back against him with force as your hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard it was starting to hurt as another scream raked through your body and shattered you into sweet oblivion.

San cursed under his breath as you felt him twitch hard inside your spasming walls. He thrust in you a few more more times, before he too came apart inside of you with a curse of your name on his lips as he rode out both your highs.

Once your both caught your breath a bit he pulled out of you slowly but continued drawing soothing circles on your back. "You know, I've been dreaming of seeing you again from the moment I saw you that day by the namsan tower years back."

Your eyes snapped open in shock, that day you saw him, you realized now. Across the crowd you noticed him and his friends and already back then your breath caught in your lungs.

You've been staring at one another for few seconds when he made a step towards you, waving some of of the peddles from his view.

You were just about to make a step towards them too before your best friend pulled you with her towards the boarding bus.

It followed you for a while on vacation, but you eventually forgot about him. Hell, you didn't even trust yourself that you didn't make the whole thing up back then seeing as your best friend didn't see them at all and said you're crazy.

His Hand massaged the back of your neck under your hair softly. "You asked about the mug earlier, I made it as first art piece once I arrived back home. I was searching for you everywhere that day after you left with your friend, but I couldn't find you."

You set back up on the table as he went up to the sink to wet up a clean cloth, you didn't notice it before but you saw now that he was wearing his underwear again and a loose white shirt.

You pulled up your tanktop again but were still in shock about his recent words. "It's been you? I wasn't sure if I didn't make you up in my mind. My best friend didn't see you guys and said I'm delusional." You laughed to yourself as you already looked forward to clowning her about the whole thing.

After he carefully cleaned you up, he sat you back down on your feet and you quickly pulled up your pants as he did the same.

"Wooyoung never really stopped looking for your friend either by the way. He said she would be his perfect muse." He said with a smirk that highted his dimples even more.

A soft laugh escaped you as a thought formed in your mind. "You just gave me an idea for her next single workshop." San mirrored your knowing smirk as he laced your hand with his and led you towards the work station and your almost finished vase.

He turned towards you with a shy smile. "It might be a bit out of order, but would you like to go on a date with me? I would love to see where our story goes."

You gave him a big smile in return and nodded your head. "I would actually love that."

He took a seat on his spinning chair and pulled you onto his lap before he gave you a kiss on your temple and turned he workstation back on before wet his hands. "Let's start with finishing up your work first."

A/n: I tried to proofread this FF as best as I could, but English isn't my first language, and I'm dyslexic so I apologize for the eventual mistakes. I hope you liked this ff.

Little Bonus: I found this while looking for inspos for the thumbnail pic. ♡

#kpop #atinyateez #ateez #ateez atiny #atiny forever #choi san #ateez ff #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #choi jongho #song mingi #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #kpop ff #san x reader #ateez smut #smut #kpop smut

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bloopitynoot · 2 days ago

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Reading TGCF: Chapter Eleven

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Surprise! It is not masala chai; today I have a regular black tea with milk and sugar.

In other news, in celebration of finishing book one I have purchased book 3! It should get here Friday, and I can't wait. Shout out to my manager for fueling my habits with the indigo gift card she gave me for Christmas.

Let's go chapter 11!!!!!!!!

They better stop! coming on immediately so strong with the most sincere and heartfelt title calling!! p355

"You were the groom?" he's saying these things like this man doesn't want to wife him right now. Xie Lian LOL watch what you're saying. p356

This chapter is too much. My heart! The flirting! "May I take these words as a compliment?" Can't you tell they're compliments? p357

Again mxtx and the worlds most complicated characters. Making me feel things, and second guess everyone's motivations. Re: Banyue telling xie lian and hua cheng that General Pei Jr isn't a bad person. p359

If Hua Cheng and Xie Lian both picked their fake names from the same poem, I hereby declare them soulmates. No take backs, it's done. p360

You know what, if all else fails, Xie Lian would make an excellent motivational speaker. "I want to save the common people" "Do what you think is right" "Nothing can block your way" The cutest little "hang in there" cat poster embodied. p361

THE CHEEK POKE! Followed by "Not bad" I am wheezing! This awkward man. p363

Oh no, my emotions. Hua Cheng about his true face, "I'll let you see it someday, if there's a chance" p364

"those were good words" poor baby flustered xie lian. He cannot handle a single sincere compliment from Hua Cheng. The pillow talk in this chapter is so dang cute! p367

Here I am reading these words and lowkey hoping that it was Hua Cheng who Xie Lian told to "live for him". My biggest question at this point in the series is why/when/how did Huan Cheng become so into Xie Lian. It feels like he's known this guy for a very long time. p368 (do not actually tell me this. it'll probably be revealed later, but with Xie Lian, unreliable narrator, I feel like it'll be right before the extras LOL).

BRO LEFT HIM. WITH A PROMISE THEY WOULD MEET SINCERELY AGAIN. AND LEFT HIM A RING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG this is so precious, TOO MUCH. p372

I totally thought the end of this chapter would ruin me

I was NOT wrong, but it was in a very unexpected way! I expected tragedy and I got the cutest fucking pillow talk, a PROMISE and a RING. WHAT.

#bloopitynoot reads tgcf #mxtx tgcf #tgcf #mxtx #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #they are soulmates your honour #no takebacks #i decree it #end of book 1!!#tgcf spoilers

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jeeperso · 1 day ago

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let's see what I can recall from both canon and your own offhand mentions as you've discussed AEIWAM (extra challenge, I'm not going to refresh my memory of either, other than to check names)

Rukia, Kaien's boating license: her fight with Aaroniero and Arruruerie, and how they use kaien's memory as a weapon

Ukitake, beer coaster from The Dancing Calf tavern, maybe a pickup line or a babysitter: I *think* this is referring to the god hand guy that's keeping ol Cap'n TB from getting worse

Nemu, valentine’s card with the cherubic archer: as Kenpachi says, probably something to do with Uryuu

Kurotsuchi, yellow uno reverse: Pretty sure this is referring to how he takes out the nigh-immortal mad science espada by reversing his cheats, or however that fight goes

Yumichika, the Cassette Box Art for Ghost Of A Rose. no clue

Ikkakku, How To Survive A Chimpanzee Attack from The Big Book Of Not Dying Like A Moron. Step One: Accept Your Fate. Step 2: There is no Step 2. : USE YOUR DAMN BANKAI OUT THE GATE, YOU MORON!

Zaraki, a small silver-backed mirror: based on Kenny's comments that this is gonna suck, I think this refers to Yammy, that or he's misreading and its 'adopt nel'

Toshiro, Three of Lesbians: dunno

Rangiku, First card, faceup and upright is the Fun Facts Flashcard Sharks Are Smooth As Hell. second card, The Lovers, sideways: you'd mentioned she and harribel are gonna hook up, so this is 'don't let her sacrifice herself", i think is the advice

Shuuhei, A bunch of lobsters walking upright like people in the middle of a desert or something and it says “We Are Seven’: fork if I know, but like the big guy says, its gon get weird

Ise, Yggdrasil, Tree of Knowledge, Upside-down: i don't know, but i vaguely recall fake karakura's the one time she got to be cool, so it probably has something to do with...

Shunsui, the coyote, upside down: refers to his throwdown with Coyote Starrk, aka the poor bastard who first told them about the atomic bomb

Iba, marshmallon: no idea

Komamura, Hello, my name is ____: I have vague memory that he's the one fighting tousen in fake karakura

Renji, two of cups/duality: coming to Rukia's rescue

Byakuya, three of cups: gonna fork up a lot of arrancar

Momo, Venus: her meet-cute with Hiyori

Isane, persistence of memory: dunno.

Unohana, The Moshun’s House Of Meat All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet Coupon: lotta things gonna die by her hand/blade/healing halibut

Izuru, upside-down cripple mr Onion: sorry Kira, you're going to hear another doomed soul begging for their life before tomorrow is out

Oemaeda, knight of wands: his moment of glory, coming to his captain's aid

Soi Fon, the roadrunner & the lovers: Soi fon and your elusive, sometimes-mentioned roadrunner arrancar OC are gonna fork up barrigan, then fork each other

Sasakibe, ‘I too was in Arcadia’, and knight of pentacles: dunno, and I honestly keep forgetting this guy exists. but I'm guessing the combination of his, ise and isane's cards is putting together how to get around what BS trap i vaguely recall aizen pulling

Yamamoto, Nachtrichten von Trost und Freude: Ywach is starting his BS again. be ready once this problem's done

Yoruichi, The consequences of my actions (weakness), The address to write to an Agony Aunt Column for relationship advice (strength): Oh, right, her and Soi fon finally get their mess out in the open-mid fight, don't they?

Urahara, Nachtrichten von Trost und Freude (weakness), The Agony Aunts (strength): T4T relations/unplanned pregnancy are everyone's guess, but this might be hogokyu/Aizen BS

Ichigo, Mirror (weakness), empress (strength): in canon, Ichigo nearly loses himself to hollowfication to beat urloquira, but Orihime pulls him back

Orihime, The Library of Babel (weakness), chocolate chip cookie recipe (strength): Orihime's decision to deny Aizen the hogokyu by eating it when no one's looking

Gin, Mars (weakness), persistence of memory (strength): gin is his own worst enemy, but he's just gotta stick to the plan of running Aizen thru the cosmic taffy pull

Aizen, The Knife-Wielding Goose (weakness), Power clow card (strength): Aizen is ungodly powerful, but that's exactly how and why gin's gonna screw him into the cosmic taffy pull

Tousen, the Metamorphosis (problem), King of hearts (solution): true love's kiss will free Kaname Tousen from the horrors of his Resurrection?

Went back to reread the garbage tarot last night, and the few things I did recognize were like. Hilariously on point and literal in the weirdest way possible (extremely positive) and now I want to go back and see how much I can put together based on all the snippets you've given us. Anyways thank you for continuing to share! Your worldbuilding brings me just. So much delight. It's an inspiration, honestly.

I am actually intensely curious to know what parts you do recognize from what you know of AEIWAM/Canon and the garbage tarot post. Its good feedback to know if I'm foreshadowing properly.

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thatcrimsonsun · 2 months ago

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rereading aftg is such an experience because Andrew is kicking his thick ass off to subtly flirt with Neil and show him he's interested while Neil's like: "huh. what a weird kid. anyways-"

#but will go on a five pages tangent on the exact shade of Andrew's eyes #sigh #make it make sense you abominable cockroach #lmao I love Jean for that nickname #ema rant #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andrew x neil #andreil #jean moreau #the foxhole court #the kings men #i again don't know the name of the second book #I forgot okay😔#im just a girl

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shotmrmiller · 4 months ago

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your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

#desperate gross old man definitely gets his ass chewed out later #what the fuck was he thinking fucking the newbie in the BREAK ROOM #not your fault though you're an angel and price will always have your six 👍🏽#unless laswell hears of your shit then you're on your own buddy #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #cod smut

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

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werewolfbneimitzvah · 21 hours ago

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Listen i was definitely being a little humorous up there and was also thinking of throwing in a "try picking up a published book and get an idea for how often they use just the names and pronouns even with two or more people with the same pronouns," but what the hell, i can just show you. Here's a page each from two edited and published books i had nearby with two people using the same pronouns interacting on the page. Text transcribed in the alt text.

Look that second one is a good example because there is some referring to of the doctor as "the doctor" even though there's his name there too but there's a difference! Both because of the emotional distance between the POV character and the doctor, compared to the guy he's with in the second part (who he's fucking, unlike the doctor), but also the doctor's identity as a doctor is extremely directly relevant to the scene because they are discussing how a guy they know is doing after a nasty accident. The age differences between any of these people (and there's a big one, since some of them are vampires), their physical traits, etc aren't used to refer to them because you don't need to and that would distract everyone.

And at no point in the first one are either of these women referred to by their physical traits (and there's a very easy difference since one is a redhead and one is a brunette), their age difference (one is notably younger), or even their different statuses in their team other than Phoebe bringing it up in dialogue (Grace being the captain of their soccer team). They aren't brought up both because Grace isn't acting in her capacity as the captain while they're talking about her injury and flirting, nor are their physical traits or age directly relevant to the scene beyond being attracted to each other, and there's intimacy here between them (because they fucked and will fuck again). If Phoebe wasn't as intimately close to Grace, and there was a scene where Grace was directy addressing the locker room or even just Phoebe while acting in her capacity as captain, THEN it would make sense for there to be something like, "The captain scowled at Phoebe," or whatever, like with the doctor thing.

Look I'm not saying never ever do it, you can do it sometimes, the bisexual vampire hockey one definitely did use "the other man" at one point, I saw it when I was looking for a page that was all people using the same pronouns but was also SFW/didn't have anything too weird and specific to the book (though the fact that it was used sparingly enough that it didn't stand out to me until i was actively looking says a lot I think). in fact you can do anything you want forever and you can ignore me and everyone else who makes posts about this and people will still rightfully leave you nice reviews thanking you for your work that you're sharing with us for free. Thank you, that is very nice of you! For real! And I'm not claiming these books are the height of literature, because they're definitely not. I am not reading these books because they're the height of literature. But you really really really can use names or pronouns way more than you are. I promise. It is not boring, it's good. Please. Please. please no more pop quizzes in fan fiction please please

okay thank you for your time i love you bye

Please just use characters' names and pronouns please please please you don't have to say "the mage" "the older man" "the taller" please you DON'T you don't you don't just say their name or pronoun i KNOW it feels boring and repetitive to you who's writing it but it is an entirely different thing to read vs write something. You are making the reader have to interrupt their thought process to remember which character is older or taller or has a different eye color or whatever and this knowledge is not automatic the same way the NAME is. The name fades into the background, it isn't anything. I appreciate that you're trying and you're writing and you are giving me something beautiful to read i love that i love that you are doing that I've done writing too i know how hard it is just please please understand that you are making it harder for people to read and enjoy your work when you are including what is essentially a pop quiz in your work about what traits a character has. I'm sorry but you are giving me a pop quiz. You are. I'm sorry. Please i know it's hard i know PLEASE. thank you i love you

#enjoy my yapping and also my taste in books #thanks to my library for letting me read fun books about lesbian soccer players and bisexual vampire hockey players for free #ok bye

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slytherinslut0 · 3 months ago

Text

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

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a-b-riddle · 9 months ago

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Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #angst #angst with a happy ending #john soap mactavish

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mallowsweetmiri · 2 months ago

Text

Potter!Reader x Remus

Summary: after weeks of having a painful crush on your brothers best friend, you make a plan to seduce him.

Warnings: smutty and slutty

Word count: 6k

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You groaned into your pillow, wiping the sweat from your forehead into the cotton fabric. This was the second time this week you'd woken up sweating from a dream about Remus Lupin, and it troubled you deeply that the scenarios you imagined would never happen. For one, your brother would instantly shut you down if you even suggested going out with any boy, let alone his best mate. The more unfortunate part was that you were almost certain Remus saw you as nothing more than James' little sister, a title you were tired of carrying. You huffed again as you rose to start getting ready. How much longer could this crush go on? It had started on the train in September. You remember thinking to yourself that Remus had become quite good looking over the summer and left it at that. But soon, he started to catch your eyes in the hallways, then in the common room, until finally he had managed his way into your head. You were constantly thinking about him. Thinking about the glimpses of his chest you'd caught one time when his shirt was unbuttoned, thinking about the way his adam's apple moved in his throat, thinking about his hands...

You shook your head and stepped into the shower. If only you could know what he felt like, then maybe this incessant urge to be with him would go away. You felt the water fall down your back as you washed yourself up. You were a pretty girl, you knew this. If you were someone else, had a different last name, maybe you'd have a chance. Although, you'd never really tried before. You kept these thoughts to yourself, having nobody to talk to them about. Normally you would tell James everything, and he would usually play parent when it came to your school girl crushes. But you couldn't exactly go up to James and say, "Hey, do you think you could set me up with Remus? Y'know, your best mate? I really want to see what he looks like with his clothes off." No, you couldn't do that. But perhaps you wouldn't have to...

You stepped out of the shower feeling confident in your plan. You had spent all this time pining in silence over Remus, it was time for action. While you got ready, you made subtle changes. You hiked your skirt up just a little and slipped into the button down that was just a touch too small. When you did your makeup, you were sure to make your lips look extra lush and rosy. You put on your favorite perfume, the one you saved for special occasions. This seemed as good a day as any.

"There she is," James smiled and stood as you came down the stairs to the common room.

"Good morning, Jamie," you chimed, "were you waiting on me?" James laughed as he grabbed his bag off the floor, the two of you heading through to the portrait hole.

"I'm always waiting for you," James nudged you with his shoulder. "You look nice today." You raised your brow at him, his statement more of a question as if to ask "Is there a reason you're making an effort?"

"Thanks," was all you replied as you made your way to breakfast.

PHASE 1: Hook

When you got there, the other marauders were already sat down. Sirius was talking animatedly with Peter as Remus sat quietly reviewing notes.

"We've finally arrived," James said to no one in particular, taking a seat and immediately filling his plate. Remus look up from his book and mumbled something before delving back into his work. You sat next to James and made a bowl of porridge, listening to Sirius boast about the Quidditch match tomorrow.

"Ravenclaw is going to destroy Slytherin," he bellowed, thumping his fist on the table. "And then I am going to destroy a bottle of Firewhiskey in their common room." He smirked, earning and high five from James.

"That's the spirit, Pads," James cheered, taking a drink from his cup. You rolled your eyes and stirred your oats.

"I don't know how the two of you haven't died from overconsumption yet," you quipped, spooning sugar into your bowl.

"Genuinely," Remus added, looking up from his book, "you two are menaces." You hummed in agreement, bringing the spoon to your mouth to lick the extra sugar off. You caught Remus watching from your peripherals and made a show of it, bringing your glossed lips together at the tip of the spoon. When you glanced up thoughtfully through your lashes, he was still watching. It made you chuckle as his eyes quickly averted back to his book. Baited.

"Are you coming tomorrow, Y/N?" Peter asked, shoving toast into his mouth. You swallowed your porridge and swore that Remus' ears seemed to shift at the question.

"Y/N never comes to quidditch parties," James pouted, turning to look at you. You rolled your eyes.

"Correction, I never come to your quidditch parties," you teased, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I'll probably go tomorrow to see Pandora. If Ravenclaw wins," you reminded them. Sirius grumbled something but you couldn't tell what he was saying through his mouthful of sausage. James' face lit up with excitement.

"Ooh! Sibling bonding time," he gushed cheesily, squeezing your cheeks. Oh, for fucks sake. Could he stop? You were doing everything in your power not to be seen as his bloody little sister and he was ruining all your efforts.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm going to class," you grumbled, trying to hide your annoyance in front of Remus. The boys chuckled as you gathered your things and got up from your seat. If James was going to be a tosser, you'd have to up your game.

"Oops," you said innocently as you dropped your book on the ground, loud enough to make a clatter. You bent over to pick it up, praying that James was currently not watching.

"Merlin, Y/N. Pull your bloody skirt down," James scolded, making a foul face. You rolled your eyes at him again and stuck your tongue out as you continued to exit the hall. Well, if Remus hadn't been looking before, he surely was now.

PHASE 2: Line

You were more than excited for the Quidditch game, especially after spending yesterday evening stuck in the dungeons fixing your laughing potion. You were also excited because you had another chance to see Remus. You had only seen him briefly yesterday, and he was always buried in his work. Hopefully you'd be able to gain his attention today at the game.

With this intention, you slipped on a white babydoll top and watched yourself in the mirror as you buttoned it up. You looked good. You left the top button purposely unlatched, knowing it could catch someone’s attention. After slipping on your favorite pair of jeans, you felt confident- sexy, even. Just the idea of Remus thinking you were sexy made you bite your lip.

You didn't wait for your roommates to finish getting ready. You did a last check of your things, grabbed your coat, and started down to the common room. As per usual, the marauders were sitting around the couches, talking loudly and taking up space. This time, Remus was clearly in on whatever bet was being placed over the quidditch game. His crooked smile made you curse under your breath and fix your hair. You decided to play it safe and sit by Marlene in an attempt to hide your fluster.

“Hi Marls,” you chimed, plopping down next to her.

“Princess Potter! You look absolutely dashing today,” she gloated, giving you a quick hug into her shoulder. You blushed from her compliment and peered upwards from the hug. Remus was smiling at something Peter had said, but was looking at you. You sent him a small wave from under Marlene’s arm to which he nodded up in response before turning his attention back to the boys. Why was that so hot?

Within twenty minutes, the group of Gryffindors was ready to leave, so the lot of you began the journey down to the pitch. It was nice out today, one of those afternoons where the sun seemed to warm the grounds and the breeze. This meant that the entire school would be at the game. You weren’t usually a fan of crowded spaces, but you silently thanked the gods for putting you behind Remus as you filed into the stands. It was so packed, you could smell the cologne lingering off his clothes as you sat down on the bench. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile of satisfaction. It felt like the universe was helping your scheme.

“Y/N!” James called over the crowd, leaning forward to see you. You raised your brows and leaned forward to see him, giving him a forced smile.

“Yes, brother dearest?” You called back in a sickly sweet voice. At least now you had an excuse to lean over Remus, who was currently leaning back as far as he could to get out of the way. Perfect position to climb onto his lap, your brain thought intrusively.

“Your boyfriend’s up on the pitch,” he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, pointing to Theodore Pompous, a 7th year Ravenclaw. You leaned over Remus and Peter to smack your brother.

“Bugger off,” you grumbled. “I admit to having a crush one time in third year, and you still haven’t shut up about it!” You felt your cheeks blush as James and Sirius continued to tease you in the most immature manner. All you could do was roll your eyes and take it, those prats.

“Still have a crush on that posh boy?” Remus leaned in with a teasing smile. You internally groaned at him for joining in on the joke, but you wouldn’t pass up the chance to tease him back.

“Why, are you jealous?” You challenged with a devious head tilt. Remus scoffed and trained his eyes back on Theodore.

“Nah,” Remus replied coolly. “Besides, James would never let you go out with that git.”

“Oh, yea?” You asked, leaning in slightly. “And who would my brother let me go out with?” He turned to face you, his eyes meeting your provocative stare. His eyes flashed with something before Marlene tugged on your arm.

“Can you tell the boys to scoot down? Lily just got here.”

You stifled the urge to roll your eyes as you and Remus called out for the boys to move further down the bench. There wasn’t much room to spare, and you ended up wedged between Marlene and Remus. You were painfully aware of his leg against your own, though Marlene's thigh didn't seem to cross your mind. Remus leaned away from you, his hand behind Peter on the bench to support his weight. It was only a minute of this compromising position before they announced the start of the game. Then, everyone leapt to their feet, eager to watch.

It was a riveting match, and Slytherin almost took the win. Luckily, Theodore managed to catch the snitch at the perfect score ratio, ending the game and sealing the win for Ravenclaw. As the excitement and cheers began to die down, everyone started slowly filing out of the stands. You shuffled behind Marlene, the noise of chatter and brushing of shoulders making you feel slightly overwhelmed. The party was going to be packed tonight. You were almost to the stairs when your foot got caught on a raised step, tripping you into the walkway. You gasped as your heart lurched forward. You prepared for impact against the steps, but it never came. Suddenly, you felt that Remus’ hands had wrapped around your waist. Your cheeks flushed red as you twisted around to face him, his right hand still lingering on your body.

“Thanks,” you muttered sheepishly, your body still shaken from the almost fall. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on you, and was about to say something before James appeared next to him. Remus dropped his hand and shoved it in his pocket. You turned back around and kept following Marlene, carefully watching where you stepped.

“Y/N, fix your shirt!” James called from behind. You clenched your jaw as you kept trudging on, shuffling along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Marlene fell beside you and scoffed.

“He is such a prat about you,” Marlene complained, throwing a dirty look back at James.

“Tell me about it. I almost eat shit and all he cares about is my shirt buttons,” you grumbled, begrudgingly buttoning your top. Marlene cackled and threw her arm around you.

“Please tell me you’re coming to the party tonight,” Marlene pleaded, shaking you slightly.

“Oh, I’m coming to the party tonight,” you grinned delightfully, nudging her in response. “And James is going to freak out when he sees what I’m wearing.”

PHASE 3: and Sinker

"Okay, actually what the fuck are you wearing, Y/N. This is my last straw," James warned, pushing himself up from the arm chair. His outburst made the other three boys heads snap up. You couldn't help but smirk as you felt Remus’ eyes on your body.

"What? This is what people wear at Ravenclaw parties these days," you shrugged, waving past them towards the exit. "Not that you lot would know. You don't get invited." Sirius barked out a laugh, while James sputtered in disbelief behind you.

"She's right!" Mary called from the stairs, bouncing into the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor girls, all looking flawless. You couldn't blame James for his reaction- If anything, you should be thanking him. He's doing a great job of getting everyone to stare.

"While I respect your opinion James, I think I look great. And I can wear whatever the hell I want," you snapped, spinning around to face him with a stubborn glare. The girls cheered, shouting some excited "Hell yeahs!" as James gave up with a resigned eye roll. He knew better than to cross you on something you wanted, and you clearly wanted something. He just didn't need to know exactly what it was. The girls followed you excitedly as you started out the portrait hole. This was going to be a fun night.

As predicted, the Ravenclaw common room was packed. By the time you arrived, the moonlight was already pouring through the glass ceiling dome, casting everything in a dreamy glow. It wasn't hard for Pandora to spot you, pulling you onto the dance floor with an airy giggle. The music was pulsing through your veins as you finished your first drink, then your second. Pandora pulled you into her body, the two of you laughing as you swayed and twirled. For a moment, your eyes focused on the group of Gryffindors hanging out in the lounge area, laughing at something Sirius had said. Remus sat back in a chair, his casual demeanor seeming out of place in a room like this.

Remus.

Your swaying slowed as you trained your eyes on him sitting nonchalantly. He was watching you, his jaw tightening as his eyes dropped to where Pandoras hands rested on your hips. It was too bad that Pandora twirled you around and you lost your train of thought.

"Panda, let's go smoke. I'm getting dizzy," you called over the music, Pandora nodding in response. The two of you resigned to a quiet corner, where you pulled out a tin of cigarettes and lit one with a flick of your wand. You inhaled deeply, enjoying the relief of cool air away from the crowd. You leaned your back up against the wall as Pandora took the fag from your hands.

“Lingering eyes are on you,” Pandora sang, her spacey eyes falling behind you as she took a drag. You turned your head to see where she was looking and was met with Remus' stare.

“Perfect. Those are just the eyes I want lingering,” you replied, bringing your drink to your lips as you watched him. You half expected him to look away, but his eyes were burning through you. You watched as he scanned up your body, his eyes meeting yours before he downed the rest of his drink. He then quickly averted to James who was trying to get Remus' attention.

"I need another drink,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself off the wall, Pandora's giggles echoing behind you. You crossed the room over to where the drinks were. You couldn’t tell if the room was charmed to be slightly purple or if it was the night sky above you. Either way, the ambiance certainly added to your intoxication as you neared the edge of the room. You almost didn’t realize someone slipping up behind you.

"Are you teasing me, Y/N?" Remus asked, cornering you by the drinks table as you spun around. He moved quickly, and you peered behind him to check for any lingering marauders.

"I'm always teasing you idiots," you sassed, turning to grab a bottle off the table. Remus seemed to step even closer to you. If one of the boys saw you like this, they'd certainly take notice. He was being bold. Luckily, you were hidden by an abnormally large globe and the mist that seemed to float about the room.

"I see you everyday," Remus challenged, huffing out a laugh, "and I've never noticed you looking at me with those eyes, Y/N." You hummed as you filled two shot glasses.

“What eyes?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes as you held out a shot for him. He scoffed out another laugh and took the shot from you.

“Cheers, love,” he winked, clanking his glass with yours before downing the shot. You followed suit, happy to consume some liquid courage. He leaned in closer to you and lowered his voice, “You know, you should really be careful wearing something like that.”

“Why’s that?” You swallowed, the burn from the shot making your cheeks hot.

“You might catch someone’s attention who you don’t want,” Remus said darkly, making you bite your lip. You’d never seen him like this before.

“And what if I catch the attention of someone I do want?” You asked coyly, looking up at him again through a tantalizing gaze. Remus scoffed again for the third time, as if he couldn’t believe your audacity.

“And who is it that you want, Y/N? Hmm?” He asked, more of a challenge. At this point, you were certain that he wanted you. That, or you were about to be in serious trouble. Either way, the risk seemed worth the reward.

“You.”

Something broke in Remus as he stepped forward again, impossibly closer as his hands met your hips.

"You mean to tell me you wore this dress, just to get my attention?" He laughed, his voice low and teasing. You bit your lip and blushed, trying to hide your blatant satisfaction. Remus was smarter than he looked.

"Mmhm," you nodded, your poorly hidden smile spreading to his face.

"Fuck, Y/N," he broke and turned to scan the room, his hands still grasping your hips. You stared up at him, watching his jaw tense as he tried to locate the marauders. His hands were burning through your dress as you stood completely still. You felt relieved when he muttered, "Follow Me," and ushered you towards the exit. You weren't sure where your brother was, but you trusted Remus to get you into the hallway. Once you had exited the doors, he wasted no time as he pressed you into the wall, the force causing you to gasp. He held you in place as he pressed his forehead into yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered and you almost scoffed. You tugged him by the collar and collided his mouth with yours, groaning when he deepened the kiss immediately. His hands were greedy, grabbing at your body as he pushed himself against you. This was even better than your dreams. All sense left your body as he continued kissing down your neck. He pressed his knee roughly in between your legs. A moan left you lips as he bit down, nipping and sucking at your skin.

"Fuck, Remus," you panted, your hips rolling up towards his body. He grunted and pushed you back against the wall. Who knew Remus Lupin would be so intense?

"Can I take you back?" he breathed heavily, as if he was barely holding onto his control.

"Do you even have to ask?" you teased, his body flush against your own. He huffed out a laugh as he kissed your neck again.

"You know I have to ask, Y/N," Remus muttered darkly, as though the act of asking in itself was a violation. And maybe it was, but you couldn't care less about the line he was crossing.

"Does this answer your question?" You whispered, pulling his hand down to touch you. He cursed under his breath as he felt you, his hand seeming to move on its own as he ran his fingers up your soaking panties. It took him a minute to regain focus.

"Okay, let's go," he commanded, guiding you down the hallway with haste. You giggled as he held your waist, moving you quickly towards the Gryffindor tower. You couldn't believe this was actually happening. It surprised and satisfied you that your plan had worked, that you'd managed to tip Remus over so far that he was bringing you back to his dorm.

"You're moving so fast," you fussed as he dragged you up the stairs. His legs were significantly longer than yours.

"M' sorry," he muttered, his eyes focused ahead. "I don't want to waste any time." His urgency was contagious, and you felt yourself pick up the pace. He released you as you stepped through the portrait hole, his grip loosening with surprising restraint. He was careful, and as much as it didn't concern you in the moment, you were glad at least one of you was being responsible. There weren't many people in the common room, everyone either asleep or at the party. Remus' hand found your back once again as he silently steered you towards the boys dorms. You went up the staircase until you reached their door, looking back at Remus for permission before opening it. The windows let in slivers of moonlight and a cooling breeze. Remus shut the door behind you and turned you around. Somehow his faced seemed more real as he stood there, his eyes searching your face.

"Remus," you breathed, feeling the weight of his gaze. He huffed out a breath through his nose, stepping close to you.

"Just tell me Y/N," he said, his hands finding your neck, "Just tell me if you want me to stop."

"I want you," you whined, standing on your tip toes and pulling him down by the neck. He gratefully returned the motion, groaning as his mouth found yours. Remus was everything you'd expected and more. He knew what he was doing, and his blatant want for you made your legs buckle under his touch. He walked you backwards, lifting you by the thighs and lowering you carefully onto his bed. His hand smoothed its way over your leg, pushing up the hem of your dress. His thumb swiped against your front, causing your back to lift slightly under his touch. He hummed into your mouth as he ground his hips down into yours. You could feel him through his pants, and you groaned at his size. Fucking hell. You ran your finger nails down the back of his shirt. Remus pulled his wand out of his pocket and closed his curtains, sitting up on his knees and unbuttoning his shirt. You watched, mesmerized by the show in front of you. The scars that ran down his chest, lower to his abdomen, and lower...

"My eyes are up here, darling," Remus teased, smirking down at you as he tugged off his shirt. You swallowed, looking up at his eyes which were no less intimidating than his body. He scoffed out a laugh as he climbed over you, running his fingertips down your body.

"If your intention was to get my attention all night, you did a good job," he breathed, pressing his finger into your clit. "Such a good job."

He stifled your moan with his mouth, his kiss wet and needy. His fingers moved carefully over your panties, provoking a response from your body that you'd never experienced before. You were trying your best to keep up with his kiss, but the overwhelming sensation of Remus had you melting into the bed.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back into the pillow as his fingers moved underneath the fabric. He hummed as he began to kiss roughly down your neck. His fingers swiped over your slickness, teasing your entrance. You grasped onto him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulder as he plunged a finger inside you. He pushed himself up to watch you as he pumped another finger into you, you hips moving rhythmically with his hands. By this point, you looked a complete mess with your dress bunched around your middle and your mouth in a permanent gasp. You groaned as you felt yourself beginning to pulse on the brink of an orgasm.

"Fuck, Y/N. Are you going to cum?" Remus mocked you, he fingers stealdiy curly up inside of you.

"Y-yea. M' gonna cum," You whimpered, screwing your eyes shut. Remus muttered a curse under his breath before ducking his head and finding his way in between your thighs. Without warning, he buried himself in you, lapping at your clit while pinning you down by the waist. You grasped at his hair, attempting to pull him off of you but it was no use. He was humming into you as you moved in circle around his face, teetering on the verge of your orgasm. He let out a particularly throaty grunt that sent you over the edge. You let out a muffled cry as you spilled your juices onto his tongue repeatedly. He finished you up, humming as he began to kiss up your body until he hovered over you again. You pulled him down into a rough kiss, your hips snapping up to feel his hard on. "You're so perfect, Y/N," Remus praised, pulling your dress down over your bum. Your tits were now fully exposed, Remus' hands and eyes exploring over your body like he was trying to memorize you. "So perfect... I want you so badly..." He groaned, kissing over you chest and rubbing your tit in his hand. You groaned with pleasure.

"Then have me." You didn't hesitate to pull off the rest of your clothes, helping Remus unbutton his pants and pull them over his ankles. He did the same with his boxers, his length springing free. You bit your lip at the sight, a little nervous for how big he was. This didn't deter you though as you sat on your knees and leaned forward, beckoning him to use you.

"You're so fucking-” Remus let out a groan as he pushed himself inside your mouth, grabbing the back of your head with his hand. You wet his shaft with your tongue, moaning as he began to move down your throat. "So fucking good." His praises made you clamp your knees together, groaning again as you took him as far as you could handle. He gripped your hair roughly and throat fucked you for a few seconds before pulling you off, as if he couldn't control himself. "Turn around."

You did as you were told and spun around onto you hands. He pushed you chest down into the bed lined himself up with your entrance. You tried to sit back onto him, but his other hand held your hips firmly in place.

"Please, Remus," you choked out, your face buried into the mattress. He groaned as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you out with every inch he pressed inside of you.

"Oh, fuck," Remus breathed, moving slowly to let you adjust to his size. This consideration didn't last long before he was pounding you into his mattress, calling you filthy names and tugging on your hair. All the restraint he seemed to have went out the window as he fucked you mercilessly from behind.

"R-Remus. Fuck- me-" you cried, whimpering with every thrust. His hand gripped your hip with a squeeze as he leaned over your body.

"You're taking me so well," He breathed, running his hand under you body. He snaked his hand over your tit and pulled you up against him, making you gasp with pleasure from the new angle. "You're doing so good, angel."

He had you melting from his touch as your body gave out underneath his hands. He bit your neck gently, sucking and kissing on the sweet spot he had found earlier. You groaned as your head lulled back on his shoulder. This was not what you were expecting. You had no complaints though as he reached down between your legs and started pressing on your clit, pushing himself deep inside of you.

“R-Remus,” you warned, struggling to hold yourself up. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach for the second time as his thick cock moved inside of you, putting more pressure on your nerves.

“Just like that, Y/N,” he murmured, his strong hands holding you in place. “Just let go, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice as you let yourself release around him, guttural sounds coming out of your mouth. You had no time to feel embarrassed over your moans as he pushed you back on the bed and started fucking you senseless.

“So good, fuck me,” Remus mutter incoherently as he rammed himself inside of you, grabbing at your hips. You looked back at him to watch, and were not disappointed at the sight. When his eyes locked onto yours, he broke. He snapped his hips haphazardly as he released himself inside of you. You moaned again at the feeling of Remus Lupin filling you up with his cum. He thrust into you one last time before falling over you, moving your hair to one side to kiss your neck.

“So fucking good, Y/N,” he praised again, cleaning the both of you up with an impressive flick of his wand. You hummed and turned yourself around in a fucked out daze. He watched you pout as you pulled weakly on his neck. He chuckled under his breath and came down to kiss you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, lazily kissing as his hands rubbed gently down your body, a stark contrast from his rough actions just moments ago.

“I should probably go,” you frowned as he came up for air. He mirrored your response and sighed.

“You’re probably right,” he said, pushing himself off of you. “Here, let me grab you a shirt.” He pulled on his own pants before you heard him shuffle to his trunk. Just as you were about to move to get up, you heard someone bounding up the stairs.

“Shit,” you whispered, frozen in place. You saw Remus’ hands toss a shirt through the curtain before retreating, and you gratefully put it on. Luckily, your dress was still under you. You heard Remus kick your shoes under his bed.

“Moony? Why’d you leave so early?” You heard Sirius ask with a slight slur, stumbling into the room.

“Started boking,” Remus replied casually. “I feel like shit, I’m just gonna go to bed.” Sirius hummed and fell on his bed. You heard him kick off his shoes and manuveur himself under the sheets.

“You and me both, Moons,” Sirius groaned, seemingly too drunk to care about any lie Remus was spewing. Remus moved towards his bed.

“Alright, well. G’night,” Remus murmured, climbing into bed quickly.

“G’night,” Sirius muttered, rummaging through something. You looked to Remus with concern, who only put his finger to his lips as he came to lay down next to you. His haphazard smile seemed to relax you a bit as he pulled you into your chest, humming with content.

“Just go to sleep, love,” he whispered quietly and kissed your head. “I’ll get you back safe and sound.” Perhaps it was against your better judgement, but you seemed to trust Remus wholly to take care of you. That and your body was completely exhausted from him. You murmured a goodnight as you buried yourself into his neck, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. At some point, you heard your brother come in with Peter. Remus momentarily tensed causing you to shift. His grasp tightened on you before he heard Sirius grumble something along the lines of “sick” to James and the room fell silent again.

The second time you stirred, you felt Remus pulling away from you. You mumbled lightly, confused as to why he was getting out of bed. He turned to shush you quietly before stepping out. You heard him shuffle across the room.

“James,” he whispered, “James, wake up.” You sat up quietly in his bed. What the fuck was he doing?

“Mm,” James groaned, turning in his bed. “Moony?”

“Yea it’s me,” Remus said quickly. “Can I borrow your cloak? I think a Slytherin charmed my drink last night and I need to go on a quick mission.” You rolled your eyes at this. Remus was smart, and his lies would perfectly convince James. He would never turn down a prank.

“Oh, shit,” James said, slightly more awake. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” Remus answered quickly. “Uh, no. I’ll be super quick. I just can’t sleep until I know I got back at them.” This seemed to appease James as you heard him fall back into bed.

“Sure, Moony,” James yawned. “It’s in my trunk.” You heard Remus shuffle through his trunk before coming back around to the other side of your bed. You heard him slip on some shoes before holding the curtain open, once again holding his finger to his lips. You rolled your eyes at this and quietly stepped out of the bed, thankfully blocked by the rest of the room. Remus threw the cloak over the both of you and guiding you to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Both of you felt relief as you stepped into the stairway, making your way down to the common room. Nobody was here at this hour. Remus threw the cloak off of you.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, spinning you around to face him. “I should’ve been more careful.” You shook your head.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind using you as my pillow for a bit,” you chuckled lightly. “Besides, I could’ve used a bit more caution myself.” You blushed shyly at him. You hadn’t been the most discreet throughout the whole ordeal. Remus laughed at this and ran his thumbs across your hips, causing you to shiver. You wore only his oversized shirt and your panties.

“Nah,” Remus said with his lopsided grin. “I think I quite like your obvious pining for me.” You slapped his chest lightly as he chuckled. “I’ll just have to work extra hard to keep you to myself.” He leaned in to kiss you, and you felt your heart leap. So much for getting over your crush.

“Hmm, I’ll guess I’ll have to keep trying to get you attention then,” you whispered, pulling back from his lips. He hummed and kissed you again, as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Go get some sleep, love. I’m sure you need it,” he teased, flashing another grin at you. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t keep your smile down.

“Goodnight, Remus.” You started towards the girls dormitories.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Remus found himself staying in the common room with James’ cloak, not wanting to return too early. He tried to convince himself this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t justify it. There really wasn’t anything that could stop him from fucking you again. His mind flashed with images of your perfect eyes looking back at him as he rammed himself inside of your perfect pussy. His head fell back onto the couch with a thud. He was a goner.

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rafescvntyclubgf · 1 month ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖: 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽**𝕜 𝕚𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕞𝕒𝕤, 𝔸𝕟𝕪𝕨𝕒𝕪?

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, new relationship, kissing, they have not had sex yet, brief unprotected p in v, fingering, spanking, oral (female receiving), oral (brief; male receiving), praise, teasing, soft!rafe, handjob, finger sucking, cum tasting, ownership kink, sex toys, brief rough sex, rafe goes through the readers things, thigh slapping

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise is that Rafe goes through your things while you’re showering and finds out you might not be as innocent as he thought.

Masterlist

* the red indented text is the Tumblr story *

Reader’s POV:

Rafe lay sprawled on your bed, his large body barely contained by the queen mattress. His legs were draped off the edge, lazily tossing a football into the air as he waited for you to get out of the shower. The faint hiss of water running in the bathroom had an oddly calming effect, but it did little to take his attention from the nagging temptation right beside him… your phone.

He wasn't the snooping type—or so he’d like to think. You were sweet and trusting, and your relationship was so new. The last thing he wanted was to screw it up by overstepping. But the phone vibrated again, its screen lighting up, and curiosity got the better of him.

"This is fucked," he mutters to himself, glancing toward the bathroom door to make sure you wouldn't catch him nonetheless.

He froze as he unlocked the screen, his jaw falling slack with shock. It wasn’t TikTok or Instagram… It wasn't Pinterest or anything he had seen on Wheezie or Sarah’s phone. This was something entirely different. “Shit,” he whispers, running his hand over his smirk as he continues to read the porn on the page before him.

Your fingers stroke the underside of his thick cock, making him moan into his mouth; his breaths choppy as you wrap your fingers around him, rubbing with the cadence of your kiss. Your fingertips ghost over his swollen tip, making him seethe through his teeth before biting your lip.

His palm slams over his lips as he gasps and chuckles— eyes widening on the page as he reads. What the fuck is this? Is this a romance novel? I mean—I guess… He thinks to himself. Not just romantic in the generic sense, but detailed, explicit, and absolutely nothing like what he was expecting his sweet, innocent girlfriend to read. I mean, what the fuck is Kinkmas, anyway?

Rafe palms at his cock, already pushing against his pants. Finding him not getting off on the words he was consuming but the woman consuming them. His mind spins with the thought of you reading this with one hand on your phone and the other in your panties, playing with yourself as you read each filthy word.

Rafe's lips twitch into a grin as he scrolls down a few lines. “No way…” He shakes his head in disbelief, reading a little more.

He spits in your mouth, his climax landing on your tongue. “Swallow it, baby,” he whispers against your lips, gentle yet commanding, sending chills down your spine.

The contrast between the innocent image he had of you and the vivid story on your screen sent a rush of warmth through him, his body tingling, heart pumping fast. He even found himself getting a little bashful at the thought of it, turning slightly only to see his blushed cheeks in the reflection of your floor-length mirror.

"Wow," he whispers.

Unable to help himself now, Rafe's curiosity grows. He returns the phone to the bed and lets his eyes wander around your room. It’s cozy, filled with little personal touches—string lights, a collection of books, the aroma of your sugar cookie candle wafting in the air. His eyes fall onto your nightstand, and for just a second, he does hesitate. But he wants to know more.

"C’mon, man. Don't do it," he whispers, scolding himself, already reaching for the handle.

The drawer opens, nothing out of the ordinary: the chapstick he loves, an extra phone charger, a small wrapped Christmas present for him. His heart flutters as he sees it, and he smiles at himself, proud for at least not giving that a shake to guess what’s inside.

“Damn…” He freezes again. A pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs from your Halloween costume were tucked to the side, half-hidden by a scarf. He grabs the scarf, pulling it out nice and slow, finding a black satin bag below it.

Rafe’s heart races, a mix of surprise and exhilaration coursing through his veins. “Holy shit, princess. What do we have here, huh?” He whispers, grinning like he had just found hidden treasure. He can only imagine what’s inside; he had a couple of ideas based on the silhouettes alone. He never imagined you’d have something like this. Not you, the girl who blushed when he kissed your forehead in public.

“Damnit.” He slams the drawer shut as he hears someone walk by, making the contents rattle. He lifts his fingers and runs them through his hair. His heart pounding in his head softens, letting him hear a new sound.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He looks down at your phone, but the screen is black— no call or alarm coming in. His eyes double as he looks down in the other direction, getting closer to the source. He grabs the handle, pulls the drawer open, and sees the contents inside shifted from how hard he shut it.

He pulls back the scarf, watching the satin bag vibrate and turn slowly. Rafe snatches the bag and peers inside, gasping again as he sees your toys. He didn’t recognize two—more familiar with the third. He pulls the rabbit vibrator out of the bag, watching in awe and lust as it swirls and shakes. He snaps himself out of his daze enough to shut it off.

Rafe looks down at his body and then toward the door, curiosity getting the better of him. He tosses the bag to the bed and loops his fingers around his grey sweats, tugging them down enough to release his aching cock. His length slaps against his shirt, standing straight with a slight curve.

He lifts the vibrator in one hand, hissing at the contact when he wraps his fist around the other. Rafe holds them up next to each other, smiling smugly as he catches all the differences playing in his favor. He could see all the veins and ridges of his cock where the toy was smooth, the girth of his dick wider than the silicone shaft. Rafe pumps his dick a few times, feeling the blood pump through it.

He tosses his head back as he drags his hand up a little more, lowering his eyes again to watch the bead of precum that was gathered at his swollen tip roll slowly down the side. Rafe looks back at the toy one last time, thinking about your warm, wet cunt swallowing up the smaller silicon tip— your glossy hole fluttering as the shaft vibrated with you.

He rolls out his neck, feeling himself embarrassingly close to cumming at his thoughts alone. Rafe puts the toy back in the satin bag carefully, setting it down in its place softly, shutting the drawer slowly, attempting to compose himself as the bathroom door opens.

You step into the room, wrapped in a towel, your wet hair cascading over your shoulders. Rafe struggles to sit up, his big body floundering slightly as he attempts to look casual—his usual swagger long gone. His cheeks flush even more; lip, bitten between his teeth to hold back his nervous chuckle, which quickly breaks loose.

"What's so funny?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow as you walk over to your dress, grabbing your lotion from the top.

Rafe’s pretty eyes draw to your hands as you spread the creamy white between them, swirling it over your soft skin as a smug smile plays on his perfect lips.

Rafe stands up, crossing the room in a couple of strides before wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He tilts down, kissing your forehead, then your nose, lingering on your pillowy lips before tucking himself in your neck, lips dusting your ear. "I found your shit, princess,” he rasps, his voice deep and teasing,

You freeze for a second, your mind racing. "My shit? Wh-What do you mean?”

"The handcuffs, your stories, the—" he pauses, his smile spreading along your warm, dewy skin, "…the toys. And I thought you were a good girl." He pulls away, expecting to see your flustered face, surprised when he catches the twinkle in your eye. Your head tilts slightly, eyes falling into a lusty haze.

"I never said I was."

Rafe blinks, caught off guard by your confidence. He lets out a laugh, pulling you in tighter against him. "Goddamn, princess," he teases, his voice warm and hungry.

You set your hands on his chest as you look up at him. "Is that a problem?"

Rafe's eyes darken slightly, his laughter softening as he leans in for a kiss. "It’s fuckin’ perfect," he mumbles against your lips, his excitement and affection for you only growing. "You keep surprising me, pretty."

"Could say the same," you counter with a smirk, tugging him in by his shirt. “Lookin’ through my shit like I have something to hide.”

"That’s true," he says, smiling into your kiss, eager to see what other surprises you had in store or what those two other toys were that he’d never seen before. “Let me apologize to you. Yeah?” He asks as his eyes fall to your towel, looking back up at you quickly. You give him a little nod, and he tugs at it fast, watching the fuzzy white material fall around your feet.

His eyes work up your body slowly, hands holding and kneading the fullness of your hips. Rafe’s big hands trace your soft skin before cupping your breasts, squeezing, and watching the way your body reacts to his touch.

Grabbing for his white t-shirt, you pull it over his head. Your lips claim his as your fingers dance over the deep indentations of his abs, his cut v-lines disappearing below the band of his sweats. You curl your fingers under the elastic as your tongue slips in his mouth, swirling with his as you tug his pants off.

Rafe lifts you off your feet into his arms as your tongues tangle together, your body rolling into his with the cadence of your kiss, the wetness of your soaked pussy transferring to his hot skin.

He lays you down on the bed and crawls on with you— the mischievous grin on his face spreading wider. “Grab your phone,” he hums against your lips. “Open it, princess. Think you have a story you need to finish. Yeah?” he says, stretching his big arms around the back of his head as he relaxes into your pillows.

Your eyes fall down his perfect body, Rafe’s stiff cock trapped between the band of his White Calvin’s and his warm skin, the man incredibly hard. His tip’s messy with precum, pooled on his tip, making you lick your lips. You reach out your finger, pressing it against his swollen head, swirling it slowly, tracing his slit as his mouth falls open. Lifting your finger, you bring it to your lips, sucking down as he watches you close.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper. He leans forward, his grin even more smug at the new title. "You want me to read it out loud?"

Rafe shrugs as he tucks himself into you, kissing along the column of your neck. "Why not? I'm curious,” he hums before sucking down on your sweet spot.

Your heart starts to race a little faster, pussy throbbing as Rafe’s large hand traces up your body, squeezing your upper thigh. With a deep breath, you pull up the story again, sliding your finger to the part where you left off.

Rafe adjusts his position, turning into you, his head resting on a shared pillow. "C’mon baby, let me have it,” he mumbles as his rough fingers draw along your soft skin.

Your voice comes out steady at first, reading a few lines, though. Looking at the next couple of words, you feel your cheeks warm up, skipping a few, but he stops you with a slap to your inner thigh, making you whimper with pleasure. Rafe chuckles lustfully at the sound that pours from your lips, turning slightly to get a better look at your pretty face.

“M’gonna let that slide ‘cause you're so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters drunkenly, his little punishment doing nothing but revving him up more. “You skipped somethin’, sweetheart. Don't cheat me out of the good parts."

"Okay, baby…” You smile.

He chuckles dizzily and leans in closer. "C'mon, keep going. I like hearing you read,” he praises as his fingers cup your pussy, pushing against your sex, making your head fall back. “Keep readin’,” he hums against your ear.

“Fuck me…” Those are the only two words he needed to hear, pulling you exactly where he wants you again. You hold your breath-

You try your best to focus, your voice trembling slightly as the story's tension heats up. Rafe pushes two long fingers inside you, resting his thumb on your clit. "Don’t stop now… I think he’s gonna fuck her, baby. Shit’s gettin’ really, really good," he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.

You clear your throat, trying to disregard him, but he moves between his thighs, lips landing on your shoulder, soft and warm, tracing upwards.

Swathing your arms around his neck, nails clawing into his massive shoulders as you bury yourself in his neck, whimpering as you take every… every.

Your words stumble, fumbling over the last sentence as he loops his massive arms around your thighs, tugging you to your back.

"Rafe…" you say, barely louder than a whisper, the phone trembling in your hands as his warm breath fans over your pussy.

"Mhmm," he replies, definitely enjoying your distraction.

And look at you takin’ it all, baby,” he drawls…

You manage to get a few more words out, shaky and rushed, as Rafe flattens his tongue, licking a line up your slick folds. He chuckles against your skin, his breath hot as he presses a kiss against your clit.

"You're terrible at this, pretty," he teases, his grin infuriatingly smug and devastatingly handsome.

"That's because you're distracting me!" You whimper, tossing your phone down in defeat.

Rafe laughs as he crawls towards your lips, kissing you tenderly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "I was only tryin’ to help, baby," he whispers innocently before biting and tugging on your bottom lip as he traces up your thigh.

You huff at him playfully, any resolve that may have remained melting as he holds your cheeks in a single hand, puckering your lip. "You're cute when you're flustered," he whispers, kissing your lips.

You gasp as you feel Rafe run the tip of something familiar through your glossy folds—too cold to be him, too wide to be his fingers.

“You gonna let me play with you, princess?” Rafe asks, letting your cheeks go. You look between your thighs and see your vibrator in his fist, the pink tip glistening with your essence.

You slip your hands down his muscular body as warmth builds in your stomach, rocking your hips as Rafe teases you. Wrapping your fingers around Rafe’s thick dick, you hear a buzz, feeling the toy tremble, making you squeeze Rafe’s cock a little tighter. He moans against your lips, turning it up to the highest setting.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” you pant as he switches his hold, letting the little rabbit's ears flick against your aching pearl.

“Anything?”

“Shit,” you mewl as he drops down to your drooling hole again, letting the swirling head circle your entrance, Rafe teasing you with just the tip. “Anything.” Your hips buck up slightly, and Rafe pins you down by the hip, holding you in place.

“Mmm... Where are you going, princess?” He asks as your chest rises rapidly, breathing quicker than you were before.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you gasp and moan as he stuffs it inside, the toy gliding effortlessly through your wetness. Rafe holds it in place, making you squirm and move some more.

“This is just round one…” He whispers against your trembling lips. “You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy for round two?”

“Yes… Yes, shit. Please fuck me.”

Rafe kisses you deeply as he pushes it in and out, making you cry out against his lips, arms drifting around the back of his neck, holding on tight.

"I… Fuck, Rafe. I'm gonna cum."

"Tell me when, baby," he breathes through a smile.

"Fuck... Ugh. I'm-" He draws out quickly, plunging his cock inside, robbing you of your breath.

Rafe’s big hands grab your hips with a bruising grip as he fucks into you fast and hard, making you see stars. “Rafe, Sh-Shit,” you whimper as you cum around his cock, muscles spasming again and again. Rafe’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he gives you a few more punishing thrusts, making your breasts bounce as his toned hips smack against you.

You pull him to your lips, kissing him deeply, pushing him to roll yourself on top; his long, thick cock sheathed deep in your cunt still. You whimper at his size, feeling the delicious stretch between your thighs, nails running down his chest as you smile.

“How was that, princess?” He smiles, watching the way your legs tremble, the man gripping your thighs tightly before reaching around, spanking your ass, making your pussy tighten around him.

“So fucking good,” you smile as you throw your head back, rocking your hips, listening to the sounds of your soaked warmth and his deep moans.

Grabbing your phone, you hand it to him with a smile, lifting off his throbbing cock, seeing it sheened with your climax. “We’re not done with the story,” you whisper as you draw backward, slotting yourself between his thighs before running your tongue up his pulsing dick as he looks down at you, half-lidded and desperate.

“You want me to read this while you do that?” He asks dreamily, huffing out a deep, jagged breath as you spit on his tip.

“… C’mon baby, let me have it,”

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